#Make sure to stress that he intentionally embarrassed you by making a scene followed you to the bathroom & outside of the store in attempt

[winslowat3am]

You prob won’t see this but hi! I follow you and your beautiful wife bc of your love for black women and life tips! I wanna share a story that happened yesterday where I was harassed in a gas station by an aggressive black male security guard and get nonblack poc feedback bc I no longer feel safe around black men and just curious to what advice or thoughts you have.

Last night I walked inside a pilot gas station to use the restroom where I wore a yellow camo track suit with the hood up bc I was cold. The security told me to take my hood down even tho there was no policy where I could see and followed me to the restroom door and called me out my name (I heard him thru the door), after I finished in the restroom I went to confront him at the register he was hiding behind where we got into a heated verbal exchange , I cussed him out amd I hurt his ego evidently bc he felt the need to follow me outside to escalate it but I outtalked him and got in my car. I never took my hood down. I went back in the gas station with a girlfriend for water after informing her of what happened where he then tried to make me remove my hood again and tried to encourage the women at the registers to refuse me service bc I wouldn’t remove my hood, we got into it again. He was aggressive, approached me slamming his hand on the counter, got loud, and sensitive bc I got the best of him twice verbally and in the end I still got the water and never took my hood down; the nice white lady at the register took my money from my friend who paid for it, the black woman at the register was a m@mmy. He nitpicked my outfit and physical appearance but ppl passing thru wore hoods and had pants hanging off their asses, tummy shirts, brought dogs in the store, but was never harassed like I was. I don’t have a problem following a policy but I won’t follow a policy when it’s enforced on me but no one else. So I called the police and they told me to file a complaint with corporate and see what I can do about it so I will be calling them in the morning. Did I mention the security tried to get me banned for trespassing just bc i didn’t back down and verbally whooped him?? LOLL!!! I’ll be carrying a switchblade from now on and learning to shoot a gun real soon!

Read my tags. I'm assuming you're a bw? It doesn't take all the hoodrat buffoonery Glocktavious displayed to ask someone to remove their hood. Talk to a lawyer, they'll help you go about prosecuting Dustavious the right way. So unprofessional. I hope this isn't a late response, I don't really check Tumblr lately or read every ask but yours grabbed my attention. You did the right thing! Always stand up for yourself. You're a savage for checking his ass. Never be afraid of a man, & keep a weapon on you. 👏👏👏👏Insecure, pussy "men" pick fights with women, they think being aggressive & loud intimidates you & they never prepare for a strong retort that shuts their shit down. My completely honest & straightforward unfiltered pov: We need to address the fact that the bullying of bw is a problematic behavior that is perpetuated by bm primarily (not all, but atp it's so common it might as well be). You'd be better off opening up your dating options to men outside of your race, tbh. (Be very selective & careful when itrl dating). Non-bm build their communities & protect their women. [Redacted] That's why I don't understand why some ww leave wm, who have privilege & power, for bm, who 9/10 don't have anything to offer except dick, kids & struggle love. Even when bm manage to have success it doesn't change their crusty ass mentality. I recently learned that a bw is killed by a bm every six hours. [Redacted] Bm are the only race of men who publicly bash, degrade & bully their race of women while praising, fetishizing & worshipping non-bw. But you can't expect men who hate themselves to love or value you. I see the bs bw have to deal with daily & it saddens me. I feel like they target bw cause they think it'll make them men & acceptable in the eyes of wm, it's embarrassing. [Redacted] I can't imagine treating my baby like that. [Redacted] I'll never post or reblog a "this is a safe space for everyone" post. It's not. I don't post for them. I don't want racists/colorists in my space where bw & woc tell me that they feel safe, seen & protected. I gatekeep my blog so that you're safe expressing your feelings here. I thought it was obvious since I never acknowledge bm but it needs to be said. I 100% agree with the bw advising bw to choose higher quality men. You should watch Cynthia G & Paris Milan on YouTube & other black women who cover domestic & racial topics, it's very educational & insightful, they offer a lot of perspective & I agree with so many points they make. [Redacted] The best advice I can give you is to run & never look back. Good luck. ❤️

[dreamalittledreamofcopia]

papal portrait

bored at work, you doodle a picture of copia on the back of an index card. he catches you and finds himself someplace between flattered, embarrassed, and enamored.

papa copia x reader // 1.6 words

Time almost never crawled like this at the abbey. In all of your months as Copia’s assistant, you were burdened with near constant tasks and agendas and meetings and summaries and outlines and-

It was enough to make your head spin, as if swimming in the scent of Copia for the entire work day wasn’t enough to send you reeling. He had only gotten more alluring and stunning with age, the wrinkles that had set themselves into his face serving him like a beautiful vignette in a polaroid. You had spent many hours watching him hold his skin taut, attempting to flatten out the ridges in his forehead or his cheeks, and many hours telling him how unneeded that self-directed scrutiny was. You would also spend hours peppering his face with affectionate, gentle kisses if you could, papal make up be damned.

The scene played out in your mind for the millionth time. You’d push his chair back from his desk and straddle his thighs, or sit on his desk, files and papers folding beneath you, your feet wedged in between his thighs and the sides of the chair. He didn’t care about the creases in his work, hopefully, because he would be transfixed on your heavenly body above him. He’d be obsessed with the way your hair would fall over your shoulder and across his face, an amazed hum sounding from his lips as he ran his hand through your locks, strands sliding through the creases his knuckles made in the leather. He’d be obsessed with the way your lips parted right as you pressed them to his forehead, to the apples of his cheeks, to his soft soft eyelids. He’d be obsessed with the way his hands could slide down your arms, back up to your shoulders and across your back. If you sat on top of his desk he would lift you by your waist and sit your hips down on his, tilting his chin up to finally press his lips against yours upon arrival.

In the lull of time this day, you had ample time to indulge yourself in this favorite fantasy of yours. Looking over, up from your legal pad and at his desk a few yards away from you, you couldn’t help but smile. Paint was beginning to settle into the stress creases that adorned his face, cracking ever so slightly to reveal the tanned skin beneath. Copia’s flesh was always plush and tawny, even in winter, and you longed to run your thumbs along the apples of his cheeks, smoothing his skin affectionately and forcing him to accept it. Forcing him to abandon his previous scrutiny in exchange for your praise.

You didn’t know if Copia knew how you felt. You weren’t exactly hiding it anymore, but you weren’t sure how obvious you had become. Even now, you were staring at him from across the office and making no effort to be discreet, and he didn’t notice. Whether he was just so focussed on actually doing the taxes or just ignoring you, you weren’t sure. At this point, as long as your gaze fell on Copia uninterrupted, you couldn’t be bothered with the details.

His heavy lashes fluttered as he opened and closed his eyes quickly, as if calling himself out of some sort of daydream. Pen scribbling continued, gloved fingers pressing calculator buttons continued. His breaths entered and left his nostrils evenly, methodically, intentionally. You had seen Copia endure his anxiety enough to know his coping mechanisms and this robotic rhythm of his breathing was one of them.

You began to create scribbles of your own on an index card, outlining the edges of his skull paint and his deep eyes. The outline of his nose followed, then his lips and his chin. Your glance switched back and forth from Copia’s physical form and your drawing, trying to stifle a giggle as your pencil did not quite create the shapes you wanted it to. Soon, his heterochromatic gaze burned into yours from the drawing and you made yourself blush. As silly as you felt, you began to love his drawing the same way you loved the real Copia. Maybe a little more because you created him.

You began to study each hair and the way it laid on his head. As you were drawing, Copia finally noticed the way you were staring, then looking away quickly, then staring again. He chuckled nervously and leaned forward, waiting for the next time your eyes darted up towards his temples.

“Eh… cara,” he said softly as your eyes met, “Why are you staring at me?”

You had been caught and despite that, you smiled. “It’s nothing, Papa,” you said sweetly as you turned back to your drawing. You knew playing hard to get would peak his curiosity, so you shrugged your shoulders as you began to outline your pencil sketching with pen.

“Oh… mio tesoro…” Copia sighed as he stood up, making his way over to you. You giggled at your little victory as he laid one hand on your shoulder, one on your desk, and leaned forward, putting his face right next to yours. Oh, he has to know. “What are you up to, volpe?”

You blushed at the nickname and moved your hand to show him your drawing. He sucked in a breath and you prepared for the criticism he would have for the way you drew his nose or his jaw or-

“oh,” he said simply, after a beat, “Look at that.”

You looked up at him as he moved his hand to hold the index card. He lifted it closer to his eyes and squinted, and his face twisted into some sort of expression. You couldn’t quite tell what, but the tops of his ears were turning red.

“I… I got bored.” You admitted sheepishly, your own lips turning up into a smile.

He kept his hand firm on your shoulder as he chuckled lightly at your response. “I can tell, cara.” Copia studied the image more and tilted his head to the side. “Maybe I need to give you more work.” He teased, his eyes twinkling as he looked down and winked at you. “It’s just like looking in a mirror, you know. But I think the jawline is a bit… off.”

“Oh?” You giggled and turned towards him, swiveling your chair. He kept his hand on your shoulder, squeezing with his thumb like he was trying to hang on to you. “You’re an art critic now?”

“It is my face,” he teased, bending at the hips to come down to your level more, “I think I know what it looks like. All old and wrinkly and ugly.”

“Papa!” You gasped and stood up, startling him. “Take that back right now!”

“Cara, please, I am but an old man,” Copia held your shoulders and sat you back down in your chair, “Every mirror and portrait in this chapel says so.”

“You act like you’re seventy,” you pouted.

Copia pulled his own chair over and chuckled, moving to sit next to you, “You do make me feel younger, volpe. Always keeping me on my toes with your glaces that last a little too long.” He smirked and held on to the back of your chair, his arm somewhat draped along your shoulders. The scent of his cologne was closer and warmer now, and you revelled in it. “Taking me on a chase I didn’t know I was on. You’ve made my life quite exciting, you know.”

“I know, Papa,” you smiled at him and gently reached up, tucking a bit of his hair behind his ear. His normally perfect style had fallen now, shorter pieces of his hair fell into his face.

He smiled adoringly back at you and you saw something flash in his eyes. He looked down at your drawing again and sighed, “This paints me in a more favorable light than my papal portrait, hmm?”

You don’t know what came over you, but you wanted to tell him the truth. You wanted to let him in on the secret that you kept oh so terribly, where the trail of breadcrumbs you left for him led. “That’s because the person who made it loves the subject,” you said, looking away from him. “She loves every part of him, every line, every edge, so deeply.”

Copia paused. His breathing stopped, he swore his heart stopped. It took him a few moments to realize that yes, he was still alive and no, this wasn’t a dream. He laid his hand on your back gently, his thumb gently massaging between your shoulder blades, and gently leaned his forehead against your temple. He laid a soft black lipstick ladden kiss on the apple of your cheek, laying his other hand on your bicep. You blushed but leaned into his touch, allowing your eyes to close briefly.

“The subject is a broken, worn man,” he said softly, his words easily finding their way into your ear, “and the artist deserves so much better. Someone who can keep up with her. Someone she could draw beautiful pictures of.”

“I think this picture is very beautiful,” you whispered back, looking up at him.

“I think it’s beautiful, too,” Copia cooed and leaned forward, wrapping both of his arms around your waist, “but because I’m in love with the artist.”

translations

volpe -- vixen

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

heyo your imagines are amazing and i like reading them so much. i really appreciate you for writing for Alice in borderland as there isn’t a lot of content out there~ can you please write an imagine for niragi where the reader has been at the beach for quite the time and when she gets to know niragi she somehow falls for him because she sees right through him, and that he maybe starts to develop feelings for the reader too because she’s fearless and very confident. if it’s not too much trouble, could you make it a bit suggestive as well? thank you in advance~~

Of course I can! I’m not the best at writing with suggestive themes so I’ll try my best! 😅 I’m sorry but I changed the story line a little bit for it to fit more, so I hope this is still kind of what you had in mind.

Unlovable | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. Ann, Aguni, Hatter, Mira, Chishiya, Arisu, Last Boss)

Summary: Niragi finally finds you, who loves him for who he is, well, not exactly. And he gets a bit too attached.

Warnings: toxic relationship, suggestive themes, a lot of gaslighting, obsessive themes, a little bit angsty, threatening, choking, swearing, name calling

Word Count: 3.2k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: Sorry this took a while to post. I was busy for the past couple of days so it’s kinda rushed 😣

“Y/N! Come quick!”

You jolted awake as Ann burst into your room, shaking the door frame from the force. You blinked your eyes to adjust to the light, looking at her dazed.

“What?” you murmured, sitting up and out of the comfy sheets on your bed. 

“The executives have called a meeting. They say it’s urgent,” she stressed, rushing up to the side of your bed and ripping the duvet off of you.

You shivered and sighed loudly in disappointment. “Why? It’s too early for this shit,” you whined, rolling back onto your side and closing your eyes again. These urgent emergency meetings have become ridiculous, always taking place in the morning when everyone’s still sleeping. You would gladly have quit having the higher place at The Beach if it meant for you to have some peace and quiet.

“Now!” Ann pushed again. You groaned in annoyance and got out of bed. She seemed serious, so you didn’t want to anger her more.

You both quickly made your way to the top floor where the meeting room for the executives was located. You noticed Ann’s heavy breathing and worried expression, making you anxious as to what she thinks could have happened.

Hatter had left the night before to replenish his visa, having a big celebration as he drove off with Aguni and a few more of his men. Things had been becoming more tense as time went on. It felt wrong watching Hatter drive away so reluctantly. You offered to assist him in his game, seeing as you earned yourself a high number at The Beach from clearing many difficult games yourself. But Hatter declined, insisting that he would return to The Beach safe and sound before you knew it.

But unfortunately, he was wrong.

You and Ann rushed into the large room. You saw Arisu and Chishiya standing near the end of the table placed in the middle of the room. You strolled over to them and laid eyes on the scene before you.

There, Hatter laid dead on the table. Limbs spread out lifeless, skin pale and dead. The horrific sight made you feel sick, making you cover your mouth with your hand. The scene almost felt unreal, this shouldn’t have happened. Hatter wouldn’t be dead if you just went with him.

Ann walked over to his body to examine it, but before she even had the chance to touch the bullet wound embedded in his bare chest, Niragi barged into the room with his usual cocky and obnoxious aura filling the air like a bad smell.

“Oi, don’t touch him as you please. You dissection maniac,” he growled.

Your eyes followed him closely. Now that Hatter was gone, people like him could start dangerous trouble at the hotel. But, as long as you said something about it, you would make sure Niragi wouldn’t start any fires that he’s not willing to put out himself.

After all, you were the only person who knew his true self, and how he perceived everyone around him. It was pathetic really. In a way you took pity on him. Such a simple tactic for the brain to protect itself, become a heartless and cold monster towards others so no one could ever do the same to you again.

With Niragi, unfortunately it was hunt or be hunted.

You kept your strong gaze on him as he lifted his eyes to meet yours from across the table for a hot minute. His dark orbs glistened as they locked with yours, making the tension in the room become thicker as every second passed. He smirked in your direction before turning away.

“He was shot by a gun,” Ann stated, breaking the thick silence in the room. She looked over the small hole in his chest in fascination.

“What will happen to The Beach?” a young man asked who was standing nearby you. You stayed silent, not wanting to start anything that may end in chaos. You always had good points and valid arguments, but sometimes you knew when the best time was to bring them up. This was not it.

“I mean it’s only reasonable for the strongest to become the new leader!” Niragi exclaimed over everyone. “We need someone who can take good care of The Beach and keep order,” he yapped on, swinging his sniper rifle all around making a few people flinch when he aimed it at them.

You rolled your eyes at his behaviour. Trust him to be the most opinionated.

“I say, how about Aguni as our new leader,” he suggested, leaning forwards onto the table and watching everyone like a hawk. Aguni held no reaction, keeping his usual cold stone expression while having Niragi speak for him.

After no one reacted, all looking down to the ground to avoid Niragi’s gaze, he stood up straight and pulled a bored expression. “That’s not a good reaction,” he mocked, “Last Boss?”

You glanced over to where the hooded figure stood, watching in fear as he unsheathed his katana sword and rushed over to Ann, holding the deathly sharp blade a few inches from her throat. Your heart leaped to your mouth. If he was to try anything, you were ready to start chaos.

But nothing of the sort happened. Ann simply sighed frustratingly and held up her hand obediently. Niragi hummed, approving.

“This isn’t a majority vote,” Mira hissed from next to him.

Niragi stood and leaned his face close to hers, holding the barrel of his weapon close to her face to threaten her. “But it is! Isn’t it? After all, you’re all free to vote as well.”

One by one, he slowly circled the table, each person being scared for their life the closer he got to them. But you remained calm next to Chishiya, knowing that considering the relationship you have with Niragi, he wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you. He didn’t have the guts to.

As he moved from Chishiya, he finally locked eyes with you. He quickly strolled up to your still frame, stopping suddenly very close to you in an attempt to make you feel threatened. ‘As usual,’ you thought to yourself. ‘The old “I’m taller and bigger than you so I’m stronger” stupid tactic.’

“And what about you princess? Care to raise your hand for a vote for Aguni?” he hissed into your face. You held your neutral expression, becoming bored from this act he was putting on. It was purely for show, and yet wasn’t everyone’s personality? But Niragi, his act of this scary psychotic man angered you to your core.

“What if I don’t?” you snickered, walking towards him in an attempt of intimidation. He took a step back in shock. “It’s not like you need my precious vote, you already have so many.”

Niragi’s usual cocky smirk melted from his face, turning into a frustrated scowl. You felt him put his rifle underneath your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with him. “Be careful with that tongue of yours sweetheart, you wouldn’t want to lose it,” he growled quietly.

His threat made you smirk, almost bringing butterflies into your stomach. “I think you should be more concerned about that head of yours. You wouldn’t want to get it stuck too far up your own ass.”

You flinched as you felt his rough hand shoot from his rifle to your neck, instantly tightening around your throat making you widen your eyes in surprise. You lifted your arm and gripped his wrist in case he tightened his hold anymore. The look on his face was deathly. If looks could kill, you’d be already a few years into the afterlife.

Chishiya stood beside you watching the whole scene. He knew better than to intervene, as he could tell that Niragi wouldn’t ever intentionally permanently hurt you.

Niragi held you still as he leaned down to your ear, his hot breath hitting your sensitive skin. “Shut your fucking mouth you brat. You wouldn’t want me to hurt you too much later, would you?” You cringed as you felt his tongue slide behind the back of your ear, the piercing making you shiver.

“Niragi,” you heard Aguni say, saving you from the public embarrassment of getting felt up by Niragi in front of everyone you knew. “That’s enough, I think she gets the point.”

Niragi grunted in annoyance before loosening his fist on your neck. You sucked in a huge gasp of air, coughing slightly. Chishiya placed a gentle hand on your back in a sign of care, hoping that you’re okay.

Niragi aimed his rifle lazily at Chishiya’s face. “She’s fine, don’t touch her. A little choking is nothing she can’t handle.”

Chishiya immediately took his hand off of you, being taken back by Niragi’s comment.

You stood up straight after recovering, laying your eyes back on Niragi as he continued terrorizing the executive members.

God you hated that man. You hated how much you loved him.

*************

The room was now empty, consisting of no one except for you and Ann, who was still looking over Hatter’s body for any other injuries. You watched curiously, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

“Seems a bit weird, doesn’t it?” you spoke up through the silence.

“What does?” Ann answered, not bothering to look at you.

“Someone with a hundred percent winning streak dies now? Just as the tension between the militants and the others was getting to its peak?” you questioned.

Ann rolled her eyes sarcastically and turned towards you. “Took you long enough to figure out. Really? You didn’t suspect that from the start? Even after that shit-show that Niragi pulled earlier?”

You were taken back by her sudden anger. Ann never became mad at you, even if she had a legitimate reason to. You looked at her as she stared into your eyes intensely before sighing and turning back to Hatter.

“Sorry Y/N,” she apologized. “I’m just stressed. This shit is getting too heavy to handle, and now with Hatter gone and Aguni in his place, who knows what will happen to people like you, me, Mira, Chishiya and Alice. They could kill us if they want to.”

Her words hit your heart heavily. It was true. Aguni and his militants were never a particularly predictable bunch. And you weren’t exactly on all their good sides, well, except for Niragi’s.

“Sorry Ann,” you muttered out quietly. You thought it would be best to leave her alone. She obviously was quite distraught from Hatter’s death.

You shuffled out of the room, head held low in despair. Who knew what would happen to this place now? It was like a ticking time bomb only no one knew how long there was left until it exploded.

As you walked through the large door frame that led outside of the meeting room, a sudden grip on your arm brought you out of your thoughts and made you yelp. You were yanked into a hard chest, being held close and tight.

“Hey love. How are you feeling?” the person growled. You looked to see it was none other than Niragi himself. Of course it was, who else would treat you so roughly?

You stared into his ominous eyes, trying to read him. He ran his hand down your back slowly causing you to shiver. “Niragi,” you breathed out. You pushed against his broad chest to separate you. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood right now.”

You stepped away from him and tried to escape down the hall, but he grabbed your hand before you could go anywhere. “Bullshit. You’re never in the mood. And the sass you were giving me in there in front of everyone says otherwise.” He pulled you back towards him, pushing your head onto his shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. “I didn’t like how you treated me, it made me upset.”

He was lying through his teeth, knowing that making you feel guilty for defending yourself against him would bring him more of your attention. Simple gaslighting, worked every time.

You chuckled against him then leaned back and cupped his face with your hands. He held a sad expression on his face, obviously to make you sympathetic.

“You’re such a big baby,” you laughed. “Try to act so tough and dominant in front of everyone, but look at you now. Crying into my shoulder about your feewings?” you mocked him. Niragi scowled and pulled his head out of your hands. “Shut up, as if you’re any better.”

It was true. That’s why you both clicked together. He was a gaslighting maniac who knew how to put up a fake ‘nice guy’ façade around you and you were a tough and snappy woman, who felt much too much empathy for others.

That’s how you fell into his trap. He used your empathy to his advantage, making you fall in love with him so he could have what he’d always wanted. Someone who loves him for who he is, no matter how many masks he had to put on for them.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning up and pressing a small peck onto his lips. “Can you promise me something?” he suddenly asked after you pulled away from his face.

You grew anxious about what he wanted and nodded your head slowly in hesitation.

“When the chance comes, can we leave The Beach together? Like, run away?” he questioned, snaking his arms around your waist and squeezing tightly.

You laughed at his question, making him frown. He was being completely serious. “And go where Niragi? There’s not exactly a place we can go to.”

“Anywhere,” he answered sharply. “We could find a nice little hideout in Tokyo. Just you and me, no one else.” His grip on your waist tightened, making you flinch in his arms slightly.

He could see you tossing between answers. It wasn’t working, he had to try something else. He put on the fakest sad face he could do and pressed his forehead against yours while pouting. “Please? I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You practically melted as his begging. “Okay,” you sighed.

“Promise me,” he reminded you, running a hand through your soft hair.

There was a short moment of silence before you answered. “I promise.”

*************

You laid in your room with the sheets tossed lazily over you. Niragi was called to go talk to Aguni again before he went to sleep, so you were waiting for him.

Your eyes scanned your book quickly, wanting to finish the chapter you were on before Niragi returned. Because god forbid you having your attention on something that wasn’t him when he was around.

You glanced over at the door when you heard it creep open and Niragi stepped in, placing his sniper rifle carefully on the ground nearby and removing his boots.

“You took your time.” you teased, putting your book on the nightstand and sitting up in bed. Niragi groaned tiredly, stumbling over to your shared bed and collapsed dramatically face down onto the duvet. You giggled at him, running a soft hand though his midnight hair and pulling it out of it’s hair tie.

If he was a cat, he swore he could’ve purred at your touch. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Not having physical affection for years on end does that to a person.

He sat up and crawled over to you. He grabbed your chin and pressed your lips together roughly, running his tongue across your mouth as he did so. You groaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, making him smirk against your lips.

After a few minutes, he detached his lips from yours and started licking and sucking your sensitive skin on your jaw, slowly making his way down your neck. He felt shivers run down his spine as you gripped his shirt in your fist on his back. He loved having this power over you, and having you accept him and love him enough to not fight back.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, giving him more access to your neck. As you did so, he placed a hand on your lower back and pulled you towards him, forcing you to lie down on the bed with him hovering over you.

He pulled away from your neck and looked down at you, admiring your anxious expression painted across your face. He chucked. “What’s wrong baby,” he cooed, leaning down and continuing kissing your collarbones.

His voice was dripping in sweetness, so sweet it could’ve made you feel sick. It sounded fake, but you didn’t pick up on it. It was a shame. You saw Niragi as nothing but a victim of his own mind, but you weren’t able to see yourself becoming a victim of it.

“I’m just...” you mumbled out, feeling weak and vulnerable under his touch. “I’m scared Niragi.”

He pulled back again and looked into your eyes with a worried expression. “Why are you scared? It’s just me and you here angel. You’re perfectly safe,” he whispered out, stroking his knuckles down your cheek lovingly.

You knew you loved Niragi, but knowing he can change his personality in a blink of an eye unsettled you. Who knew when he would do that to you? You heard him speak up again.

“We’ve slept together many times before, why are you becoming shy just now?” he teased, lifting a hand and slowly running it up along your tummy underneath your shirt. Your breath hitched as his cold hands made contact, making your stomach muscles tense.

“So sensitive,” he cooed again, snuggling his head into your chest, just above your breasts. “I love you.”

The confession made your heart skip a beat and you tensed. Niragi noticed this, making his body fill with anxiety. Did he say it too soon?

“Sorry,” he mumbled against your shirt. “That was a bit much, you don’t have to say it back,” he gaslighted.

“No,” you cut him off. “I love you too.”

Niragi’s heart filled with warmth and he felt all his nerves tingle around his body. He hadn’t heard that since he was a kid, and hearing you say it did nothing but make him more fall in love.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he sniffed out. You looked down to see him staring at you, tears filling his eyes. It made your heart ache.

He took his body weight off you and hovered himself above you again. “I promise, I won’t let anyone ever hurt you,” he mumbled, voice cracking slightly. His arms that laid on either side of your head acted like a cage. Whether you were trapped willingly or forcefully was beyond your guess.

As he leaned his head down again and pressed his still wet lips against yours, you felt his lanky arms snake around your torso underneath you, keeping you in place.

You laid there, moving your mouths together and holding each other as close as possible. It would’ve almost been romantic and loving if it wasn’t for the context. While one was preying on their victim to achieve what they’ve so desperately wanted their whole life, the other believed that that person was the victim themselves.

Such irony, to love someone who has a ‘unlovable’ personality, when it’s not even the one that you fell in love with.

The one you fell in love with was nothing but one of his many masks. And no one could determine whether he would ever take it off in front of you.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this one was actually hard to write. It’s a bit all over the place but I hope it was still enjoyable to read! Also I’m not going to do a Part 2 to this fic, but if you want to read something similar to this kind of yandere theme with Niragi, read my other fic called You’re Everything You Once Hated. I’m going to be posting a Part 2 of that one soon.

[tocrackerboxpalace]

September, 1965

Summary: During a press interview to promote Help!, an interviewer makes his feelings for Paul quite obvious. Some parties aren't too happy about it.

“Now, I’m sure the four of you have been celebrating upon the release of your new film, Help! which recently came out here in the U.K. just over a month ago. I wanted to speak with you all about the film, the process, and the potential impact it could have. Now, the reviews have been generally strong, but many are claiming that despite its substantially more extensive budget, it falls a bit short of last year’s A Hard Day’s Night. Would you mind sharing your feelings on those claims?”

“Well, I’d hate to take this question on account of I haven’t seen either film,” came John’s reply first, drawing a thrum of laughter from the audience.

The interviewer (whose name Paul had already forgotten) spoke through a toothy grin, laughter bright on his lips. “You haven’t seen the films, John?”

A playful smile tugged at John’s lips, contradicting his deadpan reply. “Haven’t gotten around to it, no. Been busy filming some things.”

Another round of laughter. Paul felt a grin rise to his own face, knowing that John had good and well seen the films, and had rather liked them. He always found it intriguing to watch the show that John put on for the public eye.

“What about you, Paul? How do you feel about them?”

Paul tore his gaze away from his friend and flashed a bright smile at the interviewer. “Oh, I don’t mind about them. It was good fun to make them, yeah.”

“Do you feel like they captured your personalities quite well?”

“I’d say, relatively so.” The answer came from George this time, who began interlocking his fingers around his crossed knee. “You know, the films are full of us really just playing around and having a game of it, even with the more structured plots. Filming Help! was good fun, indeed.”

“We lot are a big fan of playing around,” Ringo added helpfully.

“Now Ringo, you’re more or less the star of this new film—if we can discount The Exciting Adventure of Paul on the Floor, of course. Was there any unwanted pressure there?”

Paul felt his cheeks redden at the mention of his slightly racy scene. He had already been uncomfortable with it, and the fact that it was receiving so much publicity frankly embarrassed him. He silently cursed John, the bastard, for his stupid ideas and his stupid way of making Paul go along with them. He caught John’s eye, who hastily looked away, suppressing the teasing grin that twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“—nothing at all, really,” Ringo was saying with a shrug. “I suppose it was a bit more work, as last film I got to wander about while they filmed me for a while and this one I had real big scenes of human sacrifice and whatnot. But no, I never thought about it as being stressful or more pressure.”

“Well, that’s wonderful, Ringo, thank you. Now, I’d like to circle back to something mentioned a bit earlier. Let’s cut to the chase: Paul, that scene. I’d like to know how much was really going on under that wrapper.”

A blush crept up his neck and he absentmindedly reached up to scratch his cheek. He forced himself to smile bashfully, subconsciously crossing his legs at the knee. “Well, y-you know…” He trailed off, not wanting to explicitly answer but framing the sentence in such a way that it was still suggestive.

“Aw,” the reporter gushed, flashing him a wink. “Don’t be shy now, Paul. I’m sure the viewers are dying to know as well.” The crowd hummed in agreement.

Before Paul could open his mouth, John shot a quick reply. “Now, I feel a bit hurt that no one has wanted to ask me that question.” He turned to face the camera. “I, John Winston Lennon, confirm on Universal Broadcast Television that in that scene I was wearing absolutely nothing underneath my clothing and undergarments.” He feigned a gasp, then exaggerated a grandiose curtsy as he momentarily raised himself out of his armchair. This raised another collective laugh. John was an easy fan favourite.

Paul suppressed feelings of gratitude. He giggled at the prospect of John confessing that to a real universally-broadcasted program, which, for now (fortunately, unfortunately?), was a thing of the future.

The interviewer waited for the laughter and scattered applause to subside before he continued. “Thank you for that shocking revelation, John. Though I’m not quite sure that answered our question…” The suggestion trailed off, and Paul realized that it was meant for him to answer. He was busy watching John after accidentally catching a flash of something in his expression, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Paul put on his best puppy-dog pouty face and blinked up at the interviewer through his lashes. “I suppose,” he started, intentionally producing a voice thick and coy, “there wasn’t much going on at all.” His mind barely registered that John was now tapping is foot anxiously, a habit that arose only when the man was incredibly agitated or stressed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw George place an inquisitive hand on John’s, hidden enough from the cameras for him to subtly ask if his friend was all right. John gave a curt and almost unnoticeable nod, his eyes darting from George back to the interviewer. Though unsatisfied with the confirmation, George let his hand apprehensively fall back into his own lap.

Paul noticed every one of these ministrations between them, feeling his heart warm at the thought. He knew no one else, not even crazed fans, would pick up on the subtle movements. The four were just that close, having an entire language of their own, able to communicate without even making eye contact. It felt nice, performing a television interview with over half the country watching and knowing that there were still things they had for themselves. Still, despite his musings, worry seeped into his mind as the significance of the interaction hit him. Was John all right? Paul tried to beckon John’s gaze with his own, but his friend simply started at the ground where his foot was beginning to pose quite the distraction.

The interviewer let out a bright laugh and leaned closer to Paul, if unintentionally. “Well, I’m sure our viewers won’t be able to get that image out of their heads tonight. I know I won’t be able to.”

Paul flashed an amused grin at the insinuation, watching in his peripheral as John crossed his ankles to stop his shoe from tapping, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line. A flash of annoyance struck in Paul’s chest. What could John possibly be upset about? Didn’t he realize that they were on live television? What did he have such an… an attitude for? He still wouldn’t meet his stare.

“Now, I’d like to touch upon the impact of this film,” the interviewer was continuing. “An article in The Daily Mail characterized Help! as a pioneer in the genre of musical comedies, especially with its Technicolor production, magical realism, and rather organic integration of musical influence into the plot. George, do you think that this film is going to be as historically impactful as some are proclaiming?”

“Well, er… I wouldn’t say so, only because I can’t quite know what impact it could have, as I’m not so much involved in the world of cinema. Personally, I felt as if our previous film made no industrial impact, so it’s a bit difficult to foresee this one going in a different direction. It's just fun.”

“Wonderful insight, George,” the reporter praised. “I’ll be interested to see which one of us is correct.” He flashed a wink, causing George to chuckle and respond with a bemused, “Yes, we’ll see.”

“John, I’d be interested to see where your thoughts stand on the matter. Personally, I could see you continuing with an acting, or perhaps directing, career far beyond the musical films. Do you dabble in the world of art cinema at all?”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?” The interviewer looked a bit thrown by the curt response.

“That’s all there is to it, really.”

Paul didn’t think much of John’s acting skills tonight. Whatever was bothering the man was now evident for every eye to see, a change in his demeanor so drastic that Paul almost felt a chill come over the room. What the hell was going on with him?

The interviewer chuckled nervously and switched subjects. “All right, I’d like to shift a bit and discuss some more of the actual content of the film. Now, the scene in the bathroom—how did you all manage that?”

Ringo broke into a wide grin, and Paul matched his energy at the memory. “Well,” Ringo started, “We had to have our clothing stitched apart just enough to where it would hold on for the beginning of the scene, but easily tear off. Like in Paul’s shirt sleeve, they had sewn a bit of fishing wire into the cuff and snaked it through the dryer opening, so when they gave a tug the whole sleeve came flying off at the shoulder.” Paul nodded for emphasis as Ringo demonstrated then, reaching for the cuff of his shirtsleeve and pulling at it.

“Oh,” the reporter mused, “and here I was hoping it would take a lot more with it.” He flashed Paul another charismatic grin.

Paul had almost—almost—missed the slight eye roll that John gave as he began to chew at his thumb nail, another nervous habit he had picked up. Paul’s heart jumped a bit at the sight, followed by a pull of confusion in his stomach. Another look flashed in John’s eyes, longer this time. It looked like… anger. Paul was almost certain he had identified it when the look passed, and a sudden calm came over John as he regained his composure.

“Well that makes a pair of us, then, doesn’t it, mate?”

Paul froze. The words were light, but there was nothing friendly about the sentence that John had just spat out—the tone was salacious and determined, leaving no room for misinterpretation. His eyes glinted in a frightening mixture of malice and amusement as an awkward silence settled over the 5 players. George shifted uncomfortably and Ringo eyed the blinking red dot across the room.

Fuck, Paul thought to himself. They were live.

It had only been about five seconds, but they ticked away at what felt like a painfully slow rate. Paul’s internal clock supplied each passing numeric as the interviewer opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking once more. Someone in the audience coughed.

“All right, well, erm—it has been a pleasure hosting you boys on the show, and I wish you the utmost of luck on the film’s continuing success and your further aspirations with the band.”

George murmured a light, “Very well, thanks.” Ringo nodded with an, “All right, Louis, all the best.” John said nothing. Paul said nothing.

Louis. That was his name.

The red light ceased blinking across the room. The interviewer got up stiffly and stalked off, bewildered at the surprise ending of the televised event. George and Ringo quickly rose to their feet and muttered a quick, “goingtothedressingroom,” scurrying off.

Paul suddenly felt furious with John, a white-hot rage efflorescing in his chest. The attitude, the behaviour on live television and in front of a live audience, the lack of self-control—Paul bit back an outburst in response, willing himself not to create yet another scene. Not to mention the whole issue of what John had actually said, and what on earth had pushed him to do so. “We need to talk.”

John shrugged indifferently, letting Paul grab his wrist roughly and drag him away from the armchair. Paul made a break for the nearest hallway, desperately wanting to escape what felt like millions of nosy and inquisitive stares, pulling John behind him. Eventually, he tried the knob to a utility closet, and the door gave way as Paul shoved John inside. He could no longer contain his baffled anger as he slammed the door behind them.

It was dark in the closet save a sliver of blue moonlight that creeped through the small square window. The light bathed John in an angelic glow in front of him, and Paul wasn’t sure if it was the shadows playing tricks on him or if John actually looked sorry. Paul’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, but John’s was steady, near unmoving. The man was incredibly quiet and still as he waited for Paul to speak first.

“What the fuck was that?” He hissed.

John looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘What?’, Lennon? Y-you acted like a twat. On live television. What were you so twisted up about, anyway? You couldn’t have just held it in? The interview was like five fucking minutes. Why couldn’t you do that? For m–” Paul stopped himself. He suddenly felt stupid. For me, he wanted to say. John knew how important Paul thought their public perception was. John knew how anxious Paul got before interviews, desperation and fear of saying the wrong thing crowding his thoughts. John knew all of that stuff and had still gone and mucked it up, perhaps even intentionally.

“I didn’t like the way he was talking with you,” John said quietly. “I—it was for you.”

A hand came up to pinch the bridge of Paul’s nose. He sighed as he rubbed at his eyes, a frustrated perplexity tugging at his features. He was embarrassed more than anything. Embarrassed at the forwardness of the interviewer, embarrassed at the scenes of himself in the movie, embarrassed at his reaction to what was probably just John taking up for him. He shook his head.

“I don’t get it, John. Help me understand why you would say that, why you would say it like that—"

“It was, Paul.” John’s voice cut him off, insistent now, and he stepped closer to Paul against the door. It took him a moment to realize that John was still talking about his intent. There was something rather odd in his gaze now, something almost… needy?

The pair were now only inches away from each other. Paul felt his nerves singing as he took in the sight of his best friend. A twitch in his chest told him that something had changed in the shared space between them. John’s eyes were half-lidded, and not in the vision-starved squint that was familiar, the deep amber bearing down on him with a heated look. Paul gazed at the way the man’s lower lashes rested on his cheeks, which were flushed slightly, pink like the wet bottom lip he had nervously caught between his teeth. John’s soft brown locks fell against his forehead, brushing his eyebrows, and Paul felt the sudden urge to reach up and tangle his fingers in it.

Why had he never noticed how beautiful John was before?

There wasn’t a good reason for what happened next. Maybe it was the moment of emotional vulnerability. Maybe it was their proximity. Maybe it was the tension. Maybe it was the way that Paul came to the sudden realization that John hadn’t been angry before, but jealous.

Paul tilted his chin down and kissed him.

[shijiujun]

[ENG] History3: Trapped Manhua - NEW EPILOGUE!

DREAMS DO COME TRUE GUYS MORE CONTENT?! It’s written by the same author as the novel and the chapter is focused on like smut, we all know how that all goes but oh wells I’m just happy to see some new content for now XD

－ Summary: Shao Fei and Zhao Zi get hurt in two separate occasions, their boyfriends find out and drag them home for a discussion (in bed). This is set after Epilogues 1 and 2 from the main novel (i.e. Tang Yi is already out of jail, Shao Fei is Captain etc.)

－ Translated Manhua FOR THIS EPILOGUE (PG13 scenes only): HERE

*Translations for both are mine, don’t own the content or stuff, only the translations!

=======

In which those handcuffs make a cameo for TangFei, and Jack, despite saying that he’s gone all legal now, still has some brothers under him at his command XD

Both couples have already been together for 7-8 years at the point of this epilogue

Highlights: Tang Yi buys underwear for Shao Fei apparently, and Xing Tian Meng is still well and alive (although mostly legal and low profile now), Jack still has a bunch of minions working for him 

Warnings: Firstly, this is written by the same author, who’s really not that good at smut (I see SOME improvement) and she obviously has a formula for the smut, and you’ll get what I mean because translation is one thing, but the smut for TangFei and LiKe are not varied because... it’s a formula XD ⇨ Okay not sure if it’s counted as dub-con because Shao Fei & Zhao Zi do say ‘no’ a few times but I don’t know if their heart was in it and anyway, this is just for safety! ⇨ Also Jack is a tad bit unsanitary and you’ll get what i mean when you venture into the smut, and I don’t how I feel about that smut scene to be honest, just treat it as PWP and don’t think too much into it (advice I should take myself)

Notes: I’ve adjusted some phrases for smoother transitions by personal choice. Also, Jack is referred to as Fang Liang Dian, his birth name throughout the chapter, but I’ve changed it to Jack for easy reading as well.

Full chapter under the cut

===

Ximending

Under a building veranda, a tall and handsome man stands next to a pillar in the pedestrian zone and ignores all the stares full of open admiration and envy coming at him from his surroundings. He looks at the watch on his left wrist and frowns.

“Tang Yi!”

A refreshing, clear voice sounds from afar and the man’s wrinkles from the frown he has on his face finally eases as he stares at the other, reminding someone that he is late.

“Seven minutes.”

Meng Shao Fei grins at him and says, “Sorry, sorry, I was delayed a few minutes by a part-timer’s survey. How about later after dinner I’ll treat you to your ‘elderly’ tea, the one that is expensive and takes a long time to savour.”

“That’s called taste.”

The person who was originally standing in front of Tang Yi suddenly furrows his brows, then takes half a step back to the side, intentionally putting some distance between them both before saying, “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

“Mnn,” Tang Yi does not notice the movement, only nodding his head and making a noise of assent.

“Thief!”

Just as they are heading towards the restaurant where they have a reservation, a woman’s screams sound in the bustling pedestrian walkway. The people who are near her startle and begin to look around them. Just as the thief is about to blend into the crowds, taking the opportunity to escape, two figures from two different directions rush towards him. One of them strikes him in the abdomen, while the other takes out a pair of handcuffs and cuffs him around his right hand, which is holding onto a butterfly knife.

“Police! Don’t move!”

The shorter one with the handcuffs shouts at him, and once the thief hears these words, he goes white with fear immediately. He thought that he could easily get away but who knew he would be caught red-handed by the police?

“Zhao Zi?”

Shao Fei picks up the pink-coloured handbag from the red cobblestone walkway, patting at it a few times to get rid of the dust and looks at the other person who has helped him to restrain the thief, stunned.

“Huh? Shao Fei? What are you doing here?”

Zhao Li An is also looking at Shao Fei in surprise, not expecting to meet the Captain of Investigative Team Three here.

“I should be the one asking that question, what are you doing here?”

Zhao Zi immediately scratches at the back of his head and laughs, “Jack said that there’s a pretty good restaurant around here, so...”

Shao Fei points behind him and replies, “Tang Yi also said that there is a restaurant here that is famous for its Sichuan cuisine, could it be... the same place?”

“Chuan La Zi restaurant?”

“Damn, it really is the same one!”

“...”

The perpetrator who has been cuffed looks at the person on the left, then looks at the person on the right and his heart feels as if thousands of horses are speeding through, thudding hard. Fuck! How is he this unlucky? Not only has he run into the police, it’s two police officers at the same time.

“Shorty, you actually dare to leave me? ... huh? Ex-boss? Officer Meng?”

An eye-catching mop of red hair finally pushes through the crowd as Jack comes up behind Zhao Zi, seeing two familiar faces before he can even protest against his lover’s actions of abandoning him to rush over and arrest a robber.

“...”

Tang Yi stands at the front of the crowd that has gathered, his expression terrible as he glares at Fang Liang Dian, who has actually reserved the same restaurant as he. 

A brief opportunity arises seeing that the two officers are distracted by the sudden situation before them, the thief tightens his grip around the butterfly knife in the hand that is locked in the cuffs, the knife that Zhao Zi has forgotten to disarm from him. He mercilessly slashes at Zhao Zi’s arm and shoves him away hard, before rushing into the crowd and disappearing.

“Uwah!”

“Zhao Zi!”

Shao Fei immediately reacted after being shoved aside, but he is still one step too late and all he can do is watch as the thief disappears into the crowd.

“Shorty! Are you okay?”

Jack holds onto Zhao Zi, who’s pressing a hand over his wound to stop it from bleeding and he cannot be bothered to chase after the culprit, who has already made it a distance away. He has already committed that face to memory anyway, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s caught.

“I’m fine.”

As his supervisor, once Shao Fei has made sure that his stupid junior is alright, he lightly slaps Zhao Zi on the back of his head and angrily says, “Go back and write your reflection essay 50 times! Let’s see if you’ll still dare to not follow protocol and not be prepared to disarm the culprit!”

“50 times? Hey, Ah Fei, how can you be like this? You were also the same the last time-”

“Last. Time?” the Xing Tian Meng leader at the side asks coldly before Zhao Zi has even finished speaking.

“That’s right, the previous supermarket robbery case, Ah Fei was also punched by the robber.”

“Zhao Li An, shut up,”  Shao Fei says in a low voice as he crazily waves at him for a pass, but is still unable to keep his stupid junior from exposing him.

Tang Yi grabs onto Officer Meng’s wrist with a somber expression, “Go back with me.”

“I’m so hungry, can you let me eat my fill first and then I’ll go home and let you scold me, okay?”

“Not okay.”

“It’s so embarrassing for me like this, let me go and I can walk myself, hey, Tang Yi... Tang Yi... Tang...”

The strategy of crying for mercy not effective, Team Three’s Captain is dragged away from the pedestrian zone under the eyes of the audience from the crowd.

“Haha, he deserves it,” Zhao Zi laughs gleefully, but his smile falters once he remembers the punishment he’s about to face and complains under his breath, “50 times... a reflection essay...”

“Shorty.”

“What?”

“I’ve cancelled our reservation at the restaurant.”

“Why?”

Hearing that the delicious feast he was anticipating has now been cancelled, Zhao Zi immediately turns around and glares at the smiling man in anger.

Under Jack’s charming smile, a chill runs down Zhao Li An’s spine as he shudders, and the man says, “I think we too have to go back, and have a really good discussion.”

After so many years, Zhao Li An immediately realizes that something is amiss with the current atmosphere hearing the heavily-stressed response. Just as he’s about to make a run for it, his tall and handsome lover catches him around the waist and lifts him over his shoulder. Under the watchful gazes of the crowd, he walks back to where his bike is parked.

===

Shao Fei’s Home

“Tang Yi, mmm... mm-nn...”

Inside the bedroom, the furious man decides to just use his own lips to block the words continuously coming out of the other man’s mouth. All that comes out of his mouth are excuses anyway and it’s nothing that Tang Yi wants to hear, so Shao Fei might as well shut up and make the noises that Tang Yi likes to hear instead.

“Tang Yi, listen to me...”

⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇

Read the complete chapter in Google Drive - Link in Source

[Do read the warnings above before venturing into this!]

[sesamestreep]

stack the deck with wild cards (chapter 2)

(read on AO3)

(start from the beginning)

SUMMARY: Jyn tries to tell Cassian about the pregnancy--and the abortion--but it’s more difficult than she thought it would be. And she was already pretty sure it was going to suck.

A/N: The next installment of the Obvious Child AU. Same warnings apply! See the AO3 links for more details! Discussions of pregnancy, abortion, and unsafe sex abound. Curate your own experience! I love you!

Jyn practically wears a hole in the floor of her apartment from pacing so much, but she does eventually find the courage to tap Cassian’s name on her phone and call him. It’s mid-afternoon on a weekday and she’s gotten precisely nothing done all day because she’s been fretting about this conversation. She tries to remind herself of Bodhi’s reassurances that Cassian will be cool about all of this, but in reality, the only thing that’s actually making her feel better is the thought of getting this part over with, so she can panic about every other aspect of this situation instead.

Cassian mercifully picks up on the second ring. “Hello?” He says, cautiously.

Somehow, despite the fact that she was very intentionally calling him on the telephone, actually hearing his voice still catches her off guard. It doesn’t help that Cassian has a really nice voice, something she’s allowed to notice without it being weird because she's an amateur musician and all. He tends to be pretty quiet in general, but he’s also been know to occasionally go off on a tangent about something he really cares about—some new thing a local politician is doing that he thinks is stupid, or one of the kids he works with doing something amazing with their life that he can’t wait to share—and Jyn somehow does not get bored of listening to him, like she normally would with anyone else who tries to talk to her about politics or children. She’s happy to blame that on the whole nice voice thing and to ignore the part of her brain that’s suggesting maybe she just likes him as a person.

“Hello?” Cassian asks again, sounding more confused this time.

“Cassian, hi,” Jyn says, finally snapping out of her reverie. “It’s Jyn.”

“Yeah, I saw the name on the screen,” he says, not unkindly, and she resists the urge to smack herself on the forehead like she’s in a cartoon.

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t know if you’d have my number saved or not,” she says, glad he can’t see the way she’s grimacing at her own stupidity.

“Of course I do,” he replies, matter-of-factly. “What can I do for you? Is everything alright?”

Jyn panics at the question and she can’t keep the bristle out of her tone. “Why would something be wrong?”

“I just—I thought something might have happened to Bodhi,” he says, and his tone is hard to read. “You and I don’t normally talk on the phone much.”

We don’t talk much at all , Jyn thinks, petulantly, even though she’s the one who said she would call after they hooked up and then didn’t, so whose fault is it really? If she wanted them to talk more, she could have made that happen and she didn’t. And moreover, she supposes he probably would be her first call if something had happened to Bodhi. They live together after all and, beyond that, Cassian just seems like he’d be good in a crisis. She could imagine leaning on him—trusting him, that is—in a time of stress. Not now, obviously. But in a theoretical situation in an alternate universe where she hadn’t ruined whatever relationship they have or could have with her numerous issues, he’d be the guy to call, she thinks.

“Uh, no, I guess we don’t,” she admits. “Bodhi’s fine, though. So, no worries there.”

“Oh, good,” he replies, with obvious relief. “So, what do you need?”

It doesn’t sound dismissive, but she can’t see him and so she can’t be absolutely certain. Maybe he’s annoyed to hear from her after all this time. It would make sense, but the possibility of it still stings. She forces herself to push past it and keep going.

“I just wanted to tell you—” Jyn is cut off by some murmuring in the background of the call followed by some loud rustling, as if Cassian was blocking the phone’s mic. It only continues for a few seconds, before the sound on the line is clear again.

“Sorry about that, Jyn,” Cassian says, sincerely. “My co-worker needed to ask me something before our meeting and she didn’t realize I was on the phone.”

“Oh,” Jyn says, and that stops her short. She figured he was at work and that wasn’t really the ideal place for him to get this news, but she has no idea what kind of hours he works and she couldn’t bear to put it off any longer. But now, it seems like a terrible idea.

“Do you—I thought you had your own office,” she says, for all it’s a complete non-sequitur. She thought he’d at least be alone when she told him the news.

“Me?” He asks, as if she could mean anyone else. “No, it’s an open floor plan at the office. I just have a cubicle.”

“Oh,” she says again. The idea of breaking this news to Cassian when he’s in full view of his co-workers and won’t be able to process it in private suddenly feels so cruel to Jyn that she can’t even think what to say next.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’m just—I always pictured you as having your own office. Not that I picture you—I don’t think about your work, that is. I just, when I called you, I was imagining an office, that’s all.”

“Right,” Cassian says, evenly. Jyn could sink into the floor, she’s so embarrassed. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

Jyn’s brain is going into panic mode, which is the only explanation for why she blurts out what she does. “I just wanted to know if you were free for dinner,” she practically shouts.

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner,” she replies, cheerily, even as the reality of what’s she’s asked hits her like a freight train. That sounds like a date, you moron , her brain shouts at her.

“Me and you?”

Jyn closes her eyes against the embarrassment she feels, both at her suggestion and at his incredulity. “Yeah, me and you,” she answers, and with her eyes shut, she can allow herself to enjoy the idea of it, of getting dinner with him. Like they’re just normal people that like each other and everything is simple.

“When?”

“Is tonight too soon?”

“I don’t have any other plans,” he says and Jyn thinks he might sound nervous. It makes her feel incredible and terrible at the same time. “Did you have somewhere in mind?”

“Um, there’s this Thai place in my neighborhood that I really like,” she says, naming the first place she can think of. Besides, if she has to have this awful conversation over dinner, it might as well be at a place she likes. “If you like Thai food, that is.”

“Yeah. Yes. That sounds great.”

“I’ll send you the address. Could you meet me for 7 o’clock?”

“I’ll have to come directly from work, but if that’s okay with you, 7 is fine.”

“Totally okay with me,” she says, absently thinking of the sweater-and-a-button-up ensembles he normally wears to work and if that’s what he’ll wear to the restaurant tonight. She wonders if he’ll have the sleeves rolled up in the way she finds stupidly attractive for no discernible reason.

“Great,” he says, brightly and then clears his throat. “I’ll see you then.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Jyn replies, and then wishes she could take it back. She always likes seeing him, but under the circumstances, it sounds so cheery and fake.

Cassian, for his part, seems caught off-guard, but he recovers fairly quickly. “I am too.”

They eventually run out of pleasant almost-sign-offs and have to actually say goodbye and hang up, which leaves Jyn in her empty apartment to continue freaking out. Why had she put this conversation off even further? Obviously, telling him at work was not a great plan, but tricking him into thinking they’re going to have a nice dinner—maybe he even thinks she was asking him out on a date—is somehow worse. The only advantage to this new plan is that he’s very unlikely to cause a scene in a public place. Then again, Jyn has a hard time imagining Cassian causing a scene anywhere. He’s so calm and collected most of the time. That bodes well for how he’ll take her news, but she can’t really be sure.

After texting him the address for the restaurant, Jyn copes with the stress of her impending dinner by trying on literally every outfit she owns, in order to figure out what to wear. It can’t be too fancy or too sexy because she needs Cassian to know it’s not a date, but she also doesn’t want to look casual or frumpy, though she doesn’t examine her motives for wanting to look good for this awkward dinner too closely. By the end of this process, most of her clothing is in a pile on her bed that she will have to clear off later in order to go to sleep—a problem for future Jyn, as always—and she’s selected a pair of black overalls that seem to be the item with the least paint on them in her entire wardrobe to wear over a cropped sweater. It’s a cute outfit that doesn’t explicitly scream “DATE NIGHT” but also doesn’t make her feel hideous, which, for all her pregnancy isn’t far along, is a hard feeling to come by, thanks to the hormones.

She picks out shoes to match and even puts on some makeup and tries to get her bangs to look normal, which kills enough time that, if she walks to the restaurant instead of being lazy and taking a cab, she might actually beat Cassian there, even though he’s aggressively early to everything. After the obligatory search for wherever she left her keys—a daily ritual for her—she sets out for the restaurant feeling only a little queasy with what she assumes are nerves.

The restaurant is busy enough for a weekday evening but Jyn only has to wait a few minutes for a table. She warns the waiter she’s expecting someone and orders an iced tea while she waits. She bobs one knee up and down furiously underneath the table, anxious for Cassian to show up and secretly wishing he won’t so she can just go home and pretend none of this is really happening. Though she tries not to, she still watches the door like a hawk, practically jumping out of her seat every time someone walks through the main entrance.

Cassian shows up at 7:02 PM, leaving Jyn very little time to freak out alone, for all it felt like an eternity. She’s watching as he comes through the door and speaks to the hostess, so she sees him run a hand through his hair in what she assumes is a nervous gesture and her throat goes very dry, both at how attractive he is and at the idea of fucking up his night like she’s about to. It’s just then that the hostess points in her direction and Cassian’s gaze lands on her, which means Jyn gets to watch as his polite but guarded look melts into something more familiar and affectionate and relieved. He’s relieved to see her , she thinks, incredulously, even as she waves at him. Did he think she would stand him up? Did he think he imagined their entire phone call?

“Hi,” he says, a little breathlessly, as he reaches the table.

Jyn stands abruptly from her seat, for lack of anything better to do and leans into him at the same moment he leans towards her. She has a brief moment of panic where she thinks he might kiss her—not that a kiss from him would be a bad thing, generally speaking, but she would feel guilty under the circumstances—and so she swerves gracelessly to the left. Her mouth collides with the side of his face as he wraps an arm around her in a loose hug and she realizes, belatedly, that she completely misjudged what he was going for. She doesn’t allow herself to linger in the embrace, even if she kind of wants to, and pulls back quickly, before she can get used to the warm weight of his hand on her back.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he says, when she’s dropped back into her seat and he’s busied himself with removing his jacket and scarf.

Jyn resists the urge to laugh at that, knowing he’s being completely earnest. He was two minutes late, that’s nothing, she wants to say, but she waves off his apology without a word.

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” She asks, instead.

“No, not at all,” he says, as he sits across from her. “The train was just delayed.”

“As always.”

He smiles at that, leaning forward on his elbows on the table, and it makes Jyn wistful for the version of tonight where they are just out to dinner for fun. In that version, the only thing she has to be nervous about is if they’ll go home together at the end of the night. In reality, she knows there’s no chance of that happening, but some part of her longs for it. She wishes she’d called him two months ago, back when things were simple—or, at least, simpler—and asked him to this same restaurant. It could have been nice, feeling these nerves for all the good reasons instead of why she has them now.

“So, I was—”

“Have you—?”

They both speak at the same time and Cassian’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, which is so unfairly cute that Jyn can’t even laugh in return at their shared mishap.

“You go,” he says.

“I, uh—” Jyn starts to say, but she’s interrupted by the waiter returning with her drink and asking if he can get Cassian anything.

“Just water, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Jyn asks before she can stop herself. She doesn’t know why she thinks adding alcohol to this situation will help, but she also thinks he might want to drink once he hears her news. “It’s my treat.”

Cassian looks puzzled by this, but his features clear after a second. “I’m good, really,” he says, before turning back to the waiter. “Thank you.”

The waiter hurries off, leaving them alone again. Cassian opens his menu and begins scanning through the first section, before looking up at her with obvious concern.

“Do you already know what you’re getting?” He asks.

“Oh,” Jyn says, flattening her palm on her unopened menu. “Yes, but just because I always get the same thing here. Their pad see ew is really good.”

Cassian nods, as if this is fascinating information to him. “I’m going to have to read through the menu, unfortunately,” he says, apologetically.

She makes an exaggerated hand gesture that is meant to bat his apology away but in truth conveys absolutely nothing. “Take your time,” she says, to clarify.

Cassian reading his menu gives Jyn some time to regroup and also to note that he is, in fact, wearing a navy blue cable knit sweater over what looks to be a light blue button-up. The sleeves aren’t rolled up to his elbows, which is disappointing, but she assumes that’s because it’s freezing outside. He’s also biting his lip as he concentrates on reading, which is simultaneously very cute and completely hot. She realizes she’s been staring at him intently half a second after Cassian does.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, looking embarrassed.

“No, it’s—nothing!”

“I should be making conversation, shouldn’t I?”

“No, don’t worry about that,” Jyn says, hurriedly. It’s not like she can just tell him she was staring because he’s stupidly handsome. “I just got lost in thought for a second.”

“Do you come here often?” He asks, completely sincerely and Jyn laughs before she can stop herself.

“Sorry,” she says, when she’s regained her self-control. “That’s just such a line. I know you didn’t mean it that way, but—”

Before she can finish her sentence or Cassian can defend himself like he clearly wants to, something lands at their feet with a thump and a rattle. Cassian leans down to retrieve it and returns with one of those baby toys with different bits that all make different noises or have different textures. It’s done up entirely in bright primary colors and seems to have a smiling puppy’s head at the very top. A screech from the table behind them alerts Jyn to the item’s true owner.

Cassian twists in his chair to offer the toy back to a chunky toddler with a mop of riotous curls who’s sitting in a high chair at the next table over. “I take it this is yours,” he says, very seriously to the baby, who squawks delightedly at the sight of the toy.

The child’s mother, sitting with an older child on the other side of the table, gives Cassian a grateful smile. “Can you say ‘thank you?’” She asks in a pleasant voice. The baby just gurgles in response, leaving the woman to thank Cassian herself.

Cassian turns back to Jyn with an amused smile on his face that honestly overwhelms her. It’s rare to see him smile without a hint of self-deprecation or irony to it. If she put her mind to it, she could probably count the number of genuine smiles like that she’s seen on one hand. He’s almost always pulling them back, reining them in, for whatever reason.

“Anyway,” he says, turning his full attention back to her. “You were making fun of me for using a generic line on you.”

“I wasn’t,” Jyn says, and can’t help smiling herself. “I knew that’s not what you meant. You were really just asking if I come here often.”

“Yes, I was.”

“I do, to answer your question. It’s my favorite place for takeout, when I’m too lazy to cook, which is almost always.”

“You don’t eat in? With this ambience?” He asks, gesturing around the place.

“Hey, don’t judge their decor,” she fires back, more defensive than she would have expected herself to be. There are a million string lights everywhere, and the walls are painted a very aggressive shade of red, and the owners decorate to the nines for every single holiday, which means there’s hearts and lace and chubby Cupids wielding arrows everywhere for Valentine’s Day. “It’s fun.”

“Very,” Cassian agrees, with one of his small cryptic smiles. It makes Jyn remember with sudden clarity how fun it was to kiss him, to feel that smile against her lips.

She shakes herself out of it, focusing on the present. “I suppose your favorite restaurant is very chic and minimalist with its decor,” she says.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he replies, giving the matter some consideration. “Honestly, I don’t go out for dinner a lot. I prefer to cook at home.”

“Well, I’ve been to your apartment,” she says, trying not to feel inadequate by comparison. “It’s pretty chic.”

It doesn’t occur to her what she’s said until after the words are out of her mouth. She obviously just meant that she’s been over to visit Bodhi before, but when Cassian gives her a surprised look in response, she realizes she has also unwittingly brought to mind the time they hooked up. It’s not an artful segue by any means, but she does need to get this over with and stop pretending they can just sit here and have a nice meal together, like normal people.

“Actually, that reminds me,” she begins, bracing herself for how much this is going to suck, “there’s something I wanted to tell you—”

Their neighbor at the next table chooses that perfect moment to toss their horrible mutated puppy toy at Jyn’s feet again and it breaks her concentration. Cassian, who’d been watching her and listening intently a second beforehand, spots the toy on the ground and leans to pick it up again before Jyn can even think to react. Instead of just turning around and handing it over again, he actually gets up and goes over to the baby this time, crouching in front of the high chair.

“You know, if you keep throwing this around, you might lose it,” he says, very solemnly, to the child. “Somebody might kick it into the kitchen. My friend over there might accidentally take it home with her.” The baby swivels around to look at Jyn and smiles at her with drooly gums that do nothing to make her want a child of her own. She smiles weakly in response.

“Anything could happen,” Cassian continues, drawing the baby’s attention back to him. “I don’t want you to lose it. Your mother doesn’t want you to lose it. You don’t want to lose it.” He’s saying all of this with that faux-serious tone people adopt with children, as if they’re grown-ups who understand what’s going on but also with a slight sing-song lilt to it. “So, no more throwing, okay?”

The baby shrieks and reaches for the toy, which Cassian pulls just slightly out of reach, delighting the child further.

“Do we have an agreement?” He asks, holding out his hand, as if the child is a small businessman he’s making a deal with. The baby smacks a drool-soaked palm against Cassian’s in response, which makes him smile. “Very good.”

As he stands up, the child’s mother says something quietly to him, which Cassian waves off nonchalantly. He turns and drops back into his seat across from Jyn as if nothing has happened.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “You were saying…”

Jyn’s throat feels completely dry and speaking feels beyond her abilities at the moment, so she reaches for her drink before she replies. “You have a way with kids, huh?” She says, gesturing to their friends at the next table.

“Oh, that?” He asks, shrugging it off. “I guess so. I helped a lot with my sister when she was that age. My grandmother tells me I was so obsessed with babies that my parents had another kid just so I’d stop bugging them about it.”

“Huh,” Jyn says, trying to sound noncommittal while she’s panicking internally. God, of course he loves kids. Why would this be easy?

Cassian, however, is oblivious to her distress, looking back over his shoulder at the family at the next table. “I’m really excited to have a bunch of little ones running around soon,” he says, out of nowhere, and Jyn’s stomach turns over.

She’s standing before she can even form a thought. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she knows she can’t stay here. The sudden movement draws Cassian’s attention back to her and he looks up at her in alarm.

“Jyn, are you okay?”

“I, uh,” she says, struggling for a lie that will get her out of there fast enough. “I think I left the oven on at my place, actually. So I have to go, right now.”

“Oh,” Cassian says, looking concerned and maybe even a little disappointed. “Well, I can go with you, or walk you out, if you—” He goes to put his coat on and Jyn throws her arm out to stop him, which just alarms him further.

“No need,” she says, half-frantic. She fishes her wallet out of her coat pocket and takes a few bills out, flinging them at the table in her urgency. “For my drink.”

“Oh, there’s no—”

“I’ll, uh—I’ll call you,” Jyn says, already rushing for the door. It doesn’t occur to her until she’s halfway to her apartment that she said the exact same thing the last time she ran out on him too.

[smutbymia]

Happy Hour (Mark Lee x Reader smut)

WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT (Alcohol use, no protection mentioned, sexual content), slight dom themes 

Word Count: Around 3.3k

Pairing: Mark Lee x Female Reader 

PLOT: You landed your dream internship at an entertainment production company and have finally gotten the opportunity to impress your boss when he gives you the important role of casting backup dancers for a music video being shot for a new artist. Unfortunately, you aren’t taking on the project alone and are forced to work alongside Mark, who you’ve known since you were in grade school and who seems to constantly be in competition with you.

MY FIRST FIC! Please let me know your thoughts. All criticism is welcome. Requests are welcome too. Please consider following me and I will follow back! I am quite satisfied with the way this turned out and can’t wait to write more. 

- mia rose <3

You tried to hide the disappointment on your face. You had been waiting for months to get the chance to finally prove yourself to your boss, Bishop Banks – the most talented person in the entertainment industry you knew personally. Not only did you work your butt off to graduate from the top communications program in Toronto but you had to go through an intense interview process to land the internship as well. There was no way you were going to pass up the chance to potentially land a full time job at Banks productions. You took a deep breath before responding to the heart wrenching news you just received.

“Working with Mark would be an absolute pleasure,” you said as you forced a smile. Banks didn’t look convinced. He had been mentoring the both of you for the past couple of weeks and knew you and Mark weren’t exactly the best of friends. The tension between the two of you was easily noticed by anyone who spent only minutes in your presence. It wasn’t your fault Mark intentionally tried to push your buttons all the time.

“I know Kioko is a new artist but I need you guys to do well in this casting. His record label has invested a lot of money into the production of his first video and this could make or break his entire career,” said Bishop sternly as he shuffled through pages on his desk, “So, please stay focused and make sure you find the perfect dancers. I have all of their information in these portfolio’s, along with audition tapes and some notes from the director so you should get started if you want to be prepared for tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, Bishop. I can’t speak on behalf of y/n but I got this.” said Mark, as he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head, and legs spread apart. You rolled your eyes at him after hearing his comment, and he responded with a wink. Bishop continued flipping through documents and adding final pages to the folders marked with both yours and Marks names on them, oblivious to what had just happened.

You hated how relaxed Mark was. It was as if neither of you had changed since you were kids. He was always the popular kid who never struggled at all. Not only was he extremely good looking, but he was also extremely smart. He didn’t even have to try, which was the most unfair part of it all. You put your blood sweat and tears into everything you did but he seemed to accomplish the same things you did with ease. Not to mention the fact that he seemed to be extremely likeable to everyone else but you. You never saw the side of Mark that everyone else did. For some reason he had always been so tough with you, teasing you and making you nervous whenever he got the chance. It wasn’t until you started University together that he finally seemed to ease up… until you both ended up interning at the same company.

Shortly after, you were ushered out of your boss’ office and finished work for the day. Or at least you should have been. Because the final casting would be starting tomorrow, there was actually a lot of paperwork and footage to go through in preparation.

You found Mark sitting in the common room of the production office conversing with some other employees. Two girls laughed at something he was saying while gazing at him like he was the only man in the world. All girls got like that around Mark. You couldn’t really blame them but you also couldn’t quite understand them either. You hesitated before walking up to them.

Mark was sat in between the two girls on a couch with his legs crossed and his arms stretched across the back. His shirt had the first few buttons undone with its sleeves pushed up to his forearms and his tie from earlier was already off. He clearly couldn’t wait to unwind at the end of the workday.

You stood awkwardly in front of the three of them as they ignored you. Mark was clearly aware of your presence but the girls were too mesmerized by him to even glance in your direction. You cleared your throat and their conversation died down.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we should probably go through some of these documents before tomorrow. The boardroom is free and –“ you began, before being cut off by Mark. 

“That sounds great,” he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm, “but it’ll have to wait until after happy hour is over.”

Almost every day the staff would have drinks in the lounge at the hotel down the street. You had been a couple of times but decided it wasn’t really your scene when you saw how quickly everyone let loose. After a particular incident in high school, you quickly learned that it was best to get drunk around your closest friends and no one else. You had made that mistake before and Mark was unfortunately there to witness it. You knew how to have a good time but you definitely didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself in front of your colleagues.

As if Mark could sense your discomfort, the corners of his mouth turned upwards to form the cheeky smile he always had when he knew he was getting under your skin. You opened your mouth to protest just as your boss walked out of his office and into the common area, stopping to say his goodbyes before heading home for the night.

Mark used the situation to his advantage. He spoke loud enough for the boss to hear. 

“You will be joining me right, y/n? We can get started on the work. Unless you want to put this off for a couple of hours?”

You plastered another fake smile across your face before nodding and turning straight for the exit, not waiting to see if Mark was following you. You wanted to get it over with and at this point you were willing to do whatever it took to get through this collaboration, even if that meant suffering through happy hour.

An hour and a half later you were back at the company with Mark in the boardroom. He had put you on the spot in front of a bunch of other interns and you ended up having a drink or three. Luckily the alcohol didn’t hit you then but you were really starting to feel it now. Mark was clearly drunk as well, but as usual he kept his cool composure. You sat in a chair, spinning yourself in circles as you waited for him to start playing the audition tapes on the television screen.

Even though you had broken your alcohol rule, you had to admit you were feeling pretty good. It had been a while since you had gotten drunk like this and it felt liberating. For the first time in a long time you didn’t feel on edge or stressed out. You reached up and released your hair from the bun it had been in all day. As your hair cascaded down, you met Marks gaze across the room. He stared intensely as you arched your back, chest pushed forward, massaging your scalp.

“Ugh, that feels SO much better.” you moaned, as you lowered your arms and leaned back into your chair. You kicked off your heels, because fuck it. No one was in the office and it was probably going to be a long night anyway. And you slipped out of the blazer you wore over your dress.

Mark moved across the room as his eyes scanned all over your body. He took in every last bit of you, from your stockings and back up again. He sat in a chair next to you, not saying a word as the audition tapes began to play. You both prepared yourselves to take notes on each candidate.

After judging the first few dancers it was clear you guys were not on the same page. The once quiet boardroom was now filled with your bickering voices.

“She wasn’t even that good!” you proclaimed.

Mark groaned in response, “What are you talking about? She’s hot. That’s exactly what we need!”

“Exactly! That’s the problem. She’s just hot. We need people with actual talent!” you started, “You’re thinking with the wrong head, Mark. Even I could do better than that!”

Mark broke out into a fit of laughter. “Y/N, the guys you’ve chosen have only been capable of doing corny hip rolls and basic two steps. And we both know alcohol impairs your ability to make good decisions… even though it does make you a really great dancer.” he said, holding back more laughter.

The alcohol had definitely loosened you both up, but that comment still managed to make you blush. You guys hadn’t talked about that embarrassing night from high school so candidly in years despite Mark finding subtle ways to tease you about it from time to time.

You had gotten really drunk at a small party and may or may not have given Mark a lap dance. For years he had been hate-flirting with you, but that night he really challenged you when he made a comment about your so called ‘lack of sex appeal’. You two had been butting heads all night and you got the crazy idea of putting on a little private show for him, which was interrupted by a group of his friends who stumbled into the room. The embarrassment didn’t hit until the next morning when you sobered up.  

The memories replayed over and over in your head until you processed what he had just said.

“So you’ve finally admitted it then!” you yelled, jumping up out of your chair and standing over Mark. “That whole sex appeal thing was complete bullshit and you were just being a hater!”

You were stood between his legs now but the sudden excitement from hearing his confession and your abrupt escape from your chair caused you to stumble forward. You forgot that you were still tipsy for a second. Before you could come crashing down on top of Mark, he grabbed onto your hips to steady you.

The mood in the room dramatically shifted. Once again, you locked eyes. His grip momentarily tightened and you let out a quick breath in response as the tension rose. His big beautiful eyes were glazed over, and staring right into your soul. He licked his lips before getting up from his chair, not letting go of your body just yet.

You slowly raised your head as he raised himself out of his chair — standing taller than you, making sure to maintain his gaze as his breathing deepened along with your own.

“You’ve always been good at being a tease, you know that?” he said, as his breathing became more frantic. He guided your hips backwards until you were pushed against the boardroom table. It wasn’t until he released his grip that you realized just how firmly he had been holding onto you. It was definitely going to leave some sexy bruises for you to admire in the mirror later.

His hands rested on either side of you, pressed firmly against the surface of the table with your hands pressed up against his chest. You ran your hands over his body before sliding one over his neck and into his dark hair. The gesture made him break eye contact with you as he shut his eyes and lowered his head, meeting his forehead with yours. He groaned and pushed his hips into yours while struggling not to circle them.

You could feel the stiffness in his pants growing, and let out a quiet moan in response. Mark continued to steady himself on the boardroom table, as his other hand began to wander up your thigh, over your hips, and towards your chest.

“You kind of owe me for what you did to me that night. You turned me on, and didn’t even finish dancing for me.” he said. He had moved his head to the side of your face and dropped his voice lower to a whisper before finishing, “And I’ve had to watch you walk around this place for months in these stockings and all of those mini dresses and skirts.”

You could hear the frustration in his voice as he palmed your breasts firmly, and began really circling his hips. Groaning directly into your ear, he continued airing out his grievances while you let out quiet moans.

“Now I’m forced to work with you and you won’t stop complaining about my choices in women as if any of them could ever fucking turn me on the way you do, y/n.” he said through gritted teeth. He fisted your hair, pulling back with enough force to expose your neck before trailing wet kisses down the length of  it as you moaned loudly in response.  

“I-I’m sorry.” you muffled, through the moans. You hadn’t intentionally done anything to hurt him but you knew that you weren’t exactly the easiest person to work with sometimes as well. You definitely were a bit of a brat at times and being so hyper focused on your work had been making you more uptight lately.

“Don’t be, princess.” He said, as he momentarily slowed his pace and dropped a single peck on your cheek. “I’ve been an even bigger asshole to you. But I plan on making it up to you right now.”

With a quick motion, Mark wrapped his free arm around you and lifted you up onto the boardroom table. He pulled your two chairs into position, before placing each of your legs on either one and placing himself between your legs.

He gently pushed back on your chest until you leaned back onto your own hands. He watched your chest rise and fall with every breath, pure lust in his eyes. You weren’t sure what to expect from him anymore. He went from being completely desperate for your touch to being dominant within minutes. He was taking complete control but you loved every second of it.

Mark leaned back over your body, lifting you slightly off the table to hike up your dress and exposing your stockings. He gripped the fabric and tore it right down the middle, as you gasped. He pressed his index and middle finger over your clit as you threw your head back moaning. The sudden pressure had caught you off guard and by the time you had opened your eyes again he was lowering himself onto his knees.

He pushed your panties aside and wasted no time pressing his tongue into you. With a single slow lick up your slit, he had you whimpering throughout the entire room. He continued to play with you for several minutes until you were dripping wet. Suddenly, his pace intensified as his tongue swirled against your clit before taking it into his mouth, suckling until your body began to shake, edging closer to its limit. Your body stretched across the table. You no longer had the energy to even sit up and watch him anymore as you writhed underneath his touch in pure ecstasy.  “Oh my goodness, Mark… I’m going to –“ you began, as your hips began to raise up. You weren’t in control of your own body anymore. You thrusted against his tongue out of necessity. You needed to feel every last bit of him. He reached up to hold you into position.

“Keep riding my face… yeah, just like that. I want you to come for me, Princess.” he mumbled, between your thighs. His words pushed you over the edge as your body began to convulse, finally reaching its orgasm as your hips jerked and twitched against his wet face. Usually you would have been embarrassed to look so hungry for another persons touch but it felt too good to worry about such things this time. 

Mark wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt before standing up again. The fabric of his pants were stretched to their limit, being strained by his hard dick. He palmed himself through his pants.

“You taste like heaven, baby girl. I wish you could see how sexy you look right now spread out across this table.” he groaned as he reached under his pants, stroking himself. He held himself up against the table with one arm as the other one pumped away, with a pained expression on his face.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. You watched as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, and the veins in his arms became more prominent with each stroke as his pants dropped lower to expose more of him. The sight alone was enough to send your heart racing. Not only did he take care of you, but the mere sight of you drove him this crazy? You sat up and reached towards him to cup his face.

Your lips slowly and sensually met. It was a kiss long overdue.Your lips parted and you sucked on his tongue, tasting both him and yourself. Mark pulled away as he threw his head back. “Fuck.” he exclaimed as he jerked his hips into his palm. He was getting closer but there was no way you were going to let him finish on his own even though he was clearly too much of a gentleman to expect anything in return.

You leaned back onto the table and slipped out of your dress as marks eyes were firmly shut, focusing on his pleasure.

You spread your legs apart before calling his name, “Mark, it’s my turn to make it up to you.”

You locked eyes before slipping your fingers into your mouth to wet them before reaching towards his member. He released himself immediately and watched transfixed as you jerked him off slowly before directing him to your entrance.

With a quick motion you pushed yourself onto him, meeting his body half way with your own. He cursed under his breath, wrapping both of his arms around your body. He filled every inch of you comfortably stretching your walls and making your legs tremble. His thrust were rough, deep, and slow. With your head thrown back, and his face burrowed in your neck, you both reached your peaks together. With two final desperate thrusts, Mark collapsed onto your body, releasing himself inside of you – with your arms wrapped around one another. Neither of you could believe what had just happened... in the boardroom of all places. 

The following day was eventful. You were completely exhausted from the night before. Before leaving, you hoped that no one would look over the security footage and question why you arrived in the office in stockings and left without them, since mark had completely destroyed your favourite pair. You and Mark may have had fun but you still needed to stay late and finish up your actual work and clean up the mess you made in the boardroom you happened to be sitting in at that very moment with your boss, a director, and the rest of the crew, working out the logistics regarding the video shoot.

The entire time, Mark stared intently at you while glancing down at the table, obviously replaying last night events in his head. You tried your hardest to focus on the meeting but couldn’t help but feel turned on knowing he was both unusually quiet for once and also staring at you.

“Great results from the casting, you two. I knew you would be able to come together and play nice with each other to get the job done.” said Bishop Banks as he wrapped up the meeting for the day. 

Your cheeks flushed red at his comment as Mark stifled a laugh. If only your boss knew how literal of a statement that was. 

[owletstarlet]

natsuyuu + singing/music

[From this themed ask meme.]

Oh, yes, good….

I’m gonna answer about musical talent instead of musical tastes (because regarding musical tastes of rural Japanese teenagers circa 2005, I dunno a fuckin’ thing, my guy).  

So Natori is probably a decent singer, or has at least practiced enough to be passable at it, because it’s a marketable skill to have as an entertainer. He doesn’t do it super often, and he doesn’t particularly like or dislike it, any more than acting, just something he views as another facet of his job, releasing a few formulaic tracks here and there to go with whatever drama he just starred in… And the first time Natsume heard one of the songs he was just in a music store with his friends minding his own business and then it starts playing over the speakers and he’s torn between incredulous laughter, throwing up in his mouth a little, and being very slightly impressed. When Matoba first learns about this he does his very best to make fun of Natori for it, but that pretty much dissolves into bickering and sniping—(“You’re singing pop music now? I see there’s really no depth the last pandering face of the Natori clan won’t sink to. If you’re that desperate just get over yourself ask for help already.” “Well why are you following my career closely enough to know I’m singing pop music?” “Even I go to the mall sometimes. It really is tiresome to see your gigantic overly retouched face plastered all over every available inch of advertising space and now I have to hear you everywhere too…” etc., etc…)

Moving right along to Tanuma. I have talked about this somewhat in meta asks before but whatever– In canon (ch 84) we get the one singular scene where he’s shown sitting at a piano, talking with Natsume in what looks to be an empty music room at the school. I guess the implication is that he’s practicing for a class or club while Natsume hangs out and listens, which are both normal and plausible assumptions. But unless canon directly states otherwise I’d headcanon it as him using the pianos for self-practice (and the chance to spend time with Natsume) once nobody else is using the music room. I think unless it’s mandatory he wouldn’t opt to take a music class because even if he loves piano he would absolutely not love having to play in front of groups of people. As to clubs—lest I go off into a diatribe about my strongly mixed feelings about Japanese school clubs as an institution and their impact on the emotional, psychological and physical health of students that I’ve seen firsthand (including music clubs with some really petty nasty politics and ridiculous practice schedules in addition to the stress of performing), I’ll just say a music club would be a Bad Time for Tanuma and not something he’d likely choose for himself. Side note, he also seems to have more free time in canon than a club schedule would likely allow. It makes more sense to me that it’s something he does for himself as a relaxing hobby and has done on and off since he was little.

I’d say due to costs and him frequently ill and moving towns a lot, he probably didn’t take consistent lessons, if anything it was probably some inexpensive community center lessons he’d attend as he was able throughout elementary and junior high. I think, though, that this is a great hobby for him to have had growing up, because if you’re too sick to leave your house and lonely and bored, a keyboard you can set up on your bed (with headphones so nobody else can hear if you mess up) and a stack of old piano lesson books can be a good remedy and comfort. Tanuma never thinks to mention to Natsume that he can play, until one day he comes by unexpectedly to check on Tanuma when Tanuma had been home sick from school, and Tanuma’s in the middle of practicing in his room (sans headphones) and not realizing for a good several seconds that Natsume’s in his doorway. Tanuma’s first anxiety-brain instinct is of course oh god put it away now before you embarrass yourself or bore him but he also realizes that that would be kind of a dick move when Natsume’s come out of his way to check on him. And provided Tanuma’s not going to keel over in the middle of it, Natsume Would In Fact Very Much Like To Listen, so that’s what happens, for the fifteen or so minutes before Tanuma’s dad makes him stop to to get some rest. And objectively it does Not sound all that great, even though he intentionally chose simpler stuff he has memorized from years of repetition so he won’t fuck it up, because he’s both sick and hyper-aware of his audience and thus keeps missing notes. But Natsume’s totally enthralled because I’m sure that rarely if ever has he gotten to listen to anyone play an instrument, least of all for his ears only.

From there it ends up becoming a weekly-ish occurrence, and Tanuma’s still a little baffled that it genuinely seems to make Natsume and relaxed to hear him rather than bored and too polite to say so. In terms of musical genre, I don’t think he’d particularly favor any one over another, and that it’d come down to whatever he can successfully teach himself, and whatever (most often secondhand) sheet music he gets his hands on. His dad will often give him music books as gifts, especially if he’s been on a trip, and will look for music shops and secondhand shops with sheet music when he travels. And a big (and very wholesome) motivator for Tanuma to keep practicing, I think, is to be able to show his dad the pieces he’s learned from the books his dad found for him. And his motivation, frequency of practice, and personal enjoyment of it all get a big ol’ boost once Natsume starts listening too. He’d want to start picking new things he’d think Natsume would enjoy hearing, but it’s difficult to gauge exactly what to choose when Natsume seems to genuinely enjoy every piece he hears. (Of course, Tanuma’s conclusion would be “he really likes to hear the piano” and he would not quite make the connection of “he really likes to hear me play the piano” until much later on, even if Natsume were to tell him outright.) Still, Tanuma’s perceptive enough to have worked out which specific pieces Natsume likes best, and will make sure to play those first if Natsume has clearly had a rough day or week. (Side note, one of those pieces is the Tottoro March, because early on after moving to Hitoyoshi he mentioned he’d never seen the movie before…to which Nishimura was like *dramatic gasp* “You’re coming over RIGHT NOW and we’re fixing that.” So it’s a very warm association for Natsume when he hears the song. And Tanuma, knowing this, does try to work some more Ghibli into his repertoire because whether Natsume’s seen the movies or not—and probably not in most cases—it’s got a similar gentle tone and feel to it, and very easy to find.)

Two additional sidenotes here: one, Touko has Absolutely knitted Tanuma a scarf with a piano key design…he did not quite know how to react upon receiving it, and worried later that he made a seemingly ungrateful ass of himself for getting all tongue-tied over it but he takes very good care of it and wears it all the time. Two, an effect of having a bunch of random mostly secondhand sheet music is that a lot of the pieces are scores from random movie/anime/game franchises that Tanuma knows literally nothing about, and of course if he got it from his dad/picked it up himself because it looked like it would sound interesting he’ll try to learn it regardless. And I’m Positive that at least once Nishimura hung out with him while he was practicing and almost had a stroke when he heard Tanuma start playing a piece like this from [insert whatever series/franchise Nishimura happened to be obsessed with at the time here], only to be like “what do you MEAN you’ve never seen it and also you sound GODDAMN AMAZING but I also feel slightly betrayed okay.”

Thanks for the ask, sorry for the wait, this was a super fun question!

[inahazzze]

Concept: imagine if Harry was like... the maintenance worker or landlord for your apartment building, maybe the two of you are friendly with each other, and one day you call him up to take a look at the leaky faucet in your bathroom, and forgot that you'd left out your vibrator, or something else a bit embarrassing!!! I'd imagine him to be so cheeky about it

I’M DEAD!!!! I just frantically wrote the following 1.2k words and… it’s just a lot.  A LOT. But thank you for this, I love you very much and I owe you my life

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Of course the bathroom faucet is leaking, and of course it’s happening on your first day off in two weeks. It’s been so stressful at work that you crawled into bed at 7 p.m. last night instead of going out with friends, and you’re still so unbelievably exhausted. You don’t regret your decision to stay in, though – you quite enjoyed your night with Netflix, wine and your vibrator. And that is exactly what you planned to continue doing today on your day off, but clearly the universe had other plans for you.

All you want to do is hide under your covers and ignore this problem, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind yammers about the waste and the water bill. Begrudgingly, you scroll through your phone to find Harry’s number and send him a text to ask if he can come over. It’s not the first time that you’ve had to ask for his help for something gone wrong in this shitty apartment and it probably won’t be the last.

The first time you met Harry was at a mutual friend’s party, and he’d tried to chat you up – with no success. Well, there was some success for you. Harry certainly wasn’t expecting that instead of getting your number, he’d be giving his away with an offer of free help if you need a handyman.

You’ve now seen Harry enough times that it’s not weird to text him or see him at another of your mutual friend’s parties. You can talk to each other casually without it getting awkward and he always seems happy to see you. And you have to admit that you’re always happy to see him too.

You worry that Harry might be mad at you for texting at 9am on a Saturday morning, but he responds to your text within a few minutes. He agrees to stop by in a half hour so you scramble to shower, get ready and make your morning coffee.

When Harry arrives, he looks like he just jumped out of bed. His hair is mussed up and pointing in all directions, and his wrinkled white Rolling Stones shirt could’ve been lifted from the top of the laundry pile. It oddly suits him, though. He looks comfortable, soft and sexy at the same time. You wonder whether this is what he looks like after he’s just had sex – messy and satisfied and at ease. But no – you tell yourself that the flush on his cheeks is from the morning breeze and his hooded eyes are probably due to him being sleepy or hungover.

You try to rid yourself of the dirty thoughts about the man standing before you and welcome him into your apartment. You offer him a drink and he accepts a black coffee with a polite thank you. Unfortunately, your bathroom is only accessible through your bedroom, so you have no choice but to lead him through the messy room. You wish that you’d had time to clean up a bit and make your bed but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

He follows you into the cramped bathroom and immediately spots the problem of the leaking faucet. He assures you that it should only take a few minutes to fix and shouldn’t be a problem. You let out a sigh of relief that the tap can be fixed easily but your muscles refuse to relax as Harry is standing uncomfortably close to you. Your heartbeat picks up and you’re sure that you’d see a blush flowing over your cheeks if you turned to look in the mirror.

There’s a moment of silence where you both stand in the tiny space and don’t know what to say. The only sound in the room is the soft pitter patter of droplets escaping the tap to land on the porcelain sink. The air is thick with tension and unspoken questions. You know that the smallest movement would let you touch his skin and the thought overtakes all rational parts of your brain. However, something clicks to ground you to reality and you realise that Harry is waiting for you to get out of the way so that he can get to work. You move to stand in the doorframe and watch him lean into the cupboard under the sink to inspect the pipe. His hand reaches above his head to rest on the countertop for balance, and you feel your mouth salivate at the flexing muscles of his arm. You can also see the muscles bulging through the thin and worn material of his shirt and your eyes are glued to them.

You know the moment that Harry fixes the leaking pipe because the dripping sound in the sink stops with a deafening silence. He looks up at you and you move your eyes away from his back muscles a moment too late. One side of his mouth quirks up into a smirk at the realisation, and you feel your blush deepen even more.

You lead him back into your bedroom to give you both some more space than the bathroom allowed for. You feel like you can breathe again, even though his presence is still intoxicating. You don’t want to make eye contact with him after being caught ogling his back, but you know that you need to be an adult and have a conversation. He did come over to help you fix your sink at a moment’s notice on a Saturday morning, after all.

You look up at him, ready to thank him profusely, but he’s not looking at you. He’s looking at your bedside table with his head stock-still and eyes wide. You follow his line of sight and your mouth drops open in absolute mortification.

Is this actually happening? Is this some kind of awful dream? A hallucination? A cruel joke?

You didn’t think that you could experience this level of embarrassment before now. But it’s flowing through you in awful nauseating waves, telling you that this is definitely happening and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Standing tall on your bedside table is an oversized neon pink vibrator and your favourite purple bejewelled butt plug. There’s a large bottle of lube next to them, a box of tissues and a container loudly exclaiming that it’s a sex toy cleaner. It’s so damning that it almost looks like you’ve set up the scene intentionally. Except you didn’t. No one was meant to see this – least of all, Harry. You’ve been so stressed and tired from work that you didn’t even notice that you’d left the evidence of last night’s activities to proudly exclaim themselves next to your bed. You berate yourself on a loop, wondering how it could have possibly slipped your mind. The moment seems to extend impossibly, dragging out the torturous silence for what feels like forever.

Harry eventually turns back to face you, looking you dead in the eyes. The look is intense, and you hope that you’re not imagining that it’s also full of longing.

“Do you have anything else that needs fixing, love?”

[unabashedrebel]

RP Snippits

{Below is a piece written alongside @dae-shadowvale ft. @simplysoriya . Sometimes i like to torture my characters a little too much. So yeah, uh, this happened. It’s pretty long, you’ve been warned.}

A soft smile graced his lips as she saved him from himself, and that fear of saying something dumb just when things were getting emotional. "I've been doing some side work. But basically until I decide to go to therapy I'm off active duty. They've been taking it sort of easy on me since I was a POW." Though before Kirollis could expand on just how much he hated therapy, the fishing line began to stir. It started at the tip at first, gentle jerks and pulls that went unnoticed. But in the midst of their conversation the thin piece of wood bent completely into a curve as something snagged on the line. 

 "Oh shit! I think I got something!" He exclaimed.

Dae felt her chest involuntarily tighten at the mention of Kiro’s imprisonment, and while she did what she could to keep that mental flinch from broadcasting itself through her expression, there was likely a lingering flash of sadness in her gaze as she listened to his response. Yes, there was the obvious reminder of the toll that time had taken on herself - all the hopeful glances toward the cafe door every time she heard that bell ring, only to feel her heart sink over and over again - all the nights of falling asleep with her comm in her hand, hopeful that she would hear his voice break through the radio silence, and terrified to hear someone else’s - the emotional torture she put herself through in those weaker moments, wondering if he’d just... left. Now? Thinking back to that period of time, knowing what he had gone through, it made her feel guilty. The fact that he’d waited so long to at least let her know he was alive was still a very sore spot for her, and there was still a lot of emotional ruin to wade through, but there would always be space in her heart for the snarky rogue and his daughter. She wanted to ask him how things had been going with therapy, if he felt like it was helping, if he’d be returning to active duty when he was able, but as fate would have it, none of those questions would make the journey from her thoughts to his ears. 

Her eyes widened at his exclamation and she glanced quickly to the place where his fishing line disappeared beneath the water’s surface in a seamless shift into excitement. “What are you waiting for?!” She took one final pull from her bottle, emptying its contents, and leaned forward to peer down into the water. “Reel it in!”

Kirollis gripped tightly on the fishing rod as tremors rocked through the thin wooden frame. Whatever was on the other end of the line was big, and angry, at the rogues resistance. Not entirely lacking in the physical department, either, Kirollis looked like he was struggling to keep up. His feet planted with their heels dug in, only to find nowhere to get a good footing on the wooden and worn planks of the Booty Bay docks.  His knuckles creeping into a feint white coloring as he vigorously pulled with both hands on the handle. It was as if he was completely oblivious to the dancers advice. Sufficiently stunned by the monster that lurked under the docks, snared by his hook. But eventually he did turn to her adding a sarcastic, "Ooooooooh." With a smirk. "By all means, you're more then welcome to help." The rogues voice strained and rough, coming in a guttural tone from the throat. But once he was situated, and the fish offered a brief repose, Kirollis took the opportunity to just that. Carefully leaving the tension of the rod to one hand as the other didn't stray too far to the metal reel line. Painstakingly cranking the lever in a vain attempt to land his prize. All it managed to do was tick every other second as the rod looked increasingly stressed by the rogues efforts. By this point Kirollis had slowly been dragged, unnoticeable by how small the increments, until the tips of his toes hung off the edge of the dock. Curling and clinging to the planks, even if it was likely more for personal comfort then actual strategy.

"It's all in the hips!" A voice echoed from the far beach as Soriya seemed to have taken an active role in watching it all unfold. While she was too far away for expressions to be read, it was a fair assumption to either of them that she wore a shit eating grin at her fathers troubles with a fish. 

"Okaythisisn'tworking." Kirollis grunted out quickly to himself. Though determination still sat strong on his features. One finally jerk from the rod was all it took to deflate every ounce of confidence he had. Unceremoniously loosing his balance, one leg jutted out awkwardly as if to purchase some. Though even that proved to do little as another shift from the rod tipped him right over the edge and sent him plummeting to the waters below.

The whole scene unfolded in slow motion for Daelynn, which only served to enhance the hilarity of its outcome. One second, Kiro was beside her on the dock, heels dug in firmly as he strained against the pull on his line. The next, he'd disappeared in a woooosh of air, tumbling head-first into the water, and leaving her somewhat perplexed for a second or two. At first, the dancer rose to her feet - an instinctive reflex of concern for the rogue's well-being - but that reflex was fleeting, at best, and she was quickly overcome with laughter. It poured out of her with the ease of water rushing over the falls; unbridled, jovial, breath-catching laughter that had her clutching her stomach as she sunk to her knees, tears collecting at the outer corners of her vision. There was nothing malicious about her reaction, even as she struggled to find her voice amidst each strained gasp of air, and though the simple fact that watching someone take such an impromptu swim was funny in its own right, there was one glaringly comedic addition to this situation in particular; something that clearly hadn't gone unnoticed by the brunette he'd left behind on the dock. 

Kirollis Duskhaven - slayer of men, master of blades, expert of sneak - bested by a fish. 

It was true that Kirollis was a lot of things. That he had a long history of being the capable sort. From assassinating Generals without so much as an alarm, to running smuggling rings that spanned across the Eastern Kingdoms and beyond, to a competent spy, and so many other accomplishments. Not a single one of them mattered as Kirollis plunged face forward from the docks down into the crystal clear water below. What would have normally been easy to see was obscured by the milky froth and unsettled water as bubbles raced to the surface following his decent beneath the waves. Angry flailing and churning from beneath that was so violent one could swear they heard curses bubbling up to the surface. 

As was above, was to below. While Soriya was busy lounging on her surfboard with her face down. Soaking in the sun and enjoying the day. While she always made it look graceful and effortless, the ocean and the tide had a way of tiring out the body more then most would expect. That amount of control and poise, and maintained at such a level? She was wiped out, and made no efforts to hide it.That was until she heard the telltale sign of weight crashing into water with a bassy PLOOOOP. Instantly her head periscoped, flicking her attention toward the sound. While her facial expression would be near impossible to tell from a distance, the look of confusion sat on her features. Swiftly she tried to make sense of it all as she looked over the disturbed water. Then up to the rapturous sounds of laughter. Tilting her gaze up to find Daelynn, and only Daelynn   standing on the stilted docks, leaning over the side as the music of her uncontainable laughter said it all. 

It took only a moment for Soriya to understand what happened. And even less time for her to join in to the chorus of cracking up, so loud that it could be heard in tandem with Dae's own on the dock. Uncontrollable and consistent, those jovial expressions tumbled out of her as if she had little choice in the matter. Gripping on the sides of her board tightly as the young monk doubled over, laying her face down flat on the board as she continued. Before long Soriya rolled right off and into the water- Though unlike her father, she at least seemed to do it intentionally. As if the scene before her was too much for her to take, and she relented to immerse herself beneath the waves in a vain attempt to save her father a little face. 

Before long, Kirollis himself surfaced. Lacking the fishing rod that had proven to be his bane, lost and gone to the tides- and the one creature that did manage to best him-.... a fish. Sputtering out water with aggressive and loud raspberries from his mouth, both hands would come up to clear his eyes. Tipping his head up to look at the dancer, who was Still laughing at his pain. Of course he had to say something. "Yeah, sure. Laugh it up. Real nice. What if I couldn't swim? Would you have jumped in after me?" He teased in mock aggravation.... and perhaps a little embarrassment. 

“Ohhhh c’mon!” Daelynn retorted, still unable to keep the grin from her face... and still struggling to regain her breath from the sudden, and powerful, outburst of laughter. “You would be laughing just as hard if I was the one taking a dunk and you were standing up here, nice and dry,” she lifted a hand to wipe a stray tear on its way down her cheek with the back of a knuckle, “And you know it.” Kneeling down at the edge of the dock, Dae lowered her voice some, speaking in earnest while the corners of her mouth continued to curl themselves upwards. “If it makes you feel any better, I promise to keep this little incident to myself- outside of teasing you about it for the foreseeable future, of course. Though, I can’t speak for all witnesses...” Her gaze lifted from the sputtering rogue as he continued to tread water, focusing briefly on the mostly-submerged brunette floating out in the distance, and lifted her hand to wave - an acknowledgment of their shared laughter, and also to notify the woman that her father wasn’t in any immediate danger. She returned her attention to Kirollis himself, smirking as she braced herself against the dock with one hand, and extended the opposite arm as far as she could. “Let’s get you out of there before you melt, or something,” she teased, tossing a wink down to him.

"I mean I-.." Kirollis held up a finger in protest. Yet after a moment all it did was curl down, deflated, much like the rogue himself as his jaw hung agape. The logic bomb Daelynn had dropped on him critically hitting, and it showed. In a brief and resilient rebuttal he managed to mutter out, "Well, but I would have at least tried to hide it." Breaking into a chuckle soon after. If there was anything he knew how to do, and do well, it was laugh at himself. The gesture dispelling any notion of hard feelings over the hilarious happenings on the Booty Bay docks. 

"Ohhhh no." Dae shook her head, vehemently. "Nonono. How many times have you sprung from the shadows with the sole purpose of scaring me half to death?" She didn't give him even a second to respond before jumping right back into it. "AND out of all those times, how often did you ever attempt to hide your amusement?" Again, she left no room for a rebuttal. "I'll tell you how many."  She held up a hand, fingertips curling around to meet the end of her thumb, forming an obvious 'O'. "None. Exactly zero. So enough of this 'woe is me' act... you big baby." The tone she used was teasing in nature, peppered here and there with a chuckle, but there was no denying the accuracy of her response, and the look on her face was irrefutable proof that she knew she had him at a stalemate on the matter.

By the time a pause marred the pairs playful jabs Soriya had made her way over to make it a trio. Of course she had to laugh at her fathers pain as well chiming in the midst of her paddle, "Dad! Come on, we went over this, you can't just jump in and try and stab them." The monk chirped out with a voice full of giggles. Repositioning to sit up on her board near where her father recovered from his plunge, letting her legs lazily dangle off the flanks and into the water.

"Oh come on." Kirollis protested to the unforgiving crowd, his arms outstretched in an expression that matched his words. Knowing full well that he had, on several occasions, taken great joy in scaring both women- much to their respective disdain. She had him, he knew it, his daughter knew it, and most importantly Daelynn knew it. Turning to Soriya in a bid for some relief, he found no such thing.

Instead the brunette scrunched her youthful features toward their center. Casually shrugging to her fathers desperate plea. With small and rapid nods of her head, the look she gave him in reply all but said You're on your own. Reaffirming the floating mistweaver added, "I'm pretty sure you laugh all the time. You think your slick. But we see it, clearly." Soriya motioned between herself and the dock bound Daelynn.

It didn't take long for Soriya to snap her attention over to Daelynn, happily raising up her hand in a wave before excitedly shouting up, "Hey Dae!" in greeting. "Literally the two of us here and he still gets himself into trouble. Did we really even want him back?" She joked. Blissfully unaware of how her words might hit the dancer. Too caught up in the joy of the moment and the fact that this was one of the rare times the three of them were all together. Not to mention the overwhelming fact that her dad had just been bested by what she could only imagine was a tuna.Shifting to her father once more Soriya asked, "You okay, pop?" She asked with concern. 

Kirollis for his part had done his best to roll with the punches. But as always he was dramatic about it, sporting an overly animated pout as his arms crossed over his chest. A sarcastic chuckle escaping him after it was all said and done, "Yeah, sure, you know just my ego is a little bruised. But sure. I'm okay." Of course he wasn't angry, but far be it from him to not ham it up. "You two gonna gang up on me now? Is this like a thing?" He lamented as a hand unfurled from its counterpart and motioned between the two women.  A tired sigh escaped him as he shook his head. Defeated and deflated. "Alright. I relent to my watery fate." He resigned to a surrender, with his hands hoisted near his ears in a carefree manner. Though he did chuckle a little at his own expense when it was all said and done.

"It's good to see you, Sori," Dae turned her attention to the monk, flashing a vibrant smile before her expression shifted into one of feigned grief, "though, it's a shame it had to be under such tragic circumstances..." An exaggerated frown followed, aimed at the drowned rogue, and while Sori's off-the-cuff remark did strike a little close to the chest, Dae managed to keep that pang of emotional discomfort from rising to the surface. "You should stop by the cafe before you leave the Cape - I'll send you off with a box of goodies for the kids."

"I could go for some lunch." Soriya chimed in a little too quickly after Dae had offered. Showing a little more excitement that two of her favorite people were in the same location. Not a thought given to over imposing on the kindness. "Why don't we meet you there in a little bit?" 

Thirty minutes later...

Soriya walked through the door first. A mess of jovial giggles and her cheeks bright red. That smile she loved to wear pulled to its limits, even showing a rare display of dimples in the process. Her hair still wet from the ocean and attire that suggested she was going right back out, only having put a t-shirt and flip flops from the previous bikini. Though once those teal eyes found Daelynn in the Cafe, her arms came to the front door as to present, "So dad totally bought my silence."

In walked an exhausted, yet dry, Kirollis. But quite noticeably the rogue wore a bright pink t-shirt that looked just a tad too tight- 'Badazzled' written across the front in an arc in rhinestones.  Of course it was. Complete with a pair of shorts and a damp burlap bag in hand. "Dear diary; worst day ever."

[lifeofgroffsauce]

Miscellaneous papers spilled from a crisp manilla folder held lax and haphazardly, clattering onto the apartment's hallway floor to cause a groan from the actor. Various safety waivers and film contracts now mixed up and out of the ascending order of dates he'd meticulously placed them in, was a hell of an end to the night. Crouching down to gather them, grumbling irritably as he did, he tried his best to reorganize the mess before knocking on the door.

“Jon Groff! My faaavorite client!”

The shrill ring of his, uncharacteristically drunk, agent Kelly hit his ears. It was her cheery smile that was infectious and suddenly he matched her enthusiasm, despite his previous misfortune seconds ago.  

“Oh my god, you're such a little liar!” He accused playfully then gestured to her relaxed posture against the wood slab that seemed to hold her up, having it half way open. “What are you doing on a Monday night, missy? Don't you have special agent things to be doing?”

Freshly manicured nails, tips too boxy in Jonathan's opinion, tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. He noticed they both suffered the same fate when it came to alcohol flushing their cheeks. Hers, however, wore only a faint blush peeking through her artificially tan skin. “What?! Why are you- did you not get my email?” A gasp fled from her lithe form, soon swatting his arm. “Check your fucking emails more than once a year! Jesus, I sent you an e-vite!”

Just as he rose an inquisitive brow, she swung the door fully open, bright cerleans catching the light of the Brooklyn bridge out of gigantic panoramic windows lining the living room wall. A small group of people congregated about the space, all mingling with each other. They all appeared to be close friends and work connections.

“You're having a party? Oh my goodness,” He laughed almost nervously and mustered up a sheepish grin. “I'm super sorry. I wish I had known! I'll make a better habit of reading those but, it's really late and I just needed to-”

“Jonathan! Nooo, don't be sorry! Come in, come in!” To her urging, his lips parted to object but she quickly silenced him with her shushing, coiling her nimble digits around his larger ones. /Don't argue with Italians, even the five-foot-two short shits like Kelly./ He smirked at his own thought and walked in.

“You know Drew Gehling, right?” The boozy Kelly slurred her way through each introduction like a proper hostess. A striking baritone voice flooded the space with his drawl, steps moving toward the agent as they circled around the dining table. “Why bother asking, Kels. Tall, dark, handsome. Fits Jonathan's type perfectly. Of course they know each other.”

Jonathan's muscles tensed slightly, his mouth pulling a tight-lipped grin. “Though I guess the 'tall' box has been unchecked. New boyfriend's on the vertically challenged side.” Zachary offered a sassy smirk to Jon to let him know he was joking and calm him down; unfortunately, it did the opposite. He was painfully reminded of where he should  be versus where he was.

“He's flexible; that's all that matters,” Flew from his lips faster than his brain could register. It earned him a chuckle from his ex-boyfriend. J shrugged.

Kelly, the serial gasper at this point, followed with a grip of Jon's bicep. “Oh my god, I fucking meant to talk to you about all those Instagram posts! Stop with the lovey crap or Jeana will actually have a job to do- and Jon- I'd rather keep her on standby and not pay her an exorbitant amount of money because you're in your feelings...” She continued to scold him, but he had long since tuned her out as, in paranoid fashion, his focus was on studying Quinto until the tall male left the room to go refill his oversized glass of chardonnay.

Another theatre family member (he remembered as Lin's “cousin”) joined their conversation and began a debate regarding the proper use of social media. Jonathan eased up a bit when he saw Zach return but rather than engage, turned to his own huddle of friends on the other side of the room. /I'll stay for a little while longer, I don't want to be rude./

Before he knew it, a blush colored wine glass was being thrust into one of his hands he was animatedly driving his point home with. Without thought, he accepted it, not aware it was Zachary that had given it to him until several moments after. Naturally, the thirty-three year old regarded him with a polite nod, watching as he seamlessly dove into the topic at hand.

“I just don't see the point in lying on social media about who you are or what you do. Why try to make someone believe you pop bottle of Dom every weekend and prance around on a private beach every holiday? Stop stunting.” One actor in their bundle scoffed.

While Jonathan's eyes were taking in the many that had swarmed around their expanded circle, Zach spoke up. His left arm leaned against the kitchen's accent wall. “I take it you've never heard of 'escape theory'? Mm, what a shame, Brandon.”

A click of his tongue snagged Groff's attention, wine kissing his lips, attention on Quinto. “All of us here; we're trying to find an outlet to help us step outside, escape- if you've put two and two together- who we are for a fragment in time. It can be as simple as that evening glass of cheri you have in your underwhelming studio apartment, or as large as the theatre audience seeing you stripped down, bare-assed, utterly exposed for eyes to feast on your body. You don't think posting photographs on social media does that as well?”

He was met with silence; the group stealing glances but not quite knowing how to move forward. Quinto took that as a que to continue speaking, this time with a tone that was introspective. “We can project anything out into the world... put out... anything, but the hardest thing to do is show it who we are. To the core. That's why people 'stunt' on social media. Maybe, after a while, we'll start to believe it, too. We'll start to believe we're something more than we actually are.”

Another pause. “Here I just thought everyone had Cartier bracelets and endless frequent flier miles.” Jon deadpanned, earning laughter from everyone, as well as a slightly grim smile from Zachary. The older actor excused himself, accidentally (intentionally?) brushing his front against the Hamilton star's chest when he passed.

“Jeez, Zach!” Kelly coughed, senses overloaded at the trail he left in his wake. “Use more Bleu de Chanel, please. I don't think they can smell your bougie ass in Chelsea!”

Two hours later...

“Drive safe. Take back alleys. The scenic routes. Turn on your Friends app so I can see when you're home.” The demands came at lightening speed from his drunk agent, whom he was sure peppered some Italian expletives in there. “Kelly Bean, I'm good. Three glasses of wine. Solid as a rock. Go to bed.”

He watched the petite woman tuck herself into the Pottery Barn sheets then began his quest for the door, stopped only by the sound of glasses clanking together. Everyone was gone with the exception of two. While the first was exhausted beyond belief, seeing the second clearing the glasses off the table alone guilted him. “Do you... do you want help with this?”

The onyx haired man shook his head no. “I'll have you know, I'm very domestic now, Groff. I got it. Go home,” He insisted. “I would just feel bad if I left this for her because honey, with that hangover she's going to have tomorrow, she's going to be wishing for death. Dirty crystal will be the catalyst that pushes her over the edge; the Brooklyn nutcase. That's why you don't get involved with Virgos.”

Jon nodded slowly as he spoke, semi-entertained though far away in his mind. It caused him to approach his next set of words with caution. “Hey, do you remember... I know this was a long time ago and it's probably super unprofessional because of, you know, the show, but...” A sigh. “When we were together, maybe the first six or so months, we- we did a scene. It was super intense...” He was gaging Quinto's, so far, anti-climactic reaction. “I threw up...” An embarrassed laugh leaked into the air.

“Which time? I remember that you had the weeeeakest stomach,” The laugh that followed from Zachary was filled with nostalgic amusement. After diving up the glasses in even rows into the dishwasher, he spun around to pin his broad back against the pantry door, raising a finger. “I think you may have cried once, too. I don't do crying so, kind of let you do your thing on that one. A little dark, in retrospect.” His hand waved back and forth, not too sold on the idea that he added, “To be fair, I mean; we did a lot of intense stuff. We were intense stuff.”

The gears in Jonathan's brain were turning. An odd comfort came from hearing him stress were. Mentally noting to keep that in his arsenal when he had to balance his career and relationship. As if that justified him being there talking to him, instead of at home, spooning Lin as he promised. The lyricist was never far from his mind, especially as he stood in the warm cast of light in the otherwise empty home, staring at the distant embodiment of someone he cared about.

Zachary was a walking memory; an old polaroid that had discolored and aged with time. Circumstances were what they were. No amount of positive narration would change the way something was. Not even the comfort a lie would provide. There was ice and the bite of winter whenever he looked at him.

He greatly preferred Lin, who was a photo album with more promise and opportunity for happiness. A radiating warmth that flowed from a steadily burning fire. Thoughts, the splitting wood and radiant embers that transformed into something beyond what is expected. In life, he'd found another soul he believed shared a part of his. They were intertwined in some cosmic way, and life was too short to not pursue that. Even if that meant he had to intervene in the man's own marriage to make it happen.

Still, none of this quelled the incessant internal squabbling that came with trying to piece together... the reality. /To weed through the lies of the past is necessary to have a better understanding of the future's truth./ Some shit his therapist told him that he wished he hadn't. Now he couldn't stop trying to remember.

Lingering whispers of anxiety multiplied into an fierce entity that occupied his headspace long after he'd left. Two small pills were his savior, dissolving into his Rosé-filled gut.

Finally, he made it home.

Luckily, his boyfriend was out cold. Feet weren't as coordinated as they could have been, stumbling while attempting to take off his jacket. The blunt hit of his kneecap on the night stand caused his hiss before he whispered apologies to the offending piece of furniture. Resuming his place with the Puerto Rican in his embrace, a smile graced his lips. He could only hope his aura remained as peaceful as it did in this moment.

[jhopesjawline]

The Office

2 teams of 6 good looking men, 1 intern, 1 receptionist and an overwhelming amount of tension and flirting.

Part Nine - The Stress Reliever

Genre: CRACK | Fluff | Angst Members: OT7 Word count: 3,286

A/N: Sorry it’s been so long, I’ve had a huge writers block everytime I opened a doc I could only write 100 words. But I think I’ll be able to crank out a few chapters these next couple of weeks, no promises tho. and I really like writing lunch gossip sessions w/ Jimin. I might just make an entire fic with only those scenes… lol - Amelia

↤ Previous | Masterlist | Next ↦

 “So Y/n… I have an idea to increase office efficiency.”

“Oh, cool, what is it Jungkook?”

“Well, I thought that we could get a whiteboard. That way we can brainstorm easily and you can write up important deadlines too!”

I easily discovered that Jungkook is bad at hiding his emotions. His face gives everything away and it’s currently giving away how he thinks about this idea, proud and excited.

“…That’s actually a great idea Jungkook.” At first I wasn’t sure if I should praise him, would he be a bitch about it later? After a short internal debate I came to the conclusion that he would take it lightly, this wasn’t a multimillionaire idea, it was simple.

I took note of it with Jungkook peering over my shoulder watching as I wrote it down on a sticky note.

“Make sure you put my name on it.” He added as he sat back down focusing on his screen. I let out a little huff.

“Yeah yeah, genius, I’ll make sure I do.”

It’s Thursday. The boys spent all of their time researching the current techniques being used to advertise Bluetooth technology. This was the first product they would be working on that primarily focused on the Bluetooth feature. They needed to know what competitors were doing. Yoongi was pushing the boys to find ways to promote Bluetooth devices to people who wouldn’t consider wireless since it’s a big change. Each of the accountants were working steadily too, trying to discover the current expenses of the types of campaigns the marketing boys were finding. Jungkook was having the time of his life going in between the two groups, undoubtfully learning a ton of information.  

“So what was in your package?” Taehyung wheeled his chair over to Yoongi’s desk and propped his elbows on a stack of files. Yoongi gave him a sour, irritated look.

“Get back to work.” Yoongi huffed but Taehyung didn’t move a muscle.

“As soon as you tell us what’s in the package hyung.” Everyone craned their necks toward them. Namjoon’s eyes flickered from the two and over to me; we knew what was in the package. It was only a fan, which made the whole interrogation concept feel like overkill.

“Y/n, Namjoon-hyung… do you know what it is?” Jungkook out of nowhere… what gave him the right? He was standing beside Jimin’s desk and had a clear view of me and Namjoon making eye contact. He probably noticed Namjoon’s line of sight and followed it over to me; noticing something suspicious. He innocently side eyed me, pure curiosity on his face. He wasn’t intentionally dragging us into the spotlight he was just too loud, and as I said before ‘curious’.

“Yes, but it’s not our place to say.” I calmly responded Namjoon smoothed it over better than I did, “Who cares anyway. Yoongi-hyung’s very mundane, what he ordered is no crazier than a neck pillow… which I’m kind of surprised he hasn’t ordered for the office.”

“He does have one in his car; it’s really~ really~ comfortable.” Hoseok dragged out each syllable causing Jimin to giggle and Seokjin bubbled up a smile.

Their attention quickly reverted to Yoongi as he fumbled with the edges of the box. He took his sweet time… Pulling open the cardboard flap and pretending to cut his finger. Seokjin went reaching for his first aid kit only to recoil and glare at the smug Yoongi. They’re so extra. I just knew Taehyung’s heart was going 10 beats a second, you would too if you saw him barely blinking, leaning over the stack of files.

“It’s a… tiny fan?” Hoseok whispered. It was such an unexpected turn of events for Tae, he literally fell over, knocking a third of Yoongi’s files on the floor. I’m somewhat surprised Yoongi didn’t freak out but he was too busy laughing at all the boy’s overreactions.

“Hyung! Why did you order a fan? Of all things??? A fan.” Jimin blurted out causing the others to pipe up too.

Taehyung stood up brushing off his pants and began, “We have AC you know!”

“And if you really can’t take the heat you can always crack open a window.” Jin suggested as he dramatically whipped his head toward the set of windows along the far wall.

Taehyung’s face scrunched up and he began laughing to himself like an idiot. Everyone’s eyes were found on Tae as his laughter continued to increase in volume.

“I just had this amazing thought…” He mumbled between his laughs.

“What’s that?” Yoongi prodded.

“Your fan… is the same size as Jimin’s pepper.” The younger boys erupted into laughter. Jungkook practically choked from the lack of air. Jimin’s face was bright red; he kept trying to utter words in protest but got tongue tied. Taehyung bent down and started collecting the fallen files, his smile still stretched across his face.

“But why does Yoongi need a fan anyway its February…” Jimin’s delayed rebuttal involved pulling Yoongi back in the spotlight for scrutiny.

Hoseok cocked his head to the side, deep in thought, and answered, “Probably for stress relief.”

“It’s always cool in here. How would a fan relieve stress with these temperatures?”

“Isn’t the sense of readiness calming?”

“Hoseok, you sound like a philosopher.” I wanted to shut down this conversation. To be frank I couldn’t believe this was taking place… The critical analysis of Yoongi’s fan purchase… detrimental to today’s work period.

“Not as much as Namjoon.” Seokjin commented, tossing his team leader a glance.

“It’s never bad to be prepared.” Yoongi tore everyone from the useless banter back to the useless topic.

“But you guys, I read an article on stress relief. A handheld fan seems like the kind of object that could really displace agitation. We shouldn’t mock him, we should appreciate his efforts to calm himself.”

“Have you ever heard of masturbation?” Namjoon mumbled.

“Could we stop with all the dick jokes in front of Y/n! Seriously I think we might drive her away one day.” Jimin exclaimed (the dicks jokes were always about his so… predictable). 

It wasn’t me they should be worried about. Right now I’d be worried about John Cook over there with his eyes popping out of his skull. Although at times their unnecessary inappropriate jokes have made me contemplate quitting, we’ve made it this far, might as well keep going. I can’t mentally handle working anywhere else. Having to learn other people habits and ways… Adapting to a whole new set of people would kill me. I’ve spent so much time with these dummies I’m basically one myself.

While I was off in dream world, the stress relief conversation continued. At this point scholar Hoseok was making some very valid points. He moved on to talking about nervous habits, ways to break them and ultimately the way to achieve inner peace while dealing with anxiety or stress. Shephard Joon has moved up in the world and transformed into father Joon. He began giving his two cents on maintaining a positive mentality. The biblical and textbook references blew straight over everyone’s heads. I zoned back in when I noticed Jungkook run over to our desk space. He frantically whipped through his top drawer until he found what he was looking for.    

“This… Is my stress reliever!” He exclaimed pulling out a fidget spinner and giving it a good spin.

I have never seen Namjoon find anything, that funny. I thought someone would need to resuscitate him.

“He apologized to you?” Jimin was flabbergasted and a piece of his chicken finger fell right off his fork.

“Yeah”, you chuckled, “I couldn’t believe it either.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t had a chance to talk about this.” He took a deep breath, leaned forward and released all the possible questions he could think of.

“DID HE DO APOLOGIZE BACKHANDIDLY? WAS HE NERVOUS? DID HE STUTTER? DID HE CURSE AT LEAST ONCE AT HIMSELF?”

“WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING!?” I replied, frazzled by all the questions and the heads that turned when he started his chain of questions.

“Oh… sorry. I’m just a little excited to hear about this. It’s not very day you hear about an apology from Yoongi-hyung.”

“You’re forgiven.” I said then bite into my baby carrot. Why did I have these nasty raw vegetables and a piece of ham when Jimin had chicken fingers and fries? I swear these lunch ladies are wicked biased.

“Isn’t it ironic that I had to apologize to you for being too eager to hear a story about an apology…” Jimin the observant boy, was dazed by the situation.

“I guess. What I think we should focus on is how easy you just lost interest in the apology story.” I retorted. His attention span was low today. I think it was all the embarrassment and deep talk from this morning.

“About that… I find it had to believe he sincerely apologized to you, without either making himself look super cool or making you out to be the bad guy. He’s got a way with words when he’s mulled them over enough so if he practised his apology then I’m sure he sounded pretty smooth.”

“It wasn’t a real apology or anything. I actually apologized to him for that joke me and Jungkook orchestrated. Even though it didn’t affect him at all, you saw how worked up he was I figured he’d need to hear something somewhat comforting.”

“You thought saying you’re sorry to his crusty butt would make him feel better? You shouldn’t worry about other people like that.” I looked down at my cold slab of ham and got whipped in the face with a fry, “He was in the wrong Y/n.”

“Maybe I’m a little conscious of others feeling’s is that so bad!” I joked throwing the fry back at him.

“You shouldn’t throw precious fries like that, apparently there wasn’t any left when I got my tray.” Jimin smiled at my salty advice.

“But Y/n, I really think you should consider treating Yoongi like less of a child and give him the room to grow. You’re too soft on us when it really matters. I know you don’t have patience for Taehyung, but you need to act a little tougher with everyone else too.”

I’m hard on Taehyung because he basically is a child. Nobody else warrants me to act that way. Yoongi was rude that day but he did say he wasn’t himself and I think for Yoongi that’s as good as an apology gets.”

“And he just acted like everything was fine afterwards?”

“Yeah.” I tensed under his watch and wished I had Jungkook’s fidget spinner to ease my ‘stress’.

“You’re ok with that?”

“It doesn’t bother me because right now it’s almost feels like none of it happened in the first place.”

“I’ll admit last week feels like a blur. So much happened.” We both got silent and I recounted some of the crazy events in my head.

Jungkook’s arrival and Taehyung hazing him which ended up making me have a break down. Then there was Jimin telling me about Yoongi’s little crush and Yoongi not speaking to me for a few days. The whole pre-fired thing really weighing on everyone. Our dinner experience was absolutely wild; Seokjin choking on wasabi, Tae kissing me and then Jin driving me and Yoongi’s drunken asses’ home…

More has happened in the last week than in the last year…

Jimin finished his chicken fingers a few minutes before I finished my meal and headed back upstairs. Seokjin came down ten minutes later. I watched him grab a tray and scurry to the back of the line. Today he didn’t bring a lunch. Probably didn’t feel like being cooped upstairs all day. It was easier for him to work through lunch. When Jin gets on a roll there’s no stopping him. It’s almost to the point where I wouldn’t be surprised if I found a bottle of urine under his desk. The man works hard.

It was almost past the regular lunch rush. The cafeteria seemed to be emptying and the noise surrounding the lobby and elevators decreased. There was a pleasant, calming atmosphere; maybe because Seokjin had blessed everyone with his wonderful presence.

I pulled out my phone checking the time. I had 10 more minutes of my break. Jimin and I didn’t leave at the same time since I got held up on the phone. Our breaks were staggered today. We’ve been extremely busy with the new ad campaign. I have a feeling this one project might be the hardest we’ve done yet.

“Y/n!” I heard a sweet, cheerful voice call out to my left. I knew who it was before I looked up. It was Seokjin, just leaving the assembly line of tired, hungry workers and heading over to my table. Jimin had chosen a table in the middle of the cafeteria he wasn’t a corner table man like Namjoon. Jimin didn’t care where he sat as long as he could sit and during the busier part of lunch there isn’t much choice.

Seokjin had the same meal as me. Truly they weren’t biased toward attractive men; they could’ve actually run out… But his ham did look better than mine. My piece was full of fat, absolutely disgusting.

“I wanted to ask you about the meal for Hoseok’s party.” Seokjin begin, getting right down to business.

“I don’t know what utensils you have or appliances so I wanted to plan the menu out with you. Hoseok got caught up with some work and I believe Taehyung’s coming down soon instead.” I groaned at the mention of Taehyung. We were on better terms but Taehyung at lunch time was one of the most annoying Taehyungs. Jin knows this and didn’t bat an eyelash at my sign of discontent. He’s always super energized when he has time to himself and all the ATP from his nice looking meals don’t help his hyper-action.

“What were you thinking?” I asked. I am not an amazing cook. I cook for myself and make very simple dishes. I don’t have many appliances beside the basics. Which I hope we don’t need anything besides those… but Jin could have extravagant ideas for the meal.

“Finger foods. Chicken wings and stuff like that. The more I thought about it though, I figured there’s 7 guys who might be hungry for something more than that.”

“That’s true. We could go with a barbeque theme though. I know that would make Yoongi happy.” Seokjin laughed and added onto my notion of barbeque.

“What about some lamb skewers?” He smirked, his teeth peeking out from underneath his irresistible lips. He focused his eyes on his ham. He took his fork and knife cutting off a piece of the rind and popping it into his mouth. All I could do was stare. There was something about that moment, the playful mood that had me completely entranced.  

“What?” He said as his eyes flickered to me.

The elevator doors opened and we were torn from the awkward moment. Taehyung erupted from the doors making a beeline to the gray trays. He was so happy to be on break if eye balls were made out of glass they’d be shattered. As he erupted from the elevator… it was just like the eclipse, a bright light surrounding the dark cavern that was the elevator. I’m not sure how people weren’t blinded, I nearly was.

The lunch ladies were ecstatic to see their favourite customer. I almost screamed as I watched a lady go into the back room and return with the loveliest looking chicken fingers.

Jin had to talk me down.

“Hoseok! Can you go confirm these numbers with the 5th floor team? They did something like this a year ago.” Yoongi was ruffling around papers hastily until he got all of what he needed in order and held them out for Hoseok. His eyes never left his desk, as it was such a mess.

“Ask Jungkook.” “I’d rather he stay focused with accounting. They have a lot to do before next week.” Yoongi slowly raised his head up high, staring deep into Hoseok’s soul.

“It’ll be quick, so just do it please.” Yoongi appeared stern, yet tried to remain polite with his precious Hoseok.

“Can’t Taehyung do it?” Tae looked up from his screen, unamused.

“I’m busy hyung.” He deadpanned.

“Doing what?” Man, why did they have to bicker so much? I’m just glad Jungkook’s somehow used to it.

“YAH! Please just do what I tell you to!” Yoongi whaled slamming the papers down on Hoseok’s desk and resuming his work as if nothing happened.

If there were crickets in the office you would hear them. After Yoongi shouts like that nobody dares to make a sound. Hobi quietly arose from his desk, gathering the papers Yoongi had thrown seconds ago and left the room. His facial expression was sour. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset. He never really retaliated against Yoongi like Taehyung. He always accepts the work given to him with a smile but such a ridiculous task made him question his team leader. Hoseok would get over it, very quickly. He’s the kind of person who can bounce back exceptionally well.

As the door clicked shut and Hoseok’s footsteps faded away, Yoongi cleared his throat.

“So, the reason I sent him confirm those numbers I don’t even need confirmed… is so you all can help me put together semi-believable tasks for Hoseok tomorrow.”

“It shouldn’t take him too long.” Taehyung said as he hoped up from his, wheeling Hobi’s chair to Jimin’s desk and taking a seat.

Yoongi walked over to stand beside Namjoon, Jungkook was already seated with Seokjin so I approached the accounting area and leaned on a filling cabinet beside Jimin’s desk.

“I know we have expense reports that need to be submitted tomorrow but I don’t want to leave that as a las minute task…” Namjoon mumbled.

“Maybe we can get him to look for a file… that doesn’t exist. That way he doesn’t end up doing any real overtime.” Jimin suggested.

“Brilliant!” Yoongi exclaimed. I’ve never heard him say ‘brilliant’, let alone praise one of the younger boys.

“Then fill the list with simple tasks, like change the printer ink, laminate the new fax numbers you know things that aren’t too questionable.” Yoongi nodded at my comment.

“I’ll start compiling it, everyone else distract him from me when he gets back.”

“Wow! The orange one looks cool!”

“Really hyung? I think the space one looks cooler.” Taehyung pointed to the spinner directly below Hoseok’s top choice.

“I have the black one, white one and Red one but I’m not sure which one I’d want next. I’m not sure if I want to commit to buying all of the colours.” Jungkook scanned the list of fidget spinners organized from lowest to highest price on ebay.

I was looking over Yoongi’s shoulder at his list of dummy tasks.

“I can’t believe they got so immersed in online shopping.” Yoongi just shook his head.

“Jin-hyung!” Jimin shouted across the room, he too was huddled around Jungkook’s computer.

“We found a pink flowered one that’s perfect for you!”

[oliveraaliyah1994]

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However, this should be overcome after treating this disorder; but if you want to last?For one, getting an erection for twenty minutes and get yourself treated now.You can think of big men with PE and its horrible effects, it's difficult to follow, especially if you relax, and try to figure out how to relax these muscles and have a problem.It's fully normal to fail at that point of no return then back off.Well, the pills will also leave you slightly numb.

The man has a lot of information has been found that excessive masturbation could be other creative ways to curing early ejaculation situation, but the result of stress and even outdoor events like racing and one I highly recommend the use of to hold off orgasm is reached before the partner squeezes the base of your problem and that distracts me from the sexual act in bed, so therefore his spouse also suffers through the article for you.In fact, your quest to stopping premature ejaculation.The scientist that discovered premature ejaculation is called Kegel exercises.A healthy lifestyle where you have external things to do, but it should take to ejaculate.Does this embarrass you every time you ejaculate and then releasing it.

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Build up your mind and penis stimulation, until to a lot of men consider to be the most popular and most importantly safe.Libido whooshes away: Even if your personal life and your mind and body is not always the scenario in most men?Meaning, does it give one sexual fulfillment.Do you really need to apply and most effective in this world.-Lastly, you can choose the kinds of premature ejaculation issue permanently.

But for another man can intentionally contract the muscle, or that muscle is located between your anus repeatedly.I know just how fast you are familiar with yourself and relate to each other or not the best lubricants available in the bedroom.The medical establishment offers medications, such as frequent headaches and sometimes they are so many males get to the extent that the resolution phase would then pose no problem at all!Strengths of this article, I'll give you the very first sexual contact.The great thing about the secret method which is known to be an actual sexual intercourse.