#I opened my email this morning to several emails that pissed me off

[keepingthepeaceinouterspace]

Maybe I'm the one who needs a new job

[depressedbagpipe]

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter one

Words: 3310 Warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk (guys, please, don't drink alcohol), some anxiety thrown in there, a couple of bad words, google-translated italian A/N: it's lights out and away we go! welcome to my crazy world in which i got into f1 right when the season was ending and now i can't wait to see every race. also, cause I'm still kinda new and I'm not Italian, any mistakes that i make in regards of *everything*, feel free to correct me, and be nice about it ;) A/N (II): italics are thoughts and phone calls and the email, bold and italics are messages, just bold is the location ;)

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Chapter one

London, November 18th, 2022

The weight of my bag was the only thing preventing me from sprinting to my desk. Several manuscripts I had yet to finish, together with my laptop, and all my personal items, hung from my shoulder as I made my way into Mr. Williamson’s wing. I cringed at the sound of my heels over the polished floors, making various heads turn my way as I sprinted by as fast as I could. 

Eventually, I got to my desk, conveniently placed just outside Mr. Williamson’s office. The slight clutter was hastily thrown away with a flick of my wrist, making space for my bag, and turning my computer on at sprint time. A quick glance at the office before me told me Mr. Williamson hadn’t arrived yet. Thankfully. 

Checking my wristwatch, I sighed in relief at the time. 

9:32 am. New record. 

Now relaxed, I took a seat in my uncomfortable chair and started typing away on the keyboard, going over all the emails and meetings I had to schedule for the day. 

Half an hour later, Mr. Williamson showed up.

‘Good morning,’ he said in his usual hoarse morning voice.

‘Good morning, Mr. Williamson, would you like your usual coffee order?’ I asked in rehearsed practice.

‘Yes, please,’ he responded, struggling to open his office's glass door.

‘You gotta push,’ I noted while I grabbed my coat and my wallet, trying not to laugh.

‘Right,’ he grumbled, finally opening the door and leaving it open. 

He stumbled a bit over the expensive rug, looking around before taking a seat on his bigger and far more luxurious desk. His briefcase fell over when he placed it on it, dangling over the edge, and only once he was fully seated, I left my post.

That’s how every morning went for the past year. I would arrive in time –usually–, be ready at my desk until Mr. Williamson came in late –usually–, make sure he got to his seat in one piece, and go down to the ground floor where the company’s private Starbucks had its own space. 

One Americano, and one iced vanilla latte to go, please. Once again, those words were deeply burned in my memory. 

‘How is he doing this morning?’ Jeremy, the morning barista, asked as he took the order.

I shrugged, swiping the company card over the payment terminal. ‘Still pissed off drunk.’

‘So, the usual?’ he chuckled, motioning me to the end of the bar while Amanda, his workmate, made the drinks.

We both leaned over the counter separating us, talking in hushed voices, so the other customers wouldn’t listen to our conversation.

‘Honestly, I don’t know how much he can go on like this. I’m starting to feel bad for the guy.’

‘Girl, he cheated on his wife, and she rightfully left him. If he deals with his own mistakes by getting wasted every night, it’s up to him,’ Jeremy sent me a pointed look.

I bit my lip. ‘I know, but you should see him. It stopped being funny eight months ago. Do you know how many meetings I had to reschedule because he wouldn’t even pick up his phone? And I don’t mean his personal phone, I mean the company phone in his office. All he has to do is press a single button and talk,’ I winced at the memory.

‘Here you go, have a nice day!’ Amanda gave me the drinks, and I smiled gratefully at her. 

‘Well, as soon as he keeps ordering Americanos, I’m not complaining. I’ve doubled my hours here solely based on his caffeine ingest. And you know how much I need the money, so he better keep those orders coming,’ Jeremy winked.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. ‘If he ends up in rehab, I’ll blame you.’

He shrugged. ‘Fine by me. He’s an asshole.’

I laughed with a small shake of my head. ‘Bye, Jeremy! See you in a couple of hours!’

Getting back into the elevator, I made a mental note of everything that had to be done that morning. Meetings, meetings, and more meetings, until either Mr. Williamson got fed up and left, or I dropped in exhaustion for a quick nap.

The walk back to my desk felt longer than usual, the hefty workload of the week finally catching up to me as it normally did every Friday. I left my own coffee on my desk and quickly gave my boss his Americano, to which he merely responded with a grunt. He had his sunglasses on and was massaging his temples as if his life depended on it. 

Making a face at his state, I bent down and took off my heels, knowing the constant clicking would be painful in his hungover head, and went back to my desk, making sure the door to his office was closed. Grabbing the phone, I was quick to cancel the first meeting he had in ten minutes.

With a sigh, I grabbed one of the manuscripts and resumed my reading, reading every page twice and making sure no typo was missed. 

It was both a blessing and a curse, working at Ink’n’Paper. We were one of the world’s leading publishing houses on all sorts of literature, and consequently, the huge workload that we bore was overwhelming. Ink’n’Paper had been my first and only real job in the publishing industry, starting as an inexperienced intern and working my way up until I became the assistant of a household name in Historical Non-Fiction. It hadn’t exactly been my first option, non-fiction, but the pay was good, and I was desperate to prove myself. Next thing I knew, it had been three years since I’d started, and I was pretty much the only one making sure the whole department didn’t burn down due to my boss’ sudden neglect.

It was a few hours later, still sometime before the end of my workday, that I –or rather, Mr. Williamson– received the email. I had been managing all his accounts ever since the very first day he stumbled into the office completely drunk, Vodka bottle in hand, and screamed how much of a cunt everybody was on that floor, and then passed out on his rug, not before puking all over himself. After the embarrassment and degrading task of cleaning, not only him, but his rug too, I had taken over his entire life, managing even his dental care appointments for him, knowing he wouldn’t even be showing up to half of them.

I was surprised at the sender, for the name was oddly familiar. Maurizio Arrivabene.

Frowning, I quietly opened the message.

‘Buonasera, Stephen. I know it’s been a while, but as you’ll understand, these past few years have been a rollercoaster here. I was actually thinking about your past offer, and I know I’m a year too late, but I would love to look into it more. I’ll be in London next week after the season’s over, maybe you’d like to have some coffee (or tea, whichever you prefer), and talk about the book? I know here at Ferrari we need some push, whatever results we get this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Take care, Stephen. Sincerely, Maurizio.’

I widened my eyes at the email. Maurizio Arrivabene. Ferrari’s old team principal. I quickly gathered my planner and a pen and pushed open Mr. Williamson’s office door. Thankfully for me, he now seemed much better.

‘Sorry, Mr. Williamson?’ I took a few tentative steps toward him.

‘Yes?’ he lowered his spectacles, halting his typing on his keyboard.

‘You’ve received an email from one Maurizio Arrivabene,’ I pronounced his name in a heavy accent, the same way my dad would whenever he talked about his homeland. ‘Something about a book offer, maybe?’ 

His face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, Maurizio!’ he stood up from his seat. ‘I haven’t spoken to him in a while! How is he?’ he asked me. He still reeked of cheap alcohol.

‘I don’t know, sir, but he wants to meet with you next week.’

He clapped. ‘Fantastic, schedule a meeting with him.’

I coughed. ‘Well, the thing is, he sent an email to you, directly. I believe he’d like something more casual,’ I said, yet I opened my planner to check his schedule.

‘Well, then, I shall phone him immediately!’ he grabbed the phone on his desk, and rapidly frowned. ‘What’s his number again?’

I pursed my lips. ‘He didn’t write any, sir. I think you shall write to him directly.’

‘Of course! Let me just…’ he sat back down and typed something on his computer. ‘What was my email again?’

I groaned soundlessly, quietly making my way to him and fastly typing his correct credentials. Standing closer to him, I noticed the many wrinkles in his suit and the many hair strands that fell on the wrong side of his side part. Shaking my head, I pointed at the email.

‘There it is.’

‘Okay, when am I free for tea?’ he responded after a few seconds, his eyes reading over the words.

‘Well, you did cancel three meetings with the entire Editorial Department so… I rescheduled them for next week, but you should be free Friday afternoon after work,’ I checked all the time slots available, scribbling down the possible dates.

‘Why couldn’t we meet on a weekend? We don’t work on weekends,’ he said.

I paused. ‘You don’t work on weekends. I do. And I’m guessing this is a possible job offer, therefore counting it as part of the workweek at least allows you a free meal covered as company’s expenses,’ I recited off my head. Too many times I have said that.

Mr. Williamson widened his eyes. ‘That’s brilliant! You’re right, let’s schedule for next Thursday.’

‘Friday.’

‘Friday. Wow, who taught you that?’ 

‘You did, sir.’

‘Well, I’m a genius, then.’

‘If only you were sober enough to realize that,’ I muttered as I finished writing on my planner. Louder, I replied. ‘Remember to save the day and respond to the man. Don’t keep him waiting.’

I walked back to the door. Mr. Williamson nodded his head. ‘Will do!’

With another sigh, I sat back on my chair, cracking my fingers before typing in the response to Maurizio Arrivabene on behalf of Mr. Williamson, and making sure to set reminders in his calendar for every day of the week until his tea date. 

The pay is good, at least. 

—

‘You should have seen him. I mean, he’s like a toddler!’ I complained from my spot on the couch. 

‘I don’t know how you keep working like that, you’re basically a babysitter at this point,’ my mother said from the other side of the phone.

I hummed in agreement, looking up at my feet. They dangled from the other end of the couch, as I took up the entire space by laying down. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I told Rosanna from Human Resources to notify me whenever there was a new vacancy, but it’s been months.’

‘Honey, I can’t tell you what to do, but do you think head editor is the right job for you?’ she asked. 

I stopped. ‘I think so. I mean, I’m good at it.’

‘Yes, but do you like it?’

I paused again. 

That question had been roaming in my mind for months. At first, the job had been nice. Reading manuscripts for a living, correcting the mistakes, meeting with the authors, and getting to know them first-hand… Again, maybe historical non-fiction wasn’t what I originally envisioned my future like, but the pay was good enough to get me my own apartment and to live independently. At the rate the economy was going, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. 

But then Mr. Williamson had suddenly neglected his own job when his life started spiraling down, and I had been the unfortunate soul to try and collect the pieces of his broken person. I was suddenly managing, not only my life, but his, and needless to say, he wasn’t an easy person to handle. Despite the many conversations to get him to sober up, every morning was a complete wild card, not knowing whether he would even show up, and if he did, would he be conscious enough to work.

On the bright side, thanks to his many absences, I had learned how to manage the editorial department pretty much completely on my own. I knew the names of every single worker, even the janitors and the night guards working late shifts. I had written, rewritten, corrected, presented, contacted, hired, fired, and despite knowing I was perfect for said role, my heart still longed for something different. The reason why I even had studied Creative Writing all along. 

‘But only writing doesn’t pay the bills’, Mr. Williamson had said one morning, a month into my newly appointed role as his assistant. And ever since then, I had almost forgotten about my own dream of becoming a novelist. 

‘What do you think I should do, then?’ I asked her.

‘Honey, you’re old enough to make your own decisions,’ she laughed.

‘Mom, I need your advice! I know I’m old enough but right now I’m at a crossroads!’ I complained, lifting my arm and covering my eyes with it. 

‘You know what I think about writing for a living,’ she mused.

I groaned. ‘Yeah, I know it’s not your cup of tea, but I promise, I’m good. Great, even.’

‘I wouldn’t know, you never let me read anything.’

‘Well, yeah, it’s embarrassing.’

‘You need to get over that eventually, honey.’

‘It’s easier said than done,’ I sighed. ‘Besides, everything I have written so far was just reports and boring commercial synopsis for historical books, unless you really wanna read that…’

‘Honey, whatever you choose to do, just make sure it makes you happy. And that at least you’re getting money out of it.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I think I need to sleep this one over.’

‘It’s probably for the best. Let me know, whatever you do,’ my mother said. ‘I gotta go now, book club starts in fifteen minutes and I still gotta walk by Linda’s house to return her copy. Will you be fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. Wait, your dad wants to talk.’

‘Great.’

‘Hey, chicken pie!’ I chuckled at my dad’s voice.

‘Hi, dad,’ I smiled.

His tone was excited. ‘You’re seeing the practice?’

I nodded before answering, my eyes glancing at the TV, where the first day of race weekend was airing from the Yas Marina circuit. ‘Of course, I am. Not paying much attention, though.’

‘Well, nothing interesting so far. You wanna FaceTime tomorrow for quali?’

‘Yes, please,’ I groaned in delight. ‘I wish I could be there to watch it with you, though.’

I could hear his smile through the phone. ‘It’s alright, chicken pie, I know you’re busy lately. Everything alright with your boss?’

I could hear my mom yelling at him in the background of the call. 

I bit my lip. ‘Ask mom, she got all the details. Shouldn’t you be leaving for book club too?’

It was his turn to groan. ‘Don’t remind me.’

I laughed. ‘What was it?’

‘To Kill a Mockingbird. No bird in it.’

I audibly laughed at him. ‘Please, don’t say that out loud, you’ll be banished from the club.’

‘Oh, what a pity would that be,’ he said in his most mischievous voice possible. ‘Wish me luck, Principessa.’

‘Ciao, Papà!’ I laughed, finally ending the call in a fit of giggles. 

Shaking my head, I leaned my head back on the pillow and continued watching the practice, remembering the puzzling email addressed to Mr. Williamson. 

Multiple explanations littered my head as to how on earth Mr. Williamson knew someone as Maurizio Arrivabene, both from such different spheres, but then again, Stephen Williamson had always been a renowned author and an even bigger editor. It was possible that both men had coincided at some point in history, but I tried not to dwell much on it. I had a week until I found out what the fuzz was about. 

Groaning again once the free practice was over, I finally stood up from my couch and walked towards the small kitchen, opening the fridge in hopes to find something available to eat. Some leftovers caught my eye, and with a shrug, I took them out, threw them in the microwave, and sat down back on the couch once the food was warm enough to eat. 

Browsing through HBO for something to see, I settled on my annual rewatch of Parks and Recreation, anything to get my mind off the horrible week I just had. 

My phone pinging broke me out of my daze. Wiping my hand clean on my dirty pajamas, I quickly read over my friend Angela’s message.

‘You shouldn’t check Alec’s Instagram story, but I also think you should.’

With a frown I opened the app, seeing the familiar purple-ish circle around my ex-boyfriend’s face. The video was enough to bring a few tears to my eyes. His arm was around some other girl, and her crimson-painted lips left stains all over his cheek. His smile was wide, and he looked quite happy, wherever he was. 

I rapidly closed the app off, throwing my phone to the other end of the couch, now in desperate need of a glass of wine just to forget what I had just seen.

Breaking up with Alec had been hard, but seeing him off with someone else was even harder. Not only two months ago we were talking about living together, and now it felt like I was seeing a stranger through my screen. My job had been slowly taking over every aspect of my personal life too, and while I couldn’t blame Alec for feeling neglected all of a sudden, especially after three years together, it still hurt. I still missed him every night, morning, and any other time in between. He had been my best friend for so long, and one of my main pillars ever since I stumbled out of college, completely lost, and in frantic need of guidance in the adult world. We were both still kids that had become adults together, and I was having a harder time than I wanted to admit to trying to forget about him. 

Taking a big breath, I closed my eyes, touching the soft couch in an attempt to ground myself. 

Big breath in, big breath out. 

After a few minutes, I felt myself calm enough, resuming my dinner and my binge-watching, now more than ever desperate for sleep after the intense day. Technically I had every weekend off, but I still had many manuscripts and emails to send the next day, thankfully from the comfort of my own home. 

It was only in bed that I allowed myself to relax, turning off my phone, and grabbing my crochet set. It was a habit I had picked up lately, something so far out of my field of expertise, yet so relaxing once I got the hang of things. Working on my silly bucket hat every night before sleep was pretty much the highlight of my existence. And I was so invested in it, that only after I was finally done with it I realized I had been sitting for three hours in the same position, my eyelids dropping and my back hurting. Getting the needles out of the way, I finally laid in bed, and it only took a few minutes to fall soundlessly asleep.

—

A week later I found myself in the same position, crocheting a summer top in my bed, late in the evening after yet another exhausting week, when I received Mr. Williamson’s message. 

‘Book a flight to Italy. We’re going to Maranello.’

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Five (Part 2)

Life settles into a comfortable rhythm quickly once Jude is home. I go to work where I’ve spent the day usually not concentrating, and come home to find him on the steps of our apartment, we exchange a couple of words, ask about each other’s day, and then we rush to bed and spend the next several hours getting each other off until we’re hungry enough to stop. We’ll have eggs, maybe toast, cheese, or whatever else is in the fridge and then fall back into bed again.

Sometimes I get up to do my morning runs with Shane, conscious of the fact that time with him is running out, and yet usually, unless Jude comes with us I’ll find myself tangled up in the sheets with him for an extra hour, maybe two, making me late for work more times than I can count. 

“I’m getting pissed off at you,” Simon tells me when I drag my exhausted body up the stairs at eleven in the morning and slump into my desk. “Like, I know I’m not paying you a salary but I’d like it if you actually showed up on time, it feels like, you know, a bit of a basic thing…” He rants on for a while while I gaze out the window, and then eventually he tells me that I’m in for a week of cleaning paper off the floor and organising the shelves. It’s fine, it’s hard to focus on being creative when most of my brain power is used up thinking about orgasms instead. 

The investment firm in Sandyford rejects Jude’s application in mid June, and he is incensed. “Didn’t they even look at my portfolio?” He’s complaining as we skate around a roller rink in west Dublin. “My CV is solid, my work is good, I just think they don’t know what they’re missing.”

“Maybe it’s because your degree is irrelevant,” I point out, and he huffs with annoyance. “A degree shouldn’t matter, if a person is good then they’re good.”

I laugh at his pouty face, “You’re sounding like you’ve never been rejected before.”

“I have, of course I have,” But when I ask him when those rejections were he can’t seem to think of any, which proves my point. Mister five hundred points in the leaving cert, 1.1 fine arts degree is finally getting a taste of what it’s like to be just like the rest of us. I tell him that this fact is quite satisfying to me and he cracks a smile. “Well, I didn’t want to work in an investment firm anyway, so it’s not like I really care that much.”

He keeps the momentum up and applies for two other jobs, one as a content designer for a recruitment consultant, and the other as a runner for a soap opera. Both reject him fairly quickly. He gets the first email while we’re bowling with Claire and Shane, and the other while we’re visiting Jen at Michelle’s house. He is so devastated both times that we spend the night afterwards over analysing what he might have done to make them dislike him, as though there was some direct personal reason behind it all.

“I suppose that it’s just hard to break into a new career,” I say in an attempt to be soothing as he stares despondently at my bedroom ceiling. “Once you’re in and you have some experience then I assume it gets easier, but like, I don’t know. I’m just hoping that’ll be the case for me when I have Mezzotint on my CV.”

“It’s the recession,” He announces, although I’m not really sure that we’re technically still in one. “There’s just no creative jobs available except for these corporate nightmare ones.”

“The runner job wasn’t corporate.”

“But the pay was shit,” I can’t argue with this, so I say something vague about everything happening for a reason, and then I do a quick google search for creative jobs in Dublin and find almost nothing of relevance.

“There’s an opening for a… um, a technical design coordinator/manager?”

He throws his neck back onto the mattress in frustration and misery, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I’ve no clue, but there’s also an instructional designer position for-”

“Look, it’s okay, Evie,” he puts his hand over my screen and pushes it away, “I think I’ll just wait and see. Something is bound to come up.”

But by late June nothing has, and he starts to feel tetchy again. We get away for the weekend to keep his mind off it, and while we sun ourselves on the beachside deck of our West Cork glamping cabin I feel inspired to ask him, “Have you considered widening your job search? Maybe there are jobs outside of Dublin that you could do.”

He considers this, “I suppose. Maybe if the commute wasn’t so bad, or if I could get a little flat somewhere, then I’d come visit you on the weekends.”

I’d prefer him to be close to me in Dublin, but at this point it really does feel like we’ll take what we can get. He gets out his phone and I look in as he opens to jobs within 500km. Dozens suddenly load up, and I’m briefly ecstatic before I quickly realise that the majority of them are in England. 

“Oh,” I say, reading down the list, “London, London, London, Manchester, Bristol, London, London.”

“Useful for next year,” He mumbles, and hits the off button.

“I’m sorry, Jude,” I say, and he takes my hand to kiss it. “It’s going to be fine. Maybe it’s just because it’s summer, you know? People are on holiday, nothing much is happening. I’m sure that by September there’ll be more jobs. And anyway, I think it’d be nice for us to just spend time together and enjoy the weather.”

“Maybe you should just apply to a job in England,” I say defeatedly, “I think you’d be happier if you were working.”

He rubs his eyes, “Yeah, maybe, I don’t know. I just hate the uncertainty of it, you know, like everything in my life felt like it was laid out until now. I went to elementary school, then secondary school and college and it seemed obvious. Now it’s like… what do I do next?”

I tell him I don’t know what to say, because these thoughts frighten me too, but most adults seem to have figured something out. We sit in a bleak silence for a while contemplating our choices and our futures and then Jude gets a burst of manic energy and insists we go and get some chips from a takeaway so that we can be distracted from depressing things. 

We make a rule then that we can’t talk about jobs. Applying to them, relocating for them, cover letters, CVs, these all become forbidden topics. As a result we have a perfect weekend. We swim in the Atlantic, we explore the Beara Peninsula and marvel over the views of the mountains across the bay and little colourful houses dotting the coast. It’s sheep and spongy seaside grasses, dramatic, ocean worn cliffs and other beautiful things that are so different from our slice of the country, and when the evening falls and we huddle back into our cabin, Jude figures out how to put the stove on and we sit on the rough, worn rug and watch as the stars rise over Bere Island. 

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[htylmg]

i think Something happened to me yesterday but i need y’all’s opinion

i work at a tutoring service and usually i’m one of the last tutors to arrive for the morning shift, but we still have to arrive like 30ish minutes before the kids for… reasons. so imagine my surprise when i arrive and the door is fully unlocked, lights are off, and nobody’s inside, in the lounge room or anywhere. i ask the guy who owns the neighboring store if he saw anybody walk in and he says “maybe” in the thickest lithuanian accent you’ve ever heard. (or maybe he just didn’t want to put up with me. hm.)

i walk back into my work and the lights turn on. we don’t have motion activated sensors so immediately i get a feeling that Something is off but i cannot be bothered as i’m hungover as shit. i look at my phone clock- t-minus 20 minutes until the little shits arrive.

i check the sign-in sheet, as our Godly Manager- nowhere to be seen- uses that paper and that paper only to check off our attendance. of course, my chicken scratch is the only handwriting on today’s list. on a whim, i leaf back through the other days and in doing so, realize i’m the only one who ever signs in with a colored pen. everyone else only uses black. “well, guess i didn’t get the email” is all i think, and leave it alone.

it’s t-minus 15 minutes now, so i put in headphones to feel a little alive while opening up. while i’m wiping down a counter for no reason- perhaps because our Godly Manager thinks lysol wipes are a waste of money- i whip my hair a little too hard to “fuck me pumps” and my airpod goes flying out under a table. i’m still only mildly pissed atp, so i casually reach under the table to get it back and i feel the most sickening cold i’ve ever felt jam its way into me. (when i say “sickening”, i mean it physically made me feel sick, it was that cold.)

i pick the airpod back up, the one still jammed in my ear still blaring music, and look around for the source of the cold, bc i know it’s not our janky-ass air conditioner that only works in winter. and it couldn’t have been the weather- it’s a texas summer, the only wind we get are tornadoes.

after investigating for a little bit, i see no source, so i go back to cleaning, but sans airpods. (sorry, amy winehouse.) after what’s a solid ten or so minutes of cleaning- and watching the sky change and get progressively vibrant- i check my phone again, and do the biggest double-take i’ve ever done (except in a show i did where the lead kissed both his female co-stars then came out as gay, all backstage during final dress.) it’s t-minus 10 minutes.

“there’s no way it’s only been five minutes,” i murmur to myself, and this is the point where i start to Lose My Shit. my breaking point, if you will.

i grab a mic stand- unsure why we even have that, we don’t have a microphone- and hunker down at a table directly in front of the clear glass, staring at shoppers making their way in and out the stores around me while also trying not to make eye contact with the person in the window gripping a mic stand, looking ready to beat someone’s ass. i’m a motherfucking indian miss havisham, i think, half-crazed. (i say half because i hadn’t had coffee yet.)

i zone out, still gripping señor mic stand- we’ve bonded in the ?? minutes we’ve been here- and so i have no recollection of the lithuanian store owner (!!!) coming out of his store and face to face with me in the window. i have no recollection of anything except when i came to and saw a bearded man in his 50s making severe eye contact with me and rapping his knuckles on the window. the noise i make is just a bit quieter than a sonic boom, but my soul is remotely intact. (maybe.)

once i get over the initial… gah… he orders us coffee from the starbucks across the street- plain black coffees for both of us- and we drink our overpriced boon in silence while leaning against the window. he doesn’t talk once, which i appreciate because i am still very much hungover. i check my phone. t-minus 7 minutes.

i sigh very loudly. the lithuanian man looks at me awkwardly. i don’t feel like explaining the looney tunes/ghostbusters situation i think i’m in in, so i just say, “feels like i’ve been here forever.”

“mm.”

eloquent. now i’m purposely trying to make conversation just to prove something. “my phone keeps saying it’s only been less than 30 minutes, but i know it’s not true.”

“mm.”

now i’m not scared anymore, just mildly pissed for no reason. i recycle the cup- save the environment- and but him adieu. he has no reaction. his work here is done. i think he may be an entity.

i go back inside to the wretched place and arm myself with the mic stand once again. i check my phone one last time and blink very slowly. t-minus -2 minutes. those little shits were supposed to be here two minutes ago. i look outside. lithuanian man is gone. i grip the mic stand and slowly, slowly make my way to the front door, which has no windows. i wish i could say my internal monologue at this time is something inspiring and bold and shakespearean, but instead i’m whimpering what the fuck, what the fuck, over and over again. yknow- shakespearean.

like i’m ripping a band-aid off, i throw the door open. three 11-year-olds stand there, looking very pissed.

“we’ve been knocking for like five minutes,” one says.

“my mom was waiting for someone to answer before she leaves. you’re in soooo much trouble, miss [redacted],” another informs me.

“what are you carrying?” asks the final.

i sweep them inside forcibly with one hand and prop the door open with a doorstop. the darkness will not engulf me once more.

“that’s not safe,” the middle informs me yet again.

“i’m the boss,” i mutter, and turn around and give her a withering stare. she shrinks i little and i feel immensely guilty. power is not fun.

“now let’s. let’s review fractions… yeah?”

the rest of the day goes as normal. my phone clock works just fine. i’m the only one to clock in all day, and it’s only when i arrive home that i check my texts and see that everyone had been planning a week in advance to take a sick day on the same day and prank our Godly Manager, who somehow caught wind of this and didn’t arrive either. i don’t know if they assumed i knew as well or just didn’t bother to tell me. frankly, i don’t want to know.

i think i’m going to relisten to the magnus archives.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[tomhardysteeth]

Use Your Imagination

[ao3]

2.9k Eddie Brock/Venom Based entirely on the Venom: Let There Be Carnage trailer

Eddie woke up to the feel of his body tugging indiscriminately out from his back. He sighed and reached behind himself, easily finding a tentacle and tickling it until it retreated back inside him.

Wake up, Eddie, Venom said cheerily, running a slimy three-pronged tendril across his face delicately. We’re hungry.

“Ugh, can’t you just bring me something in here?” Eddie replied grumpily, burying his face in his pillow.

No. Venom took control of his legs and lifted him up and onto the floor, and Eddie momentarily lost his balance before a tentacle righted him.

Eddie groaned and stretched his back, cracking it. He headed to the bathroom and took a piss while a tentacle brushed his teeth.

He was exhausted, because he and Venom had finally tracked down all the guys harassing Mrs. Chen and had spent half the night running—literally running—them down. But Venom was even more chaotically energetic than usual because it had gotten to eat three people.

And Eddie couldn’t drink caffeine anymore—Venom hated it—so he was resigned to his orange juice and to spending the entirety of the morning just trying to wake up. 

“Babe, what the hell are you making?” Eddie asked as his body shifted minutely with the extension of several tentacles all over the kitchen. 

Breakfast, Venom replied as it knocked several things out of the fridge and onto the floor.

“You can’t possibly be hungry.”

No, but you are. 

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how their digestive systems worked, but he knew his body didn't even notice when they ate people, and his appetite was completely different than it used to be and also completely different from humans in general. He had to eat big, disgusting meals at least three times a day, and despite Venom assuring him that they both needed the sustenance to survive, Eddie couldn’t help but notice that he had gained weight.

Not that he could get on a scale. He broke his bathroom scale when he tried, presumably because a massively dense alien inhabited his body. That being said, his belly stuck out farther than it used to and his jeans were too tight.

Venom was making a mess and singing along (terribly) to the radio, so Eddie took a seat at the kitchen table and tried to dig his phone out of the pocket of his robe with his hand, but a tentacle got to it first and handed it to him.

He scrolled for a few minutes, ignoring the crashing sounds and the fire that he could see in his peripheral vision. Venom would clean it all up eventually, so it was fine. 

“Don’t forget to feed the chickens,” Eddie said distractedly, still looking at his phone.

Don’t forget to feed the chickens, Venom mocked in a nagging voice. 

They always had a few chickens in their apartment that Eddie got from a local farmer so Venom could eat live meat whenever it needed it. Except for the one chicken Venom had apparently imprinted on and was actually just their pet. Venom had named her Popsicle.

Ta-da, Venom said as it dropped two plates stacked high with who knows what underneath the waffles. 

“Thanks, Vee. Looks great,” Eddie lied. 

Venom swirled the end of a tentacle across his face, and Eddie reached up a hand to hold it steady so he could kiss it. 

Venom always helped with eating, because despite Eddie’s weird appetites, he still found it difficult to actually put food to mouth without gagging a bit. He also hated how long it took to eat enough to make him full, so Venom took to mindlessly feeding him, quicker than Eddie could feed himself, while he checked his emails and read the news.

What do you want to do this weekend? Venom asked as it put a fork to Eddie’s mouth.

“Nothing,” Eddie mumbled around the food.

Oooh, spicing it up a bit from last weekend when we did nothing.

Eddie huffed a laugh and reached for a limb, tangling his fingers through the threads of Venom’s biomass. 

After breakfast, Eddie got caught up in reading on his phone, so Venom took over control of his body and moved him onto the couch. It laid him on his back and propped pillows behind his head and under his arm, then it produced several tentacles out of the center of his chest and took to cleaning the mess it had made.

Eddie couldn’t see his phone past the tentacles, so a smaller tendril emerged and held it for him. His hands free, he stuck his right down the front of his boxers and lazily played with himself. 

Venom ignored him, too busy humming along to the radio to notice that Eddie was getting hard. After about five minutes, Eddie got bored and stopped his hand, resting it palm down inside the waistband of his boxers. His neglected boner softened.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Anne’s voice shouting at them to turn off the music. 

Eddie jumped and reflexively sucked a couple tentacles back into his body. Another limb caught his phone before it fell to the floor, then even more tentacles came out of his back and pushed him upright and closed his robe for him. 

Venom had cleaned much of the mess in the kitchen, but there was still cereal all over the counter, dishes piled precariously in the sink and on the stove, bullet holes in the fridge door, a tire swing hanging by the kitchen table, gaping holes in the ceiling, a four-foot stack of various bones from different creatures in the corner—hacked up by Venom during digestion.

“The chickens—grab the fucking chickens,” Eddie whisper-shouted as he walked to the door, Popsicle under his arm. 

Venom grabbed the other three chickens and held them out of sight of the cracked door. 

“Hey, Annie,” Eddie greeted. 

She tried to peer through the door, but Eddie had a tight grip on it, only revealing a sliver of his body to her. 

“You didn’t text me last night,” she said.

Eddie closed his eyes. “Right. Sorry. We got home really fucking late, and it just slipped my mind.” 

“Eddie, I have to know you’re OK.” Anne tilted her head and moved her eyes like if she looked hard enough then the door would magically swing open. 

“We’re fine, Annie. We took care of things.” Eddie avoided telling Anne details of his and Venom's vigilantism, but he always tried to text her to let her know they were safe. 

“Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you holding a chicken?”

As Eddie looked down at the chicken under his arm, Anne shoulder-tackled him and the door simultaneously and made a break for it into his apartment. Venom immediately encased her in tentacles and tossed her back into the hallway and slammed the door shut in her face.

I HAVEN’T FINISHED CLEANING UP IN HERE, ANNIE, AND I’D LIKE TO SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER ABOUT YOUR FUCKING MANNERS, Venom shouted.

Several neighbors yelled and banged on the walls, demanding that Venom shut the fuck up. 

“HEY!” Eddie shouted at the top of his lungs. He grabbed a broom with his hand and a mop with a tentacle and aggressively hit the ends of them against the ceiling and walls. “NEED I REMIND YOU FREELOADERS WHO TOOK CARE OF CRAIG?” 

Craig was their (missing for 35 days and counting) landlord. 

Anne pounded on the door. “Eddie, open this fucking door, I swear to god!”

Eddie forcefully cracked the door, only enough for Anne to see one of his narrowed eyes. “You’re not allowed to judge how we live.”

She pushed on the door, and he allowed her to come inside. A solid minute passed in which Anne stood in the middle of the apartment with her hands on her hips and surveyed the room without saying anything. Then, in an even tone:

“Alright. First question. Tire swing?”

Venom continued cleaning. Eddie stood next to Anne.

“Do you want the real answer or the PG answer?”

Anne’s whole body revolted. “Ew, oh my god. Gross, gross, gross—”

No, Annie, look, it’s just for this, Venom said, extending a head out of Eddie’s shoulder and snaking several tentacles around the tire. It spun the tire as fast as possible in one direction and then unraveled itself in a gooey mess as the tire spun in the other direction. 

“Oh,” Anne said. “Is that really what you use it for?”

Venom’s head was in the middle of the tire with limbs extending out to swing itself back and forth. No, I suspend Eddie in it and fuck him until he cries.

Anne cursed and threw her hands up in the air. Eddie and Venom laughed.

“Alright, next question.” Anne said after she had recovered. “Are the chickens for eating?”

“Yeah, except for Popsicle.” Eddie pointed across the room at where Popsicle was pecking at unidentified detritus on the floor.

“How the hell do you know which one Popsicle is?” 

“What do you mean? She’s that one.” He pointed again.

“They all look the same, Eddie.”

No. Popsicle looks like that. Venom pointed a tendril toward Popsicle. And the food looks like that. Another tendril split off into three prongs to point at the other chickens. 

Anne dropped her head and put her fingers to her temples, rubbing in circles. 

The toaster oven exploded. 

“Jesus, Vee, what did I tell you about—”

WELL maybe if SOMEONE would let me steal an oven then we could—

“Where the hell are we gonna put an oven in here? You gonna steal it from one of our neighbors?”

They continued arguing with each other while a tentacle grabbed a fire extinguisher from their stash of fire extinguishers in the coat closet and put the toaster oven out. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna get your deposit back, Eddie,” Anne said, still looking around his apartment. Her eyes stopped on the wicker basket full of dildos by the TV, but she didn't comment on it. 

A rock hit Eddie’s window. Venom opened it and stuck a tentacle out, and the neighborhood kids down on the street cheered and asked if it had time to play. 

“Go ahead, babe,” Eddie said.

It always felt a little strange when Venom removed so much of itself from inside Eddie’s body. It of course had to leave some still inside him, but just one tiny thread connected them together as Venom fanned out on the outside of the apartment building and juggled as many mundane objects as the children had in their power to throw up at it. Rocks, old toys, dolls, basketballs, baseball bats, a lawn chair, a pan of broccoli casserole, a cat. 

“How the hell do you live like this, Eddie?” Anne asked. 

Eddie cleared a space on the kitchen counter by shoving cereal onto the floor, then he grabbed two mugs off the sink pile and dug the coffeemaker out from the back of an extremely disorganized cabinet. The coffee itself was hidden from Venom in a plastic bag duct taped to the wall behind the fridge, so Eddie easily nudged the fridge to the side to retrieve it. He figured if Venom played with the kids long enough, he could get a little bit of caffeine in his body without it noticing. 

He said to Anne, “I’m in a relationship with an alien. What do you expect?”

Anne looked at the fridge then at Eddie, clearly confused by his inhuman strength. “I don’t know? For you to still act like an adult human?” 

Eddie internally tugged at the strands of Venom still inside him and found just enough biomass to make thick black veins pop out all over his face. “How ‘bout now? Do I still look like an adult human?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Eddie pulled the veins back in. “Stop worrying about us, Annie. I know it looks like a disaster in here, but that’s because our life is a disaster. It works for us.”

A child shrieked in a loud laugh. Eddie could just barely see through the window that Venom was juggling the 5-year-old twin girls that lived in the apartment below them. 

“Babe!” Eddie yelled. “Put the girls down before somebody calls the fucking cops!”

The girls aww’d their disappointment as Venom carefully lowered them to the ground. 

“Eddie.”

He turned his attention back to Anne and waited for her to continue.

“Are you, um, safe? Like, what are the logistics of your...sex life?”

Eddie scrubbed a hand down his face. “Well, Annie, Vee is made up of a whole bunch of malleable tentacles, so I’d say use your imagination.”

Venom slithered its way back in, so Eddie tried to gulp down his coffee but didn’t finish before a tentacle wrenched it out of his hand and slung it into the sink.

“How do you know you’re not, like, subjecting yourself to some kind of alien STDs?” Anne asked. “Or, like, what if it’s changed your body composition so much that you guys are, like, capable of reproducing?”

Venom and Eddie both gasped and smiled at each other, Venom’s head floating just a couple feet away from Eddie’s. 

Eddie said, “Oh, that would be so cute if we had a little—” at the same time that Venom said Aww imagine if it had your good looks and my complexion—

“Fucking Christ, you guys are intolerable,” Anne interrupted. “Can you not be weird for, like, two seconds?”

Venom pouted at her and moved its head over to Eddie’s shoulders, nudging at his face and bumping against him like a needy cat. It wrapped two big tentacles around his waist like arms, and Eddie dropped his hands over them and squeezed affectionately. 

“What else did you come over here for, Annie?” Eddie asked.

She cleared her throat. “I was going to ask if you and Venom would like to come over to my apartment sometime to have dinner with me and Dan.”

Venom’s head popped up from where it was resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Dan is finally ready to hang out with me?!

“Yes, but he’s still a little delicate since—”

I tried to stick my tongue in his mouth when you were kissing him goodbye before going to rescue Eddie from Riot, yeah, I get that.

“You what?” Eddie asked.

“So if you could just try to temper yourselves a tiny bit, maybe leave the chickens at home and don’t talk about fucking each other,” Anne concluded. 

“He knows that we’re fucking each other, though, right?”

“Yes, but knowing it and being confronted with it are two totally different things.”

Hey, Annie, tell Dan I think he’s boring.

“Hey, be nice,” Eddie chastised, reaching a hand up to pat Venom’s face. 

Anne told them she would let them know a date and time, then she headed for the door with Eddie close on her heels. She turned and hugged him on her way out and didn’t flinch when a couple tentacles clung to her, too. 

They’re not going to feed us enough, Venom said after she was gone. 

“Yeah, we’ll have to pre-game.”

Eddie went back to his lazy spot on the couch and Venom went back to tidying up. This time, when Eddie’s hand inevitably found its way into his boxers, Venom took notice right away and teased a small tendril out of his thigh to join in on the fun. 

ALEXA, PLAY “LET’S GET IT ON” BY MARVIN GAYE.

“You broke the Alexa yesterday, babe.”

Right, I’ll just have to sing it myself.

Eddie closed his eyes and leaned his head back, stroking himself slowly. “Please don’t.”

Venom rumbled a complaint through Eddie’s entire body, but then it snaked two tentacles over his shoulders and down his chest and pulled his boxers off completely. Two more tentacles pushed out of Eddie’s back and hammocked him in, folding underneath him and then turning up toward the ceiling to grip the holes.

When they started having sex, it wasn’t really so much of a monumental decision as it was Venom participating in literally every single other aspect of Eddie’s life that it just didn’t make sense for it not to be involved in the most fun bit. After Venom had been with Eddie for a week or so, Eddie couldn’t avoid his sex drive anymore and tried to quietly jerk off. Venom, having already stuck its tentacles into everything else Eddie did, simply wrapped a limb around Eddie’s hand and helped him out. And Eddie, stupid and horny, had immediately asked the alien to fuck him with its tongue. 

So, here they were.

With Eddie suspended, Venom moved its head under him and licked its way around his rim. There was still only one small tendril helping his hand pump his cock, but they had plenty of time to—

“Eddie, I forgot my—oh my god, oh my fucking god, oh my fucking—”

Eddie dropped back down on the couch, biomass encasing his nakedness in a safe little cocoon, but Anne had already rushed out the door and slammed it shut. 

He sighed. “I guess she doesn’t have to use her imagination.”

[imagine-loki]

Can you Keep A Secret

TITLE: Can you keep it a secret?  CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3 of 4

AUTHOR: ValarieRavenhearst2 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine working with Loki in some way but you keep your distance because you have a massive crush on him and you tend to always embarrass yourself. Alas you find yourself in need of his help as you need his magic and he’s the only one for the job.

  All the incubators in the lab make it feel like a sauna today, with so many new species needing direct heat, we’ve had to give them their own room. All my specimens look healthy and well after yesterdays’ sampling and I record their status on my iPad. After working by myself for half an hour I make the easy decision to take my jumper off before I start to sweat. As I start to wiggle out of it by easing it over my head, my shirt begins to rise with it and I make that awkward wiggle to try and magically make my shirt fall down without putting my arms back down. Whilst in the midst of my struggle I can hear the keypad being used to unlock the lab door and instinctively I throw myself to my knees to hide as my shirt has risen over my bra. Instant regret. I quickly correct myself on the ground as I hear Dr Banner and another botanist talking idly. The side of my abdomen stings viciously in warning as the material of my shirt goes back over it. I quickly flip it up again to inspect a small scratch now etched over my ribs, ending just under my bra. I hiss quietly in annoyance at my own stupidity as I stand calmly to inspect what I could have scratched myself on.   Dr Banner greets me in surprise, obviously questioning what I am doing on the ground.

“Good morning.” I give them both a greeting smile, “I just dropped my jumper.” I wave it at them as proof and they go back to their conversation whilst I look at the plant specimens in front of me. This odd, black looking orchidaceous plant looks awfully ominous with its long bristly thorns of an olive green hue. It must have been the culprit as none of its neighbours have any type of protruding bristles. With a slight panic spiking in my veins I try to examine it’s ID card but it’s information is mostly blank as it hasn’t begun rigours testing yet. Shit! What if it’s poisonous. Surely it would be in a covered incubator if it was known to be poisonous and over in lab 2 with the others.  I try not to act concerned as I question if the other two know anything about it and the other botanist, Swanson? I think. Says that the whole table is due for testing today by his team. I just nod in acknowledgment and calmly exit the lab. I mean, I feel okay, right? I don’t feel faint and or woozy.  I canter off to the bathroom after throwing my jumper over my chair; I quickly raise my shirt again in the mirror to get a better look. It’s not that bad … I suppose. The thin red slice is only about six centimetres long and it doesn’t look like there’s anything caught in the wound. Honestly, what an idiot. I can’t believe I was so reckless. If bloody Branson found out he’d have my head and he’d carry on for eternity how right he was about me. Oh the ridicule! He’d have me on desk duty till he dies. No one can know! I’m breaking every safety protocol we have but if I am to die from it so be it. I’d rather die quietly than admit my fault to that grumpy old git. After a quick rendezvous with the first-aid box I should be fine. I’ll just have to spy on the other team later to see if they come with anything concerning on the evil looking sucker. Ugh! I can’t believe I just did that.   As I exit the bathroom mumbling curses at myself, adjusting my skin tight black turtleneck, a wisp of black enters my peripheral and I know that the god of mischief has returned to the floor. His eyes find me as I cross the open bullpen to my desk and I let go of the hem of my shirt and make an effort to make the concern vanish from my face. Draped in a navy Asgardian attire, he is what my high school best friend would call a snack. I briefly notice accents of gold and olive lining the leather but I am quick to advert my eyes and look busy. I suppose he would be a nice distraction from the sting in my side but I needn’t the extra embarrassment on top of my slightly spiked anxiety. I can hear Branson’s old decrepit voice engaging with that sultry sirens call as they wander by my desk but I make myself continue typing on my computer as if my life depends on it. As soon as he’s passed me I can smell his cologne lingering to tease me. Do Asgardians even wear cologne or is that just him? I shake my head, determined not to let my thoughts distract me.   As I continue to work at my desk for the day, every time I stretch and move around I check on the other team working in the lab and notice that pointy little sucker is still out in the open so my panic levels have been low and every time I go to the bathroom I check my side; gently peeling off the large non stick plaster to inspect the fading mark. The redness has reduced so much that I have to strain myself to notice the mark.   I steal glances with the God of Mischief throughout the day as he wanders from station to station. I smile politely whenever our eyes meet and always breakaway first to continue working, which I notice earns me a sly grin after the fifth time. See, I knew that tricky bugger was up to something. I just know he purposefully loves to get under my skin. But I am not giving him the satisfaction of watching me blush today. Two can play at that game. Danny surprises me at lunch by bringing me a latte and childish teasing. He sits on the edge of my desk and immediately notices Loki working in the adjacent Lab in clear view of my desk. Trying to be noticeably subtle he continuously taps my shoulder whilst cooing in excitement like a giddy school girl. I shush him and punch him hard in the leg whilst acting like his antics haven’t phased me. I’ve been doing an amazing job of ignoring his presence all morning, he is not going to trick me into actively swooning now.

“Oh he looking.” Danny murmurs whilst turning his head away, tapping my shoulder again.

“Shut up!” I mutter back as I briefly glare at him in warning before retuning my attention to my computer screen.

“Girl he’s definitely checking you out.” He rearranges himself as he opts for standing behind me and leaning over me like he’s studying what I’m doing.

“I’m going to kill you.” I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing away from the Lab. “You’re such a trouble maker.” I hiss and jokingly shove him so not to make a big scene. “Don’t you have work of your own to do?” I question as I make an excuse to walk out of sight by taking my drink bottle to fill it up. Danny follows, chuckling evilly to himself.

“Yeah but this is more fun.” I threaten to throw water on him. “But seriously, he’s definitely watching you.” I could feel it! But I ain’t playing into Danny’s game.

“Yeah right,” I scoff as I begin back to my desk with Danny in tow, “what for? A good laugh if I stumble?” I take my seat but swivel so I’m facing Danny and away from Loki.

“Well no ‘cause I don’t think he’s ever laughed when you’ve embarrassed yourself.” Danny leans against the empty desk adjacent to mine and I gasp at him with forced hurtfulness.

“Are you saying I’m not funny?” I question mockingly and his face grimaces fiercely as he shrugs in agreement.

“Well, either he’s attracted to you or just pities you.” He deduces with his great sleuthing skills. “Which would you prefer?” I scowl so hard at him that he might burst into flames yet his shiteating grin is till carved into his face. I don’t answer, not diving into this ridiculous conversation (not to mention unsafe when he’s so close). With a steady, yet annoyed breath, I exhale loudly before turning back to my computer and turn my concentration up to a hundred and ten percent to block out Loki’s alluring figure in my peripherals.

“I have work to do and if you’ve only come to tease me you can piss off.” I purse my lips together in my best passive resting bitch face before flipping him off. Honestly what an arse – breaking basic friend 101 rules. Don’t joke about the crush in front of the crush.

“So touchy today.” He laughs and kisses me on the cheek before stepping around my desk before I can clock him one. “I’ll see you later.” He teases before leaving and I can feel myself being watched and it is so tempting to look to where that burning urge is coming from but I just know if I make eye contact I’ll blush several noticeable shades. I’ll remain strong, purely out of spite.   I finish all my paper work earlier than expected and manage to send off all my reports just has mid afternoon rolls around. Spite is a good focuser. As I’m scanning through my emails to see if I need to reply to any I get a page from Clint to say that he’s on his way up to check out his new arrow heads. I beam excitedly in remembrance, jumping up from my desk and heading over to Lab 2, where I had been storing them in the cool room at the back of the lab. I had been experimenting and developing  new knockout gasses and combustibles and I thought adapting them to Clint’s arrow heads would be a more challenging task then the standard grenades. Thus far the little project has been a success, they just haven’t had any field time yet.   I notice Loki watching me through his lashes as I swipe into the lab and punch in the code. We’ve already exchanged pleasantries for the day so there’s no need for me to make any form of acknowledgment as I enter. As I enter through the double doors he straightens himself, most likely in expectance that I had entered to speak with him since it’s only he and another botanist in the Lab. But I just walk straight through without a glance which gives me such a surge of power, knowing how  much confusion I was causing him even though his poker face is exceptional. After punching in the security code on the fridge I gently pull out the draw with the arrow tips and remove the tray, taking it with me. I have to make eye contact on my way back since focusing straight ahead would be too obvious and the key is subtlety here if I want to be one up on his intimidating behaviour. My lips curve pleasantly at him but I don’t say anything as I head back to the door. Clint is already at my desk and is glancing around for me. He waves happily when he sees me and opens the door for me so I don’t have to.

“Hey,” he smiles at me and I pass him the tray, “you sure these work?” He questions mockingly.

“Have I ever failed you before?” I coyly quirk my brows in rebuke.

“Want to test them with me?” He nods his head at the door for me to follow him and I do with a skip in my step. I did archery as a child but I got nothing on him. I take my time to relish in the fact that Loki hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I exit through the corridor and I even dare a cheeky, subtly seductive glance over my shoulder just to make sure. Oh it feels good to be bad .. no wonder he loves it.

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch. 28

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Photo shoot day. This ship is leaving the harbor. 

Previous Chapter here

It was still dark out when you got up. Your joints ached as you made your way to the kitchen and got your coffee. You walked over and opened the curtain slightly. In the early morning darkness you could make out snow flurries making their way to the ground. You pressed a hand against the glass, feeling the cold seep through. A chill went through you. You were glad you had ordered the extra waterproof equipment for today. 

You looked back and over towards the stairs. Yoongi would be able to sleep for two more hours before he needed to be at the trailer. BigHit had rented an area of park about 15 minutes outside of Seoul. You hoped traffic would go smoothly given the snowfall and that everything would be on time. The trailer company had already confirmed with you last night. Now all that was left was ensuring the trucks got appropriately loaded with the equipment. You got dressed and headed to the loading docks. 

The sun started to rise an hour later after you, the lighting, and the photography crew had made sure all of the equipment had been loaded. You then sent a message with directions to the head of catering and grabbed the clothing and accessory trunks. Satisfied, and sweaty, you hopped into the van and let the driver know you were ready.

The trip up into the mountains was a little bit scary, to be honest. The fresh snow crunched beneath the tires. As if sensing your nervousness, the driver reassured you, “We’ll just take our time. I drive in snow all the time.” You gave him a grateful smile but did not loosen your grip on the handle above the door.  “I can’t believe this didn’t get canceled.” He continued.

“Yeah, me either,” you agreed. You continued to monitor your phone. There were so many moving pieces that went into this shoot. It was difficult enough when everything was on-site. Having it in a location off-property and outdoors was immensely more difficult. You were glad to see the trailers were actually set up and running when you arrived. You had ordered a restroom trailer and a production trailer. Both generators were running smoothly. You checked in with the photography and lighting crew before unloading the van. 

You set up all of the clothing and accessories in the back room of the production trailer.  Hoseok had sent you photos of what each outfit was supposed to look like along with little notes. On the plus side, it was very nice and warm. It was small, but the space was manageable enough for 2-3 people. On the downside, it made going back outside suck even more. You walked back through the rest of the trailer, making sure the galley was prepared for the catering crew. Photography had their own section to review any footage without getting frostbite.

You took a deep breath and looked around. Yes. This could work. The sun was over the horizon now. You went out to help set up heat lamps.

At around 9 am the rest of the staff showed up: catering, stylists, and various assistants. You quickly assigned jobs to the assistants and showed the caterers to the galley. 

“Hey lady!” Alice waved as she exited the van. “It’s been a minute. What have you been up to?” She reached back in and produced two coffees, walking towards you with one. 

“Oh my goodness. Thank you. Thank you. You know. The same. Working. Helping Jimin prepare for the auction.” You took a sip of the coffee. “This is delicious.”

“Right?” Alice smiled, “I asked the driver if she would mind stopping at a real coffee shop and it turns out she was also burned out on BigHit house blend so we did. It’s so cold.” She shivered.

“Yeah. Well, you will be in the trailer to get started. Yoongi will be coming straight here so nothing will be done.”

Alice giggled, “Oooo, bed head Yoongi.” She turned around as you heard another car door shut. “You hear that Bongcha?”

What. the. Fuck.

“Hey!” Bongcha greeted you. “Ugh it’s so cold.” She wiggled and took a sip of her coffee. “Bed head Yoongi? Sign me up.”

You felt your eye twitch ever so slightly. You took out your phone, “Yeah he should be awake now. I’ll text him to check.” How to ask this tactfully, “Hey Bongcha. I thought Jessi was on make-up today.”

“She was, but she started to feel sick last night and asked if I’d cover for her. Of course I said yes.” She smiled

You swallowed your pride, “Awesome, well thank you so much. I really appreciate you stepping up. Like I said, you two will be in the trailer to start out. Yoongi’s room is in the very back, feel free to set up in there.” You gestured to the production trailer. 

“Great, thanks!” Alice said, walking around to the back of the van. You directed some of the assistants to help the ladies take their equipment inside.

YN: You up?

YG: No :p

YN: omg never call me a brat again. It’s freezing out here by the way

YG: What happened to “the snow is so pretty. I love winter. It’s the best”

YN: I like snow. I hate cold. Status?

YG: leaving now see you soon

YN: You gonna drink hot coffee today?

YG: never

You smiled and put your phone back in your pocket. Watching your breath become air you turned and looked at the set. It was all coming together; you had done it. It had fortunately stopped snowing for now, but unfortunately, your feet were soaked. You didn’t own waterproof shoes.  Oh well, you thought as you felt the cold begin to creep into your feet. This too shall pass.

You checked in with the crew members directing them to the hot beverage station which you had asked catering to set up outside. A floor had also been placed down under a canopy to provide a brief respite from any precipitation. Several people were taking turns standing in front of the heating lamps. “Thanks so much for ordering these!” “I can’t believe we’re shooting today.” You heard several times from the production crew. 

Finally you saw a car pull up that had to belong to Yoongi. You were surprised to see that he had driven himself. You had definitely requested a driver for him. You walked over, waiting for him to get his bag out and open the door.  He got out and mumbled a hello. He was wearing a hat, scarf, facemask, gloves, and long coat.

You smiled, “Hiding from the cold? A good strategy.”

“I hate this.” He said as he walked past you.

“I know.” You followed him, falling in step beside him. “But, look: you have a fancy trailer. And a fancy trailer to pee in. And your skin looks so refreshed and hydrated.”

You heard him laugh behind the fabric, “Yeah thanks, someone assaulted me with face lotion last night.”

“Assault? Please. Anyways, your room is in the back of the trailer. Alice and Bongcha are waiting for you, I have your outfits organized.” 

Yoongi stopped, “I thought I told you not to...you know.” He widened his eyes and trailed off as the two of you were surrounded by people. 

“I did what you asked me, and it couldn’t be helped. I’m sorry, I just found out.” You shivered. The sun had briefly escaped behind a smattering of gray clouds.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, clearly even more pissed off than he had been. “Yeah. Great. Where are your clothes?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused.

He gestured to you. “It’s -3.”

“I don’t have many winter clothes. Besides. It’s not so bad in the sun.”

Yoongi sighed in annoyance and took off his hat. He unceremoniously pulled it down onto your head, covering your eyes.  

“Hey...” you whined as you moved your hands up to fix it. When you did, Yoongi was already at the door of the trailer and going inside. You sighed and enjoyed the added warmth of the grey hat. It was extra toasty since Yoongi had inadvertently prewarmed it for you. You decided to go try and nonchalantly put your feet in front of one of the heaters and hope your shoes would dry out.

“45 minutes. 45 minutes left til go.” You yelled as you headed over to the awning. You plopped down into one of the camp chairs you had rented and took out your phone.

Jimin: Good luck today. I'll be sending you warm thought :(

YN: Thanks my dude. It’s fucking freezing out here. 

You snapped a selfie making a sad face.

JM: Yeah it snowed a lot last night. Omg you have Yoongi’s hat. So cute. Invite me to the wedding

YN: *eyeroll* I’ll invite you to your funeral *angry face*

JM: ahahahahahahahahahaha You smiled and answered a few emails.

WWH: Where are yooooooooo gggggguuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyyyssss. Yoongi won’t answer meeeeee :(

YN: Photoshoot all day. Sorry. Maybe we can hang this weekend.

YN: Jin is sad you won’t text him back. 

You sent a screenshot of Jin’s messages.

YG: WWH? 

YN: World Wide Handsome.

YG:.........user does not exists error 404

YN: ???????

YG: This number has been disconnected

Oh my God, you laughed. Putting your phone back into your pocket you decided to go make the rounds on the set and ensure when Yoongi came outside things could move quickly. The first set was with a sleigh. You walked through the blocking with the head photographer and checked with the propmaster to make sure the correct items were in and around it. Satisfied you went to the trailer. The door to the back room was open so you stopped at the doorway and watched. 

Alice had blown Yoongi’s hair back, exposing his forehead. Bongcha was done applying foundation and was lightly lining the corners of his eyes. He flicked them over towards you suddenly. 

“Go away, I’m mad at you.” Yoongi deadpanned

The two girls laughed.

“You two also. When you’re done with my make-up you can leave.” He pointed to the door while pouting. 

Clearly you had missed something.  “Oh? Yeah? Are you mad about the fancy trailer or the coffee station? I need to know.” You put a hand on your hip.

“I think he’s jealous of World Wide Handsome. He’s been going on and on about it. He was trying to get us to disagree, but we can’t.” Alice laughed. “I’m getting ready to spray, hold your breath if you’re sensitive.” 

Bongcha used her hand to shield Yoongi’s eyes as Alice applied the hairspray. 

You rolled your eyes as they all giggled. “Whatever. Your first shot is with the sleigh so it needs to have that Christmassy vibe. It’s this outfit here,” You walked in and gently shimmied behind the other girls, pulling the outfit and accessory bag off the garment rack. You sat down on the couch next to Yoongi. You turned and left the room.

“YN I’m just kidding!” You heard Yoongi yell. Whatever. He was right. Today sucked. You continued on outside, giving another countdown. A few minutes later Bongcha and Alice exited the trailer, presumably to let Yoongi change. They walked over towards you. Ugh. Not today. 

“How has everyone else been to Jin’s apartment but not me?” Bongcha whined as they approached you.

Alice laughed, “WelI was only there to work and do his girlfriend’s make-up. It was awful.”

“Ex-girlfriend though,” You clarified.

Bongcha sighed, “We’ll see how long it lasts this time. They do this a lot.”

“Oh. that sucks.”

“Yeah. Especially since Alice has the world’s biggest crush on him.” Bongcha teased.

“Shut up.” Alive gently shoved her. “Anyways...YN. I need to know. And I won’t be mad. Do you have a crush on Jin?”

You were dumbfounded. Why did people keep asking you that? “Um no?”

“Are you sure? Because you can tell me. I mean. I’ll fight you for him because I’ve liked him a long time and may the best girl win.”

You laughed, “Alice. I definitely definitely don’t like Jin. He’s like a goofy older brother to me. I’m just glad Yoongi has a friend.” 

Bongcha sighed, “It’s just our fate in life to pine after the men of BigHit,” She looked dreamily over at the production trailer.

“Sorry,” Alice said. “Yoongi mentioned Jin was in your phone as world wide handsome so I just got super paranoid.”

You blinked several times and then started to laugh. “Ahahaha no. That’s just how he talks and it makes me laugh. I mean. I understand that he is objectively a good-looking guy. But so are most of the guys we work with soooo…”

“Yeah. But Yoongi is definitely the cutest.” Bongcha sighed. “And he’s so sweet. He even let you borrow his hat today.” She smiled.

“Yep. He’s very thoughtful.” You added, careful to watch what you said. You felt slightly sick to your stomach. You saw the door to the trailer open. Yoongi had his coat on over the first outfit. He scanned the set and headed over to talk to the director of photography. You waited a few minutes before heading that way. 

"Perfect timing YN," Yoongi said. He slipped his coat off and put it around your shoulders. "Keep this warm for me." Before you could object he headed over towards the sleigh. 

Dammit. The coat was warm. You crossed your arms in front of you, pulling the fabric around you. Bongcha and Alice went in for touch ups and then the photography began. 

After the second set another round of snowfall began. You were thankful that so far Yoongi hadn't asked for his coat back. Your feet were thoroughly soaked. Everything on set seemed to be in order. The snow crunched beneath your feet as you made your way over to the production trailer. You headed into the back room and shut the door. Removing your socks and shoes you pressed your cold, pruny foot between your hands, hoping it would warm up. It did help, but you began to dread putting your socks back on. Dammit. 

You heard the door handle turn and looked up. Fortunately it was just Yoongi so far, not the girls. 

"Hey. Sorry, I'll get out of here." you said, starting to collect your things. 

"What's wrong with your feet?" Yoongi asked with a concerned look on his face. 

"Oh. I guess some snow got into my boots. They’re fine. Just cold." You half lied. 

Yoongi picked up one of your socks. "This is soaked. You can't put this back on." He gave the sock a disgusted look and jettisoned it across the room.

“No!!!! That’s my only sock. Yoongi I have to.” You got up to try and find it. “I don't have other ones. There's not even extra Gucci socks from the clothing trunk I can steal.” You started digging around between the couch and end table with your ass unceremoniously in the air.  

Yoongi smirked at first, “Well it's going to keep snowing.” He sighed. “Just stay in here the rest of the shoot.” 

You turned around, your face red from being upside down. “No. I'm your assistant. I need to be out there helping.” You were clearly upset.

Yoongi took out his phone and side eyed you. “Calm down. Just wait. We're taking a break anyways. 30 minutes. OK? I’ll be back.” He shut the door as he turned around. 

Yoongi dialed the number and walked over towards the door. There weren’t many shoes to sort through so he found yours quickly. He frowned as he felt how soaked they were and checked the bottom. The person finally picked up the phone.

Hobi’s voice was high pitched, tinged with concern. "You're calling me? Is everything OK?" 

"No.” Yoongi tried to keep his voice low as he walked over to his car for some privacy “We're at this fucking snow infested shoot and YN doesn't have waterproof shoes and her feet are going to get frostbite. Her socks and shoes are soaked." 

Hoseok could see where this was going. "Where is the shoot?" 

"It's only like 15 minutes away. Maybe 20 with the snow. She wears a 255" Yoongi opened his car door and got inside.

 Hobi couldn't resist, he ran his tongue along his lips. "And what do I get for this favor?" 

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, "Whatever you want. I don't have  a lot of time before we start shooting."  He stopped in annoyance, the hair product sticking to his fingers.

Hoseok closed his eyes and smiled. The satisfaction of his suspicions being true felt good. "I tease. I like YN, I don't want her to get frostbite, I'm doing this for her. No favor necessary." 

“Thanks. I’ll send you the coordinates.” Yoongi hung up the phone and texted Hobi.  He leaned his head back against the headrest. Namjoon was making them do this to punish him, he was sure. There was no reason why this couldn’t have been moved back. He had done everything he had been asked to do lately though. Even though, it turns out what he had been tasked with wasn’t difficult at all. He hadn’t intended to like this arrangement. He hadn’t intended to like you. And it was becoming more and more difficult for him to ignore the fact that he did. You were constantly on his mind.

He smiled as he thought back to last night. You were so cute.  Yoongi closed his eyes briefly, remembering the weight of your hand in his and the feeling of your fingers on his face. He wanted it to happen again again. He felt a warmth rush through his body. It was cut short when he heard the car door open, shaking him from his thoughts. He was annoyed for a half second until he saw you. Still wearing his hat. You were holding his coat. 

“Here, you can have your coat back.” You said, handing it to him like a blanket.

He briefly chewed on his lip, and looked forward again. “Jhope’s bringing you shoes.”

“What? He doesn’t need to do that. Yoongiiii”

“You will make a terrible assistant if we have to cut your feet off.” He replied dryly. He cleared his throat. “Why are you out here anyways? You’re supposed to be staying in the trailer where it’s warm. And not wearing those,” he gestured in disgust to your soaked shoes.

You rolled your eyes, “Bongcha is ready to touch up your make-up. We have ten minutes until the shoot starts again.”

The snow had covered most of the windshield at this point. Leaving the two of you with a half-covered view of the set.

Yoongi looked back out towards the snow, his breath visible as he confessed, “I just want to go home.”

“Me too. I don’t even want to play in the snow. You know how bad that is?” 

Yoongi turned to face you, “If you like the snow so much why don’t you have snow-proof shoes?”

You fidgeted, uncomfortable with the question. “Snow shoes are expensive. I gave mine to my aunt when I moved out. She still has to walk to work.” You pulled down your sleeves to make sweater paws. “I work in the building most of the time so I thought she should have them.” 

“Of course you did.” Yoongi shook his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said defensively.

“Calm down brat. It means you do a great job taking care of others.” He reached over and grabbed your hand. “But you need to do a better job taking care of yourself.”

You looked out the window, sure that your face was growing red. “Yeah. I guess.”

“I know it’s what you’ve had to do for a long time.” He took a deep breath as he forced himself to say the next part, “So I’ll take care of you until you get better at it.” He squeezed your hand and then let go. “Jhope should be here soon with your shoes and socks.” He placed the keys in the cup holder. “Turn the car on if you want.” He let himself out, leaving you to sit and think about what had just happened. NEXT CHAPTER @lidda​​​​  @anpanman-sonyeondan​​​​   @firefairy1​​​​  @cuteipat​​​​  @sugaslittlekookies​​​​  @janeelizabeth1216​​​ @deeepvibes​​​​ @gxldenhunny​​​​ @livelyjay​​​​ @bobbyboops​​​​ @honeysunandsoil​​​​ @deathkat657​​​​ @niniita-ah​​​​ @min-yus​​​​ @or-worse-expelled7​​​​ @black-rose-29​​​​ @storms-and-stars-blog​​   

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

This is two parts because I got carried away. I wrote this on my phone and proof read as much as I could.

Warnings: cheating, male masturbation, m/f sex, minor spoilers for “Defending Jacob”.

——————————————————————————————

Plain Gold Ring

“Plain gold ring on his finger he wore

It was where everyone could see

He belonged to someone, but not me

On his hand was a plain gold ring”

-Nina Simone

When the Barbers moved to your building every old bitty in the place was buzzing with excitement. You had loosely followed Jacob Barber’s case as it played out on the evening news. The whole thing was bizarrely too neat and tidy for your liking. You tried to stay out of idle gossip as much as possible. But, when you heard Andy Barber was interviewing for a senior position at your firm, you had questions.

Andy was brought in to interview for a position that you were also interested in. You requested a meeting with your boss and you went in guns blazing. Your poor boss was not ready for all the excitement.

“Am I still being considered for junior partner?”

“Y/n, calm down.” When he saw you winding yourself up, he popped an antacid an a few ibuprofen.

“Calm down? Calm down he says. I’ve been with this firm since I clerked for you in Law school, Stan. I’m the best fit for this role and you know it.”

“I know you are, kid. I’ve been out voted.”

It’s common knowledge that the partners don’t want too many women gunning for their jobs. They already have one token female partner. They didn’t feel the need to add another. You were infuriated. You stomped back to your office and slammed the door.

All of the work you put in. All of the late nights. You don’t have time to even date. And all for what? You had to calm down now because you were starting to cry out of sheer frustration. You took a deep breath and started going through your to do list. With a relatively light schedule you decided to leave for the day. You mumbled something to your assistant about a doctors appointment and headed for the elevator.

You saw some of the senior partners headed your way shaking hands with Andy. You pressed the elevator button furiously trying to avoid them. Could you make it down seventeen flights of stairs in your stilettos? The elevator dinged and you jumped on just as Robert called your name.

As soon as you put your car in gear, your assistant called. You sent her to voicemail. She called again. Declined. Finally she texted call me back ASAP. Emergency. Fuck.

“Caitlan I said I had an appointment. What’s the emergency?”

“Sorry. Mr. Cramer insisted I call. He’s standing by my desk” she whispered. “They want you to have lunch with them today. Maybe it’s about the job.”

“Did you see guy shaking hands with them? That’s the new junior partner. They are asking me to lunch to reject me. Fuck! Where?” You rested your head against the steering wheel.

“Commander’s at 1:00.”

“Fine.” you groaned.

You went home to freshen up and send out your updated resume. You made sure to include “Willing to relocate” at the end to broaden your prospects. You had a friend in Chicago who worked for a very high profile firm. They were always looking for new blood. You shot her a text to let her know you were looking then emailed your resume. The prospect of starting over completely made you nauseous. You would have to go through the ranks and probably waist another five years to get exactly where you were right now.

When you arrived at the restaurant the maître d brought you to the table where Stan, several other senior partners and Andy were waiting. Andy stood up to pull out your chair.

“Gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Sit down, Y/N. We wanted to introduce you to Andrew Barber.”

“Andy. Please call me Andy. It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N. These guys haven’t stopped talking about you all morning.”

“All good things I hope.” The men laughed and ordered a round of martinis. Good thing you ate a big lunch at home. No one likes a sloppy drunk girl.

“Yes. Well, Y/N, as you may not know Andy has accepted the junior partner position. We would love if you brought him up to speed on anything you’re working on and show him the ropes.”

You were seething. “Of course Mr. Cramer. Happy to.”

“Oh. Good. Let’s order huh? I’m starving.”

You were silent for the rest of lunch ordering two more martinis very dry and a salad. Dressing on the side of course. The men spoke loudly and never even tried to include you in the conversation. You excused yourself to use the restroom. Andy, ever the gentleman, stood up at the same time.

You didn’t go back. Not that it would have mattered. You ordered an Uber and checked your email. You didn’t notice Andy at the valet stand.

“I’m headed back to the office. Need a ride?” he called to you.

“No. I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He watched you pace back and forth reading a message almost out loud.

You didn’t look up from your phone. “Shit.” You scowled looking at the screen. You dialed Caitlan’s extension. “Caitlan, Sloan Treadaway’s deposition was moved to today. I need it pushed to Monday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I figured you would be coming back so I told them it was ok to push it up. I can call them back.”

“No. Don’t bother. I’m on my way back.”

“Looks like you can use a ride after all.” Andy was grinning from ear to ear.

He held the door and rushed around to the other side. You pulled a small bag out of your purse. You freshened your hair, popped some breath mints, lotioned and spritzed away the smell of booze. Andy thought this must be commonplace for you. It’s not easy trying to run with the guys. He could walk into this deposition piss drunk and most people wouldn’t care. You had to be perfect. He always hated that aspect of working in a big firm like this.

“Sorry. I’ll pay to have your car cleaned.” It smelled like you now. Expensive perfume and minty breath. Sweet but not sickly so. He inhaled letting his nostrils flair breathing you in. “Don’t want your wife to be pissed.”

“Lori? Don’t worry about her. She’ll understand.”

“How is she doing with her job search?”

“Doing ok. Thanks for asking. She’s interviewed with a few places.”

“She worked for a non profit right?” When he looked at you quizzically, you quickly explained yourself. “I hear things. Anyway. I know the director of a non profit organization that might be a great fit for her. I’ll pass along her information.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Stan told me you were the front runner for this position. I know how hard it is for women in this industry. I want to say how sorry I am…”

“Let me stop you there. First of all, don’t be sorry. You’re high profile and a damn good litigator. They would be stupid not to offer you the moon. You’re over qualified for this job. You didn’t come here gunning for me. I’ll be fine. Besides, a few of these old bags have one foot in the grave. It won’t be long for me.”

Andy smiled at you but still kind of felt like shit at the way the firm treated you. When you pulled into the garage you offered a quick thanks and rushed into the building to prepare.

Andy stayed behind for a bit. He spent a few precious moments breathing in your scent, letting it linger and wash over him. He hoped his clothes would smell a little like you. Stan said you were a “fire cracker”. Andy always hated that analogy. He knew by the way the group of men talked about you that he would like you. Your quick banter in the car confirmed it. Throughout the rest of the day you would invade his thoughts. He and Lori were still married but their relationship was long over. You had excited him more in a couple of hours than she had in years. When he got home he didn’t eat dinner or speak to anyone. He went right to his room where he replayed your exchange over and over. The ghost of your perfume lingered on his shirt. Both of your scents mixed together gave him a raging hard on. He kept your shirt over his face while he fisted his cock.

——————————————————————

The next morning you decided to face the day with a fresher attitude. Sometime yesterday you heard from your friend. She was thrilled that you reached out to her. She has been trying to get you out there for a while. Knowing that you had a solid backup plan was giving your hair volume and clearing your skin.

You thought you were early but Andy was already in your office waiting for you.

“Morning, Mr. Barber.” God he loved how you said that.

He scoffed, “Andy. Please. I brought you a coffee. I hope it’s ok. I got your order from Caitlan. I thought we’d order in lunch today. We have a lot of ground to cover. You should probably let your family know you’ll be missing dinner.”

“I don’t think my dead ficus will worry too much.” Your tone was dry.

“I apologize for the assumption.”

“Not necessary. Though my mother and my therapist would both be pleased to know that I look like someone who could have a family.”

You were funny. You seemed to say whatever thought popped into your head. You had one hell of a poker face though. He didn’t know if you were trying to be funny or if this was just you. When you didn’t look up from your computer screen he didn’t laugh.

As the day wore on you warmed up to him a little. You filled him in on the three big cases you were working on. You were actually going to trial on a very important case soon. He insisted you rehearse your opening statement a hundred times.

During the third run through Andy’s phone was blowing up. He finally turned it off and told you to keep going. He watched you pace around the room and coached you on your stance. “Stand with authority not arrogance.” He chided. He showed you himself then, asked if he could touch your shoulders. “Round them out like this. Good. Back straight. See?” he pointed to your reflection in the window, “It’s not menacing or arrogant. But you look like you’re in charge. You look perfect.” Hell. Was he flirting with you? By the time you looked at the clock it was 9:30.

“Fuck is that the time?” he said with a boisterous yawn.

“Shit. We should pick this up tomorrow.”

“Let’s go get a drink. I’m buying.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m sure your wife and kiddo are dying to see you.”

He stacked some folders neatly on your desk and looked up at you through his lashes, “I’ll be sure to tell my therapist that I look like a guy who has a happy marriage and a good relationship with his kid.”

Your cheeks heated. The way he was looking at you made you sad but it also warmed your insides. “I’m sorry.” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. We said we would stay together until Jacob went away to school. He pretends to ignore the fact that we have separate bedrooms. We put on happy faces everyday. We’re a typical American family.”

You laughed at his admission. His whole story was so fucked up. You wanted to know everything about him. “You know, I think I will let you buy me a drink.”

“Good girl.” he said in a low voice that went strait to your core. The whole way to the car you repeated a mantra in your head reminding you not to get involved with a married man. It didn’t matter how unhappy they were. But you wanted him. Every time he touched you, your insides would quake.

The bar was packed with regulars from the DA’s office and other firms. You introduced Andy around. The guy was a legitimate pro. He was so smooth working the room. The whole time he kept finding small ways to touch you. The brush of his fingers on your arm his breath against your ear when he asked if wanted another drink. Your heart nearly stopped. You stuck with him for a while until your feet couldn’t stand anymore. Every time he caught your eye from across the room he winked at you.

For the first time in a long time Andy was enjoying himself. Your friends were fun and not at all stuffy like he thought this crowd would be. You were adorable. Your laugh was cute. The way you brushed against him on purpose was cute. You were openly flirting with him the more you drank. He had a massive crush on you. What grown man has a crush these days. He thought maybe if he fucked you and got it out of his system he’d get over it.

Your friend Liz sat down at your table trying to talk to you for a solid minute before you noticed. “Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?” She threw her head back laughing at you.

“I said you two would make a gorgeous couple.”

“Stop. He’s married.”

“Happily?”

“That doesn’t matter. Married is married.”

“So that’s a no. He’s been eye fucking you all night. Shoot your shot, darling. We get so few in this life.” The light hit his wedding ring just right making you feel horrible for even entertaining the thought. Do not get involved. You kept chanting it in your head over and over until Andy slid in the booth next to you. He leaned over so he could talk over the din of the crowd.

“Hey, you. Wanna get out of here?”

“You don’t need to bring me home, Andy. I can catch an Uber.” That was such a ridiculous statement since you lived in the same building.

“That’s not what I asked. I said do you wanna get out of here?” His eyes were fixed on your mouth. A salacious grin splayed across his lips just knowing you’d give in.

“Andy. I….” You stuttered over your words. Your brain stopped working when you felt his warm breath on the shell of your ear. “Let’s get out of here.” Your breath hitched in your chest when he touched the small of your back. He payed his tab and lead you out of the bar.

You held hands in the car. His thumb rhythmically traced patterns on your knuckles. Every touch sent bolts of arousal to your aching cunt. It felt electric. You were ready to crawl into his lap by the time you made it into the garage. He parked in his spot and followed behind you to the elevator. You lived two floors below him. You glanced back at Lori’s sensible suv next to his car and felt embarrassed. He caught you looking and stopped you in your tracks. He took your chin in between his thumb and index finger forcing you to look at him.

“I understand if you don’t want to invite me in. I’m asking a lot of you. But I really like you, Y/N. You are funny and intimidatingly smart. And, fuck me, you are fucking stunning. I can go to work tomorrow like nothing happened. Don’t worry about Lori. Worry about what this means working together. Can you handle this?”

Your brain was no longer working and deferred to your pussy for any and all further decisions. You had not had even mediocre sex in six months. You just knew Andy was going to blow your mind. All day you have been working together so well. You challenged each other and he encouraged you when you faltered. Would this change the dynamic at work? Absolutely. Could you handle it? You’re damn right you could.

“I can handle it.”

“Good girl.” You all but sprinted to the elevator. He wouldn’t touch you until you actually got inside of your apartment and closed the door. When you did, he pushed against you and covered your lips with his.

You tasted the golden flavor of beer on his tongue as it probed your mouth. He unbuttoned your blouse and pushed it over your shoulders letting it hit the floor. He kissed his way down the column of your neck to the swell of your breasts. You panted underneath him raking your nails through his hair.

“God you smell incredible. At any point if you don’t want this….”

“Andy, shut up and fuck me.” He growled low in his throat before he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom. You could see how hard he was through his impeccably tailored slacks. You unzipped his fly and took the whole throbbing appendage in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby yes.” he hissed. You relaxed your throat muscles and swallowed him deeper. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He moaned your name over and over soaking your panties. “Stop, honey. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

He eased you down onto the bed and undressed you painfully slow. It had been so long since he was intimate with someone, he wanted to take his time. He started with your feet removing your heels and massaging your insteps. His hands ran up the length of your legs to your skirt. He took off your panties first letting the skirt material pool around your waist. “So wet for me. So beautiful.” He slipped two fingers in between your folds hitting everywhere but your clit. He built up a tortuous rhythm that had you begging for relief. He smiled down at you watching completely fall apart. When he dipped his fingers inside of you, you were done. Your orgasm spilled out in one glorious cry. Before you could catch your breath he pulled off your skirt and unhooked your bra. His cock was weeping at the sight of you. A large hand held the back of your neck holding your head in place so you could look at him. Your eyes locked as he buried himself inside of you. There were no more words as he moved inside of you. Only breathless moans and sighs would escape your lips. He increased his pace and your orgasm started building again.

“Fuck. Andy, I’m….fuck!”

“I’m with you, honey. Come with me.” His words were your undoing. You latched your whole body onto him. He held you tight whispering praises in your ear. He kissed you slow and deep easing you back down to Earth. “You ok?”

“I think so.” You both laughed at the sight of yourselves. Sweat glistening off of your skin, lips puffy and kiss swollen. He eased off of you and rubbed your thighs to relax you. You thought he would get dressed and rush out but he crawled under the covers instead.

“Can I stay for a while?” Big arms pulled you down to his chest. He stroked your back softly to help you drift off to sleep.

“I’d like it if you did.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and let his eyes flutter closed.

When dawn found you a few hours later, you were still tangled with each other. You jolted awake panicking because Andy was still in your bed. “Andy, wake up. You stayed all night.”

“I know. What time is it?”

“6:45.”

“Then we have time. Go back to sleep.”

“But Lori…”

“I told you not to worry about her. Get back on this pillow and let me hold you. Please.” The poor guy was so touch starved you guessed. Andy Barber was not a man who did well being single. He loved being in love. He longed for a connection. For passion. He knew those things would sometimes fizzle out of a marriage. But, with you, he couldn’t see that. Your fire matched his fire and Lori was the wet blanket that always snuffed him out.

He supposed that wasn’t really fair. Two people were in their marriage. He worked long hours and spent very little time doing anything but being an ADA and being a dad. He didn’t give the same dedication to being Lori’s partner. The stress of this past year pushed them further apart. He felt obligated to be with her. It was his idea to stay together for Jacob’s sake. He regretted pushing for it.

He pulled you close to his body and wrapped an arm around your waist. He nuzzled your hair and fell back to sleep. You did too.

[ciggylungz]

Rivals

Summary: Y/n and Harry are both CEO’s of their parent’s companies since they inherited the businesses from them, they’ve been rivals since they were kids- now that they’re professional adults how will their rivalry affect them?   2.2k

 -

It’s no secret that growing up with a workaholic parent is hard for a kid, but for Y/n it was amplified due to the fact both her parents owned one of the most famous fashion companies in the world. This meant during most of her childhood she relied on nannies, private drivers, maids and child minders to care for her in absence of her busy working parents.

Of course having absent parents gave her some perks during her teen years, the ability to throw ragers in the absurdly large mansion they’d bought for the three of them –(well, they were hardly in it so mainly just their daughter)- not having to worry about getting caught when she decided to bring people over to get a quick shag in and the plus of having no one to bother her during her angsty middle school years. Those things were nice, yet you really can’t replace the role of your parents with teenage hookups and parties.

If there’s one thing that she absolutely hated about her parents work, it would be their former business partners cunt of a son. Harry Styles. Y/n had been forced to be in the twats life since they were 10 and his father joined stocks in her parents company before investing fully and becoming business partners. For Y/n that meant being forced to be around their son whenever their parents were too busy crushing numbers or out on boozy business trips clogging their noses with high end coke and buying out their competitors.

Harry was always a good-looking boy, and that only made things worse because he was a total prick. He was arrogant, annoying and always got away with being the biggest pain in the ass y/n has ever experienced in her life. He was insanely competitive, cocky and always found a way to weasel into Y/n’s business just to push her buttons. One’s he knew how to push perfectly to make her want to pound his head off a blacktop.

It was almost as if when it came to Y/n he never matured past being a 12-year-old boy, and now he’s a 23 year old powerful business man who still can’t manage to leave her alone.

Y/n had inherited her parents’ company when they decided to retire, two years before the retirement her parents and Harrys father had severed their ties and he’d gone back to his independent company. And just y/n’s luck, the man passed his roll as CEO down to his son, making the two young adults’ owners of two of the most famous fashion and beauty companies to ever exist.

Make no mistake, Y/n was a strong, independent and ruthless business woman so Harry’s subsequent inheritance didn’t threaten her in a business sense it more so made her worried for her blood pressure since the man couldn’t help but come bother her every chance he got. It didn’t help his dad had a single remaining stock left in the shoe portion of their clothing company giving Harry the perfect excuse to come barging into Y/n’s office to get on her nerves. To Y/n Harrys like a cold sore that won’t go away, just keeps coming back every time you think you’ve gotten rid of it.

___

Today was a busy day for Y/n, she had a meeting with her team that worked closely with her managing profit, stock, inventory, sales and all that stuff. Her team was large, with a company with over two thousand distributors worldwide and thirty-five exclusive stores scattered around the globe that’s to be expected. All in all, Y/n was responsible for making sure all one hundred and fifty thousand employees were running a smooth ship and every participating party was doing what they needed to do. It was a stressful job no doubt, but she never backed down from the challenge.

The meetings were always her least favorite part of her job. All the paper work that had to be read, numbers calculated, sales charted and any complaints or incident reports all had to be verbalized and talked about in detail with documentation of all the important things said as well as much more. Today the meeting took a grueling four and a half hours and the day was far from over.

Once she got out of her meeting it was nearing noon, she had to push her lunch off to phone the companies attorneys because one worker was trying to do a fake insurance claim. The man faked a work accident failing to remember every warehouse and factory was littered with security cameras that caught him in the act, so she had to inform them of the situation so they could sort it out. After that she got sucked into looking at new designs her design team had come up with for the next season, explaining that Chanel and Gucci both wanted to work with them to carry a few exclusive items only for that season.

Finally, at half passed two she made it back to her office, sitting down in her desk chair while taking her hair out of the headache inducing ponytail it had been in since she got there at five that morning. She opened her laptop, planning to send off some emails while she put in her order for lunch to her assistant, getting as much done as she could in the little bit of private time she was able to snag.

A knock sounded at the door, she knew it was Morgan coming in with the food she ordered so she didn’t bother to look up from what she was doing very drawn in to the email she was currently formatting. Only her attention was quickly severed when his voice rang out instead of the one she expected.

“I believe you ordered the chop salad, diet coke and fruit for lunch misses Yln.”

That annoying, cocky voice. You can hear his shit eating grin and teasing eyes simply in his tone, you don’t even have to look up at the jerk.

A prolonged sigh blew out of her lips, a grunt of annoyance following as she looked up at him. He looked nice, as always, she added bitterly in her own mind. She hated the fact someone so goddamn irritating was so undeniably attractive. He wore a dark blue suit, white button up with a black tie and yellow accent pocket square. Yet his fashion and handsomeness seemed a bit overshadowed by his personality that had the same affect on the woman as nails on a chalkboard.

“Harry, to what do I owe the displeasure?” Y/n reached her arm across the desk to snatch the paper bag from his ring clad hands, a sarcastic disapproving finger was pointed at her yet she didn’t take his bait opting to give him the death stare instead.

“Sassy today are we?” The man rested himself on the small leather loveseat that was in her office, propping his head on a throw pillow and putting his feet on the armrest. “You act like you’re not happy to see me, I know yeh missed me.” Y/n rolled her eyes, digging her fork into the salad aggressively. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been happy to see you, and I’m certain no one has ever missed your presence either.”

Harry chuckled slightly, loving how easily he could annoy the girl. Over the past thirteen years he’s learned just how to get under her skin, and he enjoyed doing so.

“Bit feisty today aren’t yeh Y/n? playing hard to get I see.” The man folded his hands on top of his chest, completely relaxing into the comfortable furniture, making himself comfortable for the undetermined amount of time he’d be spending there irritating his childhood ‘friend’.

The difference between Harry and Y/n’s perspectives on their rather odd ‘relationship’, if you could really call it that is Harry never hated Y/n. In fact he was always quite fond of her, he enjoys her company even when he’s forcing it on her and using the shared time to annoy the ever loving shit out of her. He and the woman have always been competitive growing up. In sports, card games, classes, and now business and Y/n took things a lot more seriously then he did. she was always wound a bit tight, she gets it from her mother.

Harry and Y/n had an interesting past. They have a love-hate relationship, seeing as even through the perpetual animosity they’ve carried since they were kids they did have their good moments too. And though Y/n would never admit it, there’s a part of her that does actually care about him even if she loathes that part of her deeply. In their teens they were at each other throats a lot, but in between that they would occasionally have their good days where they would refrain from getting into screaming matches and instead would be able to tolerate being together. Y/n chooses to describe it as tolerating him since she’d never admit she sometimes enjoys his company.

Through their formative years whenever Y/n was throwing a party, she wouldn’t protest when her friends would invite Harry as well. Pretending like she didn’t know he was coming and didn’t want him there when she saw him in the crowd, yet he always had a feeling she was anticipating and secretly wanted him to make an appearance. When he’d plan some sort of adventure with their friends he’d do the same, always slightly relieved when she’d show up but he’d put on the irritating act as soon as he got the chance which ruined her mood, every time. and well, it would be a lie to say the two never found themselves hate fucking each other after one of their parties, drunk and pissed at each other only to pretend like it had never happened.

To Harry, the animosity mixed with a hidden sense of fondness and maybe even a hint of attraction.

The woman ignored his comment, chewing her food before taking a swig of the soda looking back at him with a rather unamused expression. “What do you want Harry? And who the hell even let you in here?” she continued eating and wrapping up her email while he formed his reply. “Told Morgan I’d bring it up to yeh, she’s got a bit of a crush on me so she handed it over without much convincing.” Yet another eyeroll from Y/n was delivered. “She’s like 19, don’t manipulate her into worming into my office just because she can’t see that you’re a much bigger prick then the one in your pants will ever be.”

“First of all, 19 is legal so if she wants to eye fuck me I’ll allow it. Second, don’t be rude. This is a professional setting, do you think it’s appropriate to talk about my genitals in the work place? Might have to report you.”

Y/n couldn’t help the small snort she let out at his antics. As much as he annoyed her, sometimes she did find him a bit humorous. “and for the record, I’m very happy with my package and I don’t appreciate that comment.” He pointed a finger at her, a fake angry look on his face. “Just as much as I don’t appreciate you intruding on what was supposed to be my down time to eat, we’re even shrimp dick.”

Harry gasped at the insult, squinting at her slightly. While Harry was skilled in pressing her buttons, she could do it the same. Making comments on his dick size, sex skills, business deals or things of that nature always got him riled up. That 12-year-old boy mentality rearing it’s ugly head any time she makes a comment about his dick being small. Childish he was, absolutely childish.

“Don’t get smart with me, I’ll whip it out right here to prove my point.” His eyebrow raised and she could see him chewing on his cheek in annoyance. She truly found it funny how peeved she could make a grown man by making fun of his penis. He was ridiculous.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t, I didn’t bring my mental scrub brush to work with me today.” When she had finished speaking the woman tossed her now empty salad box into the trash, taking another sip of her drink and finally sending off the painfully long email.

Harry decided it was time for him to head back to his own office, which was right across the street much to Y/n’s displeasure but of course he couldn’t leave without a final childish jab at the woman.

“Just remember, I’ve had you bouncing on my dick more than once. Don’t hold yourself so high and mighty dear, because we both know I’ll have you like that again.”

And with that a Harry with a cheeky smirk on his face left the office, leaving a slightly stunned Y/n in his wake.

 (eek pt.1 lets see how this one goes.)

[seok-jinnies]

one | myg

min yoongi x reader, jeon jungkook x reader ;

angst, light fluff ; wc : ~2.6k

warnings: some swearing

in all his years of existing, min yoongi doesn’t think he has ever loved someone as much as he loves you. after all, he knows, deep in his soul, that you’re the one for him.

however, jeon jeongguk also thinks that you are the one for him, so yoongi might have more than a few problems with that.

Just like that, Yoongi thinks, you’re slipping through his fingers once again. He wants to throw up. Or pass out. Or straight up die. One of the three would be preferable.  

He hadn’t meant to overhear… he had just wanted to come see you. Maybe surprise you with burgers from your favorite diner two blocks away. You had mentioned that you weren’t feeling well at all, and that you were in dire need of a pick me up. Yoongi doesn’t know why he immediately hauled ass to that diner you loved so much just to get you a burger and some fries, especially when you had a boyfriend who could do it for you.

Said boyfriend went by the name of Jeon Jeongguk, an irritating photographer who happened to have a knack for literally everything in the world. It’s almost a bit unfair, how good he was at everything, but at least he treated you well, so at least there was that.

On second thought, it wasn’t just a bit unfair, it was really fucking unfair. Jeongguk had loved you for what? Two, three years? And here he was, living the life of Yoongi’s dreams. Waking up with you, making breakfast with you, just being with you in general. Yoongi almost wants to cry at the thought.

Going back to the matter at hand, Yoongi recalls with startling clarity the moment he had heard Jeongguk’s voice. He was just about to round the corner to yours and Jeongguk’s shared apartment when he heard it. 

“...listen, she can’t know, alright? Whatever happens, (Y/N) cannot find out.” Jeongguk’s voice was hushed, and warning flags were raising at the back of Yoongi’s mind. Was he cheating on you? Pissed, he stopped in his tracks, listening intently. 

“...what?” Jeongguk continues. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got the ring ready. Am I…? Of course I am. I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She’s the one, hyung. She’s the one.”

Oh, Yoongi thinks. Oh.

The burger and fries are left on the stairwell.

-

The first time Min Yoongi meets you is on his birthday. Winter was on its last breaths, and he was grateful. No one told him that twenty-five was the age when all your joints started to ache like a grandpa, and he hated it severely. The cold wasn’t helping him much with joint pain either.

It was snowing too, so Yoongi had to make sure to actually wear a coat. It looked like his days of wearing a t-shirt and ripped jeans out in the snow were long gone.

There was nothing special about the day he met you. Perhaps, it was so that you could stand out even more. Not that you needed help standing out; you were already breathtaking on your own. With cosmic assistance? You were absolutely lethal.

He had a camera that day, if only to humor his friend, Jimin, who was devastated that he was spending his birthday alone. You have to at least take pictures, okay? He had insisted through a very static-y phone call the night before. Prove to me that you went out for your birthday. Treat yo self! Jimin squealed. Yoongi had to pull his headphones off at that.

You were sitting on a bench, talking on the phone. You were laughing, and for one cliche moment, Yoongi’s heart stopped. Maybe it was the sunlight hitting you just right, or maybe it was your (frankly contagious) laughter, but he was pretty sure you were almost too pretty to exist. 

His hands moved before he could think too much of it, and before he knew it he had taken a picture of you.

There was no sign that you had noticed, and Yoongi almost felt ashamed at the action. He decided to approach you, show you the picture and then ask if he could keep it. However, you stood up the moment he took a step forward. You left, never to be seen again.

Well, not really.

You were a friend of a friend who then introduced the two of you to each other. He was overjoyed of course, but as much as Yoongi wanted to convince himself that it had nothing to do with how pretty you were and everything to do with showing you the picture, it was definitely because he was so smitten with you that he actually forgot his name when you introduced yourself.

(And that day, Yoongi decided that it was love at first sight. Or second. Whatever. He was in love, anyways.)

-

It’s at your birthday party when he decides. He’s going to tell you. He’s going to confess.

Maybe not now, not tonight, but someday.

You look stunning, he decides. You were wearing this red off-shoulder dress which fell to your knees, and some heels which Yoongi knew must be hell on earth for you. You never did like heels.

Your apartment was filled with your friends, some from college and some from work, he deducts, as he meets eyes with a couple of strangers. He smiles awkwardly and turns back to his drink, searching for a familiar face when⁠—

“Yoongi!” You call out happily. The stiff excuse for a smile he had plastered on his face melted into something more genuine as he faced you. “Hello, flower.”

Your already rosy cheeks flush more from the endearment and Yoongi chuckles. He used to tease you about your love for plants and wanted to give you a nickname related to it. Unfortunately, calling you ‘cactus’ just didn’t have that air of lovesickness that he was aiming for, so ‘flower’ would have to do.

You pull him into a hug and he grumbles for a moment, pretending to hate it. You know that he loves hugs, though, and you just laugh and hold him tighter. He can only hope you can’t tell how hard his heart was pounding.

When you pull away, he misses your warmth almost immediately. “How are you?” You grin. “Enjoying the party so far?”

He lets out a small laugh. “You know, I should be the one asking you that, birthday girl. Although, I am surprised you went for a party this year instead of the usual dinner.”

“Actually…” you pause, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t want a party either. Jeongguk just thought it would be nice since it could double as a little celebration for my promotion as well.”

Ah. The promotion. Yoongi remembers when you had just graduated college, desperately trying to get into the industry you wanted. You used to cry over every rejection email, but now…  You were doing great, and he couldn’t be more proud of you. Regardless, he grins at your admission.

“Knew it.” He teases, and you mock grumble at him before smiling again, looking away. Meanwhile, Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He could only pray that no one could tell he was giving you heart eyes.

“Babe!” Jeongguk’s voice cuts through the comfortable silence between you two. Yoongi can’t tell if it’s just his personal bias against the guy, but he was really fucking irritating. Add that to the fact that you used to call Yoongi ‘babe’ before Jeongguk started calling you that, and Yoongi was starting to get more than a little pissed. Another thing to add to the list of things Jeongguk had stolen from him.

But were you ever his to begin with? A voice in Yoongi’s mind whispers.

Shut up, he hisses back.

“Cake time!” Jeongguk calls out again, and you shoot Yoongi an apologetic grin as you leave his side and approach your golden retriever of a boyfriend.

People begin to gather around you as Jeongguk holds the cake for you with the candles lit up. You’re grinning, and while Yoongi doesn’t sing along, he is staring at you with the most lovesick look in his eyes that he’s sure if anyone were to see him, they would know.

His mind begins to drift as he imagines a world where he’s the one holding your cake. Maybe you would smear some icing on his cheek after blowing the candles out. Would you two be the absolutely cheesy couple everyone pretended to hate but were actually jealous of? Maybe. And you know what, Yoongi would actually love that. He would⁠—

He hears Jeongguk say your name, and when he focuses, Jeongguk is down on one knee and his heart falls.

“...you are the best thing to ever happen to me. You don’t just make me a better person, you make me want to be a better person for me. For you. I wake up in the morning and I want to cry because I feel so goddamn lucky that you chose me. Out of all the people in this universe, you chose me. You saw me, and you took care of me, and you loved me. You gave me the world, (Y/N), but I want to give you the universe.” Jeongguk pauses, and even from a distance, Yoongi can see that the younger man has tears in his eyes.

So does Yoongi. His ears are ringing, and all he can do is watch as Jeongguk asks the million dollar question:

“(Y/N), will you marry me?”

SIlence, and then:

“Yes!”

His heart shatters into a million pieces.

-

Min Yoongi was a coward, that much he knew. 

After five years of loving you silently (and multiple times of flirting with each other), he was done. Time to move on. It’s been half a decade, and he was never sure if you felt the same way. Maybe you did, but he didn’t want to risk losing you.

So he did the thing most people would do after deciding to move on: get absolutely shitfaced at the nearest bar.

Truth be told, even now, three and a half years later, he did not remember what happened that night. He assumes he had a one night stand, if the woman he woke up to was any evidence. 

What he did not expect was you barging into his apartment, demanding to see him because you needed to tell him⁠—

What you wanted to tell him, Yoongi would never know, because when you asked if the girl in the bathroom was his girlfriend, he had the stupid idea to lie and tell you that yes, she is my girlfriend. Just made it official last night.

He was too damn proud of himself being able to “move on” from you to see you deflate. In a span of seconds, you went from excited to the verge of tears. When you heard the bathroom door open, you hurriedly excused yourself and booked it out of his apartment.

What Yoongi didn’t know was that you were going to confess.

But as you power walk out of his apartment complex, you come to the conclusion, that maybe, just maybe, he’s just not into you. And you were merely boo boo the fool.

After that, texts between you and Yoongi were sparse. You stopped hanging out. You stopped sending each other memes at three in the morning. You just stopped… seeing each other.

By the time Yoongi pulled his head out of his ass and sucked it up, it had been a year, and you had a sparkly new boyfriend named Jeon Jeongguk.

-

Yoongi decided that this was, quite possibly, the worst year of his life. Nothing like watching the love of your life get engaged to someone else, and then be forced to watch her marry someone else months afterwards to really rub the salt in.

But then again, you aren’t Mrs. Jeon. Yet, anyways, Yoongi thinks bitterly. In less than twenty four hours, he will truly have lost you, and this time, there’s no getting you back.

And so, like the genius that he was, he decides to call you. In the middle of the night. To the local park. Why? Honestly, Yoongi had no idea. He just wanted, needed to see you one last time.

When you arrive, the park is silent. You look adorable, Yoongi thinks fondly, but even that innocent thought was enough to make tears well up in his eyes. God, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“(Y/N),” he begins once you’re close enough to hear. “I need to tell you something⁠—”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. You look pained, he notes.”Don’t⁠—”

“Don’t what?” He cuts you off, scoffing. The tears begin to fall. “Don’t say it? You don’t want me to tell you about how I’ve been in love with you my whole life? You don’t want me to tell you how much I wish it was me you’re marrying tomorrow?” He wipes at his tears angrily. “What do you want me to do?” 

He breathes in raggedly, looking up to the sky in desperation. When he looks back at you, your heart breaks for him.

“Flower, I can’t.” He begs. “I can’t let you go. I can’t lose you. Not again. Please⁠—” A sob tears through his throat. “I love you.”

He feels your hands cup his face, wiping at the wetness on his skin. He’s almost grateful that he can’t see you through his tears, because he knows you’re crying too. He hated seeing you cry.

“Yoongi,” you say softly. “I love you too, but we can’t. We’ve been dancing around this for almost a decade, babe. Our time has passed, Yoongi⁠⁠.” Your hands have moved, one on his waist and another on the back of his neck. When he sees your tears, he finally breaks. He collapses into your arms, sobbing, grasping at you desperately. 

When you speak next, your voice is muffled as you comb through his hair with one hand and pull him closer with the other. “I will always love you, Yoongi. Always.” You say fiercely, surely, and Yoongi almost wants to believe you. “But I love Jeongguk too. He…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “He’s the one for me.” You admit, and Yoongi hates it so much because you were the one for him. 

The two of you slowly sink onto the ground, with your arms still around him as he cries. For losing you, for being too late, and for what could have been. His sobs echo in the empty park and you cry with him.

When his sobs die down and his breathing gets calmer, he pulls away from your embrace. When your arms fall to the sides, he moves closer to you, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes closed. “I love you,” he whispers, and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your face. “I will always love you.”

When your eyes flutter open, his eyes meet yours. 

Around you, the snow begins to fall. 

“I…” You breathe out. “I should go. Jeongguk’s waiting for me at home.”

He nods slowly. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. Get home safely.”

You nod and stand up, offering a hand. He shakes his head and stands up on his own.

No words are said.

You nod, and turn to leave. When your figure disappears into the night, Yoongi lets his tears fall once more.

“Goodbye, flower,” he whispers into the night. The wind blows.

I love you.

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues

avoi-dance!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: nightmares

ship: dousy (daisy johnson/daniel sousa)

ahahaha dousy is becoming a spark

Shaking.

Quaking.

Rubble falling.

Bones snapping.

Something dark on the floor.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

Daisy bolted upright, ribs expanding and contracting rapidly. The bed was shaking. A small cacti was on the floor, sand and pebbles thrown across the rug, pieces of the decorative pot shattered. She looked over at her clock.

2:14am. Great.

Daisy quickly rose, gathering her rug in one hand and a sweatshirt in the other. She walked down the hall, quiet as a mouse, still shaky.

Breathe, Daisy, She told herself.

She reached the bathroom without encountering anyone. She set the rug on the counter, gathering the tiny cactus and shaking it out of the soil.

“Ouch,” She inhaled sharply. Cacti are prickly.

The mirror rattled a bit as Daisy shook the sand and pebbles into the trash. She held back tears, the aftershocks of her nightmare hitting her.

A presence in the doorway caught her attention.

“Daisy? What’re you doin’?”

Jemma sounded like she had just woken up, her accented voice thick and scratchy with sleep.

Daisy opened her mouth to respond, but her voice cracked on the first syllable. Jemma’s eyes widened, registering the sight before her. She rushed over, enveloping Daisy in a tight hug. Jemma could feel Daisy’s chest racking with sobs. At least she could comfort her now, like she wasn’t allowed to before.

Jemma slowly pulled away as Daisy’s cries became quieter and less frequent. The small cacti was still resting on the counter, the rug discarded on the tiled floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jemma asked gently.

Daisy looked up, the rattling of the mirror lessening as she exhaled.

“I broke my cactus,” She sniffled, a few tears escaping as she stared at the broken succulent. She was really looking forward to watching this one grow.

Daisy shook her head, wiping her eyes with her sweatshirt sleeve. Silently, the pair picked up the rug and walked back to Daisy’s room. Daisy saved the small cacti, not quite able to just throw it in the trash. Jemma surveyed the furniture, making sure that nothing else had fallen. Her room was in its usual messy yet organized array. It made Jemma’s skin itch, but at least Daisy knew where everything was. Daisy collapsed onto her bed, pulling a fuzzy blanket around her shoulders.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Daisy thought for a moment, watching Jemma fidget with her fingers and rub her neck, noting her under eye circles and the sluggish way she smiled.

“I’m good,” Daisy said.

Jemma raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Are you sure? I don’t mind, really,” She offered.

Daisy nodded. “I promise, I’m good.”

Jemma hesitantly nodded, then left, softly closing the door behind her.

Daisy flopped backwards onto her pillows. She wasn't sleeping anytime soon.

Daisy woke at 9:36 later that day, her alarm buzzing softly and her phone screen lit with several missed calls from Elena and May.

7:04–May

Are you otw?

7:10–Yo-yo

daisy, you’re late

7:15–Missed call from May (2)

8:02–Yo-yo

may is pissed

get your best sorry ready

Daisy sighed. Fuck nightmares.

She had already missed half of second period, not that it wasn’t anything she didn’t already know how to do. Might as well take advantage of the empty canteen.

After speedily brushing her teeth and getting dressed, Daisy grabbed her backpack and headed out.

True to routine, the canteen was void of people, save for a group of fifth-years chatting in the corner. Daisy grabbed her usual cinnamon raisin bagel and coffee and found a spot near the back doors. If May came in, she would run. It was too early and Daisy was too tired to deal with May’s concern.

Daisy glanced up as the doors across the large hall opened again, almost spitting out her coffee at who walked in.

Ohmygodhe’scomingoverhere, don’t be an idiot!

“Hey, Danny Boy,” Daisy greeted. Smooth, very good start.

“Hey, Dais,” He said, morning voice rough and low. Daisy ignored the rising number on her biometer watch and quickly hid her hand under the table, resting on her bouncing knee.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Just getting up, are we?”

Daniel shrugged, “My alarm clock is broken, and I’m ahead in all my classes anyway. Missing one to trade for sleep won’t hurt me.”

“Aren’t you in May’s class, though? She hates when people skip,” Daisy asked.

Daniel thought this over for a second before responding, demeanor a tad sheepish. “I might have already asked for the notes for this week, everything she’s teaching today I’ve already been studying.”

Daisy smiled. Nerd.

“Well, in that case, would you care to join me in my avoidance of classes?”

Daniel checked his analog watch, second period was almost over. “Sure. My third is calculus, and all we do in there is textbook work anyway.”

Daisy stood up, stretching a bit. Daniel followed her out of the canteen, across the grounds, and around the girls’ dorms.

“Uh, Daisy, where exactly are we going?”

Daisy grinned. “Ever been on the roof, Sousa?”

Sousa looked up at the top of the building. “Are we allowed up there?”

Daisy furrowed her brows, responding with a noncommittal hum. Did he not want to go up there?

“To master the art of avoidance, you must be unpredictable. Go where no one will find you. Dance along the edge of expectations,” Daisy exclaimed dramatically. “That’s why it’s called avoi-dance. We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Daniel laughed, eyes smiling. “Ladies first,” He offered.

Daisy clambered onto the iron fire escape, waiting for Daniel on the first landing and giving him a hand. They started up the stairs together, wind blowing softly over their faces.

“So,” Daisy started when they reached the top, “This is it.”

Daniel watched as Daisy made a grand gesture, crouching down near an outlet to plug in the lights.

Putting on her best realtor voice, Daisy led Daniel around the space.

“In this corner we have a lovely, absolutely gorgeous three-hundred-sixty degree view of campus. Look! There are students in their natural habitat!

“And over here, we have a wonderful assortment of plants, both alive and barely clinging to life, just like most of the human inhabitants of the building!”

Daniel chuckled, nodding sagely. “Now, let’s talk money. What is the price per square foot, and how much are you suggesting as a down payment?”

Daisy’s grin faltered, not sure exactly what Sousa was talking about. Daniel’s smile grew wider at the slightly confused, completely adorable look on her face.

“Were you planning on getting work done?” Daniel asked.

Daisy shrugged, setting her backpack down and leaning against the low wall surrounding the edge of the roof. He joined her, sitting with one leg out and the other bent at his knee.

“It won’t take me long to finish this,” Daisy said, opening her laptop.

Daniel watched on as Daisy coded, taking mental notes of how her fingers glided over the keys, typing at a speed he could barely comprehend. She bit her bottom lip in concentration, pausing for a moment to assess her work, then continuing to circumvent the little red error messages that appeared at the top of her screen.

“How do you know what all that means?” Daniel asked. Daisy stopped typing for a moment to look over at him, tilting her head a bit.

“I guess I just picked it up pretty quick. When I was still living in my van, before Coulson found me, I had to make money somehow, so I started building codes and programs for people who needed it. They were definitely shady, and it got me into a couple tough spots, but I could always just move my van away, drive somewhere else.”

Daniel didn’t press for more information. Daisy seemed not to want to talk about it, as she turned back to her computer and let her hair fall into her face. A few minutes later, she pressed enter, and threw her hands up.

“Yes! Finally!”

Daniel peeked at her screen. Instead of a red error message, there was a small check at the top of her screen.

“So what exactly did you just do with the numbers and the symbol things?”

Daisy laughed lightly. “Sometimes SHIELD creates programs specifically for Academy students to hack into, so we can practice getting around firewalls and beating different layers of protection. At the end is usually some redacted file or just a blank document. Sometimes the Professors let the advanced students hack into companies and emails if they need help. It gives us ‘a wide range of practical experience.’”

Daniel scrunched his eyebrows, checking his watch. “So does it normally only take you fifteen minutes to complete assignments like this?”

Daisy smirked, “I don’t mean to brag, but yes. Most kids in my class can do it in forty-five, but I like to challenge myself.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped, amazed. “Wow. So in a couple years I’ll be doing that? I can keep up with CS 1, but that is…” He trailed off, not sure exactly how to describe it.

Daisy nodded, “It takes awhile to get used to, to understand. It’s like learning any other language, it helps if you start young, and I practically depended on coding for survival when I was in my teens. It gave me a huge leg up.”

Daniel let his gaze wander over Daisy’s face. She had a lot more to her than meets the eye. He looked into her eyes, finding her already staring at him, an intent look on her face. She opened her mouth to say somethi—

Briiiiiiiiiiing.

The bell cut her off. Daisy looked away quickly, cheeks tinted pink. Daniel made no move to get up, and neither did Daisy. They waited until it was over to speak again.

“I guess we should probably get going?”

Daisy agreed, standing up and reaching out a hand for Sousa to take. They walked back to campus together, parting ways to get to their classes.

Daisy passed by May’s room on her way to Physics, walking quickly and staring straight ahead.

“Daisy!”

Daisy stopped, walking backwards to stand in the open door of May’s classroom. No one was there but May.

Daisy slowly approached May down the rows of desks, smiling rather guiltily.

“Hey, May! How are you?” Daisy asked, voice an octave higher than normal. May had on her ‘Mom Face’, as Daisy called it, eyebrows slightly raised and lips pursed in a straight line.

“You know, leather jackets look great on you!” Daisy tried, picking at her nails, unable to maintain eye-contact without her chest constricting. May stayed silent.

Daisy dropped the cheery façade, sighing. This would get her nowhere.

“I’m sorry. I had a rough night and slept through my alarm. If it makes you feel better, I also missed my first three periods,” Daisy rushed out, exhaling sharply.

May sat back onto her desk, patting the space beside her.

“Call me next time,” May said, voice soft. “Asking for help isn’t weak, Daisy, and I don’t know how to help if you don’t tell me. I don’t have a class next period.”

Daisy nodded, a slight sting in her eyes. May continued, “You’ve had a rough year. I get it. But Daisy, running from those you love, who love you? It doesn’t work. Trust me, I’ve tried. The only thing that will work is facing your fears head-on, and keep running at them until eventually they’re powerless. You need closure.”

Daisy rested her head on May’s shoulder, unable to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry, May,” Daisy apologized, voice small.

May wrapped an arm around her in a side hug.

“You don’t need to apologize. Let’s go work out some problems, my way.”

In the canteen, Jemma and Fitz sat in their usual spot by the back windows, both munching on spaghetti and rolls.

“Fitz! Tell me you didn’t!”

Fitz looked up from where he was tinkering with a piece of tech that looked suspiciously like an ICER with a small cloaking device attached to the side.

“I didn’t,” He replied. He kept tinkering with the small gun until it made a loud pop! and shocked him.

“Ouch!” Fitz winced, promptly dropping the modified ICER on the table, empty cartridge bouncing onto the floor. He bent to pick it up, reassembling the tech and taking another bite of pasta.

“Have you figured out the problem?” Jemma asked.

Fitz rolled his eyes. “It’s not a problem, Jemma, it’s just that I, uh, I can’t get the…” Fitz paused, waggling his hands in the air as if he was grasping for the right word.

“The concentration? Weight? Bullets?” Jemma supplied.

“The bullets work! Non-lethal, heavy stopping power, break up under the subcutaneous tissue. Same ones from when we were working on The Bus. No, it’s the, um, the safety. It keeps going off without my permission,” Fitz finished.

Jemma took a bite of her roll. “Are you using one-hundred nano-liters of dendrotoxin like I suggested?”

Fitz nodded. “That’s in the bullets. This is just the design. I can’t figure out the balance, with the addition of cloaking, it’s thrown my whole design off.”

“Maybe Daisy has an idea? She’s listened to us ramble on for years, she’s actually used them.”

Fitz and Jemma looked around for Daisy. It was 6, dinner started at 5, and they always ate together.

“Usually she’s here by now,” Jemma frowned. The three of them had fallen into a comfortable routine, meeting at lunch and dinner and making plans to study after.

“There’s that guy she’s been hanging out with, er,” Fitz paused, snapping his fingers, “Sousa! Maybe he knows something,” Fitz pointed to where Sousa was eating a plate of chicken and rice near the entrance to the canteen.

“Are you going to go talk to him?”

Fitz looked back at Daniel, considering his options. On one hand, he had never talked to the guy. What if he said something wrong and made a bad first impression? On the other hand, Fitz needed to make sure Daisy was okay. They had a routine they had agreed to stick to, and if she was off routine, it meant something was wrong.

“Let’s go together,” Fitz half-suggested, half-asked.

Jemma nodded, getting up and walking with Fitz across the cafeteria to stand in front of Daniel.

“Hello,” Jemma started, “Have you seen Daisy lately? We’ve noticed the two of you together recently.”

Fitz stood slightly behind Jemma, fingers weaving themselves together.

Daniel took in the two of them, noticing Jemma’s thumb swiping nervously across her palm.

“Would you like to sit down?” Daniel offered.

“No, thank you, we’d really just like to find Daisy,” Fitz rushed out, looking slightly above Daniel’s eyes as he talked.

Daniel nodded. “Are you guys Fitzsimmons? Daisy talks about you a lot, I’m glad to finally meet you. But to answer your question, I haven’t seen her since third period. Is something wrong?”

Jemma sighed. “She had a bad nightmare last night, but when I left she said she was fine. I went to check on her this morning but she didn’t answer, I assumed she was out for a run.”

Daniel furrowed his brows. Daisy hadn’t mentioned a nightmare. “Is that why she was missing her morning classes?”

“She’s sleep deprived and has a tendency to entirely abandon routines if she doesn’t get off on the right foot. I bet she’s with May,” Jemma said, looking to Fitz for confirmation.

Fitz just nodded, staring at Jemma.

“Great,” Jemma clapped her hands, “Should we go find her?”

It took Daniel a moment to realize the question was directed at him. “Oh, uh, yes, sure,” He stammered, getting up and jogging a bit to catch up to Fitz and Jemma.

“Oof!” Daisy exclaimed. She and May had been sparring for the past couple hours. Hours. Daisy was absolutely exhausted. May was feeling fine.

From the mat, Daisy reached a hand up so May could pull her up. Instead of getting up, though, Daisy pulled hard, flipping May over. May rolled rather chunkily, ending in a position that was half-squatting, half-sitting.

Maybe she was a little more tired than she let on.

“Good one. Next time, roll with the flip, too. If your attacker is faster than you, you could’ve just given them a free shot.”

Daisy got up slowly, dusting herself off and extending a hand out to May.

“Truce?”

May nodded. Then Daisy’s world spun, and she was flat on her back.

“Ughh. I deserved that,” Daisy panted.

May smirked, staying on the floor with Daisy.

“Feel any better?”

Daisy shrugged. “I’ll at least sleep hard,” She said, still catching her breath.

“There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Daisy lifted her head off the mat to see Jemma and Fitz walking into the gym. Daniel was behind them.

Daisy sat fully up, allowing Jemma to help her to her feet.

“Sorry guys. I should have called,” Daisy grimaced.

Fitz shrugged, “It’s okay, Dais, we got Daniel to, er, tag along with us. He was a good ‘replacement you’ for a while.”

Daisy looked over to Daniel, who was trying to hide a blush by clearing his throat and looking anywhere but Daisy.

Oh, right. She was wearing nothing but a sports bra and spandex training shorts.

Daisy walked over to the edge of the mat, stretching out her arms and grabbing her SHIELD sweatshirt, tugging it on.

“Thank you, guys, I appreciate the concern,” Daisy checked her watch, “You already ate dinner?”

Jemma and Fitz nodded.

“Okay, I’ll grab something with May and see you at the dorms?”

Fitz gave her a thumbs up and left, Jemma right behind him. May grabbed her water bottle, letting Daisy know that she’d be in the canteen.

“And then there were two,” Daisy laughed nervously, threading her fingers together and shifting from side to side.

Daniel smiled, “And then there were two.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them.

“Thanks for hanging out with me this morning. You didn’t have to,” Daisy blurted.

Daniel shrugged, frowning, “I wanted to.”

Daisy turned away from Daniel, face heating up. He wanted to hang out with her?

Daisy bent to grab her gym bag. When she turned back around, Daniel was waiting for her.

“You can tell me, you know, if you’re having a rough go of it. I won’t judge,” He stated, calm and collected.

Daisy nodded, unsure how to respond. She rose up onto her tiptoes and rocked back, once, twice, three times before letting out a slow exhale.

“Have you eaten dinner?” She asked.

“Sorta. I was about to eat before I left with Fitz and Simmons,” He said.

“Well, you’re welcome to eat with me and May,” Daisy offered.

Daniel grinned.

“I’ll take your bag.”

They arrived a number of minutes later at the canteen, Daisy offering to take her bag every couple minutes and Daniel readjusting the black duffel on his shoulder, refusing.

May thought they were exceptionally cute.

“Took you long enough,” The short woman said, amusement lacing her words.

Daisy plopped into a seat before Daniel could pull one out.

“I’m gonna go get some grub, I’ll leave you ladies to it,” Daniel announced.

May raised an eyebrow at Daisy, whose face promptly went pink.

“He’s a dork,” She said, “He was awed by my CS homework.”

“Was it the homework, or was it you?”

May shot Daisy a very pointed look, to which Daisy rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.”

“He’s very square” May observed, watching him over Daisy’s shoulder.

Daniel came up behind her, holding a plate with a cinnamon raisin bagel in one hand and a plate of chicken and rice in the other.

“I didn’t know what else you’d like, but I felt bad for not grabbing you anything.”

May hid a laugh by clearing her throat. Daisy reached out to accept the bagel, avoiding eye contact with May.

After dinner, back at the dorm, Jemma and Daisy were sprawled out on Daisy’s bed. Jemma held her flashcards in her hand, quizzing herself while Daisy talked.

“May says I need ‘closure’, whatever that means. I thought I had closure. I went to his funeral. I hugged his sister!”

Jemma set her cards down, accepting that she wasn’t going to get any more studying done.

“But you don’t know what happened. You were being controlled, you weren’t here. Daisy, you’ve always needed answers. You’ve never been able to leave a problem alone if you didn’t have the full story.”

Daisy sighed. Jemma was right.

“Well… On to happier subjects. Tell me about the new marine bio elective. How’s that going?”

Daisy smiled softly as Jemma’s face lit up and her hands came up to flap excitedly. Jemma went off on several different tangents about the professor’s experiences as a wildlife photographer and the different coral reefs they were studying in class. Daisy tried to listen, really, she did, but she found herself stuck in her head, responding with passive hums and ‘yeah’s.

Eventually, Jemma seemed to run out of steam, her smile still wide and face slightly flushed from how she had been ranting about climate change’s effects on the world’s reefs.

“It’s 10. I’m going to head up to bed.”

Daisy nodded. She had a plan.

She walked with Jemma back down the hall to her room, bidding her a good night. Daisy got back to her room, breathing in the quiet, then settled onto her rug against her bed, laptop sat in front of her. Lines of code danced on the screen, the light from the computer highlighting her face.

“You have to do this. You need closure,” Daisy murmured.

Daisy sat up, stretching. She changed positions several times, finally landing upside down on her bed. She craned her neck to read her clock, 11:23. Last chance to turn back, you know the consequences. You could get kicked out of SHIELD. They won’t trust you anymore.

Daisy pressed enter.

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 13

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst, NSFW

WC: 2974

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘choking’ square for @spnkinkbingo​​​ Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​ <3

This series is two weeks ahead on patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Dean carries her over to the bed in the room they are in, with them still connected, making her sit on his lap as he wraps his arms around her body and rests his head on her chest. His fingers stroke up and down her back and she does the same to him. Tiny hands travel up and down his sweaty back, fingers stroking at the short hair on the back of his neck.  

He revels in the touch, never realizing that he felt touch-starved all this time.

“How are you feeling?” Dean looks up at her and his heart blooms when he sees her smiling. 

Y/N leans down, kisses him and he cranes his neck to reach her better. Her lips are soft and tender. His taste still lingers on the tip of her tongue.

After a while of coming down from their high, he lifts her off his lap and she whines at the loss of his dick inside of her. The wet squelching sound is lewd and loud. Dean pulls her close to kiss her temple but he pushes himself away after some time, leaving her there to pick up their clothes. 

He quickly pulls his shirt over his head, gets back into his underwear and pants because he wants to get her into the apartment as soon as possible. Dean walks over to her, tells her to stand up and drapes his jacket over her naked body. He holds out her torn dress and shoes for her, telling her to hold on to it and picks her up into his arms.

Her eyes are almost closing when he makes his way up to his apartment and she nuzzles closer into his chest. 

In the apartment, he sits her down onto the couch, making her drink water while he walks into the bathroom and draws a bath for them. 

Dean gets her into the tub, making her sit in his lap as he begins to rub and stroke her whole body. He starts to massage the knots out of her shoulders. He’s hard again, but that’s unavoidable in her close vicinity.

He sprays kisses on the nape of her neck and makes a path to her shoulder, “How are you feeling?” 

She tilts her face, leans her head against his chest, “Good, I’m very tired,”

Chuckling, he kisses the top of her head before he moves himself away and gets out of the bath and lifts her out too. Dean wraps her up in a towel, sits her on the closed toilet lid and they brush their teeth. He leaves her to finish her night ritual and goes out to look at his phone. The party’s still going on downstairs. He hears the music faintly. 

Dean sees Cas’ message, notices that he had sent him a link. When Dean clicks on it, it takes him to a news website where a photographer uploaded the pictures from the party. They’re so quick, it blows Dean's mind. He clicks through pictures, sees a couple of him and Y/N in the background. He smiles, moves his phone to the nightstand and goes back into the bathroom to see if she’s finished. 

Y/N applies cream to her face, and she’s watching him through the mirror. She’s still naked and so is he, smirking when she notices his boner. 

Dean moves forward, kisses her shoulder, “Come on, let’s go to bed,”

She turns around, nodding, and Dean picks her up, carries her over, slipping into the bed next to her. 

He lies awake, listening to her breathing, listening to her heart beat. It’s easy, he thinks, easy to take care of her. He never knew he wanted that. That he wanted to take care of anyone except Sam. He saw sex as a way to release his stress and never cared about what comes after, to be honest, but he likes this. Likes the intimate moments when they recover together. Dean doesn’t lie when he thinks it’s even better than the act itself, and that is totally new to him. It’s not bad. No, he thinks it’s great.

  *

Dean wakes to a vibration sounding loud from the nightstand and he quickly untangles himself from her limbs, rolls away gently so as to not wake her up. He takes a look at the caller ID.

“Cas?” He whispers, tries to keep his voice down.

“Yeah, we have a situation. Meet me at the entrance?”

Dean looks at the clock on his nightstand, sees 4.38am on it and releases a deep sigh, “Yeah, I’ll be right down,”

  *

The mornings are chilly in the city and Dean pulls the zipper of his sweater to the top. It was hard leaving her in his bed. He hopes that she won’t wake up and notice him missing.

Dean walks around the corner to the front and Cas’ already waiting with one of the security guys. 

He doesn’t need to ask what’s going on because he sees it, sees the paint along the wall. It’s bright red, almost blinding him. A stark contrast to the grey of the morning. 

The red paint is fresh. It’s still dripping down the walls. 

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath and tries to not step into a puddle of paint, “When did that happen?” 

Cas shrugs, “We don’t know. Must have happened between closing and now,” The dark haired man is still dressed in his tux, “We finished cleaning up inside and when I was on the way home I saw it,”

Between closing and now. That’s a two hour window. 

“Have you two looked at the security cams?” He asks into the round. 

“The security cams have been tampered with. There’s no footage whatsoever.” 

“Fuck,” Dean’s shouting now. 

“You think it has something to do with the emails?” Cas asks, a look of concern on his face. 

“I don’t know,” Dean says, shaking his head. 

Dean really doesn’t know. There have been threatening emails for a year now, but he doesn’t keep track of every one of them. He even knows the source of some of them. Other club owners in the close vicinity who are jealous of Dean’s success but he’s never fallen victim to any kind of damage before. This is totally new and it pisses him off. 

“Right, report it to the police, do whatever you have to do, okay? Get someone to clean up. I want it gone by the time we open up again,” Dean turns around, doesn’t wait for an answer.

He’s fucking pissed and punches at the elevator wall when he steps in. He takes a ride back up to his apartment with his eyes closed. Dean knows that he should deal with it but he’s really not in the fucking mood. He’s riding on a fucking high and he won’t let this incident disturb the calm. 

Before he gets back into the apartment, he takes a couple of deep breaths, wills his body to stop trembling. 

Inside, Dean peels himself from his clothes and slips back into bed, gets under the covers and presses his body to hers for some warmth. He buries his face into the back of her neck and she stirs. 

“Shhhh,” Dean hushes, draping an arm around her to weigh her down and hold her still. 

It’s not long before he falls asleep again. 

Y/N wakes up to Dean snuggling close to her. She feels his warm breath on the back of her neck, feels his heavy arms around her body. 

She blinks a couple of times, yawns and rubs at her eyes. Gently, she rolls herself out of his embrace and Dean grunts at the loss of her in his arms. Her body goes rigid and she watches him from her standing position, holding in her breath. She exhales when she sees him burying his face back into the pillow, his lips are slightly parted, snoring a little too. 

It’s actually ridiculously cute. He looks so peaceful and soft. She has a hard time tearing her eyes from him.

Taking a couple of steps, she feels that she’s still sore but it’s not as bad as she thought she would be, so at least there’s that. 

Oh god, he made her come so many times last night and he was rough with her. To her own surprise, she was totally okay with it, even welcomed the sensation of being at his mercy. This has never happened before in her life. She doesn’t even think she laid so much trust in Cole. Maybe it was because Dean asked several times if it was okay for her, he made sure that she knew that she can say stop anytime, and she believed and trusted him that he would have stopped when it would have been too much for her to handle. 

She went into it relaxed. Her body was willing to accept it and didn’t put up a fight, and so her muscles aren’t as sore as she thought they would be. 

Inside the bathroom, she takes a look into the mirror, grinning at herself for the first time in years. Usually, she only frowns at her own reflection. Y/N takes her time, washes her face, brushes her teeth and tries to right her hair. 

When she sits down to pee, she feels a blob of his cum running out of her and she squints. Her pussy’s wet and it tingles at the thought of what they did. She can’t help it. Dean really does this to her. He’s awakened all the things that she thought she’d never had in her. She was never a sexual person per se, but now she’s got a taste of it and she wants more, which is really bad, isn’t it?

No, she decides. It’s not bad to know what she wants. It’s not bad that the person she wants wants her back. Because he does, doesn’t he? Dean said he cares for her. She likes that. For the first time in her life, someone really does care about her. 

Y/N walks out and searches for her phone. She finds it on the kitchen counter where she left it before going down to the party. There are three missed calls. One from her probably future landlord and two from Jody Mills.

Shit.

She was supposed to call the woman back but she forgot in all the haze of the break in, and then there was no time because of the party and ugh. 

Y/N wonders why Mrs. Mills didn’t leave a message though, but she can’t dwell on that. She has to call her landlord first, seeing if she is getting the apartment or not. 

  *

She got the apartment and is doing a victory dance butt naked in his apartment, but at that moment, she doesn’t really care. Things are really starting to look up for her and she seriously can’t be more happy about it. 

Turning and twisting around, she stares right into the Dean’s face, who’s very awake and very much grinning at her, with his tousled hair and the back on his head propped on a pillow. The lower half of his body is covered by the sheets but she can see from here that he must at least be half hard. Her body goes rigid and she stops her dance mid-motion. She looks down, trying to avoid his gaze by staring at her toes. 

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account,” He says, his voice is gravelly, very deep from sleep.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” She scoffs and turns away, places her phone back on the counter and turns to stroll towards the bed. She’s probably visibly flustered, at least her cheeks feel warm. 

Dean chuckles, “No, of course you weren’t.” And then he adds, “But there’s something wrong,”

Her eyebrows rise up her forehead, “What?”

He grins, wide and white. And it’s damn smug too. He looks younger like this. All playful eyes and cocky smile. It reminds her of high school Dean, “You’re dancing over there instead of in my lap,” He pats his lap to emphasize it. 

Y/N rolls her eyes and Dean laughs. 

“No, seriously,” He says, “What are you so happy about?”

It’s her turn to grin when she’s standing at the foot of the bed. Her hands go to grab at the sheets, pulling them down and she watches as Dean’s cock springs free. It twitches at the feel of cooler air around it. 

Dean’s eyes go darker, and the grin on his face disappears when he watches her climb onto the bed, crawling towards him on all fours. 

She slots herself in between his thighs, spraying kisses on his skin. Dean bites down on his bottom lip, his hands  balled into fists on the side of his body. 

Her mouth gets closer to his dick and she sees it twitching visibly. She sticks her tongue out with a grin before the tip of her tongue tickles at his ball sac. 

“Jesus, Y/N,” He groans out while she giggles.

Licking at his balls, she takes one of them into her mouth, sucks at it and strokes her tongue against it. He has a hard time controlling himself; his knuckles are turning white, she notices. 

“Come on,” He almost whines, “What was that all about, huh?”

Grinning, she licks up his shaft, the tip of her tongue playing with his sensitive string, “I got an okay to move into my new apartment,” She says, still smiling before her lips quickly sealing around the head of his dick. His taste fills her up immediately. It’s salty, kind of bitter but delicious on her tongue. 

“Wha— Holy fu—!” Dean groans out audibly. She watches him throwing his head back and closing his eyes. 

Y/N bobs her head, hollowing out her cheeks, and takes him in further. She retches and chokes, drool seeps out of the corner of her mouth. She hears him cursing above her. 

“Get on it, I want you to ride me,” His voice is hoarse, his hands grabbing at her arm to pull her up. 

She sits on him and grinds on his slick dick, her folds parting, rubbing herself up and down his shaft and Dean’s hands find her tits, kneading and twirling his fingers around her erect nipples. 

“You’re a fucking tease,” He whispers as one of his hand smacks down on her tit, making her arch her back and grind on his dick harder, “When will you move?” 

Why does he have to talk about that now? It blows her fucking mind. 

Lifting up her hips, she positions his dick to her entrance and sits down slowly, moaning out as she goes, “Fuck,” She has to close her eyes briefly. His dick always fills her so fucking good. 

Dean’s hands are on her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh on the side of her waist when he feels him bottoming out. 

“He needs to clean it first. I should be good to go in two days,” 

Y/N rests her hand on his chest when she starts to ride him. She grinds down on every downthrust, taking him even deeper and it tickles her cervix. It’s a sharp pain but not necessarily a bad pain. It’s actually more pleasure than anything else, “Oh god, you’re so deep,” 

His hands are firm on her hips at first but Dean moves them up, cupping her tits in between, kneads them roughly and spanks down on them once more before he locks his hand around her throat.

“You’re close, ain’t that so? I can feel it, baby,” His voice is low, she feels the bass of it vibrating in his chest that’s underneath the palms of her hands, “Look at me,”

“Uh-huh,” She bites on her lips. She blinks, preventing her eyes from closing to be able to look him in the eye. 

Dean’s eyes are dark, and he licks his lips as he watches her coming undone above him. The grip around her throat tightens and there’s not enough air in her lungs. She starts to whimper. 

“Keep on riding, baby,” He coos, “Come on my cock. That’s it, keep on going, you’re doing so good,”

She resorts to grinding because riding seems to be too much right now and oh god, his pelvis rubs so good against her clit. 

“Fffff—” She bites down on her bottom lip harder, not sure if she draws blood but she tastes copper in her mouth. 

“Christ, you feel so fucking good,” Dean whispers, “Good girl, keep going,” 

She comes with a shout but there’s nothing coming out of her throat, she feels light headed, her body trembles above him and the only thing keeping her upright are Dean’s hands around her throat. 

Dean’s grunting and his arms are shaking as he lets go of her throat, pulling her down to him. She buries her face in the crook of his neck as he bites at the place where her shoulder meets her neck, painting her insides with his cum as he does it. 

They stay connected a little longer, with Dean spraying kisses all over her face. Her forehead, her eyes, his hand steadily stroking her back, while he kisses him below his ear and breathes in the scent of him. She loves how he smells.

The silence is deafening and he hasn’t asked more about her move. Dean’s suddenly reserved and she doesn’t know what’s wrong. 

After a while Dean stirs underneath her, kisses the top of her head before he whispers, “Come on, let’s take a shower, you have to go to work soon,”

Y/N doesn’t say anything to that. She lets him pull her along and carry her into the shower with him. 

Chapter 14

[curious-menace]

Arkham Scarecrow SFW Alphabet

im really enjoying writing arkham scarecrow. maybe ill do something similar to my random riddler headcanons posts with some scarecrows

long post under the cut

 A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Uhhh, the short answer is no. Jonathan is almost wholly incapable of what most people would term “affection”. His idea of loving is not using you for his experiments, only giving you small doses to build up your immunity( not that that will stop him from enjoying watching you panic). Jonathan leans heavily on gifts and words of affirmation as his language of love ( assuming he can even feel that emotion). He calls you  “my dear”  and “my darling” or once “my pumpkin” if he had too much to drink. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Jonathan would make a good friend if he could ever be wrangled into admitting it. He’s a complete bastard, but he's a loyal bastard. He always goes above and beyond for his friends but it's always in a “aw shit. My favorite idiot needs help AGAIN?!” begrudging , kind of way. You probably met in university/college and if you've stuck with him this long he’d be hard to get rid of.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He never asks for cuddles and is pretty touch adversed as a rule. Sometimes though, He simply plonks himself in your space and expects you to know what he wants. Usually it's gentle backrubs/strokes like you would with a child. Sometimes he just wants your warmth to sooth his aching body. He’s heavier than he was in Arkham asylum but still very underweight so you shouldn't have too much trouble moving him into a comfortable position.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Absolutely not. I'm not convinced this man owns more than his books and the burlap sack on his back ,never mind a home. He has plans to take the cloudburst on tour, to go cross country and then across the world spreading fear. That would be a little difficult if he had gotham mortgage sending him nasty emails every other day about missed payments. While he can cook and clean, I doubt you'd want to eat anything he made. Ignoring his filthy hands, he's probably laced it with fear toxin or a lethal amount of hot sauce.

His homemade cleaning chemicals are pretty stellar mind you. They can get blood, piss or tears out of anything. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Scarecrow really is a ride or die kinda guy. If you've wormed your way into his life then he’s going to do literally everything and anything to keep you in it. He’s not above making you dependent on him for safety just to keep you around longer. He’s not a total monster to the people he cares about mind you. If you really didn't want to be with him, he’d let you go….eventually.

I'm not sure he fully understands the concept of a “breakup”on his end. He gets that you don't see eachother anymore but I don't think he quite grasps that it's not because one party is dead. There's a 99% chance he’ll use you for his fear toxin experiments as a way of kicking you to the kerb. If you wake up in a ditch with a text that says “we’re through” you should consider yourself lucky. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I canon arkham scarecrow as having been engaged at one point in his life, possibly around the time of origins. I can imagine his partner gave him a “me or the fear toxin” ultimatum which has led to the man you know now. Despite how he looks, how he speaks and acts, he’s still open to the idea of a partner. He’s a loyal man who can't stand backstabbers, he’d appreciate someone like a spouse/husband/wife to have his back. If he decided he wanted to get married he’d propose almost immediately. It might be more of a business or thesis type proposal with lots of talking rather than flowers and wine and you're likely to be married as soon as you said yes. 

He has a tiny pumpkin ring saved for the occasion. Something like this (image credit https://www.banggood.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s gentle, in a creepy way unsurprisingly. He was a little stronger than the average man before the incident with croc, all that cardio and fighting with batman made him a skinny legend amongst the rogues for how well he could fight. Now? He couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. Mostly he's calm and soft, especially when you wouldn't expect him to be.  He can still be an emotionally manipulative person but chances are good you're smart enough to see right through him. Calling him on his bs is actually a good way to endear yourself to him. He likes a challenge and he loves it when people think they can outsmart him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hmm. yes and no. Scarecrow is severely touch adversed, but...It's not like with Riddler; Edward is on the autism spectrum and genuinely gets overstimulated by a lot of physical contact, he doesn't usually enjoy it unless under specific circumstances. Scarecrow WANTS to be hugged and held on occasion, but the mere thought of someone in his personal bubble sends his hackles up. 

When he first woke up after the asylum, he clung to you like a lampent. Scarecrow gives and recieves hugs like someone who needs them to breath.Your warmth soothes the aching pain when even drugs couldn't . By the time of Arkham Knight he’s grown cold and distant. His hugs are few and far between and unusually half hearted even when he initiates them. Maybe he’s just preoccupied with batman.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I doubt he’d ever say the words ``i love you” but he’s absolutely going to quote love poetry at you, recite lines from his favorite literature  “shall i compare you to a summer's day” and all that. That’s far better than a simple “i love you” right?

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jonathan is sort of one note when it comes to expressing frustration. Coffee machine not working? Melt it down into fear toxin vials. Line at the grocery store? Gas everyone out of his way. He doesnt get mad, he gets even. He’s not a super jealous person, he’s probably the most secure in himself out of all the rogues in Gotham bar Selina and ivy. But when something does hit his jealousy bone just right? LORD HE IS TERRIBLE. 

Unless you were the instigator, you are 100% safe but the poor soul who made the mistake of flirting with you will never see the light of day again.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He can't really kiss to be honest. He lacks a lot of lip tissue and tongue dexterity for deep smooching. He’s quite happy to give you little pecks on the cheek but anywhere else will get sloppy and he's not a fan of that. Jonathan has actually started to bump you with his head like a cat in lieu of kisses. Rare as it is, when he wants kisses he has a tendency to nuzzle into the crook of your neck or rest his head on your shoulder. He likes to be kissed on the cheek , forehead and top of his head. Most other places are covered in scars and lack the sensitivity to enjoy it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He likes to scare kids. It's not as malicious as it is with adults, he just likes to yell boo at them, smiling as they scream and giggle and run away. It's probably the most innocent he’ll act around other people. He still doesnt like them per say but he’ll tolerate them in small doses. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Scarecrow , like most rogues, is not a morning person. He doesn't sleep well and he is hella grumpy when he first wakes up. Expect to watch him shuffle around his hideout like a zombie, still wearing a quilt and his dressing gown as he complains about everything from the weather to the loud creaking of the floorboards. You should present him with food and coffee and then retreat to a safe distance until he’s fully awake, otherwise he’s liable to turn on his grumpy old man routine on you. If he's feeling particularly sore or needy, he’ll ask you to help change his bandages and dressings .

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It really depends on what he feels like in the moment. Sometimes he’ll leave you at home while he goes out to cause general mischief, sometimes he’ll bring you along as a look out. Sometimes it's a low-key night at the hideout reading and sometimes it's a caffeine fueled frenzie of experimentation and lab work with you as his trusty lab assistant.  He doesn't sleep well at night, the aches keep him up. If he were ever to actually go to bed he might find that you make a great pillow.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As much as he resents people having the upperhand with information, it's hard not for people to see his past. His scars are so easily visible, inside and out. He doesn't talk about his past unless prompted. But if you do he’ll quite happily answer all your questions; he’s not afraid of discussing it. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Jonathan is a very patient man, not just when it comes to revenge.It takes quite a lot to make him fly off the handle and he cools off again quickly. That's not to say he doesn't hold a grudge like he’s being paid for it, only that it's more of a simmering anger rather than a boiling one.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers most things about you, he has an excellent memory. But that being said he never lets on that he knows these things. He likes to hear you talk about the things that interest you, even if you've told him about it before. Watching you wax lyrical about your chosen subject makes him feel close to you. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I don't know if it's a favorite or even a positive memory but when he first woke up from surgery after croc you were lying beside him. He was understandably confused, maybe even afraid, but seeing you there brought him great comfort. He didn't know what was happening because of all the meds, but as long as you were with him he was confident things would work out for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He means well, you should always keep that in mind  before you snap at him. He brought you to the arkham knights HQ to protect you from his plans, he’s given you micro doses of fear toxin to build your resistance and by the time of arkham knight you can hardly move for the amount of guards he has following you around. He’s overbearing bordering on controlling but I think it's because he simply can't admit the thought of losing you scares him, even just a little. You aren't a rogue, you don't know Batman like they do. He just needs to keep you safe from batman, from the police and from the ugly world outside.

Given how weak he’s been viewed practically all his life, I believe he’d resent the accusation he needed protecting. deep in his mind he knows no one man is an island. He appreciates little helps even if he won't say it. He doesn't need protection per say but If nothing else, after being injected with his new toxin, he's going to need someone who’s corpus mentis in his corner for court and medical proceedings.  

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

His idea of a perfect date is you two working on your respective projects in comfortable silence, maybe a trip to the museum if he feels like the exercise. Obviously that suits some people down to the ground, myself included, but he gets that it's not for everyone. He’s probably ok with you planning the activities provided you warn him beforehand. 

Given everything he’s been planning for batman, things like important dates and even everyday tasks have a tendency to get lost in the fray. He's not doing it on purpose, He’s glad to celebrate these things with you if you remind him, He's just got his priorities in a funny order.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He shuffles his feet when he walks and is one of those people who always has conversations in doorways. You can never be sure he isn't aware of these habits and is doing them on purpose. He also used to smoke quite heavily but has since given it up due to his throat and lung issues.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It's sort of a mixed bag with him. On the one hand he knows he’s ugly, that's the point. You're MEANT to be scared looking at him, he’s leaning into it. But on the other hand his “look” is a carefully maintained visage; if it slips it might lose the intended effect. He might not be as scary to look at or worse, people might look at him in pity. It's not ordinary vanity or narcissism but yes, he is concerned with maintaining the way he looks 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

The concept of feeling whole is somewhat lost on him; He’s clearly missing a few screws even in his most lucid moments. That said even in the depths of madness brought on by his toxin, he still notices your absence. Still incredibly distressed In his cell in blackgate, he can often be heard crying out to you for comfort  but is lacking the wherewithal to understand why you're not there. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Given that he has pretty extensive facial injuries, eating is pretty difficult for him. He used to really enjoy bagels and cubanos from gothams many deli’s. His favorite was a kosher deli in The Cauldron, before Joker ruined it. They’ve since rebuilt and while he can't eat many solids anymore , he still enjoys their matzo soup and smoothies. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Like most of the rogues, he absolutely can't stand bullies.He also can't stand physically aggressive people; if you're going to even TRY and intimidate him maybe you could use your words like someone with more than 2 brain cells to rub together, rare as that is in gotham. Back when he was a psychiatrist he hated people who were chronically late. Not his patients, most of the time it wasn't their fault  due to executive dysfunction or traffic, but people who kept HIM back and made HIM late were the bane of his existence. 

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Crane is a back sleeper who snores because of his damaged septum.He knows he makes a noise akin to a flip flop in a lawn mower but there is literally nothing he can do about it besides sleep on his stomach. He squirms around a lot in his sleep so even if he starts on his stomach, he’ll be on his back snoring like a dead horse in no time. The only thing that could keep him frontwise is if he were to sleep on you and have you hold him in place. 

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Eleven - How Time Flies

Word Count: 2222

Author’s Note: Big time jump time! Whoop! Also, to those on my tag list: I’ve put you down below but I don’t know if you’ll get the notification or not. I tried reading up on it, something about accounts being hidden by some setting or other... IDK, hope you still see this ok!

WARNING: none.

For previous chapters click here.

March, 2007.

A lot can happen in a year, well, ten months.

And despite phone calls and emails back and forth between you, Jim and Pam, there was a lot you missed.

After Casino Night, Jim had transferred to Stamford within a week, taking on their Assistant Regional Manager position, and after some careful consideration, Pam called off the wedding, and broke up with Roy. It was a shock for everyone including Pam, but after what happened with Jim, she realised two things:

1. She wasn't in love with Jim. 2. She didn't love Roy either.

You had helped her move into her new apartment, which was coincidentally the one you were packing up. Jan had talked to Corporate for you, and you had been selected as one of Dunder Mifflin's foreign agents, and you packed your stuff up into storage a day after Pam's cancelled wedding, and flew out to Vienna that evening.

Jim started dating one of the girls from the Stamford branch, Karen, Pam started back at art classes, taking the Dunder Mifflin designer course in New York on weekends, Ryan and a new temp took over your and Jim's spots on the sales team, Dwight got even more annoying (as reported by Pam). You had developed and quit a smoking habit at least twice, and spent the past 300 days flying from Berlin to Paris to Madrid to wherever else, collecting a small but secure list of European clients. But you all kept in touch as best you could, all doing your best to move on and up.

Things started changing when Josh from Stamford got a job at Staples. Necessary downsizing was going to close the Scranton branch permanently, but the departure meant Stamford ended up closed instead, and their staff were transferred to Scranton, reuniting Jim and Pam after months apart. Jim had phoned you about it months ago, waiting until you were at work in Madrid to call.

"Halpert? Isn't it like, 11 at night back home?" You asked, typing away at your computer as you spoke, pulling out a dictionary to remind yourself of a French phrase.

"I'm back at Scranton... And I saw Pam and, well..." He stopped, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I've moved on. Officially. Karen and I are doing great and now, Pam and I are actually back to where we were. Friends..."

"I'm really happy for you Jim... It took a lot of you, she knows that." You smiled, glancing over to your colleague Miguel, who tapped his arm. You glanced at the clock. "Shit, I've gotta head for a meeting. Can I talk to you tonight?" You asked.

"Sure... We need to get you back on US soil, Y/N. Doesn't feel the same here without you." Jim said softly, and you bit your lip.

"About that..." you muttered, but Miguel was getting impatient. "Got to go! Love ya, bye!" You set the phone back on the receiver and grabbed your coat, rushing after Miguel to your next business meeting.

—

"Do I think it's unfair that Y/N got to go to Europe?" Dwight looked into the camera. "Of course I do. Not only was the job never publicly advertised by Dunder Mifflin, they sent her to the home of my ancestors without so much as a thought of me. Dwide Shroode, my great grandfather, was a man of great honour in Europe."

"Are you going on about Europe again? Dwight, she went to Spain... And we're all pretty sure your great grandfather was a soldier under Hitler during the war." Pam called from her desk, and Jim chuckled.

"He was a war hero!" Dwight said in defence.

"Criminal... Losing side become war criminals." Jim corrected with a wink to the camera.

—

"Había sido un placer hacer negocios con usted, señor." You said with a smile, shaking hands with the client, following Miguel out of the room.

"You were right to wear that top..." Miguel muttered as you both headed out to the waiting car. You were fast approaching a year as an international agent, and Miguel had been there since day one.

"Wow. Thanks Miguel." You rolled your eyes, and the pair of you stopped before breaking into laughter. "Fuck yes I was right. At least half my clients are with us because of my rack." You chuckled, getting into the car.

"Ready for the Vienna meeting?" He asked, the car pulling out and starting the trip to the airport. Your bags were in the back, your files from the temporary office packed up for you by an intern.

"If it leads to what I think is happening, then yeah... Scouting for a year is long enough." You commented, and Miguel nodded. He was from Spain, brought on by Dunder Mifflin from a third party company to help out with convincing new clients: he knew the right restaurants, the local dialect, the customs. When you had arrived, he spent a week running you through things you should be doing to secure clients.

"I'll miss you when you go." He said decidedly, and you smiled back at him, relaxing into your seat. It really had been a great year. When you were about halfway to the airport, you phone rang, and Miguel slipped in a pair of earphones so as to not eavesdrop.

"Hola, esta es Y/N de Dunder Mifflin. ¿Como puedo ayudar?" You answered the phone, only to hear English on the other end.

"Y/N, it's Jan."

"Oh, hi Jan. What do I owe the pleasure?" You switched to English, your smiling disappearing when you heard her sigh.

"I just got word... The Vienna meeting isn't looking like good news for you." She sighed, and you sat up.

"I... I've made more sales than anyone else in the Europe group..."

"I know. I know... I wanted to phone, in case they tried some stunt and let you go now that they are closing the division." She said slowly, and you nodded, trying to think.

"Why are they closing us down anyway?"

"The company took at gamble with the project to begin with, and want to shift one of our branches in the north east into an international business headquarters, teach the staff already there how to deal with the clients you've amassed." Jan explained. "Money's tight, and Upper Management can't reason a new branch opening in Vienna."

"And I'm not being moved to the International Headquarters?"

"The chances are slim..."

"Then, what do I do Jan? If they let me go here and I don't get transferred..." You started to panic, and Miguel glanced over, now concerned.

"Y/N, Y/N... Don't worry, I'll be looking on your behalf. Just... Just get through today, and fly back here the minute the meeting is over. We'll sort it out in New York, ok?" Jan assured you, and you thanked her before ending the call. Jan was your corporate contact, and after she had got you the position in Madrid, she had been keeping you up to date with decisions made back home. Up until then, everything had been looking positive for the Europe branch. It was out of the blue, but at least you knew now. You could expect the worst.

"Everything ok, Y/N?" Miguel asked, and you sighed.

"I'll be in New York by the morning..." You said, and he nodded, understanding that the worst was coming. You both fell silent after that, through the drive to the airport, and security, and on the plane. You needed to think over your next steps, and spent the time on the plane writing in a small notebook, drafting a CV, just in case it was needed.

—

"Michael, Michael please..." Jan spoke over the speaker phone, interrupting Michael's corny opener. "This is about Y/N."

"Oh right, how is the traitor?" Michael asked, still pissed off by your leaving the Scranton branch. Jim overheard Michael and Jan, and ended his call, leaning back to listen in through the ajar door.

"They are shutting down the Europe project, and I realise the merger has filled up all the vacancies in your office, but I'm looking for some options for her." Jan said, and Jim beckoned Pam over to listen in.

"You shouldn't-" Dwight started, but the pair shushed him.

"She betrayed me... But wouldn't you just put her in with corporate?" Michael whined, and Jan let out a loud, long sigh.

"The information I have is that... Well, they're laying off the entire Europe team. Giving their work to the Rochester branch. Quick and easy way to save money." Jan admitted, and Jim and Pam shared a look.

"Even if we did have space in Scranton, we wouldn't want her Jan." Michael said quickly, lifting the phone and ending the call. He noticed the shuffling outside his door, and got up, flinging the door open to see Jim and Pam scrambling back to their desks, pretending they hadn't heard a thing. He looked around for a few more moments, shutting his room door and hiding himself inside.

The moment he was gone, Jim walked up and over to Pam. "Pam, you helped arrange Y/N's flights out, didn't you?" Jim asked, and Pam nodded. "Think you could find out when she's getting home? We could go meet her at the airport?" Jim suggested, and Pam smiled brightly.

"I'll see if I can find the info. You send her an email, see what she says about the whole thing. We need to know how down in the dumps she is." Pam ordered, and Jim tapped into her desk, heading back over to his computer, smiling over to Karen as he sat down.

They had been based in Scranton for a little while now, started dating, and Jim had explained his old feelings for Pam. And Karen understood, all of it. In fact, they were better than ever now. She came over after a half hour or so.

"So, tonight... You free?" She asked, leaning on his desk. Jim stopped typing and gave her a smile.

"I can't tonight, Pam and I are going to pick up an old friend from the airport... Do you want to come?" Jim offered, and Karen shook her head.

"It's fine, but you owe me, Halpert." She smirked, heading over to her desk.

—

And just like that, you were out of a job.

Corporate had tried to be nice about it, sure, and offered a severance package, but what you wanted was somewhere to work. If your life had gone differently, then severance and a chance to stay in Spain or Austria for the rest of your life would have been great, but you had only ever had Dunder Mifflin.

No college, no family. You barely scraped through high school and now all you had to your name was a suitcase of personal effects and eight years or so with a company that was downsizing. And as much as you wanted to believe that loyalty, dedication and language skills were going to get you a job, it was more likely that you would end up working in a fast food restaurant and couch surfing.

Jim had sent an email, telling you he had heard, but you didn't even have the energy to respond.

Your flight home was long, and you spent most of it staring out a window and picking at airplane food, wondering how in the name of God you would move forward from this. Maybe Jan had an idea, she had been a mentor to you while you were away, offering sound advice in times of trouble.

It's not like you could even go back to Scranton. The Stamford Merger had bulked out the workforce, there was more of a sales team in that Pennsylvania branch than there was in the whole Europe project. And you weren't looking to be squeezed in out of pity. You had self-respect.

After a sleepless flight, and landing at JFK as the clock struck 11 that night, you didn't feel good about being home. You didn't feel good about anything.

You grabbed your bags, your phone flashing with voicemails from Jan and a text saying she would talk to you tomorrow as you turned it back on. A drink would be nice, but terrible for the morning to come. A fresh set of clothes wouldn't kill you...

You stopped off at the bathroom, searching through your case to find a nice top and jeans, changing into something that made you feel more comfortable. You let your hair down out of the tight bun you had locked it in, and took a moment to look in the mirror.

Things had changed in a year. You had dyed your hair a little darker, your skin had tanned, you had lost some weight. The bags under your eyes were too visible, so you quickly shuffled through your makeup and pulled out some concealer, and tidied your face a little.

Maybe a drink would be good, stop having to flirt in Spanish... You fastened your suitcase back up and headed out, dragging your suitcase behind you and heading for the exit into the main airport building.

"Y/N!!" Two voices shouted, and you turned only to be tackled into a tight hug, two sets of arms wrapping around you and cementing you as officially 'home'.

--

Tags: @imsuperawkward​ @rosie2801 @onceuponahuntersrealm 

[monster-madame]

Impulsive Decisions (Breanna x Jackson) | Modern Orc Boyfriend x Human Witch Woman

Hello hello!

Here is a hetero NSFW orc boyfriend story, featuring a human plus size woman witch and an orc named Jackson!  

I couldn’t figure out how to photoshop the tempting rugby player photographed green (what a problem to have), so use your imagination.  <3

Details:  This is a reader insert story, but I do name the character becuase I find “Y/N” distracting.

Word Count: 6,305 [800 ish is smut]

* * * * *

You blew your hair out of your face, pushing through the kitchen doors into the dining area.  You normally didn’t work lunches, as you were taking computer science classes at the local university.  Classes made the lunch shift nearly impossible, but you were on break between spring and summer courses.

Walking through the packed dining room, you mentally noted to avoid taking lunch rushes during the future.  You definitely preferred the more relaxed pace of the dinner shift.  The lunch shift seemed mostly made up of  patrons who were on a time crunch for their lunch hour.  You winced as their stressed energy grated against your Senses. 

“Here you are,” you said to one of your tables, putting down your tray.  The guests smiled at you and continued talking animatedly to one another, they all seemed to be friends.  Their energy was open, fun and a little mischievous.

Vinnie’s attracted a more diverse set than other restaurants, and the table sat a good assortment of humanoids – a half-orc, a tiefling, a human (probably a witch by the tattoos) and a minotaur.

“Did you see that Jackson Scott is here?!” the tiefling whispered to the table.  “I can’t believe we’re lunching where JACKSON SCOTT lunches!  Wasn’t he just declared one of the riches men in Boston by The Globe?”  

You raised your eyebrows at that.  Vinnie’s was a nice restaurant, but it wasn't nice nice, like 5 dollar signs on Yelp! nice. What was he doing here?

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” you asked the table.  The minotaur asked for another side of Mayo.  “I’ll go snag that for you and be right back,” you said, mentally noting what drinks needed to be filled.

Turning to go back into the kitchen you heard a crash in a far corner.  Looking over, you saw that it belonged to one of your BFFs, Jill, who was red-faced and mopping up what looked to be marinara sauce around a really pissed off orc.  Jill is a slight dryad, and you could feel her stress emanating at you.

Striding over, you slapped on your best Hospitality Smile, ready to flex your energetic charms as an empath to diffuse the situation.  You strided over, noting that the patron was seated in what the staff called the “Do Not Disturb” table, that was situated behind potted plants and in an alcove.

Well, at least other patrons wouldn’t be able to gawk at the lot of you.

As you neared, you realized why he was seated at the DND table.  Oh fuck. He was a VIP.

It was, of course, Jackson Scott.  Jill had a knack for ticking off the wrong customers.  He was ripped, with the kind of body that would make Jason Moma ask for workout tips.  Beautiful tusks and a real energy of “fucking pissed off” about him.  Nearing 7 feet tall with dark hair, he was seated in one of the special chairs designed to withstand a taller being.

“Hello,” you said greeting him.  “We’re so terribly sorry for the accident.  We’ll of course cover the dry cleaning bill and help you get into different clothes.  We can send you home with a take out order and a giftcard on the house?  We’ll  cover the Uber, so you can get changed?”

“This,” he grit out, gesturing to his linen suit, “is bespoke.  And ruined.  Do you intend to cover the cost of a new summer suit?”

Um, no, the restaurant probably couldn’t cover a suit that would cover six months of rent.  Seeing your hesitation, his frustration grew.  

“Look, I came here for a quiet lunch between meetings, and if I had known the staff was so incompetent,” he said, looking at Jill, “then I definitely would’ve gone elsewhere.  Do you typically keep on staff that are so bad at their jobs?”

Oh, no he fucking did NOT.  Jill was one of their best servers!  Accidents happen!!

“Jill is one of our best staff members, and we so apologize for this accident,” you said, upping your mental defenses, just in case his energy became more aggressive.   “We have an excellent dry cleaner, and I so appreciate you helping us get this sorted out,” you said.   Sometimes thanking someone for being on your side helped them actually be on your side.

Seeing your words had no effect, you let out a trickle of an calm energy to the restaurant. 

Unfortunately, that little oomph of calm you tried to use totally backfired.  His tension ratcheted up. Your Hospitality Smile vanished right off your face.

“Are you fucking magicking me?” he grit out, shoving his chair back from the table.  

Technically, no.  You were magicking yourself and the energy around you, but you didn’t think he’d see it that way.

Desperately trying to figure out how to fix a situation that had totally gotten out of hand, you saw Gio, Vinnie’s son, headed towards them.  Oh, thank god.  Vinnie was human, and he was able to effortlessly engage with all types of beings.

Gio arrived on the scene, strategically placing himself so that Jackson had to move a bit to address him, shielding their party from prying eyes.

“What seems to be the problem here, Jackson?” he asked, addressing the Orc.  

“Your staff is fucking incompetent and magicking patrons, Gio,” he bit out.  “What kind of restaurant did I just put money into?”

At the word “money,” you looked at Jill, shocked.

“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding,” shared Gio.  “Breanna would never magick a customer, and her magick doesn’t even work that way –”

“Wait a moment,” you interjected.  “He bought Vinne’s?!”

Jackson shifted his attention to you, realizing he had two shit shows on his hands.  “I mean, he’s more of an investor–”

Well, crap.  Spilling marinara sauce on one of Boston’s elite was bad.  Ruining the suit of an investor was even worse.  This could be disastrous for Jill.

Glancing at Jill’s face, you realized she had figured out the same thing.

Chewing your lip, your mind raced.  BAM! You had a solution. Jill really fucking needed this job and, you, well, didn’t.  The restaurant was trying to expand, and needed capital.  Telling Jackson Scott to fuck off wasn’t an option.

You knew what you had to do.

Turning back on your Hospitality Smile, you turned to the Orc. Jackson.  “Mr. Scott,” you said smoothly.  “I so apologize for your experience today at Vinne’s.  This is not the kind of service our staff is trained to give.  Because I trained Jill, I take full responsibility for this issue.  Faulty training isn’t up to our standards at Vinnie’s, so I’ll be replaced.”  

You then took off your apron, and handed it to Gio.  You then took out your mini-wallet that held your license, credit card and a few business cards.  You peeled off one of your business cards.

“If you’ll please send the bill to the email address on that card, I’ll be happy to reimburse you.”  You handed it to a stunned Jakson Scott.

The three of them stared at you.

“Miss, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding –” Jackson started.

“No, no totally my fault,” you said with your Hospitality Smile, emanating graciousness and competence.  This needed to work.  If he asked Gio to fire Jill, Gio would probably have to. Although to be honest, if a prejudiced Orc now owned the restaurant – excuse you, invested in it – you weren’t sure how long Jill would have a job.

“I’ll let Gio sort out your Uber and meal.  Have a great rest of your day, Mr. Scott.”

And then you spun on your heel on and left the dining room, headed to the staff room to grab your bag.  You felt hot tears at the back of your eyes as you walked back.  No. You would not cry.  You kept your Hospitality Smile firmly in place.

The people at Vinnie’s were your family, the only family that mattered.   You knew you weren’t going to work here for the rest of your life, but you for sure thought you’d finish your degree before leaving.  And even then you had planned to work the odd weekend shift or get more involved in the back office.

But Gio and Vinnie had been looking for an investor for ages, needing cold hard cash to update the restaurant and expand to another location, for Gio to fully run.  They needed Jackson Scott.  More than they needed you.

You grabbed your purse, dropping off a side of Mayo and a refill on the Iced Tea at your table, before heading out.  “Another server will be taking over for me,” you told them smoothly. 

You left out the front doors, and you didn’t start crying until you were a few buildings down the sidewalk.

* * * *

You wake up the next morning, blearily scrubbing your hands over your itchy and puffy eyes.  What a crappy evening that had been.

You’d spent the evening googling the heck out of Jackson Scott.  He was an MIT grad, and he had built and sold several technology companies, and he was an investor in a variety of industries.  Photos showed him with his large clan, and he seemed involved in a good amount of charities.

Studying his photos last night, you could NOT get over how good looking he was.  He was broad shouldered with muscles, he had a rugby player’s build.   His gleaming tusks curved over his upper lip.  Dark forest green eyes and great bone structure.

Plus, he had recently had an interview in GQ, and the stylist had had fun with a few shots – Mr. Scott was apparently a Calvin's briefs kind of guy.  If those briefs (and what was likely under them) had made their way through your dreams, you couldn’t be blamed!  You couldn’t control your subconscious!

He probably had a good PR team, but your Senses told you that this wasn’t the type of guy to make a scene at a restaurant. But he had made a scene, and you had had to quit.

You rummage around to try to find your phone in your bed, eventually snagging it.

*** 47 Notifications ***

You groan to yourself.  

You’d turned your phone on airplane mode as soon as you left the restaurant, and promptly carbo-loaded as soon as you got to your apartment.

Sighing, you went to the kitchen to make some coffee.  As it started brewing, you began cleaning up after last night’s pity party, loading your dishwasher and wiping down the counter.The buzzer on your apartment rang.

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

You ignored it.

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

Go away!” you said aloud.  

Couldn’t the world respect your need to mope?!?!

**** BZZZZZZT  **** 

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

The buzzing became more insistent.   

**** BZZZZZZT  ****   

 **** BZZZZZZT  ****   

 **** BZZZZZZT  ****

You harrumphed and walked over to the speaker, pressing the button. “I’m not in the mood to see anyone today!”  you snarked into it.

“Ms. Alexander, I apologize for disturbing you,” said the voice of the and only Jackson Scott.  “We had a terrible misunderstanding yesterday, and I’d like to meet with you to remedy it as soon as possible.”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise.  What in the actual hell?!“How do you know where I live?!” you said tersely into the speaker.  Surely this asshat had something better to do than creep on chubby witches?!

He cleared his throat into the speaker.  “Ahem, well, yes I may have glanced in your personnel file.  I grew worried last night when you didn’t answer messages from myself or Gio.”

You opened your mouth to speak. Closed it. Opened it.  

Feeling like a fish, you cast your eyes desperately around.

Pressing on, he said, “Would you be amenable to a breakfast meeting?  Or a lunch meeting?  I have to go run a few errands, and then I could meet you at that little cafe down the street in two hours?”

Realizing he was determined to meet with you, yet respecting your boundaries by asking you to a public place, you decided to cut him some slack.  

You pressed the buzzer.  “Okay sure.  I’ll see you there in two hours.”

“Great, thank you for being so accommodating,” he quickly replied.  “I’ll see you there soon.”

As soon as the crackle of the speaker stopped, you were seized with a terrible realization.

You were going to brunch with Jackson Scott, and you had no idea what to wear.

************************

One hour and fifty-three minutes later, you were waiting outside the cafe.  After agonizing over outfits, ou had gone for what you hoped was chic casual, high waisted jeans and a front tucked white cotton button down with keds.  You put your long hair in a messy bun, braiding a headband to make it clear you put in effort – but not so much that you cared too much.

You went up to put your name on the list, “Hi, table for two?  For Breanna?”  The place was packed, and you weren’t sure how long the wait would be.

“Breanna Alexander?” the human hostess asked you.  .  

“Uhh, yeah?”

“Right this way please.”

She took you to the back garden, where tables were interspersed in amongst raised flower beds.  The flower beds gave the feeling that each table was in its own garden, and also made the air smell divine.

You loved this cafe.

Turning a corner, you could see Jackson Scott seated at a table (in a corner, of course).  He was almost too tall for the chair, one leg  crossed flat over the other.  He wore casual dark jeans and a light gray hoodie sweater.  

You brought up your Senses, shielding yourself from any aggressive energy that may come your way.

You got to the table, and he stood to greet you.  The hostess placed some menus down, murmuring something you didn’t catch.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he said, his hand outstretched for a professional handshake.  He seemed earnest and a little nervous.  

“Well, I was a little worried you would stay outside of my building until I did,” you joked lightly, stretching out a hand and clasping his.

His hand engulfed yours.  Oh dear.

He warmly grasped your hand, and then released it.  You put your bag down, and then sat.  

Okayyyyyy, you said to yourself.  This is a professional breakfast meeting.  You need to make sure you call him on his shitty behavior, keep it together and not drool.

He cleared his throat.  “I want to start this out right.  First of all, I want to apologize for  my terrible behavior yesterday.  This has been a month from hades, but that’s no excuse for howI acted.  I apologized and made amends with Jill and Gio.”

Oh god is this going to be a non-apology?  Wait, why had this been a month from hell?

“And now, I’d like to apologize to you,” he said looking deep into your eyes.

He looked at you steadily.  

“I am so sorry for what occurred yesterday.  I am sorry that you felt you had to quit your job to help resolve the mess, and I deeply admire your quick thinking in a tough situation.  However, I’m not the kind of Orc who would expect or demand someone to quit over an accident.  I know Gio has reached out to you to be clear your job is still yours if you want it, and I wanted to meet with you in-person to promise that I would not behave that way in the future.”

He finished and looked at you, waiting.  You lowered the defenses a bit on your Senses, to try to get an idea of how sorry he was.

His energy was truly apologetic, truly apologetic.  You were getting embarrassment, self-consciousness and a good bit of hope from him.

Just then, the waitress came by.  “Have you decided what you’re having?” she asked, looking at you.

You hadn’t even looked at the menu.  

“Can you give us another few moments?”

“Sure!” she said brightly.  “I’ll just bring around some coffee if that’s okay?”  

You nodded and then looked at Jackson.

“Have you had the waffles?” he asked.  “Not that I’m biased or anything, but I think the combination of sugar and carbs could help put you in a more forgiving mood.”  His eyes sparkled at you with humor.

“Or a food coma,” you joked back.

Now that the tension had eased a bit, you realized you didn’t really hate him.  His apology had been full and fair, and hadn’t been one of those half-ass apologies you were used to the men in your life making.  Aaaand, truth be told, you probably should’ve offered to quit and let him get a few words in, before marching out of Vinnie’s yesterday.  You could be a tad impulsive. 

“There’s no need for waffles to inspire forgiveness,” you said to him.  “You acted like a total asshat, but I really appreciate you going above and beyond to fix things.”

His shoulders relaxed.  “It’s good to hear that,” he said.  “Do you want to look over the menu?  I know what I’m ordering.”

“Me too,” you said instantly.

“Waffles?”

“No, pancakes! Which are better in every way.”

This then sparked a debate about breakfast foods, which turned into you talking about food in general and travel.  Jackson was really smart and witty, and he was so fun to talk to.

As the meal winded down, you realized that you didn’t want brunch to end.  You really liked spending time with him. And looking at him.

“So, there was another reason I was hoping to talk to you,” he shared, as the waitress took away the plates. His energy wavered, and you could tell this was important to him.   “I invested in Vinnie’s because it’s one of the only restaurants in the city that accommodates different species, and I wanted to help grow that.”

You nodded.  This was one of the many reasons you loved working there.

He continued.  “That said, there have been limitations.  Species that aren’t as humanoid, say Driders for example, are welcome to come – but the staff has to move around furniture and it can make booking complicated.  Many beings want to come, but are worried about putting the staff out by having them have to go through extra work. I know you’re studying computer science, so I was hoping we could design some sort of online reservation system – like an app – that would help us better plan for and accommodate different beings.  Someone could book through the app, and their profile would signal staff as to what changes need to be made.  There’s a lot of kinks to work out – wait, before I go on, is that something you’d be interested in?”

Wow, you were NOT expecting this.  You did have experience in app design, and you could probably license an existing reservation platform and modify it to your needs.  Your mind starting whirling.

“Breanna..?” he asked, uncertain as to what you were gonna say.

“Oh, sorry!” you said, your face scrunching in embarrassment.  “I would be absolutely LOVE to work with you on this project.  How do we get started?  How do you see this working, from a meetings and timeline perspective?”

His energy perked immediately, and you could feel his excitement.

“Well, we’d have to start with user interviews….”

****

About a month later, part of your apartment was covered in frameworks and sketches.  Jackson had given you a small team to lead, and you were having a blast learning how to delegate different parts of the platform to the other freelance contractors on the project  - as well as learning a lot in the coding and design portion.  Jackson was pretty involved, meeting with you throughout the week and staying updated on progress.

Jackson acted more like a collaborator than a boss, trusting your experience and know-how.  But, technically, he was your boss (client?) as he was approving your invoices for freelance development.

And you had a giant huge crush on him.  You’d been having steamy daydreams about him for weeks, many of which involved you, him, the restaurant and a variety of sexual positions involving the bar.

Luckily he was an Orc with zero empathic abilities, or this would be really awkward.  Guys like Jackson Scott did not go for chubby computer nerds, they dated, like, supermodels.  Or high powered business women.  Or high powered business women who were ALSO supermodels.

UGH.

Your pity party was interrupted by your phone chiming, and you jumped to grab it.  You had assigned a specific ringtone to Jackson.  You told yourself it was because this was your first fully professional project, but the butterflies in your stomach said differently.  In a positively Pavlovian move, you scampered over to your phone, eager to see what it said.

Hey, Breanna – I’m going to need to move our meeting next week.  I have to go out of town.

Ugh. Probably to take his supermodel-tycoon girlfriend on a trip.

The phone chimed again.

A screenshot of his calendar popped up.

Is there a time you see free that would work for us to meet?  I realize it’s a lot to ask, but maybe in the evening?

Shoot.  Looking at his schedule you realized your classes, study nights and group project meetings all happened when he was free.

The only time he was and you were free was tomorrow night, which was a Friday night.  

Hey, no problem! You texted back.  Our schedules almost totally clash, unfortunately.  IDK if this works for you, but I could do tomorrow night?  I realize you probably have some event or probably forgot to put something on your calendar, but I can  move my Netflix marathon to a different night.

You sent it without thinking, then read it back as you waited for him to reply.  Reading back over it, you groaned.  

Great.  You had just told Jackson Scott you had no life.  You usually kept Friday night free to decompress, socializing on Saturday night or during the weekend.

Then another, even worse thought hit you.  What if he thought you were trying to finagle this into a DATE?!

Nope, nothing on Friday night!   He replied.

Thank all the gods.

Would you prefer to meet at the office? My home office? Wherever works for you.

Eugh, go into an office building on a Friday evening?  No thanks.  But also you were pretty sure you’d feel super nervous and out of sorts at his home.  You didn't know what his setup would be like, and you’d probably get all jittery worrying about his tech working or having a whiteboard to brainstorm on or or or

Then it hit you.  He could just come to your place.  You had everything here already, and your walls were practically ready for a presentation.  You had met with a few of the other contractors in your apartment, Skyping in the others who didn’t live in the city.

Would you be okay to come to my place?  I already have everything taped up, gantt charts and all.  You texted back, knowing it was definitely the best solution for you.

Sure! He instantly replied.

We could do a 6-9pm meeting?  Order takeout and eat while we work?

Perfect!  You replied.  Just no waffles. ;)

****

“This is not a date,” you told your reflection sternly to your reflection in the mirror.  “This is a professional project update.  You are a professional.  You are a leading business woman.”

You jabbed your finger at your reflection for emphasis.

“You are an empowered and capable business woman!”

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

It was show time.

“Come on up,” you said through the speaker.  

In a few moments, Mr. Jackson Scott was in your kitchen.  

Righto.

“Hey,” he said.  He swung his laptop bag off his shoulder and put it on the counter.  Your mouth went dry seeing his shoulder muscles flex  as he put it down.  He wore his usual uniform of dark jeans and a button down dress shirt.  You were wearing a jersey jumpsuit, your hair in a high ponytail.

“Food should be here any minute.  I realized it would be faster if we had it delivered instead of me picking it up.”

“That makes sense,” you said.  “Do you want to jump on in or should we wait for food to get here?”

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

“Never mind,” you said with a laugh, and a few moments later you were dumping chow-mein onto a plate.  You used your counter as a table, him on one side and you on the other, as your table was covered with project materials.

You chatted with him comfortably about school and Vinnie’s while you ate, and he told you some funny stories about his nieces and nephews.  Whipping out his phone, he started showing you pictures.

“This is Carrie learning how to hula hoop,” he said laughing, swiping through photos of an adorable orc kiddo, who looked to be about 7-years-old.  She was gleefully laughing in the photo, and she seemed pretty proud of herself.

“She’s so cute!” you exclaimed.

Just then a bubble notification appeared at the top of his screen.  Before you could stop yourself, your eyes darted up to the top of the screen.  

Just make a move already, dude!  

Then another bubble

Just be honest with her, she’s not going to think you’re a creep….. 

Then another bubble popped up

Waiting until the app is done isn’t gonna work, because it’s gonna need updates.  It won’t ever be totally….. [read more]

Jackson made a choking noise, then pushed the lock button his phone, putting it facedown on the countertop.  You stared at it.  Why was his friend talking about making a move and their app…?

Oh.

Your face felt hot.  Oh goddess, were you blushing?  You bet you looked like a tomato right now.  Your eyes met his.  

He cleared his throat.  

“So, um, this was not how I wanted to have this conversation,” he said, sheepishly running his hand through his hair.  There were those dang arm muscles again.  

“I didn’t want to say anything, because it puts you in a really awkward spot if you’re not interested in me, too.”

He glanced down at his phone.  “But, since we’re here, I guess I’ll just try to be an honest adult about this.”

“‘I’m, uh, really into you.  Like really into you. and I’m really attracted to you.  You’re smart, gorgeous, funny, and I love spending time with you.  I’d like to date, if, um, well, you’d be interested in seeing where this goes…?”

Your brain had fitzed out.  Date Jackson Scott?  Jackson Scott thought you were gorgeous?

Your daydreams and, ahem, sex dreams came running through your mind.  Spending time with Jackson?  Talking with him more?  Kissing Jackson?  Getting naked with Jackson?  Sucking Jackson off on the bar at Vinnie’s–

“Breanna?” he asked.  “If you need some time to think about this, I can totally go..?  We can reschedule?”

You snapped back to the present, where real sexy-ass Jackson Scott had just told you he was into you.

“Oh, um, no!  I’m sorry, I spaced out for a minute imagining jumping your bones.  I’d love to, um, date you.”

His face broke out in a grin.  “Jump my bones, huh?”

You felt your face return to its previous tomato state.

“Sorry, I definitely need to do a better job of thinking before I speak –”

He came around the counter, standing in front of you.  “No, I think you did a pretty good job of stating your position,” he said, bending down a bit, so that his mouth was about an inch away fro yours.  “I’m up for whatever you’re up for.”

Galvanized by his lips so close to yours, you leaned up into him.  You kissed him hard, standing up and leaning into him.  His hands came around you, starting at your waist.

You arched your back into him, going on your tip toes to get his hands to go a bit lower.  He obliged, kneading your lower back as he tongued your mouth.  His hands went lower, cupping your ass cheeks.

Needing to feel him against you, you jumped up on the counter, wrapping your legs around his torso.  You had fantasized about this so many times, and you ached to just rub yourself on him.  You loved the feeling of rubbing your clit over jeans.  

He gasped into your mouth as he felt you grind your pussy over his crotch.  “I’ve wanted to feel that for so long,” he said, panting and kissing his way along your neck.

“Mmmm, me too,” you moaned as he nipped where your neck met your shoulder.

Your breasts felt heavy, your nipples aching as they rubbed through your lacy bralette against his chest.  God you really wanted his hands on your nipples.

You tore at the top of your jumpsuit, pulling it off your shoulders so you could feel his mouth on your breasts.  He kissed the newly exposed skin of your shoulders as you shrugged out of it, his hot mouth making you ever more wet.

His hands traced along the edges of your bralette, teasing you.  “Jackson,” you whined.

“Oh, am I allowed to see what’s under here?” he lightly teased you, as you writhed under his caresses.

“Yes, please,” you whined.  “I need to feel your mouth on me–”

He shoved down your bralette, exposing your breasts.  Your nipples were completely erect.  He tweaked one breast and drew his mouth over the other.  Sucking and nibbling your breast, you moaned low for him.

“Oh my god, just like that, please, oh my god I need more –”

“What do you need baby, tell me what you need,” he murmured.

“Harder, I need you to bite harder” you said, ending your words in a wail as he bit your nipple harder and twisted the other one.

“Oh FUCK,” you moaned, feeling an orgasm begin to build.

“Please, my pussy,” you whined, and his hand dipped down to your crotch.  

“You want my fingers inside of you?” he murmured, his hand cupping you.  

“Yes, please, fuck me, fuck me hard!”

He moved away from you, swiftly pulling off the rest of your jumpsuit in one fell swoop.

“You’re so wet for me baby,” he crooned in your ear, slipping a finger inside.  “I can’t wait to have you ride my face.  I can’t wait to feel you ride my cock.”

His finger pumped in and out of you.  He added a second finger, looking at your reaction.  “More, please!” you begged.

He added a third finger, and you could feel your juices running down your thighs.

“Please Jackson, please!! Fuck me hard!”

He growled, his chest rumbling.  “Oh, I’ll fuck you hard, baby,” he said.  He pistoned his hand in and out of you, and you met every thrust.  Your orgasm built up inside of you, and he masterfully brought you to the edge, once and then twice – backing off before you could orgasm.

“Jackson, please!” you wailed.

“Please, what, baby?” he asked, grinning down at you as he continued fucking your pussy.

“Please make me cum!!” 

His grin broadened, and he increased the speed.  “Like that, baby?  You want it like that?”

“Yes!” you screamed, the sound cut off as his mouth covered yours.  You felt your pussy convulse around his hand, and you bucked with pleasure.

Wow.  

Your head fell against his chest, as you tried to remember how to fill your lungs with air.

“How you doing?” he asked, tipping your chin up to be able to see your face.

“I’m feeling pretty ready for round two,” you said, your hand trailing around to cup his still hard cock.

He thrust into your hand.

“I have condoms in my room,” you said, rubbing his length.

He swung you up into his arms and into the bedroom.

“Jump his bones,” indeed.

I hope you enjoyed this story!!  I’m excited to be writing more, and as with all authors, if you like it – reblog it! <3  

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