#but im realising now that was a stupid decision and i hate that i made it i hate tgat i had the chance to back out and didnt

[hearties-circus]

I kinda feel like I've just hard erased any happiness or elation I had from being done with school all just so I wouldnt get asked a stupid question anymore I hate this I hate this

[nyxi-pixie]

BUCKLE UP BASTARDS THE CLOWN CAR IS IN GO MODE

ok i KNOW im reaching here dont tell me but

is it too out of line to say that will looking to mike for how to deal w snowball girl lowkey parallels mike looking to will for how to deal with el😭😭😭

like (sorry in advance for shit gifs i made them in like 5 mins flat okay)

oh dear a crisis! how should we respond to this woman???? we dont know😟😟

ah a masterplan has formed i shall take advice from my best bropal!!

that worked so well i will now follow said advice only bc they gave it to me while they look sadly on bc theyve just fucked over their own chances in the name of doing what they think is best for me (and/or others)😁😁😁

and obviously these scenarios vary A FUCK TON in how serious they are. like obviously els like straight up passing away so thats yk a lil more high stakes. but like reaction wise???

thats. they. they just naturally respond to each others 'wtf do i do' moments by reassuring each other. which is so🥰 i love them theyre so attuned to each other

BUT ALSO they react by encouraging each other to pursue straight relationships. bc when it comes to their feelings for each other theyre both fucking stupid but also very self sacrificial. obviously we see this more with will. bc like. ofc we do that boy fr hates himself like

this man is fully ready to throw out every chance possible w mike to keep the milkvan on the road. (hes literally their mechanic. like without him it wld have fully exploded and all the mouldy milk wouldve just gone all over the road and probably really screwed up the local ecosystem. ok the van analogy is going too far im so sorry back on topic.) and i think this Is definitely motivated by a care for mike and a genuine want for him to be happy (no matter who he finds that happiness with) But i think its also important to realise that mike isnt the only one with internalised homophobia.

wills insistence on mike loving el despite the fact that mike has implied otherwise to wills face several times kinda shows that wills mindset on this is partially based in the whole "he Needs to stay in his safe straight relationship bc otherwise i would have a chance (in that mike wouldnt be restrained by having a gf and thus wld be able to date other people) and that would just be so terrible and awful"

and we literally see him do this. mike is going to this man basically being like 'omg our relationship is so broken i dont think we can come back from this fight Will!! u Definitely shldnt tell me to break up w her or anything that would be so crazyyy😁😁(PLS TELL ME TO BREAK UP W HER PLS I DONT LOVE HER)' and wills just like "🙃😁yeah um u can tell her u love her when we see her again😁😁😥😥😥😥😥😥"

like i know we joke abt will being the reason melvin are together. but. he literally is. bc mike honestly seems (n maybe this is just my insane delulu interpretation) like he wants to break up w her and was looking for support on that decision from will. and els on her slay arc which is why she doesnt give a singular shit abt mikes cringe monologue. will fr the only one invested in microdickvan because hes Intentionally Sabotaging his chances w mike.

which brings me to the actual fucking parallel bc MIKE DOES THE SAME FUCKING THING AT THE SNOWBALL. he pushes will into accepting a dance w a girl bc then he doesnt have to keep thinking abt how He wants to dance w will. (and we know he does bc he and dustin are sat there with Identical 'my crush is dancing w someone else😥' faces. so like. rip to mike but his very intelligent foolproof plan of not thinking abt dancing w will absolutely flopped)

anyway both of them have the exact same 'if i push bestie into relationships w women then i will magically resolve my gay feelings and not have to confront them' mindset. i think people forget that will Does sabotage himself a lot just bc we always talk abt mikes internalised issues. like will canonically thinks of himself as a mistake and thinks he deserves to get treated like shit🙃🙃🙃

anyway this kind of makes the whole shit writing point of making will the 'sad gay boy pushing for the love of his life to have a happy straight relationship' make sense in a way that isnt totally awful. the diffused shitbags could never.

[harmonykou]

will you ever love me~ vegaspete

Part 1

Pete's pov

I was standing in front of minor family's mansion regreting my decision to agree with khun korn, to accompany khun vegas as his personal guard " why did I even agree to this " i let out a sigh. A little angry with my ownself, thinking how khun korn just threw me in this hell hole. I was lost in my thoughts when suddenly someone touched my shoulder making me jump a little. I looked over my shoulder to see it was no other than khun vegas, looking at me with a confused face. Seeing him this close to my face was a blessing and a punishment at the same time as he was handsome but no less than devil himself i was lost in my thoughts once again when out of nowhere he spoke " what is main family's most trusted dog doing here" he said it with so much hate and disgust that it broke my heart i nervously replied " i- im here on khun korn's orders khun vegas he send me here as your personal guard sir and your father already agreed to it " he looked so angry after hearing it that i wanted to run away and hide somewhere but what can a poor guard like me do yet still before I could even do anything vegas storm off inside the mansion. I entered the mansion right after him, looking around nervously when some guard came up to me and showed me my room as everyone was already informed of my arrival other than khun vegas

Vegas's pov

I just came home when i saw main family's most trusted dog standing outside our mansion i was really confused to see him here with his luggages as i walk up to him he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even noticed my presence so to get his attention i touched his shoulder which made him jump a little he turned around and started staring at me it was clear his mind was somewhere else. i questioned him about his arrival which made him really nervous. I looked at him angrily as he was not answering me after collecting his thoughts he finally spoke up and told me about the reason for his arrival and father's agreement on the situation which made me really angry i run to father's study to talk about this matter leaving the stupid guard behind. In a matter of seconds i was in front of father's study. I knocked once to which he responded with a "come in" i entered the office and he was on his usual spot ,on his chair i didn't beat around the bush and directly asked him " father why did you agreed to make that stupid smiley my personal guard without even asking me what if he steal information from us" it came out more harshly then i intended it to be and before i could even realising it father immediately stood up from his seat and the next thing i know is, im on the floor getting yelled " YOU DARE QUESTION MY DECISION ,LISTEN CAREFULLY BOY YOU DO AS I SAY NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND SO WATCH THAT TONGUE" my cheek was hurting really bad still i just bear it. I stood up again "im sorry dad" i bitterly said looking down at the floor, my fist clenching "as you should be now listen to me,i agreed to have him here so you can get him on our side he's one of the most important guards who know all of main family's inner information, you better befriend him so it's easier for us to attack main family he know all the secret passages to enter the mansion and he's a good fighter so you must not fail me in this, stupid faggot" father said in a really pissed tone "i get it father i won't disappointed you" i said in a cold robotic voice, my head still hanging low " you better not, now get out" father roared

Author's pov

Vegas walked out of his father's study " i should find that lowly guard now" vegas said annoyed with the situation. he walked toward the servants quarters and asked a guard about pete's whereabout, the voices in his head was getting louder " why don't you kill yourself it's pathetic anyway getting beaten up like a dog everyday you don't deserve to live anyways, you're a burden on everyone, everyone wants you dead no one loves you " the voices never stopped after finding pete's room vegas stopped and took a deep breath then knocked on the door without waiting for an answer vages entered pete's room. Pete gave vegas a questioning look before bowing " khun vegas if you needed something you should have called me" pete said respectfully. Making vegas become more annoyed " stop acting like main family's guards actually respect us, anyways you are not staying here, as my personal guard you'll be staying with me 24/7 so pack up your stuff you'll stay in my room " pete turned pale hearing these words " khun vegas how can i stay in your room im just a mere guard" pete said. Vegas looked at pete annoyed and said" stop asking questions and pack your stuff " he sat down on a chair then started again " as my guard you should learn to not talk back to me fast it will be better for you" pete only nodded and started packing his stuff. As Pete didn't get the chance to unpack so it was easy for him to collect all his belongings and in a few seconds pete was out of his room following vegas like a lost puppy. Pete was not paying attention when vegas stopped in front of his room. The lack of attention caused pete to bump in vegas " Are you blind? Or is this another way to show disrespect toward me by not paying attention? " vegas said turning around with anger evident on his face. pete didn't knew what to say " i- im sorry khun vegas i- i- i never meant to disrespect you please forgive me I'll be more careful from now on" pete was bowing non-stop asking for forgiveness but vegas didn't replied he just truned around and opened the door. entering the room with pete following him inside " you'll stay here with me in my room incase i need you and no need to be so scared we can be friends in the time we'll spend together" vegas said forcing a smile on his faces remembering what his father said about getting information from pete.

" you can make yourself comfortable here I'll be back soon " vegas was about to leave after this but pete stopped him " k-khun vegas your cheek is bruised. Do you want me to put some medicines on it " pete didn't realise that without even noticing he triggered vegas in a matter of seconds vegas's hand was around pete's neck squeezing it really hard " k-khun pl-please let me go" pete cried vegas let go of pete's neck and slap him hard across the face making pete fall on the other side of the room" DO NOT AND I REPEAT DO NOT EVER ASK ME ABOUT THINGS THAT DO NOT CONCERNS YOU , YOU SHOULD KNOW YOUR PLACE " leaving pete on the floor with a bruised face

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It's my first time writing a story hope you all enjoy it and english is not my first language so please bear with me

Love u all❤️❤️❤️

[willsimpforanyone]

heyy can i request a leo valdez x son of nike!reader headcanons or fic i don’t mind!!

ooo leo x male!reader i love it also welcome to 6:30 im documenting my lack of sleep for some reason we can blame the lack of sleep

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you came second in a mechanics competition

none of the hephaestus kids were allowed to partake because obviously not

so five of them were picked to be the judges

leo valdez was the deciding vote between you and the person who came first

with the fury that came with being a nike kid you instantly hated leo

being second best wasn't good enough and he was the cause of that

so for the next few weeks your piercing glare was almost everywhere he went

until he finally decided to confront you

'yo, laser eyes, what did i do?'

you bitterly explain that you didn't get first place because he was the one that made the wrong decision

leo is confused as fuck

'and you've been mad about it... for like three weeks??'

you sigh, feeling a little silly

'well when you put it like that it sounds kinda stupid'

leo throws his head back and laughs

you ignore that it sounds musical and warm

'dude, it's one contest!'

you explain that nike kids are naturally hella competitive and hate coming second in anything

he still doesn't quite understand, but asks you very nicely to stop giving him evils

'it gives me the heebie-jeebies man, you gotta knock it off'

rolling your eyes you agree

slightly disappointed that you no longer have an excuse to stare at him because over the last few weeks you've been able to absorb his cuteness as much as you wanted

gonna have to find another excuse now

before you can really think about it, you laugh at a stupid pun joke that leo comes up with

but quickly clam up when you realise his shocked face

'what the fuck are you staring at'

he blinks

'you're, like, really cute when you laugh'

there's like a minute of slightly awkward silence before you both turn and walk away without saying a word

now normally this would be fine and you'd walk away unscathed

but just your luck that two of your siblings were within earshot

they bombard you with questions, each trying to outdo each other with teasing you

'both of you shut up! i don't like him!'

yeah that doesn't work

rather they tell the whole cabin

and it isn't long before someone issues a challenge

they bet you can't kiss leo valdez by the end of the week

that gives you five days

and unfortunately for you

a nike kid never backs down from a challenge

reluctantly you agree

the next few days consist of you making tactical, calulated approaches to get closer to leo

but as the week draws to a close, you worry you haven't got nearly close enough to find a natural point to kiss him

conversations haven't gone past generic 'how ya doin' talk

but you are not about to lose this challenge

the day the challenge is supposed to end at midnight, you grab leo and drag him into the forest

he's confused as fuck

it's awkward to explain to him the challenge

you figure it's not cheating because no one ever said you couldn't tell him about it

it takes a minute for him to say anything and you get more and more nervous

'okay dude you're kinda freaking me out, either say something or leave'

leo swallows

'um, you... do you want to kiss me or do you just want to win the challenge?'

you roll your eyes

'well, obviously i wanna win'

your heart clenches as leo's face falls and you make a decision

you were gonna be honest

'but, uh, yeah, i also kinda really wanna kiss you'

it's so quiet you worry leo hasn't heard it

with your eyes fixed on the ground you don't notice leo coming closer until his hands settle on your face and he tilts your head up

'so, adidas-'

you whine at the stupid reference but smile nonetheless

'-are you gonna kiss me or what?'

that's all you need

leo's lips are slightly dry but they're warm and you pull him closer by his suspenders

it's cliched but there are butterflies in your stomach and your heart is on fire and this feels like the greatest win you've ever had

you break away and gulp in air, chests heaving

you flinch as loud cheering surrounds you, and suddenly you're on your siblings' shoulders, getting punches of congratulations on your arms

leo is laughing his head off at your bright red face

not to worry

you'll get your revenge on him later

already your mind comes up with plans to kiss him silly

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okay i kinda love this i hope you did to!

[wizkiddx]

supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

[blu-joons]

The Confession ~ Im Changkyun

His head shook in a moment of disbelief as Hyunwoo opened the door to their dressing room for you to walk in. The rest of the room quickly cleared as you caught your first sight of Changkyun after almost two months apart as a result of his tour.

Open arms greeted you, pulling you into a tight hug. The feeling of missing you never went away, no matter how many times he went abroad. You were his best friend, and no distance or time could ever make things easier when it came to being away from you.

After a few moments, his hand held onto yours, pulling you down onto one of the two large sofas that filled the dressing room for the boys to relax on.

“You guys look like you’re doing so well,” you smiled, looking around at all of the items around the room. “I never imagined that I’d get the chance to come all the way to America to see you perform.”

“Neither did I,” he mused, still struggling to believe for himself where his career had taken him. “It still feels like yesterday the two of us were trying to come up with something to do for that stupid talent show at school.”

Your eyes rolled at the memory, “I still can’t believe you thought you’d be the best one to lead.”

The two of you had always had a competitive friendship, you loved being better than the other and having bragging rights. It was one of the many things that Changkyun loved about you. As much as he adored his fellow members, none of them ever quite managed to fill the void that you left in his life when he went away, no one ever even came close.

“Kihyun said something about a meet and greet later tonight, but if you’re free for an hour or two, maybe we could go and explore?” You suggested, glancing out of the window that offered a beautiful view of the city.

“I don’t really fancy going out, I’d much rather stay here,” he hummed, staring down at the carpet. Straight away, you could tell by the expression on his face that he’d made the decision to stay at the arena because of what was awaiting outside.

“You can’t still be living your life out of fear of a camera taking a picture of you,” you sighed, rolling your eyes at him. Despite being such a huge star, Changkyun hated the publicity that came with it and the constant feeling of being followed.

Every time the two of you were together, you tried to encourage him to stop being so fearful. You’d spotted the cameras outside the arena, but you chose to ignore them, as you always hoped Changkyun would do, but he was yet to break that barrier down.

“Is it me?” You then asked him, “are you afraid of someone taking a picture of the two of us together? Surely your fans know who I am by now, nothing bad could happen from that.”

His head shook, biting down on his bottom lip as he noticed you beginning to get agitated beside him. Changkyun’s silence only frustrated you more, but if you weren’t going to get an answer from him, there were five others who would happily give you the answer that you wanted.

You gave Changkyun a few moments to speak and try and explain what was going on, but he chose to remain quiet. The words came to him, but each time he tried to speak, he failed, leaving you no choice but to stand up from the sofa and step towards the door.

“Where are you going?” He asked, finally bringing his eyes up to look across at you.

“I told you that I wanted to go and explore, so if you don’t want to, maybe I’ll do it myself.”

“I don’t want you to leave me when you’ve only just got here, just please, stay here with me, I’ve missed having you around Y/N.”

The pain was clear in both his tone of voice and his eyes as you reluctantly sat yourself back down on the sofa beside him. All you wanted to do was spend time with Changkyun, and yet he seemed to show little enthusiasm to do the same with you.

“I just want to keep you to myself for a while, I don’t want anyone else in the world to look at you.”

Your brows knitted together in response to his words, “since when did you become this protective of me, is that really what this is about?”

Changkyun had always kept you close to his side from when you were young, but even this was out of character for him. Each tour often gave him time to think and reflect, but you were clueless as to just how much time this tour had given him.

“Answer my question,” you requested as Changkyun fell silent once again, “why can’t you tell me what’s really going on here? Or do you just want me to go?”

“Of course, I don’t want you to go,” he snapped, brushing his hands through his hair, “if I had it my way, you’d stay forever, because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I can’t stop thinking about how much each time I go away I fall more and more in love with you Y/N.”

Your eyes widened as a heavy sigh came from Changkyun as he realised exactly what he’d said. “Do you really mean that?” Your questioned, leaning forwards so that your eyes could meet his. “How many tours? How many months, years, have you kept that from me?”

His shoulders shrugged back at you, “too many years that I’d care to admit. I thought with each tour it would get easier to be without you, but if anything, it just makes my heart hurt so much more.”

“Then why didn’t you let me take care of your heart?” You whispered, resting your hand against his leg, “do you not realise how hard it is for me to be without you too? That’s why I’m here because I couldn’t bare to be in Seoul without you anymore.”

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up into a warming smile as he moved closer towards you against the sofa, moving his arm around so that it wrapped around your shoulders. It was a way that the two of you had sat in several times before as friends, but this time, it felt so much different for you both.

“My biggest fear is one day coming home from a tour and knowing that someone would have your heart before I did. I don’t want to go outside with you because I’m scared some guy will say hello and end up stealing you from me,” he admitted.

“No guy would ever be able to take the place of you Kyun,” you giggled, resting your head down to his shoulder, “you’re my best friend, forever, but a small part of me too has wondered about the future, just like I think a small part of you has too.”

“A huge part of me has thought about the future, and each time, I only ever see you in it.”

His words brought a rosy shade to your cheeks as his grip around you tightened once again. “Please don’t ever bottle your feelings up from me again Changkyun, I want to know how you feel, especially when you feel as you do right now.”

His head nodded, pressing his lips into your hairline several times. A shiver ran down your spine at his touch, bringing a wide smile to your face too.

“I’m glad you’re here to see me on tour,” he whispered down to you.

“I bet it’s nowhere near as glad as I am to be back with you.”

---

Masterlist

[shiftysdogtags]

@liebgotttme I really hope you like this. I went with Lieb because i love him and this is what came to mind. Im not 100% happy with it so any feedback is appreciated. Not my gif.

Promised Proposals

Y/N’s crush on Lieb came out of nowhere. One day she felt nothing but admiration and friendship and the next the way she looked at him changed. While it wasn’t a big deal, she felt different and it scared her. Jumping out of planes into enemy territory was one type of scary but trying to admit that she was falling for him was a completely different thing.

Admiring him and the concentrated look that was painted into his handsome face she couldn’t help but

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Babe snapped her out of her daydream, swapping the darts in his hand for the drink in hers taking a mouthful. They played against Shifty and Liebgott and if the score was anything to go by Y/N and Babe were by far the better team.

Every so often Lieb would try to encourage Y/N with words of confidence that could double as borderline flirting. A couple of times she has caught Babe side eying her after one of Lieb’s suggestive comments knowing full well she was dying on the inside. Trying to brush them off as being supportive yet an attempt to distract her and close the gap on his and Shifty’s losing streak, she couldn’t ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.

“Remember Y/N,” Lieb placed both hands on her shoulders while standing behind her. He was so close to her, closer than he had ever been before, meaning she could feel his breath on the side of her face as he leaned against her as he whispered into her ear. She couldn’t hear what he said next, trying to focus her attention on the game and not on her wandering thoughts. It’s almost as if he knew what he was doing, trying to take full advantage of the situation she found herself in just so he could win a stupid game of darts.

But she couldn't let him win. She believed if she won the game she would somehow have succeeded in hiding her true feelings too. Her denial was so deep she tried to hide it by encouraging him to flirt with the waitress who had been eyeing him all night.

“If you spent half as much time,” Y/N stopped herself mid-sentence throwing the first dart towards to board. “focusing on yourself as you do me, you would’ve noticed that dame eye-fucking you by now.”

Lieb looked over at the girl, a large smirk crossing his face. The game ended as soon as Lieb skipped off in the waitress direction. He had obviously decided he was better off giving her his attention as Y/N had pointed out.

Y/N took pride in being right, going out of her way to prove a point. The irony of it all was Joe hated that she was right and always wanted to prove her wrong but in this single act he did the complete opposite of that. This time, however, she hated that she was right. She never thought she would want to be so wrong in her life.

For the next few hours, it seemed the girl had abandoned her job, focusing all her energy on the attention Joe was giving her. By all views, she seemed to be enjoying it, she laughed along with him and leaned into him when he tried to wrap his arm around her shoulder.

It bothered her it really did. All strength of her denial was washed further and further away with each roll of her eyes at the squeaky laugh that came from the waitress.

Babe nudged her, trying to distract her. He knew her feelings for Lieb although she never told him. “It can’t get any worse.”

“Do you want a bet?” Babe glanced over to where Y/N pointed to see Lieb down on one knee in front of the prettiest waitress in the bar. He wasn’t the first guy to as her to marry him, she had rejected all of them just as she appeared to be rejecting him too.

Judging by the state of Joe, he was extremely drunk and was in no state to be making life-altering decisions. If she had said yes, who knows how he would react in the morning at the realisation of what he had done.

“He won’t remember any of this in the morning.” Shifty laughed at his friend while sipping his drink. He found it all too amusing. The thought of Lieb proposing alone was humorous but the thought of him trying to be romantic and get on one knew was downright hilarious. It’s not something anyone would expect of him.

“He might not, but I will.” The sight unfolding in front of her made Y/N laugh. He couldn’t look more idiotic if he tried. “And I won’t have any problem in reminding him.”

While it didn’t bother her in the slightest, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a slight bit jealous. It wasn’t premeditated, Y/N knew that Joe hadn’t set out to ask the poor waitress to marry him. He didn’t even know her.

When Joe stood up, finally accepting defeat and rejection, Y/N expected him to be some form of heartbroken. Instead, he wore the rejection as a badge of honour. With one hand over his heart and pretending to wipe a tear away he overplayed his mock hurt, obviously finding the situation humorous.

On his way back to his friends, he high-fived a few of the guys but his eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Did you see that, Y/N?”

“Yes, Joseph, I saw all of it,” Y/N replied. Joe’s face fell a little at her tone of voice, a hint of disappointment mixed with indifference.

Drunk Lieb, when he was in the right humour, was the most entertaining thing Y/N had ever seen. He never failed to make her laugh. Whatever little self-restraint he had left was washed away with each mouthful of alcohol leaving room for bad ideas and good times.

Reaching behind Lieb to get her coat, and for his arm to pull him up, she leaned towards him “I think it’s time for you to get home.”

“I only did it because you told me to.”

“I never told you to ask her to become the future Mrs Liebgott.”

Lieb groaned grabbing the last of his drink from the table. He didn’t need anymore but he was too far gone that one more mouthful wouldn’t make too much of a difference. Before Y/N could snatch the glass from his grip Joe knocked it back against his lips meeting her unimpressed look with a shit-eating grin. He planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek causing him to wobble again. The force of it alone shocked Y/N, and before she knew what to Babe had pushed her and Joe towards the door, helping her get out of there before anyone had a chance to say anything.

Did she ask him what he was doing? Why did he do that? Before Y/N had a chance to form a sentence to try to get her thoughts straight, Joe took advantage of her silence. “I didn’t like her anyway. You’re much prettier than her.”

His comment threw her thoughts into another spin. For once in her life, she was left speechless. Any other time Joe has thrown something at her, she was well prepared to return something his way.

“My Ma will love you.” He hiccuped continuing his ramblings while stumbling on loose ground. “Promise me you’ll come to see her after the war.”

After the war, Y/N thought. Would she still be here? Would Joe? It seemed like a lifetime away and she dared not to think about it. The last thing on Y/N’s mind was the end of the war and meeting Joe Liebgott’s mother was nowhere on her radar. Her only concern was getting him home safe and tucked into bed. “Yeah, sure.”

“No,” He wined and stopped walking. The last person she expected to have a temper tantrum was joe yet he stood in front of her like a child who wasn't getting his way. “You have to promise me.”

“Lieb, Alright. I promise.” With a roll of her eyes, she begged him to keep moving by linking her arm around his. The cold was starting to send shivers down her back despite having Joe so close to her. A content smile as wide as a Cheshire Cat crossed his face and he continues to lean against her as he stumbled closer to the bed that was calling his name.

Truthfully, she would have promised him anything and everything no matter what he asked her. Joe was a very convincing guy when he needed to be and it was only fuelled by the little crush she had for him.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” A gasp caught in her throat. It was the last thing Y/N expected. She never expected Joe to be the type to go around throwing out proposals to anyone who crossed his path. “I know I asked that other girl, but I don’t like her. I like you.”

She scoffed and it was her turn to stop walking with arms crossed against her chest. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“No.” The whine that escaped his throat was sure to wake the whole town up. Trying to make him stop and be quiet was useless. Trying to reason with Lieb on a good day was a losing battle.

With a hand firmly clasped over his mouth hoping it would somehow muffle his purring. “I’ll tell you what, if you remember this tomorrow I’ll give you my answer then.”

Joe fiercely nodded against her hand, apparently happy with her answer.

Taking her hand away from his face, she turned the handle to open the door of the house he was billeted in. “I mean, I don’t have a ring or nothin’-“

Y/N pushed him inside interrupting whatever he was going to say next. Of course, he had to say something to ruin the moment.

“Shut up, Liebgott.” She replied with a roll of her eyes and shutting it behind her before he could say anything else.

Her accommodation wasn’t too far away and she couldn’t wait to go to sleep and start tomorrow off fresh.

Surely he wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, would he?

@curraheewestandalone @liebegott @vintagelavenderskies @inglourious-imagines @happyveday @easy-company-tradition @sydney-m @josephtoye @50svibes

[hercleverboy]

the right moment

spencer reid x reader 

summary ↠ for months, spencer has waited for the right time to propose to the reader. before he gets the chance, he gets in trouble in mexico.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ prison reid arc,

word count ↠ 2.4k

“but if I sit in the rain, maybe I can drown in something other than my thoughts.” — j.w

For 8 months now, Spencer had been carrying the little velvet red box in his pocket. It was near enough always with him, almost weighing him down. For 8 months he had waited for the so called ‘right’ moment to propose to his long term girlfriend. Y/N was none the wiser, not even realising her boyfriend was even considering proposing, let alone had carried the ring around in every pair of bottoms he wore. 

Before meeting and falling in love with Y/N, Spencer thought all this talk about there being a ‘right’ moment to propose was silly. Wasn’t it just as easy as getting down on one knee and asking? 

Spencer liked to remind himself he once thought that way. How wrong he was. He couldn’t have guessed just how damn nervous he would get. Palms sweaty and breaths heavy, he was just so fucking nervous and he couldn’t figure out why. A big genius brain and he couldn’t  pull it together long enough to ask the woman he loved to marry him. The ‘right’ moment never seemed to come. Sometimes he looked at her, looking so beautiful in whatever dress she’d worn to date night and he thought, “Okay, this is it, I’m gonna do it” but his nerves got in the way and when he could finally breathe normally, the moment was gone.

As if he didn’t feel like enough of a coward, the relentless teasing from the team didn’t help. 

He’d walk in to the bullpen in the morning and be immediatley bombarded with questions. 

Garcia would be first, nearly choking on her morning coffee in excitment as he walked in. “Dr Reid!” She exclaimed, making Spencer wince and prepare himself. “As you know, I got lunch the other day with your gorgeous girlfriend, and couldn’t help but notice there’s still no ring on her finger.” She questioned. 

Spencer had simply chuckled, shaking his head. “Im working on it, Garcia.  I promise.” He hoped that his response had satisfied the team enough to leave him alone, but no. Derek emerged from the meeting room, a shit-eating grin on is face. 

“Hey there, pretty boy. You made that stunning lady your fiancee yet?” 

Spencer just shook his head and huffed. 

“You do plan on proposing sometime this decade, right Reid?” He teased, as JJ came up behind him. 

“You’ve still not done it? Come on, Spence!” JJ laughed. “Y/N will say yes, I’ve told you a hundred times!” She was the one Spencer had asked to go with him to chose the ring all those months ago. “That ring is too beautiful to sit in a box forever, so get on with it!” 

Whilst he pretty much always carried the ring with him, the only exception was in the field. It was much too precious to lose while chasing an unsub. Although as soon as they were on the jet on the way home, he would fumble with the box in his hands as he stared out the window. The team would share a look. As much as they teased him, they were really just trying to persuade him to do it. Though, they could clearly see how nervous the young doctor really was. It was sweet, as much as it was silly. Spencer feared rejection, but the team all knew Y/N well enough to know that she wouldn’t waste a second saying yes when he asked. 

He planned to make it a big moment, a fancy dinner, ending with them back at their apartment, with rose petals scattering the bed, the room lit with candles. But if it wasn’t his stupid nerves getting in the way, it was his work. 

First it was him nearly dying at the hands of Cat Adams. That night, he just felt lucky to be able to go home to Y/N, who was waiting with her arms open for him to crash into. Then it was Morgan leaving the team to be there for his son, which Spencer wholeheartedly understood. He knew that if him and Y/N had a baby, he’d definitley consider making the same decision. But again, after effectively losing his best friend, Reid figured it wasn’t the time for a proposal. 

Finally, the time came where he finally thought he’s was going to do it. He set a date, making preparations a week in advance. He ordered a dozen red roses and vanilla scented candles for the occassion, he planned their entire evening to a T. It would be perfect. Nothing could go wrong. 

but then everything did.

His mother was only getting worse, and he decided to make one last trip to Mexico before he proposed. Y/N knew where he was going, and whilst she understood it was for his mother, she couldn’t help but worry. He’d soothed her worries with a kiss to the forehead, promising he’d be back in a few days. 

Next thing he knew, he was being held in Mexico on murder and drug charges. Emily was there and he could see how hard she was trying to help, the rest of the team were aswell, but Spencer was clueless as to how he got there, missing periods of time from his memory. He was appreciative of the teams attempts to help but he knew how these things went. 

As he stared at the greying walls of the holding cell, he couldn’t help but regret not proposing when he had the chance. Now he might never get one. 

She was there to meet him when Emily managed to bring him back to Quantico, tears rolling down her cheeks as she hugged him tightly. He hated how the cuffs over his hands prevented him from holding her. He tried to soothe her, and Emily promised that everything would be okay. All he could think about was the little red box sat in his bedside table drawer at home.

He didn’t get to see her again until they were at the courthouse and he was denied bail. He watched how her face fell and the tears spilled as he was dragged away. He called out to her. “I love you so much.” and then he was gone.

He let her visit him in prison. At first he thought it might be selfish, he didn’t really want the men in there looking at her. But he needed to see her, she was the only thing holding him together, keeping him from completely giving up and falling apart. 

His eyes connected to hers through the glass that separated them as she took a seat, offering a smile that she hoped would reassure him she was okay.

“Hi.”

“Hey, baby.” He murmured, and his arms ached to hold her in any way, to even just graze his thumb over her fingers.

“I miss you.” She whimpered, and he could see how strong she was trying to be for him. He thought she was so incredibly strong. He knew he’d break down if the shoe was on the other foot.

“I miss you too sweetheart.” He said it as a promise. A promise he would get out. When he sat in his cell at night, he promised to himself every night for three months, that should he ever make it out he would waste no time getting down on one knee.

When he was finally free, she waited anxiously outside the prison, Garcia holding her hand comfortingly. He walked through the gates and it was mere seconds before she was running to him, throwing her arms around him. He’d held her so tightly, the light of his life, the first light he’d seen or felt in 3 months.  When they pulled apart he’d kissed her lips, just a peck that was over just as it started, but it was enough for the moment. 

“I love you,” He whispered, again and again like a mantra for only her to hear.

He wished they had more time, more time to be together and love one another, but right now they had bigger problems. Later he would kiss her for hours and hold her to his hearts content, but his mind was plagued with worry for his mother, his only focus was making sure she was safe. Spencer didn’t stop touching Y/N the whole ride to the BAU building, always touching her in some way. He’d been so starved of touch in that prison and being able to hold her was something he would never take for granted again. His arm was around her shoulders and he held her hand as they rode in the back of the SUV. She tried desperately to calm him, as she could see how panicky he was getting at the thought of losing his mother. She just kissed his hand reassuringly, and he was thankful for the gesture, kissing her forehead in return.

After they saved Diana and won Cat Adams little game, Spencer finally felt at home when he stepped through the front door of their home, Y/N by his side. It was late, but he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to just be with her. He insisted they lay together in bed, and she told him everything he missed in prison that she couldn’t talk about during her visits. He just wanted to listen to her talk, to engrain the sound of her voice into his brain and hope he never had to go without it ever again. They laid there, her head on his shoulder and his arms around her as she rambled about nothing in particular. He didn’t pay much attention, instead watching her face. He reacquainted himself with the features he’d missed, the blush of her cheeks and the curve of her Cupid’s bow, her beautiful eyes and perfect smile. Spencer was convinced he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life and before he could even think about it-

“Marry me.” 

 Y/N had stopped rambling mid-sentence, shock covering her face. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide.

“W-what?” She asked, her voice a tiny whisper. 

He smiled, moving himself from underneath her. He turned to the side, and began rummaging around his bedside drawer.

She sat up, hands coming up to cover her mouth when she saw him. Spencer was on the floor beside the bed on one knee, red velvet box open in hand, showcasing the most beautiful diamond ring Y/N had ever seen. 

“Y/N. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time now. I’ve been sure I wanted to marry you for a long time as well, ask the team, they’ll tell you I’ve carried this ring with me every day for nearly a year, waiting for the right moment.” He chuckled to himself. How stupid of him was that? “If prison taught me anything, it’s that time is so precious. In that cell I replayed every moment with you, every time I wish I’d got down on one knee and asked you then instead of waiting.  I was so scared I would never get the chance. Which is why now that I have it, I’m taking it.” He finished, and tears were beginning to well in his own eyes. 

“So, Y/N Y/L/N, Will you marry me?”

 “Yes.” She whispered, nodding frantically, and only once he’d slipped the ring on her finger did he realise he’d been holding his breath. He stood up as she moved to the edge of the bed to hug him. Her arms went around his neck and he held her securely at her waist. He lifted her from the bed, spinning her as they laughed. He noted that this was the most happiness he’d felt in months now. They pulled back as he set her down and she had tears running down her cheeks but he knew they were happy because of the smile on her face. She looked up at him, and he slowly leaned down, capturing her lips with his.

He realised that it was the first proper kiss they’d had in months, and in response his hands gripped tighter on her waist as the kiss got more passionate, her hands coming to trail down his chest. She could tell that he wanted to go further and so she pulled away. 

He pouted, and she smiled at him but he could see the concern on her face. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly.

 “As happy as I am right now, Spence..” She trailed off, trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. “You just got out of prison. I know how difficult it was for you in there, and we’re going to have to talk about it sometime. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you right now, it’s all still so fresh.”

He nodded his head. “I know we have to talk about it, just not tonight please.” His voice was tired and pleading. “But you’re not taking advantage of me, I promise. I missed you so much in there. Let me show you how much.” He murmured as he began to place kisses down her neck. 

“Are you sure you feel up to doing.. this?” She asked one more time, she had to be absoloutley sure. She’d missed him too, of course. Though the last three months of his life had been downright horrific and she needed him to be certain. 

He smiled against her neck at her concern, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. I know you’re worried and I’m so grateful that you’re so concerned but right now, I just want to make love to my fiancée. ” He mumbled, kissing her forehead in a sweet, reassuring gesture. 

She smiled, satisfied with his answer. Detatching herself from him, she sat on the bed again, moving backwards. “Well then, Dr.Reid. Get on with it.” She smirked, laughing a little as she laid on her back. He shook his head with a chuckle, moving to hover over her.

“Anything for you, future Mrs Reid.” He smiled at the name.

 “Oh, ‘Mrs Reid’, I like the sound of that.” She giggled, placing her arms around his neck. 

As Spencer looked down at her, his heart swelled with pride and happiness. He was finally getting his happy ending, and it was a well deserved one. He’d go through all the pain and suffering all over again if it would lead him to that moment. 

“So do I.”

[taelme]

Enemies-to-lovers!Bang Chan

request: Hey! Can i request and enemies to lovers slow burn with bang chan where they dont like each other but theres undeniable chemistry

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, workplace/office!au, (fluff, slow burn, lots of denial of feelings lol) 

pairing/s: Chan / Reader (ft Seungmin and some ocs!) 

word count: 21k rip I got pretty carried away 

tw: not any prominent ones that I can think of, kind of hints of the whole misogyny in the workplace kind of thing 

a/n: I got super carried away writing this I hope you guys like it haha im currently working on the other requests so do look forward to those!! ill try to put them out as soon as I can~~ all this staying at home is really giving me time to write... ( I HAD TO use this gif I just HAD TO) but yes this was a little hard to find reasons why y/n wld hate chan bc im for the chan is an angel agenda but I ended up having so much fun ok BYE 

“Hey, you free to get lunch later?” You’d bumped into your friend who worked in the company’s legal department, Seungmin, on a Thursday morning while you were in the pantry preparing coffee and tidbits for your boss. 

You nodded, “uh-huh,” mixing the coffee absently, “what are you doing here?” 

Seungmin shrugged, leaning against the counter as he munched on a cookie, “felt like taking a walk. Things have been pretty busy in the legal department lately.” 

“Why?” 

Seungmin gave you a cheeky smile, shrugging, “can’t say, but you’ll find out soon enough.” 

You rolled your eyes, gritting your teeth with feigned menace towards him (his smile stayed unwavering, even sticking his tongue out at you to mock you).

“Who’s that for?” Seungmin gestured to the coffee mugs on the tray. 

“Mr Bang’s supposed to be meeting his nephew or something, he made it seem really important but all he told me was that it’s for his nephew,” you shrugged, glancing down at your two cups of coffee, realisation hitting you. 

“Shit, that just reminded me. He said his nephew doesn’t drink coffee. Do you want this?” You shot Seungmin a pleading look, holding up your now unneeded cup of coffee. 

Seungmin scoffed, taking the mug from you wordlessly, “how exciting your job is, huh,” he deadpanned, sipping the coffee, “wanna reconsider joining the legal department now?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m perfectly satisfied with my job now, thank you very much.” 

You’d prepared a pot of tea, careful not to spill the water onto the counter as you did so, transferring the pot onto your tray, “and plus, considering the amount of money I get paid for the amount of work I do, I’m more than happy.” 

Seungmin scoffed, “should’ve known it was because of the money.” 

“Alright, I’ve gotta go, see you later,” you said, picking up your tray as Seungmin waved his hand with cookie crumbs on his fingers, the clicking of your heels growing softer as you walked further away. 

Reaching the door of your boss’ office, you’d been able to faintly make out 2 silhouettes through the window from where you stood, composing yourself to make a good impression as you knocked on the door. Hearing your boss grunt, you’d pushed the door open with your shoulder, your gaze focused on the coffee table as you greeted your boss.

Setting the pot of tea on the table, you’d cast a glance at the recipient, your eyes widening when you’d spotted the boy with dyed hair sitting on the plush leather sofa facing your boss, dressed in a clean white button-down and tie, an equally well-ironed pair of pants, his posture relaxed with his legs spread casually. 

His gaze was on you, as if analysing your movements, making you direct your gaze back to your task at hand, setting the saucer with the cup of coffee onto the coffee table, placing the small biscuits your boss liked in the middle of the two. 

Holding the tray close to your chest, you cast a glance at your boss, about to bow in greeting and head back out when his voice had stopped you. 

“Y/N, please, stay here. I’d like to discuss something with you and my nephew.” 

Your eyebrows raised, lips pressed tightly together as you nodded, “oh…cool, alright.” 

“Please, take a seat,” Mr Bang gestured to the space on the sofa next to his nephew, making you seat yourself awkwardly on the other side of the sofa, your body pressing against the armrest as if trying to create as much distance as you could between him and you. 

“So, Chan, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Mr Bang gestured to you, “Y/N, this is my nephew, uh… Chris,” he spoke, the name sounding fairly familiar to you. Chris Bang? You sounded the name over in your head, not being able to connect the dots as to why it was so familiar at this point of time. 

“So, sweetheart, because I’ve been planning on resigning for a while now, I thought I should let you know that I’m planning on handing my position over to Chris.” 

Maybe this was what Seungmin was so busy with. 

You nodded slowly, trying to understand the implications this decision meant for you, “will my contract be terminated, then?” 

Chris glanced at you, as if searching your expression. He found you fairly younger than he’d expected, since his uncle had mentioned earlier that you’d already been working for him for quite some time, going onto 2 years already.

Of course, he didn’t want to underestimate you, but knowing the directors’ reputations regarding secretaries, he wasn’t sure if he could put a label on your abilities without seeing them for himself, first. And to him, he wasn’t quite understanding of why his uncle was so insistent that he needed a secretary, his past experiences with secretaries all being quite unimpressive. 

“That… is unfortunately up to Chris, but ideally your contract will resume as per normal.” 

You glanced back at the boy, who looked at you with an unreadable expression, something about his stare successfully unnerving you, the way he looked at you almost with a certain level of contempt. 

“We’ll be having a company dinner tonight to welcome Chris to the team, it would do the both of you well to get acquainted with each other before the board meeting for ceo elections.” 

You nodded slowly, still clutching the tray close to your chest as you wondered how old he was, the whole ordeal seeming as though it were something out of a movie: a young apathetic heir getting authority over a large corporation at such a young age. Was he even qualified for this position? The rest of the directors were nowhere near his age, well, appearance wise. 

As if having read your mind, your boss spoke, “I’m sure you two will get along just fine, considering you two are so close in age.” 

Your eyes narrowed, something in you not feeling comfortable with this arrangement. Dismissing the thought quickly, you shrugged, figuring it would be a change of scenery from being around the old directors all the time. 

You watched as Chris shrugged.

“We’ll see.” 

=== 

“Who?” Seungmin dabbed at his lips with his towel, picking up his glass of water to take a sip, making you frown, still trying to do your research on Chris Bang as far as your browser app would take you. 

“Chris Bang. He’s gonna take over the company from President Bang.” 

Your words seemed to have elicited a giggle from Seungmin, “doesn’t that make them both ‘President Bang’?”

Seungmin ignored your eye roll, continuing, “this was what I was referring to just now, you know. I thought you would’ve known who he was by now,” he told you, making you set your phone down on the table, open on his LinkedIn page that frankly wasn’t giving you much other than stating how very qualified he was for the job. 

“You know, Bang Chan? Ring a bell? That guy that’s been switching departments for God-knows-how-long since last year. The one that got all of us donuts one time,” Seungmin gave you a ‘duh’ look, considerably unamused. 

“Oh,” only then were you realising just who that was. You knew exactly who he was. You’d heard many rumours from the other secretaries on how he was impossibly good at anything he’d set his mind to, his work ethic and standard incomparable to anyone else in the company they’d ever seen. 

Which was why all that switching departments start to make sense to you, since it could’ve been his way of making sure he learnt the ins-and-outs of every department by the time he took over. If that wasn’t just more evidence that he was definitely a crazy workaholic.

At the time, you’d made a passing comment on how you hoped you would never have to be his subordinate, after having heard stories on how intimidating he was whenever it came to work (especially work that was improperly done). Little did you know that your comment would come back to bite you in the ass so soon. 

“Yeah, ‘oh,” Seungmin mimicked you, taking another bite out of his burger, “why d’you seem so…,” Seungmin made a pained groaning sound as he gestured to you for lack of a better word, “about it, anyway? Shouldn’t you be happy? He’s super nice!” 

You scrunched your nose up, locking your phone in your dismay, not wanting to see his face on his stupid profile mocking you with all his stupid qualifications anyway.

“I don’t know, just kind of feels a little sudden. And I hate the feeling of not knowing if I’m gonna be fired since it’s not up to Mr Bang anymore.” 

“Which one?” Seungmin joked, making you scoff, finding it just a little funny. Only a little. 

Seungmin continued, “you’re just mad because him taking over means you actually have to do work.” 

You shot him a glare, your silence being an acknowledgement that he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

“And because I love Mr Bang! He was such a nice old man that checked in on me and gave me life advice. I’m not gonna get any life advice from someone that’s basically my age.” 

Seungmin huffed in amusement, bringing his hand up to cup his mouth as if to divulge a secret, dropping his voice to a strained whisper, “transfer to the legal department.” 

You sighed, “no, I still love my pay.” 

“Then stop sulking! Chris is the nicest guy I’ve met, you’ll be fine. Just show up to the company dinner tonight and fluff him up a bit,” Seungmin shrugged, “it’ll be smooth sailing from then on.” 

=== 

You figured you should’ve tried to do a lot better to fluff Chris up during the company dinner, instead of just going over to grill the meat for the directors, under the instruction of President Bang. 

The action itself didn’t sit right with Chris, who didn’t understand why it was so imperative to the directors that you be the one to grill the meat until he realised just why they were keeping you there. 

His own uncle was oblivious of course, simply obliging at any chance he got to show off how capable you were (even if it was just grilling meat), however Chris was quick to notice the way they stared at you as you reached between them to grill the meat, your face feeling hot with the steam from the grill. 

“Y/N is very hardworking, graduated at the top of her class in college,” Mr Bang mentioned pointedly, making Chris’ eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“Really? What did you study?” He spoke, knowing very well you were listening, the other directors not paying any attention to learning your background as they prompted you to pour them a drink. You didn’t miss the way his words were accented, remembering hearing from Seungmin that he’d spent a large chunk of his life in Australia. 

Tipping the bottle, you’d answered (albeit a little preoccupied). 

“Law,” you sat back on your heels, “minored in journalism.” 

Chris frowned, not being able to understand why you would’ve chosen to work here as his uncle’s secretary of all things if you had pretty good prospects on your own. 

“How’d you end up working for my uncle, then?” He voiced, your attention diverted when you’d been prompted by a director to take a shot of your own, clinking your glass obnoxiously and leaving you with no choice, an embarrassed flush on your face. 

Taking the shot, you winced at the burn of the drink, glancing back at Chris, who was still looking at you curiously, wondering how you’d felt under the attention of the directors.  

“Did it as a temp job at first,” you told him, “but I guess I realised halfway that I don’t mind it so much, and it paid me pretty well.” 

Chris hummed, you ‘don’t mind’ this? 

One of the directors let out a grunt of distaste, “you shouldn’t worry about that, doll. The job of a secretary is to look pretty, the pride of the company is in its secretaries,” he said, clearly having already had one-too-many drinks, his words leaving an awful aftertaste on your tongue, his hand going over to grasp your shoulder, his hand going down to your arm and squeezing. 

“I always told her she’d do well as a housewife. That way she wouldn’t have to work and just mooch off her husband.” 

You mustered a smile, setting the bottle of drink down and bowing to them, Chris having lost his appetite at the way you’d just let their comments slide. 

“Maybe she prefers mooching off of the directors, instead,” Chris murmured, his sharp tongue getting the better of him, catching your attention as you were walking past him, making you stop in your tracks.  

Chris’ uncle tut his tongue, nudging the boy harshly, making him raise his hands in surrender. 

“What? Just speaking off of observation.” 

You turned around, a surge of confidence arising in you (from where? You weren’t sure, maybe it was the fact that in your eyes he was still what was standing in between you and your possible severance pay), “excuse me?” 

“I’m sorry, was there any untruth in what I said?” Chris turned, his gaze almost challenging you to speak out against the directors, not knowing that it was only serving to spur you on to speak out against him instead. 

 You scoffed, Chris standing up and awaiting your answer, a voice in you screaming at you not to be intimidated by him, especially with the way his head tilted down ever so slightly, his eyebrows raising expectantly. 

“Didn’t know they would just let any rude petty kid run any company these days,” you narrowed your eyes at him, folding your arms and straightening your posture. 

Seungmin, who was watching from his table with the legal team, grimaced, deeming Chris’ expression to be anything but friendly at the moment. 

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just a little unbelievable to me that I’m supposed to be answering to someone who just got the company handed to him,” your words were coming out faster than you could help it. I mean, you were probably going to get fired anyway, right? Might as well go down with a fight. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Chris muttered, his voice firm, annoyance laced in his tone. Your words seemed to have triggered a spark in him, annoyed that you were doubting his abilities, blatantly disrespecting him even after knowing he could be your superior. 

Mr Bang had tapped Chris’ calf harshly, “enough, don’t keep y/n from eating.” 

Ignoring his words, Chris had stepped forward, staring you down as the tension had only thickened between the both of you. 

“But then, what would you know, right? What was that again? Right. What are you here for other than to look pretty, hmm?” He tilted his head at you, flashing you a smile that was practically dripping with sarcasm. 

You practically seethed with anger, your fists clenching as you unfolded your arms, your finger coming up to point at him, “you know what? I’d rather eat beansprouts for the rest of my life than work for you.” You scoffed. 

Chris' amused lilt to his smile was only serving to annoy you even more, making you storm over to your table with the other secretaries, all of them casting you looks of concern or shock that you would have confronted him like that. Picking up your jacket, you’d scoffed, casting him one last look before you left, not expecting to see him again afterwards. 

Well, that was the part you were very very wrong about. 

That night, you’d called your boyfriend over to submit him to a seemingly never-ending rant about Chris, getting a text from Seungmin halfway. 

“I mean, isn’t it good, then? That you can find another job?” Your boyfriend tried to reason, pressing a kiss to your neck as you straddled him where he was sitting leaning against your headboard. 

“That’s not the point,” you insisted, pausing to read the text that Seungmin had sent, oblivious to his urgent kisses trailing up to your jaw. 

seungmin (personal)  2:12am -consider yourself lucky. Spoke to Chan just now, make sure you show up to work tomorrow.- 

“The point is that, he’s arrogant. What? Telling me that I’m only here to look pretty?—“ 

“In his defence, you insulted him first.” 

You glared at your boyfriend, “Yeah, fine. But he provoked me first. And I don’t know, something about him just pisses me off,” you tried to reason, your boyfriend’s kisses beginning to distract you from your anger. 

“You know what, maybe you should just give him a shot. Maybe he’s not as bad as he seems?” 

And so you did as Seungmin had instructed, doing what you would’ve always done, grabbing your boss’ morning coffee before going to the office, ‘leisurely’ making your way upstairs as you tried to avoid any possible suit-clad blond-haired man. 

Upon reaching your desk, you’d set your things under your desk, opening your scheduler and doing a quick run through of Mr Bang’s schedule for the day, grabbing the coffee and knocking on the glass doors before entering. 

“Y/N! Just the person I wanted to see.” You nodded, walking over to place his coffee onto his table.

“You have the board meeting in half an hour, sir,” you informed him.  

“Right, thank you. Would you be a dear and be there to serve the refreshments?” 

You nodded, “yeah, sure.” 

“If all goes as planned, Chan- I mean, Chris, will be taking over from next week onwards. So this week will be the last week i’m here.” 

You frowned, “it’s a shame you’re retiring, you know,” your disappointment was evident in your tone.  

Mr Bang simply waved you off, “it’s about time, I’m sure little Chris will do a good job.” 

You’d kept your mouth shut, nodding as he stood up with his coffee cup in hand, looking at you with a smile, “shall we head down a little earlier, then?” 

You nodded, opening the door for him to exit and following him silently to the venue of the board meeting. You were surprised, to say the least, when you’d reached only to find Chris there already, currently in an animated conversation with one of the directors, smiling like you’d never seen before, dimples showing on his cheeks. 

Excusing yourself quickly, you’d gone to the pantry to prepare the drinks, your time here having made you familiar with the respective directors drink preferences. Carrying your tray carefully, you’d pushed the door open with your hip, seeing all the directors seated already, all seeming fairly comfortable around Chris, only serving to make the feeling of dread build in the pit of your stomach. 

Making your way around the table, you’d distributed the drinks to the directors personally, refusing to make eye contact with Chris as you gave him his stupid cup of tea. 

Once the meeting had started, you’d dismissed yourself outside the room, a part of you trying to listen in on the board meeting but not being able to hear much through the thick panelled glass. You were surprised when barely half an hour had passed and you’d heard applause in the room, peeping through the window to see Mr Bang give you a signal that you could come in. 

Pushing the door open carefully, you saw the directors practically lining up to congratulate Chris, leaving promptly after looking all-too satisfied with the outcome of the meeting. 

Mr Bang was speaking to Chris as the rest of the directors were leaving, “well, I guess this means my work here is as good as done. I’m sure your parents will be thrilled to hear the news,” he pat Chris on the back. 

You were about to head out with Mr Bang, eager to avoid Chris when you’d heard him speak, “Y/N, I’d like to speak with you for a moment. Is that alright?” He cast a look at his uncle, who waved him off. 

“Of course, she’s not my secretary anymore, remember?” You cast Mr Bang a look of distress, seeing him chuckle before giving you a thumbs up, exiting the room happily.  

You winced, turning around so you were facing Chris, seeing him walk over to where you were, holding out a thick bound stack of papers for you to take. 

“What’s this?” 

"A contract. You can pass it to me by the end of the day once you've made your decision. I trust that you're familiar with reading contracts?" he asked as you stared at the papers, flipping and scanning through the print, realising that his terms were considerably more demanding than his uncle. 

"You'll be able to find an additional attachment where I list what I would expect in a secretary. Feel free to consult me if you're unclear about any of them, though I don't think you would need to." 

Your eyes lingered on the section of the contract, stating that you would be on a year of probation, but that the contract could be terminated whenever he felt appropriate. 

"Whenever you deem appropriate?" you scoffed, looking up at him in disbelief. 

He smiled, "very pretty wording, don't you think?" 

"That's all I wanted to say. Remember, I'll expect your response by the end of the day." 

You stared blankly as he shrugged his jacket off, draping it on one arm. 

"Go ahead, what are you waiting for? You can go for your lunch break now," he urged, before his features pulled into a look of realisation, "oh, forgot. That is, unless you would rather eat...what was that again? Beansprouts?" 

Your mouth opened, making as if to retort before you shut your mouth quickly, your eyes widening as he walked over to you, his gaze intense and serious, a contrast to the demeanour he wore while chatting up the director previously. 

"I can handle myself, you know," you attempted to defend yourself, watching as Chris had shrugged. 

"You have one whole year to prove that to me." 

In that one year of working for Chris, you'd learnt a lot of things. Not only about your position as a secretary, but about Chris, ( not to mention, just exactly how spiteful he could be ).  

1. Sleep was a luxury. 

In your first week as his secretary, Chris had surprised you with the sheer rate of progress he was aiming, and moving at. It was as if all the rumours you'd heard before about his work ethic were a gross understatement of his tenacity. 

You'd been having trouble adjusting to his deadlines, especially since he had entrusted more tasks to you. From surprise presentations, to drafting up proposals and reports, not to mention submitting research to him. To you, it felt as if you were doing half the job for him. 

In short, you had never missed Mr Bang more than you did then. 

Of course, Seungmin being your voice of reason, would shut your rants down, claiming it was ‘about time you do your job’, but of course, you loved to complain. Especially since it was someone you didn't have very fond feelings for that was assigning you the work. You grew increasingly irritated in the time you were adjusting to your sleep schedule, which Chris, and your boyfriend had definitely noticed. 

Because of your changes in brain activity levels, you assumed (google could only diagnose so much), whenever sleep came to you, you welcomed it with open arms.  Since waking up had become even more of a chore to run over to the coffee shop and squeeze yourself between the crowd of working adults and panda-eyed college students to get his very specific breakfast order. 

You'd gone home from a birthday party of your boyfriend and your mutual friend, things having gotten a little...out of hand at your boyfriend's apartment since it'd been so long since you'd been able to spend time together, not with you always falling asleep during video calls or refusing them altogether for the sake of getting your work done. You'd missed him, and something about being apart made you miss his touch. 

Jolting awake, (as if your body had been able to tell that your sleep was too smooth), you'd instantly sensed that something was wrong when you saw the light streaming in from behind the curtains, knowing for a fact that you usually woke up when it was still a little dark out. 

Turning around, you'd fumbled for your phone on the bedside table, letting out a loud gasp when you saw the time. You were already a whole half-hour late. 

"Shit!" 

Your boyfriend startled, letting out a groan, his arm still lazily draped over your stomach. 

"Did my alarm ring?" you asked, shoving his hand off of you and groaning, slipping out of bed quickly as you put on your clothes from the day before, not having any more time to go back to your apartment and get a fresh change of clothes. 

"I don't know, I didn't hear anything," you heard your boyfriend mumble from where he lay. 

Cursing, you'd ran over to his bathroom, washing your face quickly, a gasp leaving your mouth as you inspected the angry marks on your neck through the mirror. 

"I hate you so much," you tugged up the collar of your turtleneck, successfully hiding the marks when you’d let your hair down. 

Grabbing your things, you'd sprinted downstairs, hailing the first cab you could see and heading to your office. 

Was he going to fire me? You were still on probation, so there was no reason he couldn't, right? 

You'd fixed your hair anxiously as you jogged into the lobby, your shoes clacking noisily against the floor as you ran into the lift, even debating on whether taking the stairs would have been a better idea as the lift went up at an achingly slow pace. 

Finally reaching your floor, you’d made your way to the meeting room, tossing your bags outside the door and entering with your laptop, notebook and pen, keeping your head down and avoiding Chris’ gaze as he was presenting to the room. 

Taking your seat at the only empty seat left, (unfortunately, closer to the front of the room), you’d let out a small sigh. Expecting to hear Chris comment on your tardiness or whatnot, you opened your laptop, picking up on the minutes where you could. 

Keeping your head down, you’d felt your colleague from the marketing team lean over to you as Chris had given everyone some time to analyse what he was showing on the screen, his lack of a comment making you even more anxious. 

“Your hair’s a mess,” she whispered, making you wince, your hand going up to comb your hair into a ponytail in your attempt to look neater, hearing your colleague gasp. 

“Dude! Put your hair back down, your neck,” she whispered, your eyes immediately darting to Chris’ direction, seeing that he was in fact staring at your jaw and neck as well, turning away quickly, the reddening of his ears giving him away.

Your hands let go of your hair as though you were burned, hearing your colleague snicker beside you, “I see someone had fun last night. Was that why you were late, too?” 

You shushed her as Chris cleared his throat, embarrassment flooding your senses as you continued to take minutes, hoping that he wouldn’t be as mad at you if you showed that you were trying your best. Fat chance, but hey, you could dream. 

Chris had started to assign things that he’d wanted the different departments to focus on for the project at hand, flashing a slide of deadlines that you watched people scramble to confirm with their existing information. You were secretly hoping someone would hold him back with a question so that he was too busy to confront you. 

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case today. The meeting ended promptly, Chris leaving you in relative silence as you packed up your things, your colleagues giving you a look of sympathy as you followed him silently out of the room back to your desk. 

“In my office, please,” he murmured. 

You fiddled with your fingers, already anticipating for him to fire you. 

“Can you explain to me what happened this morning?” 

Your eyes widened, not daring to meet his gaze as it flickered between anything in the room other than him, “I uh..I didn’t um…I didn’t hear my alarm ring and nobody woke me up so I overslept.” 

Chris’ stare was unwavering, leaning against his desk and folding his arms, “so is it not your responsibility to make sure you show up to work on time?” 

“No, yeah of course it is—“ 

“Then I would like to see you be accountable for your mistakes,” he continued, “I’m not saying you can’t make mistakes, everybody makes mistakes. But if your mistake is what puts an entire room of people at an inconvenience, I would prefer if you were a little more apologetic about it.” 

You’d let a short period of silence fall between the both of you, “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed firmly on his shoelace, “am I fired?” 

Chris let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “No, but, you know, if you ever let anything like this happen again, I won’t hesitate to fire you,” his voice was stern, annoyed almost. 

“And Y/N, if this,” you looked up at him watching him gesture to his neck with his hand before gesturing back to you, making you cower, tugging your collar further up your neck, “is what’s the issue here. I’d suggest you start prioritising.” 

“Sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear,” you rushed to speak, bowing quickly before exiting the room as fast as you could, wanting to tear your hair out in both annoyance and embarrassment. 

You’d jumped when you heard the sound of your desk speaker, Chris’ voice sounding through the phone, “Is there a problem, Y/N?” 

Your eyes widened, rushing over to your desk phone, shaking your head as you pressed the button to reply, “no, no! Not at all. There was just a… a bug here.” 

Chris huffed, bringing his hand up to hide his amusement, watching you scramble to regain your composure. 

2. Chris was a workaholic 

It was seeing (and experiencing) all the late nights in the office and the erratic pattern of his emails on weekends that drew you to this conclusion. His routine of sleeping late and then proceeding to get up at ungodly hours to either get work done or give up on the idea of a smooth sleep, since you were aware that he tended to have trouble sleeping. Not to mention the way it seemed to you as if the top priority in his life was his work, wanting to do his best to get the company to where he wanted it to be. 

After a few months of working for him, it was very clear to you that your job entailed not only taking care of his work, but taking care of him. 

You were going over to the legal team's office to collect the binders Chan had left to them, seemingly needing one of them now, thankful to have spotted Seungmin along the way as he was leaving his desk. 

Shooting you a look of sympathy, he'd peeked his head out to glance at your area, noticing everyone else in your team had gone home already. 

"Working late again?" 

You were sure you looked horrible, with bags under your eyes and your complexion looking dull from lack of sleep, but well, you had to earn a living, right? 

You shot him a pointed look, "you know the rules, can't go home until the boss goes home," you heaved a pained sigh. 

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if he even has a social life," you thought out loud, earning an amused grunt from Seungmin. 

"I could say the same about you." You ignored his comment. 

"What d'you need?" he asked, though you were already making your way to his superior's desk, grabbing the file and leaving a post-it to say it was with Chris. 

"Nothing, just this." You let out a small grunt at the weight of the binder, your wrists aching from all the filing you'd done that morning and afternoon (you never did notice until now how inefficient Chris' uncle's document organization system was). 

"All the best," he gave you a thumbs up, earning a pitiful pout from you before you'd headed back to Chris' office. 

Knocking on his door, you'd heard him murmur for you to come in, pushing the heavy doors open with your shoulder as you shoved your way through the doors,  placing the binder onto the coffee table where he'd had his documents and laptop laid out haphazardly. 

Chan's hair was a mess, likely from running his hands through it as he worked, his tie discarded and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, looking at you with tired eyes. 

He was about to ask you for some water, but you'd seemed to have read his mind, walking over to the table near his desk and pouring him a glass of warm water from the flask. 

"I'm almost done with the filing, but I'll be outside so you can let me know if you need anything." 

You'd felt your pocket buzz with a notification, momentarily taking your attention away from Chris. 

Chris glanced at the files before looking back at you in thought, stopping you before you could exit the room, "actually, can you help me to write a report on this, I'll need this by tomorrow afternoon." 

Knowing Chris' deadlines, that meant he would've needed it by tomorrow morning, which left you no choice other than to start working on it now. 

Chris picked up a small file with a post-it note stuck onto the file, handing it to you. 

"The points are all there. I would've done it myself but by the looks of it this is gonna take a while more than I expected," he sighed, his hands on his hips as he stared at the pile of papers in front of him in disdain. 

Chris never would've admitted that he'd started preparing the post-it notes for you in case he wasn't able to complete his work in time, since he usually opted to write from his head, but he knew you worked better with structure. He'd only realised after starting to do it that it helped him draft the write-ups more concisely, so of course, the reason was always 'for his own convenience', never creating opportunities for you to think he actually tried accommodating to you. 

"This current arrangement is very un-environmentally friendly," you mumbled, staring at the papers as well. 

"I'll go get this done now," you gave him a nod, exiting his office as you pulled your phone from your pocket, the text from your boyfriend practically glaring at you, asking if you were able to meet that night. 

10:47pm - sorry, working late :( gotta work on a report due tomorrow morning - 

Biting back your disappointment at having to bail on your boyfriend again, you'd nodded resolutely, pulling up your delivery app to order food for Chris before you started on the report lest he start to get irritable because he was hungry. 

And lastly, the point you couldn't quite seem to wrap your head around, was that 

3. He was very nice, just...not so much to you. 

After the oversleeping incident from before, it was safe to say you'd never let a similar mistake repeat itself. You were constantly making sure you were alert and responsive to anything Chris could possibly throw to you (and he knew this too). 

The only downside Chris saw to this, was that it seemed as though your attitude towards the directors hadn't changed. Still swallowing their disgusting comments and serving them with a smile, even if they were looking everywhere but your face. It irked Chris. And it irked him even more that the only one you seemed to serve without a smile, was him. 

Unbeknownst to him, you'd shared the same sentiments. 

"Do you ever look at someone and wonder what is going on in their head?" you spoke. 

Seungmin snorted, "wait, are you talking about the meme or..." your lack of a response made Seungmin follow your gaze (or glare) to where Chris was seated at the other end of the table, giggling and smiling as he spoke with the other secretaries. 

"Ah," Seungmin nodded, understanding now why your spoon hadn't moved an inch from your bowl, your grip around it almost death-like. 

"What are you so mad about? He's not doing anything?" 

You shot Seungmin a pointed look, your voice lowering to a murmur, "can't you see it? With them he's all rainbows and unicorn shit but with me it's like just smiling would kill him." 

You heard the secretaries letting out giggles and impressed sounds at something Chris had just said, the sound itself enough to make you annoyed. 

Seungmin's eyebrows furrowed, looking at you in scepticism, "you know the secretaries are only being nice because they're interns, right? I heard from one of them that they're actually really scared of him." 

Seungmin brought his chopsticks to his mouth, taking a piece of food from your bowl that he knew you weren't going to eat anyway, "especially after they saw how he spoke to you during the meeting the other day,"

You scoffed, "good to know that I was the warning." 

Your phone buzzed, signalling a text from your boyfriend. Strangely enough, it'd been a while since you'd texted him, since you were busy with work and he was busy with school. 

Ignoring it initially, too distracted by Chris, it wasn't long before you saw his caller ID show up on the screen, getting Seungmin's attention. 

"I think you should answer that," he gestured, making you glance around the table in your hesitance, not knowing if it would be rude to just exit halfway. 

Picking up the phone-call, you'd turned your head, lowering your volume to a murmur, "hello?" 

"Hey, can we talk? I really need to tell you something." 

You winced, "is it urgent? I'm at a team dinner right now." 

Your boyfriend sighed, scoffing, "it really is always work with you, huh." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

You glanced at the table, standing up to excuse yourself. Chris's expression read confusion, eavesdropping on a secretary asking what happened, Seungmin replying that it was your boyfriend calling. 

You'd made your way outside the restaurant, Chris glancing in your direction and spotting you walk past the restaurant's windows, a part of him shaking off whatever curiosity that lingered in him as he focused on his conversation. After all, you did tell him you could handle yourself, right? 

Where you were, you'd moved to a quieter spot outside the restaurant, "okay, I can talk now. What's up?" 

You kicked at the ground absently as you awaited his reply. 

"Look, are you free to meet tonight? There's something I need to tell you." 

"Uh..." you glanced into the restaurant, making eye contact with Chris before looking away, "I've got to work later, though. I need to get some research done for this review that i'm behind on, I don't wanna meet you if i'm just gonna end up on my computer while you're there, you know?" 

Your boyfriend nodded, "you know, that's kind of what i wanted to talk to you about." 

"Oh," a feeling of dread was building in your stomach, recognising your boyfriend's tone to be the one he used whenever he was talking about something serious. 

The first time you heard it was when you witnessed him on a work phone-call, the second being how he spoke to your parents the first time they'd met, but this time, you had a feeling you knew what was coming. 

"Let's break up." 

You fell silent, not knowing how to respond to his words. 

"Is it, um.... is it because of my work?" You asked, a part of you not being able to come to terms with the fact that it could have been your fault, "because you know I can't do anything about that." 

Your boyfriend sighed, "I know. I'm just talking about how you've been so emotionally invested in your work you don't even have the energy to maintain this relationship." 

You frowned, "what, what do you want me to do, quit my job? Will that be better for you?" 

"Look, i've been seeing someone," he began. Your heart sank. 

"And i'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of the reason. But... it was only when I started seeing her that I realised... things between us just weren't the same as before." 

Your heart felt heavy, a part of you knowing that he was making it a lot easier to be mad at him by confessing what he did, but another part of you couldn't help but prompt him further. 

"When did it start?" 

"That doesn't matter-" 

You sighed, taking your lower lip between your teeth, "it's fine, I just wanna know." 

"Fine, it was about a month in from you working for your new boss." 

You nodded slowly, still trying to process his words. You weren't quite sure what came over you when you saw Chris exiting the restaurant, turning to face your direction and spotting you in the alley. But it was as if you were so mad at yourself, mad at him, mad at your boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend now), that you'd ended the call, shoving your phone into the pocket of your blazer before heading over to where Chris was. 

"You guys aren't going home?" you heard one of the secretaries ask as you and Chris had approached his car, his driver already sitting in the car and waiting. 

Chris shook his head with a smile, "nope, we're heading back to the office." 

You mustered a smile as you bid them goodbye, you guessed this was probably the best time to bury yourself in your work as a poor coping mechanism after a breakup, as far as movie breakups went.  

The car-ride was silent, despite the pinging of your phone, making you switch it to silent mode halfway, earning a curious look from Chris, though he didn't make to ask you about it. 

Upon reaching the office, the both of you had gone back into your clockwork routine, as you sat in his office working on your computer and scribbling down on your notebook the important details you wanted him to check. Chris found that your background in law and journalism made it a lot easier whenever it came to reading and condensing information, which had only allowed him to trust you more when it came to getting tasks like that done, saving him precious time he could spend working on other things. 

The buzzing of your phone was growing more frequent, though it was as if you were oblivious to it now as you typed away at your computer. 

"Right, can you help to postpone tomorrow afternoon's meeting, and help me to make a reservation at the steak place, 2 people." 

You hadn't made to move, pulling your phone out but having gotten distracted at the multitude of missed calls and texts just because your boyfriend wanted to 'make sure you were okay'. Please. 

"Hello? Can you hear me?" you heard Chris call, snapping you out of your daze as his gaze searched your expression, trying to read your emotions. 

"Sorry, can you repeat that? I didn't hear you." 

Chris sighed, his annoyance at your phone that had lit up with a call again getting the better of him, "you know I don't ask you to stay later just for you to waste my time, you know." 

Your gaze hardened. There it was, the side of Chris that you had the 'privilege' of being at the brunt of, nowhere near the smiley giggly Chris you witnessed at the restaurant just now. 

"I said I was sorry. What do you want me to do?" 

Chris huffed, his gaze darting to your phone as he spoke, "reservation for 2 people tomorrow afternoon, the steak place my mom likes. Postpone tomorrow afternoon's appointment with Director Lee." He told you slowly, his tone as if speaking to a young child, which only served to piss you off even more. 

"Who's calling you?" he asked. 

You shook your head in dismissal, "my...uh..." you weren't sure how to respond, watching dumbly as he made his way to where you were, lifting your phone to read the contact before letting out a huff. 

"Okay, well you can tell your boyfriend that if you're gonna be this distracted at work, you can kiss your night goodbye." 

You inhaled deeply, absolutely upset but knowing there wasn't much you could do about it. You loved your job, even though you hated to admit it. Ever since Chris came in, you were getting a lot more work experience and exposure, especially with how he would make it mandatory for you to attend certain language courses that would help him whenever you accompanied him on networking events or business galas. 

And in that moment, you couldn't help but think back to what he'd said the first time he'd scolded you when he'd told you to figure out your priorities. Maybe your boyfriend called you at the right time, maybe you just weren't ready to focus on things other than your career at this point of time. 

Turning your phone off, you'd made sure Chris saw that it was off, raising your hands up in surrender, "done. I'll book your stupid reservation now." You stalked out before Chris could chime in with a 'watch your tone'. 

=== 

You'd been working for Chris for what was coming to 2 years now. The company had been reaping the results of their hard work for a while now, and you were thankful that even though you weren't as busy as before, you still managed to keep your job. Other than the fact that Chris’ hair was now back to dark brown, not much else had changed. 

Although, one tiny change you were starting to wish for was that Chris would at least try to make things a little more bearable for you. 

You were currently at a meeting with the directors where Chris was presenting the overview of the company's performance in the past month. You would have to say you were pretty satisfied with the work you'd both done on that, working a lot more efficiently now compared to when you'd first started out. 

Your silent admiration of the presentation was interrupted when one of the directors summoned you over to ask for a cup of coffee.

Doing as you were told ( much to Chris' dismay ), you'd gone and come back in record time with his hot cup of coffee, bending down and making your way to where the director sat, not wanting to prevent any of them from seeing what Chris was presenting. 

While he was presenting, it didn't take Chris very long to realise why the director had kept asking you for things, your position from where you were squatting next to him making it all-too-easy for him to ogle at you without you noticing. 

For some reason, this seemed to have gotten on Chris' nerves, especially because that director's secretary was simply minding her own business at the back of the room. 

Did Chris think what you were wearing that day was nice? He'd say he didn't but of course he did. But unlike the director, he preferred not to be so blatant about it, especially because you were always so rude towards him. 

You'd tensed momentarily when the director had grabbed your arm, about to get up when you heard Chris' voice get louder. 

"Y/N, I'd appreciate if you would stop distracting the directors and go back to your seat." 

(Later on, Seungmin would be struggling to hold back his laughter in the printing room when Chan told him to tell you to button up your blouse a little more. 

“Why can’t you just tell her yourself?” 

Chan scoffed, “knowing her, she’s just gonna think I was looking at her… chest or something.” 

Seungmin narrowed his eyes at Chan teasingly, “well, were you?” 

Chan waved him off with a groan, “just tell her, okay? The directors are having a field day with her looking like that.”)

You'd almost scoffed at the way the director had immediately let go of you, and you straightened up quickly, heading back to sit with the other secretaries. 

"That was harsh," you heard one of the secretaries murmur to you, making you shrug. 

"Whatever, not like I expected more from him anyway." 

(You did, you totally did. You'd kill for him to be less grating with his words). 

After the meeting, you'd felt a phone ring in your bag, pulling it out to see that Chris' mom was calling, obviously not having been able to reach him. Making your way to where he was, you'd interrupted his packing of his things. 

"Your mom is calling you," you'd told him out of habit, holding his phone out for him to take, jumping slightly when you'd heard one of the directors let out a dismayed grunt. 

"Is that any way to talk to your boss?" 

Your eyes widened, Chris seeming to be enjoying the situation play out before him as you regained your composure, looking back at Chris with a sickly sweet smile on your face. In front of the directors, you couldn't act up like how you usually did when it was just the both of you, so you had no choice but to be all smiles

"President Bang, your mother is calling you," you told him, and if you were annoyed, you didn't show it, having years of practice from dealing with the directors. 

"uh-huh," Chris smirked, taking the phone from your hands and answering it as he gestured for you to help him gather his papers. 

"No, mom. I’ve told you already, i’m really fine with how things are now. I'm not going on another one." 

Not that you cared, but you had to admit you were kind of curious as to what he was so insistently refusing.

"Yes, okay, bye," he hung up, handing the phone back to you. 

You'd tried your best to suppress your curiosity, seeing as he was about to be late for his next meeting with one of his friends if he hadn't hurried. 

Fixing your blouse, you'd carried your laptop in your arm as you walked with him back to his office, with you going into the lift first, Chris having chosen the wrong time to step in as a girl you recognised as one of the interns had done so too, the number of people squeezing into the lift causing her to jerk her arm, her coffee landing unceremoniously on Chris’ tie and shirt. 

Chris let out a hiss at the temperature of the liquid, eliciting a long string of apologies from the girl. You knew that if it was you that had spilled the coffee, he would be going on and on about carelessness now, but the intern obviously wasn’t you, and so you watched in envy as Chris had given her a smile, dismissing her apologies quickly. 

“It’s fine, really. I just hope you still have some coffee left to drink,” he laughed. 

Not only was he not upset, but he was joking with her too? 

You scoffed, rolling your shoulders back as you’d watched the numbers on the elevator rise till it reached your floor, the girl looking scared for her life when you’d cast her a look, bowing to you apologetically. 

“Where did you keep the spare change of clothes?” Chris asked as he’d begun loosening his tie. 

You hadn’t responded as he let you walk before him into his office, making your way over to one of the cupboards at the side of the room and opening it, pulling out a hanger with a nicely ironed set of work clothes. 

“You can go and get changed, I’ll wait here,” you murmured, Chris walking over to where you were and giving you his stained tie. 

God, you hoped his dry-cleaning run wouldn’t make you late for your lunch appointment. 

Looking at his tie, you brought it up closer to your face to inspect the material, it was a well-made tie, you had to say. Not too skinny, the material feeling almost luxurious in your hold, tempting you to put it on in your boredom. 

Hanging it round your neck, you mustered your best ‘Chris accent’.

“You should be accountable for your mistakes! Don’t you know how many people you’re inconveniencing? Now I have a tie that reeks of coffee, look,” you held up the tie with a gasp, “and my secretary’s gonna be late for her lunch meeting!” You pointed accusatorially at the small black penholder that sat on his desk. 

“Yeah! Do you know how much you’re inconveniencing me? I don’t ask you to show up to work to waste my time—“ 

You’d stopped in your tracks when you heard Chris clearing his throat, grimacing as you tried to regain your composure, taking off the tie as quickly as you could, holding it tightly in your palm as you turned to face him. 

“Having fun?” 

“No,” you shot back quickly, not even wanting to ask how long he’d been standing there. 

Walking over to you, he’d handed you his stained shirt, his expression like that of a parent that had caught their kid doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. 

“You know, sometimes I wish you’d talk back to the directors like how you talk back to me.” 

Your eyes widened, confused at his sudden comment, but not having the time to respond as Chris continued. 

“Get these dry-cleaned over lunch. The stain’ll be harder to get out the longer you wait.” 

You huffed, already walking away from him, “well, when you say it like that I’d might as well go do it now.” 

You'd been keeping yourself busy with replying emails when you heard the elevator ding, the sound of footsteps getting louder before you saw a considerably young, suit-clad man walking towards your desk. 

"I'm here to see Chris? I'm Director Kang," he told you, though you didn't need him to introduce himself, knowing very well who he was. 

"He's in there," you held a finger up to signal him to wait as you picked up your desk telephone, pressing a button to page Chris. 

"Director Kang's here to see you." 

"Okay, send him in."

Chris closed the work he was doing on his desktop, making his way over to the leather couches as he saw his friend enter the room. 

"Yo, when were you planning on telling me about your hot secretary?" 

Chris' eyebrows raised, "didn't think that was something worth mentioning."

"Well, why not?" his friend frowned, his features pulling into one of shock, "wait, don't tell me... you guys are dating?" 

Chris rolled his eyes, "no, we're not. And please, for both our sakes, don't try anything funny with her." 

The director was about to respond, interrupted by your knocking on the door, the door opening slightly so you could enter. 

"Can I get you anything? Like a drink? Coffee? Tea?" you asked. 

The director simply looked at you curiously, sitting with his ankle resting on his other knee, "only if you'd care to join me." 

Chris glared at his friend, shutting him up quickly before he could say anything more, "coffee for him, I don't want a drink."

You nodded, exiting quickly.

"What did you come to tell me about?" 

"Must I have a reason to come and visit my beloved friend?" 

Chris rolled his eyes, "my time is precious." 

This made the director scoff, "is that your excuse now? Anyway, I came to ask if you were going for Brian's wedding next weekend." 

"Oh, yeah, right. He asked me about it last night and I said I would go, you?" 

Director Kang rolled his eyes, "can't, I've got a business trip that weekend." 

Chris hummed in acknowledgement, "that reminds me. I should get a gift for them soon. Who'd he say he was marrying again?" 

"This girl he met at work, she's nice. But, you know, not my type." 

As if that wasn't enough, Director Kang continued, "anyway, are you bringing a date?" 

He was interrupted once again by the sound of your knocking, the door opening as you made your way over to them, bending to place the cup of coffee down onto the table, making Director Kang gesture to you with his head, mouthing 'you should bring her'. 

Waving him off, Chris was eager to get Director Kang’s attention away from you, almost as if wanting to protect you from getting swayed by him, knowing the outcome was never too bright. 

"Y/N, you can go for an early lunch break today." 

Your eyebrows raised, the prospect seeming almost too good to be true. Since when was he so nice? 

"Huh? But I still have some stuff to hand the legal team..." you sounded unsure, though you did consider this to be luck since you were supposed to meet one of your friends from college for lunch today. 

Chris gave you a stern look, waving you off, making you raise your hands in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll go.” 

On your way out, you’d texted your friend that you were gonna be able to meet earlier, pleasantly surprised when she’d told you she was already in the area and that she was able to head over now. 

You’d managed to drop off Chris’ clothes for dry-cleaning before heading to the restaurant, spotting your friend already seated at your table. 

“Hey! Wow, you look great!” She told you, giving you a hug in greeting. 

“Feel a lot better compared to last year,” you joked, making her frown. 

“Your boss still giving you trouble?” 

Shrugging, you’d taken a seat, “nothing out of the ordinary. Seems like it’s part of his daily routine to annoy me.” 

She laughed, “I ordered our food already, if you don’t mind.” 

Shaking your head, you waved in dismissal, “no, yeah, I don’t mind. Thanks. Anyway, you look pretty good yourself, how’ve you been?” 

You didn’t miss the way she’d leaned closer to you, tucking her hair behind her ear in a pointed gesture, drawing your attention to the large gemstone on her ring. 

Your eyes widened, “no way.” 

She nodded, “I wanted to tell you sooner but you were so busy! I was glad enough I managed to squeeze in this lunch with you,” she told you, making you pout. 

“When’s the wedding?” You asked. 

“Next week. We’re going to have it in this beautiful church out of town, really really nice place,” she told you, “really romantic, too,” she added as an afterthought. 

You let out a deep sigh, “I hope you’re not going where I think you’re going with this.” 

She gave you a scandalised look, pausing as the waiter had come to deliver your food, “first of all, Brian has a lot of good-looking friends!” 

You gave her a look, prompting her to continue, “well, not that I’ve seen all of them but he tells me that a lot of them are single! And you know who else is single…” she pointed her finger towards you with an overly excited glint to her grin. 

“We’ve been through this a million times, Eujin. I’ve tried but it’s really hard to find a guy that’s willing to cope with… you know, my kind of schedule,” you gave her a tired (wistful) sigh, “and with my schedule, I doubt I have the time, not to mention the energy to date.” 

Eujin’s lips twisted into a frown, “but it’s been so long! Don’t you want to get back in the dating scene?” 

You scoffed, cutting into your food harshly before taking a bite. 

“Of course I do. But the last time I went on a date the guy basically shat on me for being a workaholic,” you huffed, “I mean, my boss’ working hours means my working hours, shouldn’t they just shit on him instead? Why is it my fault that he’s basically destroyed what I have left of a social life.” 

Eujin shot you a look of sympathy, “I’d say I pitied you, but it’s not like you can’t get a job anywhere else, you know?” 

You’d kept your mouth shut at that, “I know… it just… I can’t just leave when I’ve already gotten so used to how things work here.” 

Of course that was one reason, but you would never admit that there was a nagging inside of you that didn't trust Chris to look after himself if you weren't here, remembering how he'd overworked himself during a crucial period after he took over the company, and you'd found him passed out on his desk when you showed up to work that day. 

You'd sort of made a silent promise that as much as you didn't like him, you still cared for him in a way. In the way a secretary would care for her boss, totally. 

You decided to change the topic, not wishing to talk about your hopeless love life at the moment. 

“What’s the program gonna be like?” 

Eujin’s eyes lit up, setting her cutlery down as she clasped her hands together, “Okay, so. The plan is for it to be a sort of weekend-long thing,” she told you, holding her finger up. 

“Firstly, on Thursday night we’ll have a little girls night type thing, and then Friday is the rehearsal dinner, Saturday will kind of be a little rest day and then Sunday is the actual wedding,” she said, now holding up four fingers to you. 

Your head was spinning at the (rather enticing) thought of taking basically 4 days off of work, before the dread settled in that you had to ask Chris for permission to take those days off. 

“I hope my boss will let me take time off…” you murmured, already rehearsing in your head possible ways on how you could tell him. 

Eujin gave you a resolute look, “you can do it! If he says no just let me know, I’ll go over to your fancy office and fight whoever he is myself.” 

=== 

“How many days?” 

Chris had asked at your desk as he prepared to leave to meet his mom for lunch since she’d happened to be in the business district. 

You fiddled with your pen anxiously, “uh..4 days? Technically 3 and a half. But 2 of those are weekends I just need you to make sure you just don’t bother me on that weekend it’s a really important weekend.” 

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, unsure why you were so insistent on him leaving that weekend alone, nodding slowly. 

Whatever, he figured, she’s just lucky I’m busy that weekend too. 

“Okay.” 

“I swear I’ll—wait, you’re okay with it?” 

Chris shrugged, straightening his tie, “yeah. I’ve got something on that weekend too.” 

You let out a surprised hum, “oh… cool. Thanks…Mr Bang,” you added as a force of habit, not wanting to risk getting scolded for ‘insubordination’ again just because you didn’t call him by his honorific. 

Chris huffed, leaving before you could see his ears reddening. 

Over lunch, Chris’ mom had been inspecting him carefully as he ate, as if the answer to her worries lay in every piece of sushi he ate. 

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you… gay?” She asked, continuing, “because if you are you know you can just tell me, instead of constantly upsetting the girls I try to set you up with.” 

Chris gave her a unamused look, “mom, I’ve told you a thousand times. I would really love to date, but it’s hard to find someone with a similar work ethic as myself, that can keep up with my… lifestyle and who really understands my needs, you know?” 

This made Chris’ mom perk up, “that’s it! Why don’t you just date your secretary!” 

Chris almost choked on his sushi, fumbling to grab his glass of water to calm himself down and compose himself. 

“What,” he spoke between coughs, “gave you that idea?” 

His mom looked at him in disbelief, “whatever you just said, you were basically describing her, no? And plus, we’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about her from your uncle.”

Chris couldn’t help but entertain the possibility in his head. It was true, you did work at a very efficient pace with him, not to mention how spending almost everyday in such close contact with him made you understand his own needs and wants even better than he did on occasions. Chris shook his head, that wasn’t possible, right? You looked as though you’d absolutely hated him half the time, he’d be expecting too much from you if he’d expected you to fall for him. 

Chris shook his head, dismissing the thought from both him and his mom’s minds quickly, “no, mom. I’m fine with how things are between us right now.” 

Chris had let you leave the office earlier on Thursday, (much to your surprise) allowing you to have ample time to pack your bags and get a cab to the destination, Eujin having taken the liberty and helped you book your hotel beforehand. 

Upon reaching, you’d texted Eujin saying you’d reached. 

eujin 6:54pm -yay!! Lets just chill in one of our rooms, we can discuss it in the chatgroup!!- 

Trust her to be excitable even about the smallest things. 

You saw an incoming text from Seungmin. 

seungmin (personal)  6:54pm -what where r u I went over to find u but both u and Chris weren’t here- 

6:55pm -im at a friends wedding, took the weekend off-

seungmin (personal)  6:55pm -wow finally using your employee perks nvm then have fun- 

You’d checked in, marvelling at the cozy yet elegant look of the hotel as you made your way through the lobby, letting the lift take you up to your hotel room floor. 

Changing into more comfortable clothes, you’d seen the group chat saying to gather in Eujin’s room, with mentions of ordering pizza. Considering this was your first weekend away from work in a very, long while, you were determined to make the most of it, heading over to Eujin’s room. 

You hadn’t expected to be welcomed as warmly as you were, hearing comments of ‘we were so happy you could make it!’ Or ‘thank God you could take time off!’, sharing the same sentiments as them as you’d let Eujin pull you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets and pillows instantly making a content sigh leave you. 

“I ordered room service,” Eujin sing-songed, gesturing to the Champagne bottles and whatnot on the tray next to the bed. 

“I’ll have one,” you raised your hand, earning a laugh from one of your friends. 

“Tired from work?”  

You let out a loud groan, nodding. This made Eujin nod gravely, “I swear, if I ever see your boss in real life, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.” 

You scoffed, “you don’t even know what he looks like.” You’d gratefully accepted the glass of champagne that was handed to you. "and plus, he's not that bad, other than the fact that he finds joy in pissing me off. He just works too hard in my opinion." 

You’d spent your time enjoying the once chance you could relax to your heart’s content without feeling dread at having to wake up early the following day, enjoying yourself as you leant against the headboard of the bed, listening to stories about how they’ve been and how all of them were either planning on getting engaged soon, were in long-term relationships or already married. 

“You guys make me wanna get married too,” you pouted, earning bouts of laughter from them. 

“You’d have to actually date to do that, you know,” they told you pointedly, making you sigh. 

“You’re basically married to your job, already,” your friend chimed in, making you laugh. 

“Seems like that, doesn’t it? I was super shocked he’d let me have the weekend off, usually he’d be swarming me with emails about now.” 

“I’m excited to see Brian’s friends tomorrow, maybe there’ll be someone that catches your eye,” Eujin told you, making you shrug. 

“Just out of curiosity, though, what are you looking for in a guy? You know, we could help you keep an eye out too.” 

You hummed, shrugging. 

“I’ve never really thought of a specific…criteria I guess. I guess I’d just like someone that’s kind, looks out for me, doesn't underestimate me...sort of has the same lifestyle as me? Since it’s honestly been really hard to find someone that doesn’t hate my schedule.” 

You'd almost scoffed at the way your brain had refused to picture anyone else other than Chris while you thought about it, figuring it was probably because he was the only guy you were in constant contact with. 

Eujin looked at you resolutely, “we’ll do our best,” she held up a fist in an action to cheer you on. 

You shrugged, You figured maybe going into this with an open mind would do you some good. 

You changed the topic, directing the focus back to Eujin, “whatever, let’s just have fun, it’s your big day soon, let’s just celebrate!”

===

At the rehearsal dinner, you had yet to arrive, since you’d spent a little longer getting ready, choosing to use your opportunity to dress up a little more, not having the luxury to do so during your usual work days. 

You had texted Eujin that you were on the way with some of the other bridesmaids, her attention directed elsewhere when her fiancé had called her over. 

“Hey, wanted you to meet some of my friends from law school.” 

While being introduced, Eujin couldn’t help but wonder if they were single, remembering your mentioned criteria from the night before. 

“Oh, so are you guys all working in the law sector now?” 

Her husband shook his head, “All of them, except Chan here. He’s the ceo of Bang Mobile Media company.” 

Eujin’s eyes widened, glancing at the brown-haired boy cautiously, as if sizing him up. Y/N worked in a mobile company too, right? If she was remembering this correctly. Was it mobile or broadcasting? 

“Oh, wow. That’s impressive.” 

Eujin had let them introduce themselves more, not being able to help but think that Chan was nice, friendly, and rich on top of that? 

“I don’t get it, how are you single? You’re basically the whole package!” She wondered out loud, making Chan flush, giggling as he shook his head. 

Her husband seemed to have begged to differ, “Chan is incorrigible when it comes to his love life.” 

Eujin raised her eyebrows in surprise, not having expected someone so good-looking to have such a fate, “really? Is there a reason behind that?” 

“He’d never dated much, even back when he was in Australia. He was always super dedicated to his work,” this had served to make Eujin even more positive about this guy’s prospects as a suitor for you. 

“Oh my god, you’re exactly like one of my friends, I should totally introduce her to you when she comes later.” 

“Hey, cut him some slack,” one of his friends had spoken up, “Chan can’t cheat on his job.” 

Eujin felt her phone vibrate signalling a notification, pulling it out to see that you’d arrived already, excusing herself and practically running over to the entrance of the venue. “Chan, you stay put, I have just the perfect girl to introduce you to!” 

“Y/N! You have to come quick, I think I found the perfect guy for you.” 

Your eyes widened, clutching onto the chain of your bag as you followed her into the room. 

“He’s really nice, and friendly, and he’s good-looking! Really cute dimples! And on top of that he’s loaded. I’m so excited for you to meet him.” 

Letting her drag you along, you’d distracted yourself with the atmosphere of the area, wondering just how much it would cost to book a venue like this, tugging down your dress that was hiking up from practically running after Eujin. 

“Hey, I have someone I’d like you to meet. Chan, this is Y/N,” Eujin chirped, the names causing the both of your heads to shoot up, locking eyes with each other as a feeling of doom built in the pit of your stomach. 

Your eyes widened in panic, glancing down at your attire, back to him, who was dressed in a flowy black shirt that you were sure cost more than your one week’s pay, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a simple silver necklace, and fitted black pants, your gaze landing on the small silver rings on his ears, almost feeling as though you were looking at a different person. 

Chris thought so too, seeming to have the same panic as you as he tried not to let his gaze linger too long on your dress, nodding his head at you in greeting, “nice to uh…meet you.” 

His ears had felt hot as you nodded back at him, almost startling when Eujin had cheered, leaning over to whisper to you, “I’ll make sure you guys get to sit next to each other.” 

You were about to protest when she’d left, leaving you standing at the bar with Chris. 

“So, Y/N, how do you know the bride to be?” 

You gulped, wanting to slap yourself for how your gaze had kept returning to Chris, unable to shake the feeling of needing to be in work-mode now with his presence before you. 

“Oh, uh, we were friends since college,” you answered simply. 

“Cool, did you guys have the same major?” Chris had to stop himself from glaring at his friend, a strange feeling inside of him as he recognised the look on his friend’s face and his posture to be that which he used whenever he was interested in a girl. 

You shook your head, “uh, not quite. I majored in law but she majored in journalism.” You tried to respond as calmly as you could, not being able to shake Chris’ gaze off of you, feeling as though at any moment he was going to call you out for something you weren’t even aware of.

You saw the guy practically light up at the mention of law. 

“Woah, that’s really coincidental. All of us met in law school,” he gestured to the group of them, making you laugh nervously. 

“Where are you guys um… dates?” You asked, immediately regretting the question when you saw the way Chris was practically glaring at you. 

You didn’t understand why he was glaring at you, wasn’t it a valid question? 

“We didn’t bring dates, unfortunately. Did you?” 

You shook your head, making Chris snort. “Does it look like she brought a date? She literally came in alone.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure where his spitefulness was coming from, especially when his friend was just trying to make conversation with you. 

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Yeah, pity. Maybe I’d have time to date if I wasn’t always so busy running around doing shit for my boss,” you cast a pointed glance at him, bringing a hand up to nonchalantly run it through your hair. 

Chris smirked, two could play at this game.

“Same here, I’d probably have the time to date too if my secretary wasn’t always causing trouble.” 

“Your secretary?” His friend spoke up, “I heard from someone she was pretty cute, and nice too.” 

You’d almost wanted to agree, realising that if you did it would put you in a pretty compromising position, simply acting surprised. 

“If I had a secretary like that, I’d just date her,” one of his friends had spoken up, making your eyes widen, wracking your brain for possible responses. 

“Who knows, are you a workaholic?” You asked pointedly, earning amused grunts and laughs from his friends, “ah… it’d be too bad if I was your secretary, then. I absolutely can’t stand dating workaholics.” 

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, the both of you knowing you were just as bad at him, replying calmly, “oh, you can’t stand dating workaholics? Me neither.” 

You were thankful that Eujin had given you a small break when she'd invited everyone to take their seats so dinner could be served, wincing when you'd ended up sitting next to Chris out of habit, momentarily forgetting that you weren't attending a networking session. 

You'd hoped and prayed that you wouldn't slip up more than you already did. As much as you'd wanted to spite him, he was still your boss, and you knew he'd give you an earful for even the slightest hint of disrespect ( which you were sure you'd surpassed already ). 

Focusing on the gorgeous food they'd served you, you saw the waiter pick up the bottle of wine, pouring it for you. 

Having been oblivious, the waiter was about to pour a glass for Chris as well, making your secretary-instincts kick in, your arm darting across Chris to stop the waiter in time. 

"No, Mr Bang, you shouldn't drink that." 

Chris would have looked fairly amused if he wasn't stressed out by your proximity, with you practically leaning over him to speak to the waiter. 

You'd cursed internally, wincing at the way Chan's friend had looked at you, tilting his head in confusion. 

"Mr Bang? And how do you know his alcohol preference?" 

Chris let out a nervous giggle as you straightened up, "uh...well um like...you know it's a really funny story actually... we're um..." 

Not being able to bear his awkward fumbling any longer, you'd butt in, "We work in the same company. Yeah." 

You were lucky his friend had bought it, simply nodding in understanding, "no wonder, you guys were being so weird just now." 

Chris scoffed, "what weird?" 

You turned around in your chair, pretending to pick up your bag, "stop, you're making it worse," you murmured so he could hear you, making him bring his glass of water to his lips. 

One of your girl friends had spoken up, halfway through the meal, "wait, i just realised. If you guys work in the same office, then you must know her boss right? That dude is crazy. We all thought it was a miracle that she could take time off for the wedding," 

You glared at your friend, trying to subtly shake your head in your attempt to stop her, but she was oblivious, "she doesn't like it when we badmouth him but it's true! Ever since she started working for him it's like her social life just disappeared. Her boss is always her first priority." 

You'd never related more to how people said they wished the ground would swallow you whole. Looking down at your food, you'd tried to remain nonchalant about it, but Chris who was next to you was looking at your friend with wide eyes. 

"Oh, really? What else does she say about him?" 

You laughed nervously, waving your hands in dismissal, "nothing that concerns you."

Chris turned to you, dropping his volume to a murmur, "is that so? because i'm hearing all this and i'm getting the feeling it definitely concerns me." 

You let out a huff of anxious laughter, bringing your glass to your lips, consuming your drink in sips because your boss was sitting next to you, but secretly wishing you could down it all in one go. 

Soon enough, all your anxious sipping had made you reach an empty glass, the waiter coming over to refill it for you, earning an eyebrow raise from Chris. 

"Leave me alone," you huffed. 

Chris simply laughed, "what? I didn't say anything." 

You'd tried to pay attention to the proceedings of the wedding rehearsal, and after dessert was served people had started to mingle around more, the drinks having started to kick in as you'd felt a lot more relaxed. 

It was safe to say Eujin was as well, going around to talk to the guests and thank them for coming out of town for the celebrations. 

Soon enough, you were almost done with your fourth glass, oblivious to the way Chris was looking at you, impressed yet concerned. Feeling skinny arms drape over your shoulders, you turned your head to see none other than Eujin, cooing at you affectionately. 

"Tell your boss a huge thank you for letting you have this weekend. I couldn't even get to see you on my birthday or for the engagement party, but i'm so so glad you're here now." 

You couldn't help but glance at Chris, knowing that you'd missed both of those events because you were helping him with something. The first being when he'd almost overworked himself enough to warrant a visit to the hospital since he hadn't been sleeping or eating well (after that, you swore you'd make sure this man was getting his three meals if you could help it), and the second time being when you had to accompany him to a keynote session out of town. 

You were starting to think maybe there was a little more to unpack behind your reasons why you stayed working for Chris Bang. Your only consolation at this point of time being that the rehearsal dinner was ending soon, meaning that you could finally escape the suffocating tension you were feeling. 

"Wanna hitch a ride back together? I drove here." 

You'd almost declined, feeling as if you didn't have a right to be in his car if it wasn't work-related. Chris had seemed to sense your hesitation, simply not waiting for a reply and walking off, hoping his smile wasn't too obvious when he'd heard you jogging to meet his pace. 

He'd surprised you even more when he'd opened the passenger door for you, shutting it gently after you'd gotten in. 

You'd given in to the comfort of his car almost immediately, more-so when Chris had gone to take something from the boot of his car, getting into the driver's seat and draping the soft blanket over your lap. 

"The drive back's pretty long, might wanna make yourself comfortable." 

And you were comfortable, very comfortable. Chris had started to play some music from his playlist, something about his behaviour almost making you forget that he was the same boss that had worked you to the bone for over a year. 

"I'm sorry," you suddenly spoke, once you were in the city, "about what my friends said," you weren't sure where all your courage was coming from, maybe it was the many glasses of wine, but whatever it was, it was putting Chris in an awfully reflective mood. 

"And what I said," you added as an afterthought. 

Chris took his lower lip between his teeth, shaking his head, “nah, don’t worry about it.”

Obviously, that seemed too good to be true, and you’d looked over at his expression in your attempt to figure out if he was being sincere. He was definitely gonna fire you. 

“I’m not gonna fire you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just kind of…like, you know, wondering,” he began, “the uh… engagement party and the birthday party that you um… you know, that you missed. Were they both because of me?” 

You pursed your lips, nodding, “but it wasn’t your fault, you know. The first one was when you’d passed out… you know, at the office, remember?” 

He nodded, prompting you to continue, “the next one was a keynote session that I had to follow you to.” 

Chris gulped, his throat feeling dry all of a sudden. This whole time he wouldn’t have guessed you’d been giving up these things for him from how willing you’d seemed to work. Was this considered neglecting the needs of my employee? Probably. But whatever it was, Chris knew that he was being harsh on you more for his own sake than yours, but he was only starting to realise now that that might not have been such a good tactic.

Chris was already pulling into the hotel, stopping at the valet services as you’d slung your bag over your shoulder, Chris coming out to open your door for you, making you grimace, feeling as though you should've been the one to open it for him. 

Walking into the hotel lobby, you'd glanced at your phone, seeing as Eujin had texted you tomorrow's plans, "did you get the schedule for tomorrow? I can forward it to you-" 

Chris let a giggle escape him, nodding, "you know they would've sent it to me too, right?" 

Your lips parted in realisation, nodding as you went over to press the lift button before he could even reach over to do so, "right, forgot." 

You were sure it was something about your intoxicated state that was making you instinctively go into work mode, whatever relaxation you thought you would be getting on this weekend now seeming all too far from reach. 

"Uh... I can check what time the hotel serves breakfast and arrange for something to be sent to your room if you want-" 

"Y/N," his tone was enough to make you straighten up, goosebumps rising on your skin for some reason. 

Chris was looking at you in amusement, one hand shoved into his pocket, "you're not working, remember? This is your rest weekend." 

Your eyebrows knit in a frown, chewing on your lip as you averted your gaze, "I know but it's just... like I didn't expect to see you here and now that you are I can't help but feel like I'm at work or something," you'd turned to wonder what was taking the elevator so long, watching as the numbers had gone lower and lower, completely skipping your floor and heading to the carpark. 

"You know what? How about this," he began, pausing momentarily when you heard the elevator ding, stepping inside the empty elevator and pushing your floor button, your heart almost stopping when he hadn't made to press any button. 

"You're on the 14th floor too?" He nodded. 

"Anyway, as I was saying. To make things easier for you, let's just pretend we don't know each other, that i'm not your boss, you're not my secretary. We're just... two people that met at a wedding? You don't have to do anything for me as long as we're here, hmm?" he offered, seeming to sense your hesitance 

"Look, I'll go first," he stretched his hand out as if to ask for a handshake, "hello, nice to meet you, i'm Chan." 

"Chan?" 

He nodded, "my friends call me Chan. People only call me Chris at work." 

You'd brought your hand up slowly, grasping his in yours, the cold metal of his rings against your skin more obvious when he'd given your hand a small squeeze. 

"Nice to meet you, Chan. I'm Y/N?" you tried, looking at him for approval and earning a nod from him, trying your best to ignore the way he was smiling. 

"Yes, that's your name," he laughed. 

Letting go of his hand, you were thankful the elevator had reached your floor without any interruptions, realising just how lucky you were to have not bumped into him earlier on as he'd continued walking with you to your room, gesturing to the door opposite your room with wide eyes. 

"My room's here." 

You made to take out your hotel room key, hearing him clear his throat, and you'd turned around rapidly to face him, strangely eager to know what he was about to say. 

"Say, Y/N, I'd love to, you know, get to know you more. What do you think about getting brunch with me tomorrow?” 

You opened and closed your mouth for lack of a response. This was inappropriate, right? But then again, you weren’t working this weekend. And technically, in this situation, Chan wasn’t your boss. So, there was nothing to lose. 

You nodded, “Yeah. That sounds…nice.” 

=== 

“Sounds kind of suspicious if you asked me,” you heard Seungmin’s voice over the speaker, making you sigh. You were already ready, lounging on your bed as if to mentally prepare yourself for a stupid lunch. 

“Right? I don’t know what he’s trying to get out of this.” 

Seungmin knew. But it’s not as if he was going to tell you, no, that was Chan’s job not his. Frankly, he’d had enough of listening to the both of you whine about your apparent personal vendetta against each other. He watched his fair share of movies, Seungmin knew how these things worked. 

“Maybe it’ll give you a chance to actually talk to each other like normal human beings instead of just bickering all the time for no reason.” 

“I have a reason, I’ll have you know.” 

Seungmin scoffed, “really? Enlighten me, then.”

You’d fumbled for a reason, stuttering in your failure to find something that validated your annoyance towards Chan. 

“I don’t know, his dimples are stupid.” 

Seungmin wanted to laugh, “so you’re telling me, you just can’t stand him because of his stupid dimples?” 

Your attention was diverted when you’d felt your phone vibrate, signalling an incoming text from Chan. 

boss  11:20am -meet u outside your hotel room in 10?- 

“Shit, he wants to meet me in 10 minutes.” 

Seungmin shrugged, “10 minutes is more than enough time for you to come up with a less shitty reason why you don’t like him. Or for you to realise that you don’t actually hate him.” 

You scoffed, burying your face into your sheets as you thought of a reason. 

“Okay, I’ve got it. I just don’t like how he treats everyone so nicely and then treats me like I’m some incompetent kid.” 

“You know for a fact he doesn’t think you’re incompetent. He literally trusts you more than he does the other staff.” 

You scoffed, “yeah, whatever. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s so condescending about it, he thinks of me i’m some kid that doesn’t know anything.” 

Seungmin snorted, remembering the incident where Chan had asked him to tell you to button up your blouse after the directors behaviour during a meeting. 

“Oh, he definitely doesn’t see you as a kid,” Seungmin cackled, earning an eye roll from you.

Glancing at the time, you saw how it was almost 11:30, “okay, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” 

Ending the call, you’d slung your small bag around your shoulder, giving one last glance at your appearance in the mirror in the bathroom before leaving your hotel room, startling when you’d spotted Chan there. 

Dressed in a black pullover and jeans, Chan smiled at you, bringing a hand up to touch his ear, “morning,” he greeted. 

“Good morning,” you huffed nervously.

He’d already begun walking, making you follow beside him, “did you get a good sleep?” 

His eyebrows raised at your question, nodding at you. His hair was curlier than usual, not styled up like you usually saw. “you?” 

You nodded, following him in silence as you’d gone down the list, realising he’d pressed the ground floor instead of where they were serving food on the 3rd floor. 

“You pressed the wrong floor,” you began, not expecting to see the pleading smile on his face.

“Actually, I was thinking of bringing you to this place nearby, I’ve been there before and it’s pretty good.” 

Your first thought was to wonder if it was expensive, knowing that this time you didn’t have the company card to fall back on. 

“Is it expensive?” You asked, seeing him shrug. 

“Not really.” 

Only when you’d reached the area did you realise how much of an understatement Chan made. The restaurant was a small cozy-looking place that served food that you’d only heard of up till now, located along a line of boutiques selling unusual trinkets and handmade items. 

Upon reaching, you and Chan had been led up upstairs to an outdoor seating area of the restaurant, the view of the scenery accompanied with the breeze instantly putting you in a relaxed mood. 

“Do you like it?” He asked, almost sounding nervous. 

Nodding reassuringly, you’d wanted to run away when you saw the way he’d walked over to where you were, pulling your chair out for you to sit on, making you flush. Never in your life would you have thought your boss would be pulling out your chair for you.

“You know, you don’t have to do that,” you told him, using the menu to hide your face from view, pulling it down slightly to watch how he’d rest his forearm on the table, scanning through the menu with a smirk on his face, his (stupid) dimples appearing on his cheeks. 

“I wanted to. You’d never let me do it for you on any other occasion.” 

You had to admit that there was some truth to what you were saying, choosing to change the subject by telling him you’d decided on what you wanted to eat, choosing something that was still within your budget for the weekend. 

Beckoning the waiter over, Chan pushed his sleeves up to his elbows as he ordered for the both of you, the waiter asking what drinks you would want, a teasing smile on Chan’s face when you’d insisted on water.

“What?” You scoffed, earning a shake of the head from him. 

“Nothing.” 

You’d leant back in your seat, about to tie your hair up into a ponytail, hearing the buzzing of your phone, reading the caller id to see that it was your mom trying to video call you. 

Sitting up quickly, you were about to excuse yourself when Chan had reached over, swiping to answer the call as he lifted the phone, pointing it towards you, his other hand beckoning for you to continue. 

“Hey, mom,” you spoke through gritted teeth, your rubber band between your teeth as you worked quickly to bunch your hair into a ponytail, Chan wanting to slap himself with how his ears had started to feel hot. 

“Hey, honey. Where are you? I called the office but they said you were on leave?” 

You secured your hair, taking the phone from Chan with a grateful murmur of ‘thanks’, making your mother’s eyes narrow, “who are you with?” 

“I’m attending Eujin’s wedding this weekend. I’m just uh…with a friend.” 

Chan looked away to clear his throat, catching your mom’s attention, “guy? I thought you told me you weren’t dating anyone.” 

This had caught Chan’s attention, having remembered Seungmin telling him that you’d broken up with your boyfriend. 

“No, yeah, mom it’s just a friend. Can I call you later?” 

Your mom’s eyebrows lifted, looking at you with a cheeky smile on her face, “oh, oh. Yes, of course you can. Have fun, baby.” 

You hung up quickly, shoving your phone back into your bag, looking up at Chan in question as to why he looked so surprised. 

“Your mom doesn’t know you have a boyfriend?” He asked, as if wanting that confirmation for himself, not feeling comfortable with pursuing his feelings if you were still in a relationship. 

You shook your head, “no uh…I broke up with my boyfriend a long time ago.” 

Chan’s lips pursed, nodding, “oh… sorry.” 

You shook your head, not being able to help a breathy laugh from leaving you, “don’t be. He was…it was for the best.” 

“D’you mind if I ask why? You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, I’m just kind of…curious.” 

You shrugged, not feeling as inclined to hide the information, since it was in the past now. 

“Nah he just… our schedules always clashed and I was always too tired by the end of the day to go out to find him and I guess it like, you know, sort of reached a point where I started prioritising my work and it didn’t work out.” 

Chan nodded slowly, the waiter coming over to serve you your food, “go ahead, you can start eating first.” 

You shook your head, insisting on waiting for his food to arrive before starting. “But I’m honestly fine now, it’s been more than a year since we broke up.” 

Chan huffed in amusement, “is that why you said you can’t stand dating workaholics?” 

Your giggles bubbled out of you, “honestly, I only said that to spite you. I’d much rather date someone that understands my schedule and reaches a compromise with me instead of just always expecting me to drop everything at their beck and call.” 

Chan nodded, “I get that. Yeah, work is important and all but… I feel like if you really loved someone you’d find any moment you could to be with them. Well, for me at least.” 

You laughed, “kind of hard, when we spend almost every waking moment with each other.” 

You’d looked up from your food when Chan hadn’t responded, the waiter finally coming over to serve his food, though his expression remained, looking at you as though he’d wanted to say something. 

“yeah,” he huffed eventually, starting to eat his food. 

You’d shocked yourself with how comfortable you were in his presence with the knowledge that you weren’t working. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To have Chris treat you nicely like how he did the other employees. Only now you were realising how easy it was to catch feelings for him just from this one change. 

Maybe you were kind of thankful he made it easier for you to hate him previously. 

It was true that you understood him better than most, and that he understood you as well, knowing what got on your nerves and what didn’t, how you worked and how you responded to things. Albeit there were a few things he still didn’t understand, you couldn’t deny that Chan was well-liked in the office for a reason, and you were beginning to experience that reason for yourself. 

Chris had been mulling over what his mother had told him about you, wondering if you were feeling the same tension that he was even as you talked about pointless things that made you wonder why you hadn’t talked about them sooner. 

Not that it was a bad kind of tension (or maybe it was), but it was akin to the feeling of knowing that you would both have to confront a realisation soon. 

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked as you were heading back to the car, earning a shrug from you. 

“My friends wanted to have some kind of girls night thing, you?” 

He sighed, nodding, “same, the guys and I are going out for drinks.” 

You shot him a look, “drinks?” 

He laughed, shaking his head, “I can hold my alcohol, I just choose not to drink.” 

Your eyes widened, “and I’m only finding this out now because? Do you remember when I had to drink your drinks for you during the first networking session because you lied to me and told me you couldn’t drink that!”

Chan flushed, “I wasn’t lying, technically. I really couldn’t drink that, I don’t like white wine.” 

You shot him a harmless glare, this time, letting him open the door for you as you got into the passenger’s seat. 

“Don’t drink too much tonight, yeah?” He gave you an amused huff as he started the engine of the car. 

“You too,” you held your pinky out for him to make a promise. 

Chan nodded, linking his pinky with yours as he leaned closer to you, “deal.” 

=== 

You’d heard the sound of beeping at your door that night, wondering what all the ruckus was all about, getting out of bed, taking your hotel room key and pausing the show you were watching on your phone, making your way over to your door carefully. 

“Why isn’t the card working?” You heard a tell-tale Australian accent muffled through the door, looking through the peephole to see a head of messy brown hair, looking as though Chan was leaning against the door. 

Opening the door slowly, you’d acted quickly to grab Chan by the shoulders to steady him before he could stumble forward, the confused boy holding up his hotel key and looking at you in confusion. 

“This isn’t my room?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning him around as you’d ushered him a few steps forward to his hotel room door, “this,” you pointed at the door, “is your room, Chan.” 

He giggled, “you called me ‘Chan’.” 

Taking his hand, you scanned his hotel key, bringing him into his room, finding it awfully neat (unlike yours), smoothly guiding him to his bed and letting him flop onto it. 

Letting out a sigh, you couldn’t help but to feel rather endeared, seeing him open his eyes slowly to look at you, tilting his head. 

“Sorry, I promised I wouldn’t drink so much.” 

You shook your head, reaching over him to grab at his blanket, your movements ceasing abruptly when you’d felt his hand on your back as you hovered over him, his hand moving from your back to your head, patting it gently. 

Pulling the blanket up harshly in your panic to cover him, straightening up as quickly as you could. 

“Shut up, go to sleep. Goodnight,” you said, hurriedly exiting the hotel room and going back to your room, closing the door behind you and trying to calm your rapid heartbeat. 

The next time you’d seen him was at the hotel lobby, where you’d agreed to meet him so you could head to the wedding venue together. Chan had come down wearing a nice suit, something you were more used to seeing him in, his hair styled up in a familiar manner. 

Greeting each other, you’d both decided to pretend the night before hadn’t occurred. With you being one of the bridesmaids and Chan being one of the groomsmen, you were separated almost immediately upon reaching the venue, with him having to help his friend while you helped Eujin. 

“A little birdie told me you came together with Chan,” she sing-songed. 

You scoffed, “aren’t brides usually supposed to be freaking out by now?” 

“Don’t change the topic! So, did you guys hang out yesterday?” 

You shrugged, “yeah, I guess we did.” 

She narrowed her eyes at you, “so? Is there a verdict?” 

You went behind her to take her bouquet, handing it to her as you waved her off in dismissal. 

“Too early to tell,” you lied. 

“Stop avoiding the question! Or else I’ll just have to ask Chan myself,” she huffed sulkily, making your eyes widen. 

“No, don’t do that! Okay, fine. It’s good. He’s nice.” 

Even Eujin’s makeup artist was giving you a knowing look now, making you cower under their gaze. 

“Shut up, focus on your wedding, please.” 

You wished you could’ve done some focusing for yourself, with Chan’s friends nudging him when you’d gone to the back of the church to line up with the groomsmen, all of them seeming to have conspired to let you walk with Chan. 

“Why do you look more nervous than the bride?” He teased, holding his arm out for you to take, making you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to grasp his arm. 

“You’re delusional.” 

Okay, maybe he wasn’t. You wished you could’ve taken your advice, having been distracted throughout almost the entire ceremony, your gaze constantly flickering over to Chan, and you were sure he’d noticed too, with the way he would smirk and avert his gaze to the floor in his attempt to stop himself from laughing. 

Shouldn’t he be the one that was nervous? He was the one that had shown up drunk at your hotel room. 

After the ceremony had ended and you were all done taking photos with the bride and groom, Chan had offered you a ride to the reception venue, and you’d accepted, not knowing that you would’ve had to squeeze in a car full of his friends too. 

Sitting at the passenger’s seat (thankfully), you’d prayed for the ride to be shorter as his friends had started to question you and Chan. 

“Is there something going on with you two?” 

“None of your business,” Chan sing-songed, only serving to spur his friends on even more, your eyes widening when you’d heard one of his friends murmur.

“Wait, but didn’t he say he had a thing for his secretary?” 

Your hand went up to cover your mouth as discreetly as you could, clutching the bag of your wedding gift for Eujin and her husband and looking out of the window in your attempt to keep your composure. 

Chan had seemed to share your sentiments, his eyes widening as he panicked behind the steering wheel, his mind racing with things he could possibly do to prevent you from hearing what his friends were so freely spouting.

“Oh, did he? Then there can’t be anything going on with her, right?” 

Chan had reached over to turn the volume of the music up, much to your fortune, not knowing if you would’ve been able to handle hearing them talk more about Chan’s love life. 

Eujin wasn’t kidding when she said that she’d make you and Chan sit next to each other, and you’d ended up at a table with Chan nearer to the front, with a few of your friends and their partners. Watching Eujin and her husband enter the hall, you’d been filled with excitement at how happy she had looked, clapping and cheering for them along with the rest of the guests. 

Once they were seated, Eujin and her husband had begun to make their own speeches, thanking the respective groups of people for coming, and you didn’t miss her pointed mention of how she hoped the guests would use this time to get to know each other as well. 

The way Eujin had done things was that dinner was served so that the guests could listen to the speeches and enjoy their meals at the same time, which you didn’t mind since you were absolutely starving. 

You didn’t miss the way Chan had been subtly looking out for you during the dinner, like how he would casually ask if you needed anything whenever he would get up to go to the bar, or how he’d brushed your hair behind your ear so it wouldn’t get into your food (not without a tut of his tongue), earning many surprised looks from your friends which he was oblivious to. 

You figured he was really making use of the ‘let’s pretend we don’t know each other’ thing as an excuse to be nice to you, not that you were complaining.  

You glanced at your phone, skimming over the texts that one of the intern secretaries had sent you to ask you for help, making your friend curious. 

“Is that your boss?” 

You shook your head, “nah it’s just one of the interns asking me for help with something,” you shrugged, setting your utensils down as you swiped into your email app, ready to clarify the problem for her, making Chan furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. 

Reaching over, he’d taken your phone from you, locking it and dropping it back into your bag, ignoring your look of confusion. 

“Hey, I was just gonna email her!” 

“They’re not supposed to be asking you to do things for them while you’re on leave. No working, this is your rest weekend.” 

You’d shut your mouth at that, deciding that it wouldn’t do you any well to go against him, wanting to pull your phone out to just read the emails but dropping your phone back when you saw the look he gave you daring you to continue. 

Your friend had seemed to be fairly amused by your exchange, shooting a look at Chan, “wow, now I’m really glad you’re here. You’re the only one so far that’s managed to stop her from checking on her work when she’s supposed to be resting.” 

You scoffed. Yeah, because the source of your work was sitting right next to you in a stupid suit. 

“Good to know,” he gave you a knowing smile, making you direct your attention back the waiters, seeing that they were serving desserts now. 

“Your friends make me sound like i’m a hard-ass,” he leaned closer to you to murmur, making you smile, nodding. 

“Well, they’re not entirely wrong,” you drawled, making Chan scoff, though not being able to help the laugh from leaving him. 

He nodded slowly, his expression looking fairly amused, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

You wondered just for a moment if he was only being nice to you for the sake of his own conscience (though Seungmin would beg to differ). And by the late afternoon, you were already starting to feel drowsy from the afternoon weather, the skies darkening as though it were about to rain. Chan had figured it would be good to start heading back. 

After you’d bid goodbye to Eujin, who seemed more than eager for you to leave together with Chan, Chan had offered to drive a few of his friends back to the hotel together with you, and thankfully this time they hadn’t mentioned anything about his love life. 

“Tired?” Chan huffed with a smile, glancing at you momentarily before fixing his gaze back on the road. 

“Yeah,” you murmured, yawning. 

“You should get some sleep when you get back to the hotel.” 

You nodded, “you too.” 

Chan nodded patronisingly, earning a huff from you, too tired to bicker with him. something in him stirring at how he could’ve been acting like this with you a lot earlier if he wasn’t always masking his concern with rude phrasing. 

His mom sure was gonna be excited the next time he updates her. 

=== 

You hadn’t gotten as much of a rejuvenating sleep as you would’ve liked, reality having kicked in that you were back to work tomorrow, the feeling lingering unsettlingly in your chest as you tried to make the most of the rest of your night. Somehow, you’d found your way to the lounge in the hotel, though that didn’t help much in lessening your dread for tomorrow seeing as the only other people here were people working on their laptops.

You figured it was not so much of dreading work than dreading Chan’s change in personality once he went back to being your boss. 

Letting your head rest on the stiff cushion of the chair you were sitting on, you’d fiddled with your phone, texting Seungmin about what had happened today. 

You’d almost startled in your seat when you saw someone take a seat next to you, turning to see Chan, his tie long gone as his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his hair already falling out of place as he simply looked at you. 

Raising your eyebrows in a silent question as to ask why he was here, he scoffed, looking away from you but failing to hide the reddening of his ears, “shut up, I just didn’t feel like sitting with a stranger.” 

You huffed in amusement, “did you take a nap?” 

Chan shook his head, “nah, just finished a conference call.” 

Your eyes widened, “wait, why didn’t you tell me? I was doing nothing this whole time—“ 

Chan shook his head in dismissal, “you were tired. I told you, this is your rest time, I’m not allowed to touch it.” 

You frowned, your mind racing with thoughts on how tomorrow could possibly go, looking at the carpet with a hint of a pout on your face, “yeah, and then tomorrow, everything goes back to normal.” 

Chan inhaled deeply, leaning back in his seat as he turned his head to look at you, his hands clasped and resting on his lap. 

“It doesn’t have to, you know… like…” he shrugged, “if you don’t want it to.” 

Your lips parted, unsure how to respond to the implications of his words, unsure how to even process his words. 

“It’d be… unprofessional for me to continue to act like… this towards my boss.” 

Chan raised an eyebrow at you, shrugging, looking at you with an unreadable expression. 

“I think I’m way past being professional already when it comes to you.” 

You’d sworn the air had felt thicker, something about the way the night mood had felt, or how the music in the lounge had succeeded in relaxing you, but something inside of you was telling you to just do it, to lean forward and kiss him. And probably promptly resign the next day out of embarrassment. 

You stood up quickly, “oh, I think my cab’s here, I have to go,” you lied blatantly, Chan not making any move to stop you, simply lifting a hand to wave you off with a tired smile on his face. 

“Go, go. See you at work tomorrow.” 

===

“Can’t we ask Y/N to ask him?” The secretaries and interns were currently huddled in the pantry, having gathered to discuss how great it would be to have a field day soon.

“But Y/N’s equally as scary as him!” One of the interns spoke up, making the secretaries hum thoughtfully. 

You’d stepped into the pantry, walking through the secretaries to retrieve a juice packet for Chan. 

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked, one of the secretaries turning to you with a resolute look on her face. 

“Y/N, do you think you could um… like, you know, ask President Bang if we could arrange for a team outing soon? Like a field day or something, just as a break for the staff. We haven’t had one in so long!” 

You tilted your head at them in amusement, “why don’t you guys just ask him? He’s in his office now, I can go tell him you guys wan—“ 

“No, no! It’s different, you’re the only one that can convince him. We tried last month but he’d just told us he’d think about it.” 

You shrugged, nodding, “alright, sure. I’ll go and ask him.” 

Making your way back to his office, you’d tried to ignore your nerves as you knocked on the door, opening it to reveal Chan who was on the phone, holding up a finger to you to signal you to wait. 

Walking over to him, you’d placed the juice packet on his desk in front of him, earning a smile and a grateful nod from him, before he’d switched back to a serious expression. 

“No, yes, of course. We would want nothing more than to ensure a… mutually beneficial agreement between our companies.” 

You didn’t have to ask to know who he was talking to. Chan had been trying to negotiate a deal with one of the shareholders, since they had been trying to propose to get Chan to merge with another prominent electronics company in the industry. 

You knew Chan was more than annoyed, but he had no choice but to be civil with the president of the company since they did have many shares in the company from the time his uncle was in charge. 

“Yes, we can discuss this more in person over lunch, how does that sound? Yep. Alright, bye.” Chan sighed, setting the phone down and leaning his palms on the table, supporting himself with a pained look on his face, looking up at you with a pout. 

“I really don’t like him.” 

Chan sighed, “same here.” 

“Anyway, I’m glad you came here, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“What?” You asked, watching as he’d fiddled with the papers on his desk. 

“Uh… I won’t ask you to handle things outside of work for me anymore.” 

Your eyes widened, “is this because of what my friends said? Because I’m honestly fine it doesn’t matter,” you shook your head, seeing him scrunch his nose. 

“It may not matter to you but I’m personally not fine with it,” he pressed his lips together. “Really, I mean it. Whatever I ask you to help me with from here on is only gonna be work-related.” 

You nodded. Was he trying to distance himself from me? Was it because of the trip? 

Your lips pulled into a frown, nodding more to yourself than to him, “okay…uh anyway I wanted to ask you um… the secretaries were wondering if we could have like a field day or something soon? Like just as a small break for the staff?” 

Chan shot you a look, knowing they’d asked you to ask him. 

“Do you want that?” He asked, earning a nod from you. 

“Yeah, I guess. It’d be fun to just have a day for staff bonding and all…” 

Chan shrugged, “alright, tell them to go ahead and arrange it.” 

Your eyes widened, finding the exchange to have went a lot more smoother than expected. 

“Will you be needing me for anything else?” 

He looked at you as if in thought, taking his lower lip between his teeth and letting it go, shaking his head, “other than to help me book an appointment with President Kim, nothing else.” 

You nodded slowly, exiting the room. 

By only asking you for work-related things, you’d expected your work-load to decrease, but it seemed as though you were currently having the most uneventful day you’d ever had. Other than drafting proposals for the President of the electronics company, there wasn’t much on your plate. 

You’d figured you would’ve been a lot busier tending to Chan’s requests but the boy had barely come out of his office, the only times he did being to head to the washroom, barely casting a glance in your direction when he walked past you. 

As if that wasn’t strange enough, he’d even let you have a longer lunch break, much to Seungmin’s amusement. 

“Doesn’t being in the legal team sound a lot more enticing now? At least you’d be doing something there.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I still have quite a bit of research to do, so no thank you.” 

“Admit it, you’re only staying because you can’t bear to leave Chan.” 

You’d almost choked on your drink, patting your chest to regain your composure, “where the hell did you get that idea from?” 

Seungmin scoffed, “you act like you didn’t call me a thousand times during the trip to tell me about things he did.” 

You’d fallen silent at that, averting your gaze. 

“Whatever,” you scoffed. 

“Isn’t it misconduct, though? If I were to date him.” 

Seungmin shook his head with an amused snort leaving him, “what are we in, the stone ages? Go wild, literally nobody cares. They’ll probably be happy if you manage to get him to be less of a hard-ass,” Seungmin told you, glancing into his cup to see how much drink he had left, “god knows when was the last time he got laid.” 

You flushed, shoving Seungmin, “how can you say that?” 

“What? It’s true!” 

You gave him a dismayed glare, standing up with a sigh as you straightened out your skirt, glancing at the time on your phone. 

“I should probably be heading back now, I’ve got work to do,” you gave Seungmin a pointed look, pulling him up from the bench. 

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” Seungmin let out a loud strangled sound of protest, his shoes stomping on the wooden panelled floor of the rooftop. 

You giggled, a teasing smile on your face, “weren’t you the one saying the legal team was what again? Enticing?” 

Seungmin pouted, pressing the elevator button, abruptly flailing his limbs in a mini outburst before straightening up and composing himself. 

“Fine, I’m fine. Enjoy your stupid office romance with Chan.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

Chan had a consultation with the legal team later that afternoon regarding the issue with the shareholder, and you’d been all-too-distracted during the meeting as you thought about what your possible ‘action-plan’ regarding your situation with Chan was. 

Taking down notes during the meeting, you’d let your train of thought wander, almost doodling onto your notebook, with one hand supporting your head on the table before you heard the legal advisor from the shareholder’s side speak up, a guttural groan leaving him. 

Looking up with an annoyed furrow of your eyebrows, you heard him lean back in his chair, “what does a man need to do to get a drink around here?” 

“You,” the man pointed a finger at you, “go and make yourself useful, sweetheart. Get me a cup of coffee.” 

Chan’s eyebrows knit into a frown, looking at the legal consultant with clear disdain on his face, looking at you to gauge your reaction. Already expecting you to do what you always did, get up with a smile and come back with the man’s coffee, Chan figured he was too annoyed by it to let you do just that. 

About to speak up to the man, you'd shocked Chan when you narrowed your eyes at him, giving him a sweet smile, "sorry, that's not my job here. Since you're not contributing much to the discussion, why don't you make your legs useful and head right over there and get yourself some water." 

You huffed, staring him down as he glared at you, directing his gaze to Chan. "Are you just gonna let her talk to me like that? I'd fire such a rude brat if I were you. Who's your supervisor, I'm gonna make sure he hears of this." 

Chan did his best to conceal his smile, simply turning his chair ever so slightly to give you a small smile, "that would be me, and I heard it loud and clear. Now, shall we continue with the meeting?" 

=== 

You’d been spending hours at your desk, distractedly doing research as you’d kept trying to peep into Chan’s office to figure out what he was doing, to no avail. (Chan had put the blinds down halfway through the day since he couldn’t stop staring outside at your desk either). 

You were technically done with your work, and Chan did mention that you were free to go home once you were done. On any other occasion this would have been considered a miracle, and you wouldn’t have hesitated to go home. But now, there was a nagging feeling in your heart that you couldn’t just leave him here, especially with how stressed out he was because of the business with the shareholder. You didn’t trust him not to spend the whole night here. 

Glancing at the time, you saw that it was already past 10, deciding that you would give him some time to make an appearance before you left, just to make sure he was alive and breathing inside his office. 

Distracting yourself with replying emails, even playing more than a few rounds of a word-search game on your phone, you figured he would’ve come out by now, but there was still not a sound coming from inside the room. 

Once the clock had almost struck 11, you figured you’d might as well go in and check on him for yourself. Going over to the pantry to make a hot drink, you’d walked back to his office, your grip tight on the saucer in your anxiousness. 

Inhaling deeply and breathing out with a resolute nod, you knocked on the door of his office, waiting a while only to be met with silence. 

Pushing open the door slightly, you’d tried again. 

“Mr Bang, is it okay if I come in?”

Upon receiving no response yet again, you’d pushed open the door fully, your eyes widening in realisation when you saw him seated at his desk, fast asleep on the chair. 

Walking over to the leather sofa as quietly as you could, you’d picked up the blanket from the sofa, making your way over to where he was, setting the hot drink onto his desk and making to drape the blanket over him. 

Only when you were adjusting the blanket did he stir awake, making your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, strangely embarrassed if he were to catch you doing such a gesture for him. 

Blinking slowly, his eyebrows furrowed before his gaze had landed on you. 

“I thought you’d gone home already?” He pouted, making you fumble to find an excuse why you’d stayed behind. 

“Sorry, Mr Bang, I was—”

He gave you a lazy smile, shaking his head, “none of that ‘Mr Bang’, nonsense. How come you haven’t left yet?” 

You pressed your lips together firmly, pulling your hands away from the blanket as you tried to straighten up, sighing softly. 

“I couldn’t leave… for some reason. I kind of wanted to make sure you were okay, since I barely saw you the whole day.” 

Chan’s satisfied smile had grew, nodding at you as if prompting you to continue. 

“but I’ll go soon. I guess,” you blurted, “unless like you know, you need me for something, then I’m fine with staying.” You stopped yourself, nodding before you could embarrass yourself any further. 

You couldn’t help but let your breath hitch when he’d reached out to grab your hand. 

“Thank you, for checking up on me,” he murmured, his close proximity making your gaze dart to his lips, averting your gaze quickly. 

“Did you not come out of your office on purpose?” You narrowed your eyes at him, hating the way your heart was doing flips at the way he grinned, his dimples showing cutely. 

You were about to pull back out of your own internal panic, but Chan’s grip on your hand was firm. 

“I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t ask you for anything that wasn’t work related from now on. But It’s killing me, because you were sitting outside the whole day and I couldn’t do anything about it…” he paused, tilting his head as he searched your expression. 

“You can refuse, but I just need you to do one little thing for me,” he murmured,  pulling you forward so you’d ended up seated on his lap, your arms going out to grasp his shoulders to steady yourself. 

“What do you need me to do?” You asked, your voice a mere murmur with how the tension was absolutely suffocating you, wanting nothing more than to just close the gap between the both of you. 

Chan’s hand went up to your chin, running his thumb over your lower lip as they unconsciously parted, “close your eyes.” 

Chan couldn’t help but smirk at the way you’d done so obediently, his hand going to where your neck met your jaw, leaning closer to press his lips against yours. 

Almost as if it was second nature, he’d let his other hand grasp your hip, his thumb rubbing the area soothingly. Tilting his head to kiss you deeper, you’d practically sighed into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck loosely as you felt him smile into the kiss. 

“I’m glad it’s you,” he murmured against your lips, his tongue swiping against your lower lip making you let out a surprised hum, not being able to help your smile as well. 

“We should stop,” you pulled away, breathless. 

“Why?” 

You shook your head, “I could kiss you for hours. It’s already so close to midnight.” 

Chan glanced at the clock apathetically, looking at you and shrugging, his hand running up and down your side. 

“So be it, then,” he said, pulling you back to meet his lips. 

===

“Is it just me, or has President Bang been a lot less moody these days,” Seungmin heard one of his colleagues in the legal team asking her desk-mate, making her colleague nod gravely. 

The mention of President Bang had him glancing towards his office, spotting your desk empty and figuring you were inside his office. 

“Definitely. At first I thought it was just me, but he’s been a lot less harsh to Y/N as well,” she agreed. 

“Don’t you think so, Seungmin?” 

And almost as if on cue, you’d exited his office, pulling your hair out of your ponytail to readjust it, looking around as if scanning the area to see if anyone had seen you. 

Locking eyes with Seungmin, you shot him a wink, straightening out your blouse as you’d gone back to sit down at your desk. 

Seungmin scoffed, not being able to help the smile on his face as he rolled his eyes, “yeah, I think I know why.” 

[honestlyandrogynousnightmare]

magic reveal

So ive been thinking about the magic reveal we did get and also the different magic reveals we COULD have gotten so i thought id project all my thoughts into another massive tumblr rant:

personally, i dont think the magic reveal was bad at all. yes, i wouldve done it slightly differently, i think it was done way too late in the show and left little time to explore how that reveal affected merlin and arthurs relationship, and obviously we never actually ended up seeing if magic was legalised and all. but i dont hate the magic reveal we got. the key part i really love is that it was done on Merlins own terms, he could have just lied, but instead he finally told Arthur the truth and i think that there were many reasons for that decision being made. 

firstly, Merlin definitely felt guilty and blamed himself for Arthur being stabbed, he must have at least partly blamed himself because everything he did directly led to Mordred turning into a little shit. Part of him might have just felt as if he owes Arthur that explanation yknow. secondly, i feel like by that point he was tired of lying in general, he needed to get that secret off his chest. those two things combined with the fact that Arthur was dying may have pushed him to telling the truth,  because deep down he did know that it was probably the last chance to tell Arthur the truth. 

i liked how they presented Arthurs reaction too, the clear message there was that Athur was angry at the lying, thats the part he saw as betrayal, not the magic itself. he didnt want to believe that Merlin was a liar, when he always saw him as the one person that was entirely honest with him. hell, he still trusted him enough to send him back to Camelot and Gwen so he knew Merlin wasnt evil. If the writers actually did a good job at developing Arthurs character, i feel like itd be more obvious that Arthurs stance on magic was different from his fathers, but yknow bbc and their shoddy writing. I love that moment of acceptance as well, when he tells Merlin that he doesnt want him to change. He doesnt even now about all the things Merlin sacrificed and lost in order to protect Arthur and Camelot but he still accepts him. I think that when he first fund out it was all like “holy crap i dont even know him” but after spending a few hours with Merlin he realises that its still the exact same person he knew the week before. 

anddddd as much as i like the way they did that magic reveal, the ending of the show left me with no closure and a lot of tears. my ideal magic reveal wouldve happened earlier, either at the start of season 5 or near the end of season 4. It would give us a chance to see them talk it out, and god we know that there would be arguing, and if arthur wasnt dying he would probbaly be shouting but the key part here is that arthur wouldnt hurt merlin. i think he culd consider sending him away if his father was still king just to protect him but we all know merlin would reply with “no <3″. but since i cant see the reveal happening when uther is king, i will be ignoring that scenario. and again, theres many ways this could play out.

the one way that ive always found interesting was arthur figuring it out on his own, because he may be an idiot, but hes not stupid. *if you like this sort of thing read “so close and im halfway to it  on ao3, its a merthur fic and the magic reveal in that one makes me cry so much and the fic is so well written* I feel like at one point, he would just put the pieces together, and it would all make so much sense to him? Merlins random disappearances and scars would make sense, the luck he had when it came to fights, Merlins weird reactions when someone mentioned magic, how on earth merlin of all people managed to survive every battle and fight arthur was in when some of his best knights didnt. 

then theres the very cliche “merlin using magic mid battle to save everyone” reveal. because its mid battle, i really cant picture them talking it out there lol,  i picture a lot of ignoring but also if other people saw him using magic, we all know the first thing arthur would do is give the knights a good old “if you kill him i will kill you and then myself”, it wouldnt be until later that they would actually talk. 

and then like the canon magic reveal, theres Merlin doing it on his own terms. i personally really like thhis one because it gives him so much more control over the situation and over his words. *another fic rec here if you like this sorta thing, its called “to the world that let you by” and its really beautiful and made me cry at 1am so there you go, and as you guessed it, its another merthur*. i love this reveal because it gives merlin a chance to explain, and arthur a chance to listen and try to understand. 

now there are loads of different sub categories that could go into those, like Arthur finding merlin creating butterflies out of thin air lol, but i wont go into those. whatever reveal would happen, i feel like “the talk” after would usually end up in a similar way. Arthurs reaction would be similar to what we got in the canon reveal, because the actual magic isnt what would hurt most.  it would be the lies. Arthur has been lied to and betrayed by so many people you cant really expect him not to react badly to being lied to. the magic sure would confuse him and put him in a difficult position, because you have to keep in mind that his entire life he has been told that magic is pure evil, and to him, merlin is the polar opposite of that. i think it would just make him question everything, like does he even know this man? has he won any of his battles or has it always been merlin? why is he in camelot? why would a sorcerer be serving him? but he wouldnt hurt him. he wouldnt even consider that imo, sure, he will demand an explanation, but he wouldnt actually thin about hurting him. 

and merlin would understand why hes angry about the lying, that much is obvious. and he would be reluctant to tell arthur about the things that were happening behind his back all those years, but he would be honest. and go that conversation would be hard for both of them, i cant really imagine them having it without a lot of crying, shouting and even more wine tbh. arthur isnt good at listening which is why this would be so hard for him too, but merlin has to be honest, completely honest with arthur for the first time in his life and thatd be difficult. 

and i think merlin would handle arthurs reactions well, even if arthur decided to lose his temper lol. but i can still imagine him being a bit bitter if arthur judged his choices and stuff when it came to poisoning morgana and freeing the dragon, asking what on earth HE would do in that situation. where the only choices he sees are bad ones, and he has to pick the one thats least evil. 

arthur would probably be most pissed off at the thing about his mother tbh, because merlin outright lied there, usually its just deflecting but he made that deliberate choice to lie. but i really do think he would understand all of this, while not every choice merlin did was good, he did it with good intention. 

and then arthur would remove the ban on magic and they would kiss and get married amd live happily ever aft-

thanks bbc.

anyway if you want any more magic reveal fics (or links to the ones i mentioned, ao3 can be bloody annoying sometimes) feel free to comment or message me or anything, i have a couple more in my bookmarks. 

thanks for reading this rant, scuse the bad grammar, id love to hear your thoughts and opinions on this and magic reveals in general so feel free to comment! have a great day<3

[hatsukeii]

One where y/n has been obviously in love with Tsuki since they were kids and not afraid to show it, but he’s always been lowkey mean to her and thinks she’s annoying and then finally years later she decides he’s not a nice guy and let’s him know she’s fine with all that crap and then he realizes he’s falling for her and does something really sweet for her and they fall in love? 😭😭🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ty in advance. Sorry if this is too long or specific, if it is, feel free to ignore

I genuinely hope you didn’t think I would actually ignore this<33

IM SORRY IM A MASTER PROCRASTINATOR ILY ALL AND YOU ALL DESERVE AN APOLOGY FROM ME

Dear diary//Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Cursing

Genre: Angst??? I guess???

Summary: He’s an ass, but you still love him to bits, and it’s killing you.

July 16, 2008

Dear Diary,

I got to play with Tsukki again! He had his dino with him, it was super cute! He told me his front teeth came off last night, and there’s a big hole in his teeth, but it’s okay, because he said it will grow back. I tried to hold his hand while going down the twin slides but he said it was sweaty, so next time I’ll wear gloves!

You flip through the hot pink diary, cringing at your young infatuation. Your diary entries were cringey as fuck, but they always rekindle something within you whenever you read them. You can’t even remember when you stopped writing in the book. Was it when you turned 10? Maybe 12? You don’t have a single clue.

April 30, 2011

Dear Diary,

Tsukki refused to marry me in the playground at break:(( I’ve known him for so long though, aren’t we supposed to get married? I just wanna hold his hand and hug him and give him a biiiiig kiss<33

Chuckling at the memory, you recalled the event from that entry clearly. You were seven years old only, still an immature kid. You still thought that getting married in a middle school playground was a huge milestone in life, almost as crucial as a legal marriage.

May 29, 2016

Dear Diary,

Love how Tsukki didn’t even remember my birthday:,) Must be nice getting made fun of. Half the students in my class felt my second hand embarrassment from when he completely forgot about it. God, why am I even in love with this asshole? I’m gonna have to go to school tomorrow and deal with all my classmates making fun of me for being hopeless. Brb, currently digging a hole for myself:)

Frowning at the memory, you think back to when you were twelve. He was an asshole then, still is an asshole to this day. And yet not an ounce of your unconditional love and support for him has faded. Grabbing a tissue, you wipe the remaining tears from your eyes, ignoring the dried tear stains on your cheek. Your hand slams onto the bedside table, lazily feeling for your phone. Tilting it towards your face, you sigh at the empty lock screen, accepting defeat. Flicking through the rest of the book, you are welcomed by pages and pages of white. “So that’s when I gave up on this diary...” you mutter to yourself as you lift yourself up from your bed. Heading towards your desk, you absentmindedly grab yourself a pen, notebook in hand. Slamming the diary down, you open it up to the next entry page after your last one, gently placing the tip of your pen on the first line. You grab your hair out of frustration, the ink bleeding into the thin paper. “What to do, what to do...?” You mumble, starting to form sentences in your notebook.

July 17, 2020

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while hasn’t it? Holy shit, all my entries were about Tsukki weren’t they? Jesus, of course they were. At least I was able to get it off my chest this afternoon. Telling him that I’ve been in love with him for years, that was fucking terrifying. Telling him that although I know he’s an ass, an animatronic dick complete with ballsack, that won’t stop me from falling harder, it was gut wrenching, but also relieving to a certain degree. I’m still waiting for some form of response, although I’m not sure I’m gonna get one anytime soon. I can’t decide whether telling him was the dumbest or bravest decision I’ve made. Maybe it was both. Just wait until I look back on this entry like a decade later and still cry about it lmao. Tbh he’s a genuinely nice person at heart. I know that all too well. He may be an ass most the time, and he may think I’m annoying, but despite how hard he tries to push me away, I’ll never abandon him. Jesus Christ, I sound like a yandere here, but it’s not that. It’s that I care for him a lot. Maybe even a bit too much. It’s ridiculous how absolute and utter shit a crush can make you feel.

Throwing the pen down, you flop back onto your bed, huffing into the thick blankets. You stay silent, not sure of what to think of the situation. “I’ll just deal with it all tomorrow, I’m tired of this shit.”

On the other side of the incident, Tsukishima is currently going through a mental crisis.

The blond sits at his desk, eyes unwavering, but focusing on nothing. It feels as if he hasn’t blinked in what seemed to be hours. Just hours of staring at his wall that led to nothing. Your confession plays in his head nonstop, like a broken record that refused to run out of battery.

“The thing is I like you. I’m pretty sure I always have. And I know that you’re such an asshole and all that, you won’t treat me as well as people would expect, but it’s fine. I’m fine with all that. All the dumb, stupid, careless insults you’ll throw at me, the side eyes and sneers, telling me to shut up and go away, I’m fine with it. I know you’re a good person, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Well shit what the fuck do you want me to say?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

Maybe he should have let you down slowly.

But as he stares at his wall, the photos of the two of you framed and balanced on his floating shelves, he starts to reconsider his feelings.

The way your expression faltered then as you hastily took your bag and rushed away without a single word, the way you avoided him in the halls, the way you stopped talking to him throughout the day, it drove him crazy. He couldn’t handle the realisation that he hurt you so incredibly badly, so now all he can do is stare at his empty, blank wall. Did he know why he felt that way? No. He didn’t and still doesn’t. He’s Tsukishima fucking Kei, the emotionless, provoking, unlikeable king, yet a mere girl is somehow able to mess with his mind so badly, that all he can do is wallow in regret and confusion? What is this weird feeling? His throat itches, his heart is beating like crazy, sweat starting to gather around his temples. He clamps his two hands together, slamming his forehead onto them and squeezing his eyes shut.

How could I have been so dense?

How was he unable to see that you were absolutely in love with him? Even with the bento boxes, birthday gifts, constant compliments, he still only ever thought you liked him as a friend. However he never did. He likes you more than that. Way more. Yes, he thought, and still thinks you can be annoying at times, especially when you nag at him about not eating enough or being rude, but it was undeniable that there was something else he felt. But his stupid ass shitty ego would never let him admit it. And now that you finally confessed, he freaked out and fucked up. Even then, he didn’t think it would affect him to this extent.

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you (Y/N).”

He says that over and over again, desperate to cloud out the disagreeing thoughts in his head that scream otherwise.

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

The guilt didn’t go away.

In fact, now that he’s said all that, he feels even worse. Oh how much he wants to find you right this second, wrap you in his arms, tell you how incredibly sorry he is, but he can’t. He doesn’t deserve to do that. His heart is begging for him to just get out of the house and run to yours as fast as he could, but his body won’t move. He wants to cry. Scream. Shout. Throw something. Shatter something. But most of all, he wants to get another chance.

Picking up his phone, he hesitates, before typing in your contact, the cleared out, empty chatroom showing up on his screen. Going as fast as his fingers could, he typed out the one sentence he’s been dying to let out.

“It was a middle school crush, but I’m still into you. I always have been.”

Is it just me, or is this bad-

Idk man it seems like all my fics are pretty much the same and I hate it😌

Tags:

@sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @justachillgirl @trashcanweeb @just-another-bored-writer @poppirocks @majorfangirl37 @kaylacinderella @random-fandomlover @tiger1719 @tiredgr3mlin @itmekisuu @skyeackermans @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @shoutsukii @agentvicinity @sakusasgarbage @kuroo-thought-of-a-better-un @sneezefiction @bokutokoutarou @thirstyvolleyballhoe @iwaixiumi @iwaigroomi @inlwlevi

Feel free to comment or pm to be added to taglist!

I’m back to writing lmao I’m bored in two week quarantine rn

Edit: cue me realising I was half asleep and missed something in the request don’t be surprised if I repost this💀💀💀💀

Btw the hq manga just ended time to cry

💕💕💕💕

[orionwhispers]

Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

(A/N - hello. so basically, i had a dream about chris evans, and then i modified it into this tommy imagine. it was supposed to be a drabble but i physically cannot write anything less than 12k words so thats great. honestly this is very similar to ‘fools gold’ but hey, im in the mood for some angsty fluff and fighting with our main guy tom. next tommy imagine will be the lolita wedding and that will be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. thanks for everything, PLS let me know what u think. see you soon! stay safe!) 

trigger warnings: fighting, tommy being a douche, everyone being a dumbass, tommy getting jealous and implied sex.

You saw him on a Saturday night, at a bar on the outskirts of the city.

It had been three months, and you had hoped you would have managed to slip through the cracks; pass through the night like the foxes that roamed in the back alleys - but you had never been that lucky, especially not when he was involved.

It was your friend’s birthday, and you tipped back glass after glass of expensive champagne that bubbled and burned at the back of your throat. The lights were blinding, twinkling chandeliers and the smell of cigarettes and french perfume, something like bergamot and vanilla, lingering in the air.

Your dress was cherry red, your hair tied back with a sequinned headband and your lips and cheeks painted in rouge, but you had never felt so awful. It had been bad enough trying to find something to wear, the contents of your wardrobe tipped all over your floor, a mess of mesh and feather and lace, almost everything reminding you of him, as if he had been stitched right into the fabric. You had ended up curled in a ball on the floor, wiping your tears with the Chanel blouse he had bought back from a business trip in Paris.

Stupid fucking boys.

You could hear the girls talking around you, high pitched giggles and exaggerated voices as they gossiped about something or other that faded into static around you. You had spent the past three months holed up in your flat, only leaving for work or the street market on Sunday, stocking up with bread and wine and cheese, everything carb filled and rich to fill the hole in your heart. 

You weren’t used to the company of others or the hustle and bustle of a crowded room, and you sat back against the plush cherry velvet seats, dreaming of climbing into bed and devouring the slab of dark chocolate you had been saving.

Your close friend Emma, the one who knew the reason you were staring into space and not laughing and drinking with the rest of the girls, placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, and tilted her head slightly.

“How are you holding up?”

You snapped out of your trance.“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed you lightly, her voice as soft and playful as ever. “At least you came out! It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Yeah - I’m sure everyone missed having me bawl like a baby and mope around.”

She elbowed you, “Stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself and have a shot! Christ! You can spend the rest of the week wrapped up in your duvet, but tonight - suck it up, and have a drink!”

She handed you a glass of something dark, and you brought it to your lips, tipping it into your throat with a wince. It felt as though you were drinking petrol.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. All that matters is that it’s top shelf and it came from those fellas over there.” She pointed towards a group of men huddled around the bar. They were shooting quick glances and sly winks towards you and your friends. Sure they were relatively attractive, most likely handsomely rich and dressed in suits that looked finely tailored - but they made your skin crawl.

You hated the way that you would always be comparing other men to him, and you especially hated how they would always come up short.

An hour later and whatever liquor was coursing through your bloodstream had done its job, and everything seemed infinitely brighter. You even found yourself laughing at jokes and stories that you only caught halfway through, the alcohol wonderfully dizzying your brain.

You were so caught up in the rush of being drunk and finally feeling somewhat happy for the first time in forever; that you didn’t realise you had caught the attention of one of the men across the bar. You felt him sidle in next to you, following his friends who had snaked their way into your booth, their arms slung around the girls shoulders, whispering sweet little sentiments into their ears.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, so close to you that you could smell the sour whiskey on his tongue, your nose wrinkling.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps you had spent so long being ‘Tommy Shelby's girl’ that you had forgotten what it was like when you were being hit on. You had spent so many nights safely tucked under his arm, his hands possessively wrapped around your body, an unspoken threat sent out to everyone and anyone around you - it had been a long time since a man had tried his luck with you.

Perhaps you were so infatuated with him that you never noticed anybody else. Your mind forever filled with visions of oceanic eyes and three piece suits, his Birmingham accent ringing through your ears like a gospel. He invaded all of your thoughts and infiltrated your dreams, and you loathed and loved him for it. The way that he filled your brain and heart like smoke, clouding your decisions and judgments, like some kind of magical elixir, blurring everything but the shape of him.

The man beside you didn’t concede. He cleared his throat, running a finger over the rim of your glass, ignoring the way your eyebrows furrowed and lip curled.

“Let me get you a drink, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

It sounded so wrong. It was never pretty girl. It was - darling, sweetheart, princess. It was - my love, honey, kitten. It was said teasingly and exasperatedly, it was whispered in your ear and buried into the space between your thighs. It was never said in the sticky corner of a club, from the greedy mouth of a stranger undressing you with his eyes.

“I’m - ” Taken. But you weren’t, not anymore, and you hated the way the thought of him made your lip wobble. It’s had been three goddamn months, why did the memory of him still make your body go up in flames?

Emma stiffened beside you, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman speaking to her, and turned to face you and your unmoving suitor.

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

A flicker of annoyance. His fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white, his tongue running across the ridge of his front teeth. He obviously didn’t take rejection well, and he was doing a shitty job at hiding it.

“Are you sure? It looks like she could do with another drink.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes rolling back at the way he dismissed you and spoke as though you were incapable of thinking for yourself.

“I’m fine.” Your words were curt and clipped, a clear indication of your disinterest, but he refused to back down.

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Really? What kind of man would leave a pretty little thing like you all by herself?”

“The kind of man that would punch you in the fucking teeth for speaking to her like that.”

You froze.

Oh Christ.

A million irreverent, evil, blasphemous phrases hurtled inside of your mind, and you knew that if Polly somehow ever caught wind of what you were thinking, you would be on the receiving end of a sharp slap around the head.

He was here. Of bloody course he was. He had a knack for showing up out of the blue and knocking all of the wind from your lungs.

It hurt like an open wound, feeling his eyes on you, the same ones that had looked at you with love and humour and gentleness, and not being able to fully meet his gaze - knowing just how much it would hurt if you did.

“She’s with me.”

His voice was firm, laced with the same sort of dismissive irritability he used to use whenever somebody tried their luck with you. This time was different however, you couldn’t roll your eyes and kiss him, you couldn’t put your head in the crook of his neck or mutter that you were his under the golden chandeliers, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore, because you weren’t.

The man seemed pick up on the tension, clicking his tongue slyly, unaware of the consequences his words would have. “Doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Get the fuck out.”

The penny must have dropped for the rest of the boys. The booth going silent as they realised just who the handsome shadowy figure towering over them was. You felt them slowly inch away, head down and gazes low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. A few hushed mumbles of “holy shit! That’s Tommy Shelby! One of those blinders!” hurtling around the tables beside you, not completely drowned out by clatter of the jazz band.

“I have every right to be here.” The ballsy stranger said, stiffening up beside you. His spine curled as he tried to make himself bigger. “Who says I have to leave?”

You huffed at his words, exhaling like a balloon. “That’s enough.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. You were exhausted, the night taking such a sudden turn you felt like you had whiplash, and the alcohol sat deep in your gut like a rock. You just wanted to get home, away from the man you wanted so badly your fingers ached to hold him, and crawl into your bed with your cat and a mountain of chocolate.

“Well, considering I own the fucking place, I think that I do - and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

That seemed to do it.

You kept your eyes focused on the mans paling face, the grim look washing over him like salty sea air, you didn't dare turn and face the man you could feel burning holes in your neck.

“I.. I...” The man spluttered almost incoherently, rising to his feet and stumbling out from beside you. From behind you you heard Emma giggling coyly into her glass. “Sorry.” He mumbled quickly, his knees buckling when Tommy clapped a hand around his shoulder, holding him in place like a dog.

Tommy’s voice was still, almost too controlled, and you knew that his words were deadly. “If I see you around these parts again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your skull.”

He gulped and nodded, darting into the sea of bodies in the crowd.

You kept your eyes low. Fumbling with the pearl clasps of your purse you squeezed Emma’s hand in parting and rose to your feet, wanting to leave as painlessly as possible, not even daring to look up at the face staring you down.

“I should go.” Was all you said, sliding out of the booth and onto the marbled floor. You saw the way the rest of the girls were watching the scene unfold before them, and you knew that by Monday you would have a lot of questions to answer, but right now you needed nothing but the safety of your flat.

You didn’t even let your shoulders brush against him. You coiled around him like a snake, your feet moving so fast your embroidered shoes were nothing but a blur of scarlet. You only made it to the hallway, he let you go far enough that you were in private before he reached for you, a familiar, large hand curving around the dip in your shoulder. You hated the way your body reacted, goosebumps rising to his touch unconsciously.

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn’t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can’t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

[jungshookz]

Im going to need you to do me a solid and put my heart back together after you broke it with that library!Joon break up cliff hanger drabble. I know you can fix this, I need you to fix this. I can't function knowing my favourite pairing ended up at that point without closure. 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I beg of you, heal our hearts. 💜💜💜

i’m here with my peppa pig bandaids and i’m ready to mend some broken hearts :D

also whAT is namjoon doing with his face in this gif hfshjkjs

➺ pairing; kim namjoon x reader

➺ genre; librarian!jooniverse

➺ wordcount: 1.6k

➺ what to expect; “i will accept this breakup if you can give me one logical reason as to why we don’t belong together.”

                                     ➽───────────────❥

you know

now that you think about it, it probably wasn’t a good idea to break up with namjoon because a) he is the absolute love of your life and you can’t imagine going on without him but aLSO b) …the two of you are co-workers

so it was a little awkward coming into the library this morning and seeing namjoon sitting behind the counter

and it was a little awkward saying good morning to him when four days ago you told him that it’d be better for the two of you if you didn’t see each other anymore

and it was especially awkward having to put books back into their slots while namjoon was pushing the book cart along right behind you

he usually reads the serial number out loud so that you know exactly where to put the book back in a quick and efficient manner but instead he just handed the books to you without a single peep

you’re finding it pretty hard to (no pun intended) read namjoon

usually it’s easy to tell how he’s feeling whenever you look at his face but right now it’s just… nothing.

you see nothing

there’s so much that you want to say to him but it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want to talk to you right now

which is completely understandable, of course

every time you close your eyes you just see namjoon’s sad little face staring right back at you

and-

“i will accept this breakup if you can give me one logical reason as to why we don’t belong together.” the sound of books being ploppED onto the counter has you looking up from the monitor

“what?”

namjoon props both his arms up onto the pile of books before resting his cheek against his fist, “you heard me.”

“i-“ you clear your throat before letting out a chuckle, “i really don’t think right now is an appropriate time to be discussing-“

“no, now is the perfect time. we’re in the middle of a global pandemic. there’s literally nobody here.” namjoon reaches up to push up his glasses, “go on, y/n. just one good reason to explain why our relationship didn’t work out.”

one good reason

okay

easy!

“fine.” you lean back against the chair and cross your arms, “we’re complete opposites in terms of everything. you like classical music, i like pop. you like mustard, i’m more of a mayonnaise fan. you like oranges, i like apples. you prefer a night in, whereas i prefer to go out. it’s as simple as that, namjoon.”

ha!

you think that was a pretty solid point

you give yourself a mental pat on the back before looking up at namjoon with a particularly cocky smile

opposites attract, sure… but not complete opposites, right??

you can’t be with someone who supposedly isn’t compatible with you whatsoever!

“that would’ve been a good argument, except for the fact that you love that we’re complete opposites.” namjoon points out, “you once said that it adds more spice to our relationship.”

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek when you realise that namjoon is (unsurprisingly) correct

you DO love that the two of you are like water and oil because it just makes you appreciate and love namjoon more!!

you love hearing him talk to you about the history of the fibonacci sequence (well, you don’t loVe hearing about it, but still) because it makes you think about how lucky you are that you get to learn about new things every day!

okay, well…

you can come up with something else, right?

“we’re breaking up because… you’re too dorky for me and… i don’t vibe with that aesthetic, you know?” you shrug before shaking your head

yeah okay

that definitely wasn’t a good reason

now you’re just grasping at straws

namjoon scoffs and resists the urge to burst into a maniacal CACKLE

that’s a funny joke!!!

tell another one!!!

“hey, remember that time you wore my glasses AND one of my cardigans while riding my-“

you immediately shoot up from your chair before slapping a hand over namjoon’s mouth

“okay, fine, whatever-“ you grumble as you pull your hand away, “i don’t know, then. i guess i… i don’t know.”

namjoon is quiet for a couple of seconds before he speaks up again, “do you love me?”

that question has you looking straight up at him and you find yourself nodding before you even know it, “of course i love you.”

“okay.” namjoon nods, “and you know that i feel the same way about you, right? you know i love you.”

you’re not sure why but your throat is starting to tickle and you can feel your eyes starting to glaze over a little

you immediately lower your gaze

god

you already hate crying in general

and now you’re doing it in public?????

you big old baBY

“y/n…” namjoon reaches over to cup your cheek with his hand and you nuzzle into it instinctively, “i love you, you know that. i just… i’m struggling to understand why you… why you’re giving up on us… you have to meet me halfway here-“

“-i feel like i’m not good enough for you!” you’re bursting into tears a millisecond later and namjoon’s heart clenches in his chest at the sight of you being so clearly distraught over him

“baby, no-!” namjoon abandons his books to join you behind the counter, “how could you ever think that??”

he sits down in his own chair and you let him plop you down onto his lap

“you’re just- you’re so sm-smart and i, i literally don’t know an-anything and i-i always feel so stu-stupid-“ you sob and reach up to wipe at your hot cheeks, “i just- i just feel like you’d be happier with someone who’s more on your l-level and i’m clearly not that person-“

“y/n-“ namjoon shakes his head, “you-“

“i j-just want you to be happy and i thought this would be the right decision-“

“y/n!” namjoon reaches up to pinch your lips shuT in between his pointer finger and his thumb, “i need you to stop talking and just listen to me.”

you sniffle before nodding

namjoon pulls his hand away before resting his arm over your lap, “i’m sorry, but you don’t get to decide how i feel about you. you don’t get to break us up because you think that i think that i’ll be happier without you, it’s as simple as that! i’m aware that you’re… a little insecure when it comes to our… intelligence levels…”

oop

okay

there might’ve been a better way to phrase that because it just sounds like he’s calling you stupid

which you’re not!!!!!!!

you’re not stupid at all!!!!!!

you just… need to have better note-taking and studying habits, that’s all!

namjoon’s never been great at comforting people and that’s pretty evident at this moment in time

“i’m sorry if i’ve ever made you feel like you’re not smart enough for me, or that you’re not good enough for me. i never ever want to hurt you and i promise i’ll try to be more careful with what i say and how i respond to your questions.” namjoon reaches up to dab away your tears with his handkerchief, “y/n, you… you are so perfect for me, you know? if anything, i should be the one worrying that i’m not good enough for you! you’re- you’re literally the girl of my dreams.”

“i am?” your bottom lip begins to tremble again

jesus christ

why are you so weepy today?!?

“i mean, you were there, you saw how hard i was pining after you before we got together! i made lunch for you, i gave you one of my pocket candies- and i never give anyone my precious caramels!” namjoon points at the extra stash of caramels sitting behind his monitor and you can’t help but smile, “so, i guess the short version of what i’m trying to say is that i love you, and you’re not stupid. …unless you still want to go through with this breakup - in that case, i think you’re being very stupid-!”

you push namjoon’s head back gently before leaning down to press your lips against his in a soft little kiss

the apples of his cheeks are bright pink when you pull away and you grin when he wraps his fingers around the nape of your neck to bring you back down to him

heh

it’s only been four days but he really missed your kisses

“you have my heart, kim namjoon.” you whisper lightly

namjoon resists the urge to pull a page out of your book and start clowning you for that CHEESY eye-roll worthy line

“i know.” he smiles proudly as he gives your thigh a pat, “so… does this mean that we’re boyfriend and girlfriend again?”

you pull away with a snort, “you sound like a third grader when you say it like that-”

“we’re back together for one second and you’re already starting to bully me-“

“can you blame me? you’re so easy to bully-”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[artificialqueens]

Things That Were (Branjie) - pureCAMP

A/N - … Hi.

I won’t get into it, I don’t think I need to. But here’s a return no one expected, at least.

I wrote this based on some Feelings I have and also Jinkx’s song The Auld Lang Syne Song from… Christmas Queens 3? It has this beautiful sad, wistful, nostalgic kind of feel and it made me nostalgic for love and that strange time between Christmas and New Years. Largely sad, mostly bittersweet. Dedicated to my love Ortega, and in part for the nostalgia fic challenge.

I appreciate any and all support I’ve been given over these past months.

You have a new memory from (1) years ago!

Brooke swipes across absent-mindedly. She doesn’t think much about it, they pop up all the time in the holiday season. There’s a little loading screen, decorated with animated tinsel, that flashes in her face before every ounce of breath is knocked out of her body.

This is what dying feels like. Brooke wonders if there’s a loading screen before entrance into the afterlife. She supposes it would allow the dead some time to adjust, at least.

It’s a perfect, filtered picture. The Christmas tree looks beautiful, even as the pine dies, all decked in shades of red and gold, glittering twists and lights that twinkle gently enough to lull you to sleep. It stands tall in the background of the photo, illuminating everything with a cosy glow. At the forefront of the image, Brooke is that kind of happy, sleepy, warm drunk. Full of Baileys, probably, and little mini mince pies and leftover chocolate from boxes opened and half-finished. There’s a glass of red wine behind her, slightly visible on the table. She’s cradling Henry to her chest, kissing the top of his head.

Vanessa is next to her. The remnants of plum lipstick still on her lips, grinning, Apollo in her arms. She’s beautiful. She looks and feels like how Christmas is supposed to - welcoming, kind, gentle, sweet. And Brooke knows that she’s drunk too, and right after this she burst into laughter and her foghorn voice shattered the cosiness and it was so right and so them. And she knows how her stomach had twisted horribly after they took it.

It’s perfect. She won’t share this one. It will stay in her archives. It’s really been a year, huh.

The cats look at her accusingly, as if they know. They probably do know. They know everything about Brooke. Every flaw, every fault. If they could speak, she knows they’d ask for Vanessa instead of her. Well, tough. Vanessa’s gone, Brooke thinks, almost aggressively as if she’s trying to telepathically tell them so. Vanessa’s been gone for a year.

Or has she? Vanessa isn’t the one who left. Vanessa isn’t the one who walked out without warning, who pretended the bliss was as blissful as it looked and then ran from it all. No, no, that was Brooke.

She shuts off her phone, clicks the button to make the picture fade to black. The switch from warm and bright to black is jarring. It’s probably how Vanessa felt, waking up to an empty bed.

“Brookieeeeee,” Vanessa sings. She’s grinning, cheesing so hard that her eyes have disappeared, nothing but the flicker of a fake eyelash visible from them. “Brooklyn Briiiiiidge…”

Brooke turns, laughing, and waves away the whistles and teasing mumbles from their friends. “Vanjie?”

She pushes her lips together and makes kissy noises, wordlessly begging. Brooke gently holds her chin, lifts her head, kisses. She tastes like cinnamon and nutmeg and chocolate, a festive concoction of things that Brooke usually hates but loves on her. Vanessa looks amazing in gold and she’s an Oscar from head to toe, sparkling, beautiful.

Akeria makes pointed eye contact with Brooke, then mimes gagging herself with two fingers.

Vanessa rolls her eyes, the fondness on her face so evident that it could light up the entire bar. “I love you.”

And Brooke kisses her. The kiss says what it needs to.

Christmas a whole year ago. Brooke made a series of decisions. Stupid ones, maybe. Definitely. She doesn’t know who she’s kidding.

Funny how she finds it so hard to kid herself. Apparently, she had no issue kidding Vanessa.

A little while after Silky comments that Brooke really shouldn’t still be living in the shithole apartment she rented at 20, she realises that as rude and bluntly honest it had seemed at the time, she’s right. She resolves not to mention this to Silky, in case her ego inflates too far and she flies away like Aunt Marge (she thinks this with love), and starts looking online. And it’s impossible.

So out comes the phone, because there’s only one person to go to for this. For anything. Because she’s always there and she’s always willing and she only ever wants some quality time as payment.

B: Vanjie [8.22pm]

B: Vanjerella….. [8.22pm]

B: Vanessaaaaaa [8.23pm]

V: brooke lynn hytes [8.24pm]

B: Not the full name… am I in trouble? [8.24pm]

V: do u wanna be? ;) [8.24pm]

B: Hmm… I’ll think about it… [8.24pm]

B: Anyway I need your heeeeeelp [8.24pm]

V: i gotchu boo [8.25pm]

V: what u need baby [8.25pm]

B: Cutie [8.25pm]

B: I’m going apartment hunting, help me look? Idk what to even look for [8.25pm]

V: exciting!!!!!! [8.26pm]

V: babyyyyy this is so exciting for u omg!!! I love moving [8.26pm]

V: i hope i can help!! im usually terrible at this but i think we’ll have fun!! [8.26pm]

V: although i gotta wonder what made u ask me instead of somebody smart like nina [8.27pm]

B: Ah shit, great point nvm I’ll ask her [8.28pm]

B: Jk. Asked u because ur always here visiting, may as well find something u like as well <3 [8.28pm]

V: u bout to make a bitch cry [8.29pm]

Vanessa was over in maybe ten minutes tops, Brooke remembers. It was like she could read Brooke’s mind, and she’d brought coffee for them both to keep them going and even a little bag of kitty treats from the place she’d stopped at (“a guy was sellin’ them outside and I felt a little sorry for him in the cold so I bought ‘em. They’re good, the ones you usually get!”). They were up for hours scrolling, and then searching in person just so that she could act as a second opinion.

Brooke stands up from the couch and walks slowly, heavily, towards the window. Her Christmas tree is silver this year, silver and purple, and as pretty and icy as it had seemed when she decorated it, it feels cold and desolate now. It reflects on the glass and for a moment it’s hard to focus on the world outside when the world inside is so disturbed, but she manages. Dark as it is, the lights of the city are never gone, and she has a beautiful view of a metropolitan paradise laid out beneath her.

Vanessa loved the view. She picked it, in a way. Brooke was unsure about the viewing, and Vanessa wheedled, tugging her arm and telling her she’d love it.

She did love the view. But it was Vanessa’s view, that she saw first, that she loved first. Now it just makes Brooke feel sick. Sick at herself. Like it’s not hers to look at, and she shouldn’t.

She looks away.

A change of scenery helps to calm the mind, Brooke thinks. Nina told her that once, she vaguely recalls, as she sobbed helplessly into the arms of the only one who would listen. The only one who didn’t think of her as a raging evil bitch, and more of a hopeless coward instead. It’s not much better, but it’s a small comfort given how much she hates herself for it. She’s more inclined to go with what the rest of them all thought after it happened.

It’s late, anyway. Maybe it really is time to read a book and push down the thoughts and try to sleep away the regret.

“Oh god, oh god. Vane- fuck,” She breathes.

Waves of pleasure shoot through her, beginning deep in her belly and sending shockwaves all up Brooke’s back. Her hands grasp at the sheets around her head, desperate, clinging, her mind and body totally incognizant of each other. Her body is on fire, and her mind isn’t even functioning correctly.

Vanessa’s mouth is hot and fast and her tongue is skilled, and every time she grazes over her clit with the swift, feather-light touches Brooke thinks she’s going to pass out. Her fists grab tighter and her toes curl and a gasp floats from her lips, accidental, unstoppable. She manages to tear one hand away and threads it into Vanessa’s dark hair, urging her to keep going.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck…” She manages.

The goddess between her legs doesn’t stop, not until long after the inaudible mumblings have stopped falling from Brooke’s lips and her breaths are finally starting to slow, and she wonders how Heaven is meant to be above them when she feels herself sinking into it right now. Brooke thinks absent that maybe Heaven is here and everything else is Hell because nothing feels like being with Vanessa feels, and when they’re naked and intertwined and breathless and warm maybe they’re closer to God than they’ll ever be.

She catches herself before three words make their way out.

“God, this fucking mattress…” Is what she ends up producing. It’s digging into her back, lumpy and old. She’s only just noticed, in truth.

Vanessa’s head lifts, her makeup smudged in a way that feels beyond sinful to look at. She licks her lips coyly, sucks off her finger, and offers a lazy, heady sort of smile.

“The mattress? That’s all you got, boo?”

She’s laughing, happy, delirious. Brooke laughs too. “I don’t have to say anything about you. Isn’t the state of me enough?”

It is. On her back, chest peppered with bruises not yet formed, chest rising and falling beyond her control, legs still twitching slightly. Brooke’s completely spent, blissed out, exhausted. Vanessa’s still worn out from hers and yet her tongue is musical and the melodies were handcrafted by all the muses of the ancient world.

Still smiling, Vanessa shifts so she’s hovering on top of Brooke and then leans down to kiss her, their bodies colliding, Brooke tasting herself on the lips of her lover. It’s nights like these that make her feel like the world is a good place to be. That everything is fixable, everything is brilliant.

“We should get you a new mattress, baby,” Vanessa tells her when they break apart. “And I’ll probably never leave.”

Brooke forces a laugh, but the idea isn’t laughable. Vanessa and Forever go hand in hand, somehow.

And they do go shopping for a mattress for Brooke’s place. They wander through stores and discuss mattress firmness and size and height and flop down until they feel as though they’re ready to drop, and then Vanessa lands on one and yells “BROOKIE!” so loud that her voice - that goddamn voice - almost shatters the glass. She’s laying down with a beam on her face like nothing Brooke’s ever seen, pure sunshine, and she clearly has the best taste in mattresses because when she buys it, Brooke’s never slept so good in her life.

The bed is cold. Brooke deserves a cold bed. She left Vanessa in one, so it’s the least she can deal with it.

They weren’t always at Brooke’s - sometimes it was Vanessa’s too, for the sake of variety. Looking back on those memories makes Brooke feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Which she is, of course, and she knows it. But even here, the mini Christmas tree is cold and isolated, and Vanessa gave it to her as an early gift last Christmas, and Vanessa chose the mattress, and Vanessa picked the view. Brooke stares at everything that Vanessa has touched in her life and wonders why in the world she let herself ruin something so good. It’s selfish and stupid and self-sabotaging and that angel of a woman deserves so much more.

She thinks about sharing the picture. She could caption it with that song, ‘Now I’m in the house you chose and the bed you bought to face your perfect view’, and that could be her apology. Because she knows all too well she’s too much of a blind coward to say it properly. And Vanessa won’t see it even if she does share, because they’re not friends anymore. Someone will get it to her - probably Silky - but that’s not worth it.

Brooke opens her phone again, and swipes away from the picture before she does something stupid. Then she opens her texts.

B: Are you busy? [10.11pm]

B: Oh shit sorry, just saw Yvie’s insta, u guys are out tonight. Ignore this x [10.13pm]

N: No no! They’re out, I’m home because I was working all day and I was too tired :( [10.19pm]

N: What do you need hun? <3 [10.20pm]

B: If ur tired it’s okay, I’ll talk to u another time x [10.20pm]

N: Shut up. I’m here [10.21pm]

N: I think I know what’s going on. Right time of year [10.21pm]

B: I’m just an idiot, idk [10.22pm]

N: Nope. Stay where you are, I’m coming over. [10.22pm]

N: Did she text you? [10.24pm]

B: She’s not that stupid lmao why would she [10.24pm]

Nina is the only one who bothered to ask what the hell was going on when it happened. It’s not like Brooke can blame the others, and she doesn’t either. If someone did that to her best friends, she would be the same. And she is the same - she hates herself passionately for it. But Nina has this untraceable kindness to her, this unfathomable tenderness that seems to have no beginnings, no ends, no limits. It flows so freely from her, like a gift.

She has no idea how much time passes by crying and looking blankly at her phone, or even any idea when she started crying, but the doorbell rings and Brooke answers it already in tears and Nina sweeps her into a hug like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and maybe it is. To love your friends is easy and natural, like taking a breath in clean air.

To love someone special is like inhaling in water, drowning, getting lost. And you have to be content with the helplessness in order to survive it, or at least strong enough to swim and keep it going. You can’t just sink. Brooke couldn’t handle drowning.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” She weeps into Nina’s arms, once her choking sobs settle into streaming tears. It’s not better, just different. “I wanted to be with her forever and that was so fucking scary.”

Nina rubs her back. “Breathe, breathe. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Is- is she okay?”

Stupid question. Brooke isn’t sure she even wants to know.

The hug finishes; they’re on the couch again. Nina pulls out her phone, frowning, and pauses like she’s thinking. She looks guilty, which is unusual.

“I would never normally show a friend’s text, y’know? It’s private, I don’t do all that betraying trust stuff. But I know she’ll delete these tomorrow morning and I think you should see them before she does.”

V: so its been a ear then hasnr it [10.56pm]

V: a year of fwithout brook [10.56pm]

V: honestly fuck her yknw what i man [10.56pm]

V: she fuckin broke mt heart man why did she do that [10.56pm]

V: i miss her an the stupid vats so muhc [10.57pm]

V: tha sonf auld lang syne plaed earlier in the bar bef4 eht club [10.57pm]

V: very apropaotye hahahahksjkdh [10.57pm]

V: may rhe acwanriance be forgot forever and fuckung ever [10.57pm]

V: is okay i can lobe w the bitternness [10.57pm]

V: i just kisd girls unt il it dont hurt [10.57pm]

Brooke sobs. Again, loud, shaking, broken. Because Vanessa is hurting so much even a year after it happened and everything feels so raw and it’s entirely her own fault for crushing the dream they were building.

“I miss her so fucking much, I don’t know why- I don’t know why I walked out,” She babbles, helpless and hopeless and hurt. “I’m fucking lying, Nina, I know why, I know why I did it. Why did I fucking-”

She knows all too well. Because Vanessa helped her pick an apartment and Vanessa picked her bed and Vanessa loved her cats. Because Brooke could imagine them getting married and growing old and it had barely been four months by the time Christmas and New Years were rolling around and everything seemed so serious and so intense, and that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun but it was scary in the same breath because speed was terrifying.

Brooke is bitter, but only at herself.

New Years Day. January 1st, a brand new year, a bright new start. The frost glistens freshly on the undisturbed morning, and all across the city, singles and couples sleep through the dawn, hungover or still passed out drunk, party hats akimbo, party blowers still suspended in smudged lipsticky mouths.

It’s early, enough that the daylight is blinding but pale and faded. Vanessa’s bedroom has the huge window that she never covers, and she sleeps through it like the dead. Brooke wakes up and looks around.

She looks at everything but Vanessa, but eventually her gentle snuffling is too much to ignore and she looks down at her beautiful sleeping form. She’s a disaster, hair everywhere and glitter still all over her face, and she’s the most breathtaking woman in the entire wide world. Something heavy and all encompassing sweeps into Brooke’s chest, and she can identify it by name. It’s only four letters, but it strikes a fear in her like an old god from a lost world. She needs to vomit. She needs to run. She needs an escape.

Before she even knows who she is again, any of the things that ended up staying half their time at Vanessa’s are stuffed into a couple of carrier bags and she’s in her dress from the party and out of the door into the cold winter air, panicked, unable to breathe.

It’s a heart attack, she thinks. Or a panic attack. It’s an attack that feels like it’s going to kill her, and she runs away, and she runs all the way home and barricades the door shut, dropping her belongings on the floor, numb and confused and cold. It’s the start of the new year and she begins it alone, hyperventilating.

Within a couple of days the worried texts subside and the angry vengeful ones start flooding in, and just like that Brooke’s lost the best thing that ever happened to her and all of her friends along with it. Because she got up on new year’s day and abandoned Vanessa fast asleep and that was the end.

It’s ugly and chilling, how much she cries into Nina’s gentleness. The only thing that stops her is, ironically, the thing that makes her feel worse, the characteristic ‘ping!’ of Nina’s phone, undoubtedly more drunk texts.

V: i hoper he fucjibg bubble bursts this tie of year [11.23pm]

V: every jhanduary first for the rest of hersitnkin life [11.23pm]

“I deserve it,” Brooke whispers hoarsely, “But she doesn’t. She never did.”

“Neither of you do,” Nina tells her sadly. “They don’t all hate you, they hate what you did the way friends always do when breakups happen. You both deserve to be happy. And both of you have been dreading New Year’s for this exact reason.”

It hurts to hear, and Brooke wishes she doesn’t have to listen, but her friend is so goddamn wise it feels stupid not to.

“Two days until it’s officially New Year.” Nina kisses her hand. “Can you keep living like this, Brooke?”

It’s not like she even has to say it for Brooke to understand. “She hates me.”

Nina shakes her head. “No she doesn’t. She loves you.”

“That’s worse.”

“You love her.”

“I know.”

“You got scared.”

“I still am.”

“Face your fears.” Nina holds her at arm’s length, forcing her to look right into her face. “This hurts more than what blundering through it would, surely? Fire doesn’t always mean you get burned, sweetie. Sometimes it just warms you.”

She makes no fucking sense.

“I can’t play with Vanessa like that again.” Brooke swears. “I can’t.

The transitional period between Christmas and New Year doesn’t feel like real time. It’s just liminal space, a waiting room of chronology, a suspension in space. If she’s honest, trying now causes no harm, because it’s like it didn’t even happen. Maybe she should, maybe she will.

Eventually Nina leaves, pressing a kiss to her forehead and promising that somehow everything is going to be okay. She’s like a fairy godmother, Brooke thinks to herself. Always knowing, always positive, and total magic to behold.

She’s awake all night long just staring at the time on the top of her phone, lying in bed sideways and wondering if she’ll do it. It has to be right. It can’t be when she’ll still be awake and drunk and angry. But it can’t be on the anniversary of her biggest fuck up, because that just feels like some kind of sick joke and that’s not what she wants.

The entire night passes. At six am, her finger hovers over the send button for a full three minutes. She counts the seconds.

B: I fucked up. If u’ll have me, I’ll never mess u around again. I didn’t know I could love someone so much and then u came along and everything sped up and I wasn’t fast enough. I shouldn’t have thrown away what we had when it was as close to perfect as anything can get. This message is all me me me I I I but if ur okay with it, I think new year should begin right this time. I’ll hold u and I won’t let go, and u don’t even have to hold me as long as ur here. Everything is up to u. I’ll learn to live with what I did if u say no. Because I totally get why u should hate me. I hate me too, kinda. U did nothing wrong. U were and will always be perfect. [6.03am]

B: Full disclosure is I was scared of how much and how quick I loved u. But it didn’t go away even when I hurt u. I was stupid to do that, and I don’t wanna do another year in the shadow of that massive mistake. [6.05am]

B: I won’t say it here, because thats cheap for u. But I’ll say it when I see u again. I promise, and I want to [6.13am]

She falls asleep with her phone in her hand after being awake all night long.

She wakes up four hours later.

V: ur dumb [9.51am]

V: theres a party at yvies for new years yknow [9.52am]

V: im not saying ill kiss u at midnight but [9.52am]

V: fuck around and find out [9.52am]

(tags: purecamp, branjie, brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, lesbian au, things that were, fic challenge, nostalgia challenge, nina west)

[darter-blue]

Stucky (quick fic) [Bucky is typing] part two

part one

Steve isn't sure when it happened, but tomorrow night at nine is suddenly now. Which means he’s about to walk into a strange bar, to meet a strange man, whom he may or may not already be half way in love with over the strength of a handful of text messages and a flirtatiously aggressive phone call. 

Steve’s been deliberating over every single choice he has made in the last fifteen or so hours. Honestly? He’s not a fan of this feeling. What does he wear? What does he say when he gets there? How does he avoid awkward questions about his Captain America persona? Should he try to arrive early and get the jump on Bucky, be ready for him, or should he try to arrive fashionably late? That’s a thing now right? 

Tony’s always saying that, nobody cool arrives on time.

The decision gets taken out of his hands anyway, because yes, he leaves the apartment early, all set to get there and scope the place out, figure out what kind of hipster beer they serve (because Brooklyn is no longer his Brooklyn). Except he gets turned around somehow, google maps takes him in the wrong direction and he’s tempted to throw his stupid Stark phone into a dumpster and set it on fire. Only then he’d have no way to contact Bucky, and he hates the idea of leaving him there waiting.

Sent: Hey, Bucky, this is Steve Rogers, I’m running about 7.5 minutes late. I’m so sorry.

He feels the phone ping in reply and checks it while he’s running (he’s calculated that ETA based on his speed and the distance to travel. He doesn’t have time to stop - and he’s hesitant to go any faster, lest he sweat through his shirt. It took him a really long time to decide on this outfit - he will not ruin it).

Received: well hey Steve Rogers. Im happy to hear you haven’t stood me up. I was ready to give up on you when I looked at my watch and realised *it isn’t even nine yet* 

Steve dodges a skateboarder, looking up from the phone long enough to manoeuvre around her, and then gets a second ping.

Received: Im kinda digging the wholesome vibe you have going tho

And then has to leap over a puppy who’s been tied up outside the deli (who’s walking their dog at nine o’clock at night? Oh, right. It’s Brooklyn) and gets a third ping.

Received:  Very sweet of you to txt

He can feel himself blush as he reads that. He hadn’t meant to be sweet. He’s just used to people needing to know where he is at all times. Maybe that’s not a thing that most people need to worry about, but it does feel nice to know that his consideration is appreciated.

He slows his pace a little, he’s making good time, there’s less people out than he had anticipated which is making the trek easier. Also, now that he’s exchanged more actual words with Bucky he wants to make sure he looks good when he gets there. He’s nervous again.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling. But he’s been putting up with these weird butterflies all day.

And he can see the sign for Elsa’s. He’d looked up the place online (research had been integral to the outfit choice) and now that he can see the patrons coming and going he feels okay. His dark jeans and white button down seemed safe but attractive. And Natasha had persuaded him that the obscenely tight fit was appropriate. And he’s wearing his lucky leather jacket, so fingers crossed this is going to be fine.

Then he walks in the front door and is confronted with the reality of Bucky in the flesh. And Steve was not prepared for this level of perfection. The man is absolutely beautiful up close. 

How is that possible? How is it possible he could  be more attractive in real life than a photo…

Steve has walked through the doors and come to a dead stop. So of course the room has gone quiet. There's only seating room for people at a few scattered tables and stools along the bar. It's at maybe three quarter capacity right now. And everyone is looking at Steve. And Steve is just staring at Bucky. Who has now turned to see what the fuss is about and as his eyes fall on Steve they widen, and a slow, sly smile starts to work it's way up at the corners of Bucky's mouth. He looks over his shoulder to his left and right, turns back to find Steve still staring at him and the smile spreads.

Most of the crowd have gone back to their drinks (he thinks maybe one or two camera shutters went off, but he's not paying attention) and Bucky sets his glass on the bar, stands up from the stool and then looks a bit lost.

Which is adorable, especially considering how forthright he's been about everything up to this point. And standing, he's even more spectacular. In a white t-shirt and navy blue blazer, fitted pants and fluffy, wavy dark hair sitting artfully mussed atop his head, he should be on the cover of a magazine. Steve's fingers itch to put all of that beauty on the page. Map out the sharpness of his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the short sculpted beard. Trace the long lines of his lean frame with charcoal.

'Steve?' Bucky asks tentatively, less sure now that Steve has made no move to step closer

'Hey, Bucky,' Steve replies, finally taking a step down into the bar and towards his date.

'Wow.'

'No, I think that's my line,' Steve says, he can feel his grin taking over and he gives zero fucks about how ridiculous he might look.

Bucky ducks his head at the compliment and takes a small step back to let Steve get closer, and offers him the next stool at the bar. 'I guess you were right about the not being cute thing,' Bucky says.

Steve reaches him at the bar and raises an eyebrow.

'Yeah, this is a whole other level,' Bucky gestures up and down Steve's person with a wave of his hand, 'This is some Greek god nonsense.'

Steve laughs at the strange compliment and holds out a hand for Bucky to shake, which he takes, 'It's nice to meet you, Bucky,' he says, still smiling, not quite able to shift his gaze from Bucky's steel blue eyes, alight with promise.

'It's nice to meet you too, Steve.' Bucky hasn't let go of Steve's hand, even as they both sit. He just transfers it to his left and threads their fingers together, lifts their hands to rest on the bar. Like it's the easiest thing in the world.

And Steve... Steve has never felt so connected in his life, it feels like finally coming home.

He never wants to leave.

part three

[normiewrites]

happy birthday katsuki! despite it being such a joyous occasion, i wrote something pretty down in the dumps. i dont wanna explain the plot and hope you all understand it, or not, doesnt matter as long as it made u feel something cause i felt nothing writing this. i tried making it more realistic than fiction and im pretty proud of it.

prompt was taken from @daily-prompts

thanks for beta reading @savnofilter @kingtamakimurder !

other tags: @mci-writing @lady-bakuhoe @mutantjournalist @assortedanime

warning(s): its kinda depressing, angst, smut, fwb, drugs (not too much)

‘when is it ok to steal something?’ - bakugo katsuki x (fem)reader

you didn’t know when you started noticing it all. but you did, whether you liked it or not. the way that the newspaper cut outs would hang lazily off his dull yellow walls, the gravity forcing them to bend over like worshipers. or the way that the green big grenades on his desk were more roughed up than you were with the drugs in your system. or the way that his left calloused hand was always so tightly held onto your waist, leaving bruises for the next day as memories, while his right robotic one barely ghosted your skin, as if he was trying not to accept the truth. 

but the biggest thing you noticed was how empty everything was inside of him. you believed that you didn’t have any choice but to notice these things, because you were constantly only being fucked doggy style, never to face him and only the blank sheets beneath you. or maybe because it was to distract you from the cold droplets of water that would rain onto your back in small amounts. he always cried and maybe that’s why he never wanted you to face him, to never see how his tears pulled out his broken soul for you to see.

it was always like this, and each time, you would never get closer. you’d meet him in the parking lot near your apartment. it was a big and lonely parking lot, the streetlamps barely working as they flicked on and off, like the universe was sending you a morse code. he would always be ten minutes late no matter what time you would reach. maybe it was because he wanted to guarantee your existence, to know that you’ll be there waiting for him, like he was scared that if he showed his eagerness, it would make you run away.

was he even eager to ever meet you? you wouldn’t really care, not because he was a good fuck and gave good prices for your drugs, but because you couldn’t. he was always a mirage, there for you to see but not touch and despite how hard he would rut his hips against your ass, he could never be close enough to capture.

there was never any time for ‘talking’. he always got straight to the point once he picked you up. smoking a few blunts in his living room before taking off both of your clothes and proceeding to his bedroom. neither of you would ever mutter a word yet you both knew what each other wanted. it was a ritual now. you always picked the easiest clothes to take off, not even bothering to wear a bra, and he liked it that way. most boys would, they’d find it hot and alluring, always aroused with how you planned to get down. but bakugo liked it because it meant he would spend less time close to you. it would mean he would have to use his prosthetic arm less.

you felt like you knew nothing about him. or maybe you knew too much to be true. the news paper cut outs would be all about the pro-heroes’ stories. deku, uravity, red riot, grand and many more. but most of them were about all-might. at first, you would’ve thought that he was just a fan boy and loved to keep track on the hero society. but the more times you came over and looked at them, the more you realised that they were pinned up so wrong. they were hung with sorrow and regret, pins in the wrong positions like he was playing darts while drunk. why did he do that? why did he pin them up with more pain than joy? was he actually drunk or was his past controlling his future?

it was amusing to you, the way he would make you feel so good and satisfied yet so lost and yearning. you weren’t even yearning something for yourself, rather for him. no matter how hard or how longed you yearned, you could never understand what it was for, and neither did he. of course, you never asked him about it, because the first few times you did, either you were told to leave or he would just straight up ignore you.

however, this night was different. you were going to hold your ground against him and find out the truth, because while it felt so good to be filled by his warm actions, it was all so empty and felt like there was no purpose as time went on. maybe this new found confidence was due to having the pro-hero deku walk by you on the street during patrol, or maybe because you wanted to desperately know what was on the photo frame that he always put down before giving into your urges.

“katsuki!” you moaned softly, moaning as he pressed a searing hot kiss against your neck, smoke gliding out of his mouth and tickling your chin as his hands massaged your ass.

you had gotten to the use of the cold metal of his prosthetic hand against your skin, in fact you found it slightly pleasing of the contrast in temperatures of both of his hands. maybe that’s why he kept you around; you were the only one who accepted him like that without questioning it. you couldn’t care to question it, you were a quirkless girl in a quirk filled world, nothing was shocking anymore. besides, you found it kind of cool. if only you knew how cursing it was.

the night was hot and urgent, the both of you were tearing each other’s clothes as you sat atop his lap on the sofa in the living room. the cheap material of the sofa dug into your knees as you grinded against his hard and restrained boner, moaning against his cheek, not caring for the sweat that accumulated on his forehead. you both had never kissed. it was one of the two rules that he had put from his side. no kissing, and no facing him. you had respected them as he respected yours, but the time you both spent together wanted you to be a rebel and break down those walls.

you giggled softly, the feeling of your high running through your body like silk on freshly shaven skin overriding your usual thoughts and stresses as you heard the familiar tear of your panties, a rough mark being left behind on your skin.

“you’re giving me the next 10 grams free, that was expensive, katsuki” you whispered, tugging on his hair as he growled softly at your name, leaving rough kisses against your collarbone and breasts.

katsuki liked having you around. you didn’t talk too much, didn’t question the mess of his room and silently adored his prosthetic arm, no matter how much he hated it. you were simple and not demanding yet you could pull out so many explicit moans from him. but the most important part is that you didn’t push about the tears that always seemed to find their way onto your bare back. you were comforting, almost too comforting that at times it alarmed the scared animal in his heart.

after sharing a few more rounds of blunts and hickeys, you felt the familiar nudge of his arms, his signal to tell you to go on all fours, never to face him for the rest of the night. but something inside of you stirred up, almost like you were being controlled from an outside force. you found your hands pinning his against the backrest of the sofa, a confused look shooting through his red eyes, his blonde eyebrows furrowing underneath his matching hair.

he moved to speak up but you cut him off, “please, just for tonight. i promise, i won’t judge, just please.”

you didn’t realise you were closing your eyes tight until you saw the sudden intrusion of red and blonde in your vision once his gruff answer snapped them open.

“why?”

least to say, bakugo was nervous. he had never felt this nervous since his surgery day. he couldn’t even believe you made him nervous, it was so stupid to him. his younger self wouldn’t be as nauseous as he is now, but then again, lots had changed and he wasn’t like him anymore.

“your face is just so pretty, i wonder how much prettier it gets with tears falling down” you muttered, holding his face in your palms as your thumbs brushed his cheekbones.

you were so close to him, much to close for his liking. well at first, it was too close, but he soon recognized the spike in his heart was the fact that he was exhilarated by your statement. he knew that you knew he cried, and he felt too ashamed to show you. but there was no hiding now, there was no point.

despite the soft blush that adorned his cheeks and the furrowing of his brows, he kept his face the same. it was like he had the inability to change his face, like he was wearing those clay face masks that would restrict movement. it was the expression of when you get laid-off from a job that you worked so hard for and was praised by your bosses for.

you nearly thought that you ruined the night as he backed his face out of your hands, his eyes looking elsewhere. now it was your turn to be nervous. the air was so still, unlike his red eyes as they tried to look for something to lock onto, to anchor him and help him make his decision.

“fine” was all you heard before you felt him lift you up slightly, aiding him and standing on your knees as he shifted his sweatpants and boxers down, his eyes still not on yours.

you couldn’t comprehend what happened, not only because of how surprising his reaction was, but because of how less time he gave you before slipping his cock into your wet hole. the action was so simple yet so satisfying, just like you.

“katsuki!” you moaned loudly, your fingers going over the small scars that littered around his undercut till they reached his blonde top, pulling on them.

it was hot and desperate, the way that he would quickly get to work on your nipples as he would thrust up into you and how you would roll against his hips, tugging on his hair and nipping on his ears. you fully understood how much you had been missing out on, how close it finally felt. the way that his arms would snake up against your back, pulling your chest closer to his face, even managing to angle his cock deeper. there was just one bridge left to cross and it was the man himself below you.

he was thankful for how loud your moans were to cover up his sniffles, and it was an odd feeling as his cold tears raced down your chest to your belly rather than on your back. and like before, you weren’t going to ignore this.

and like before, it didn’t feel like they were your actions as you had tugged his face up, connecting his lips to yours before he could say anything to stray you away. his lips were chapped and motionless against yours and you tasted the saltiness of his tears that had reached the cavern. it was so hot yet empty, just like him.

“what the fuck, y/n?” he asked, the nature of the words contrasting from how soft his voice was and how tired his eyes looked.

neither of you noticed how both of you stopped, the lust gone just like the rules that you had broken. if you could describe his face in terms of a colour, it would be grey. it was so sullen, tear marked and conflicting, just like thunderstorms.

“who are you, bakugo katsuki?” you asked, hands gracing his bare collarbones as you searched his face for answers. but it wasn’t like you were going to find any, because there weren’t any. hopefully one day though, you could make some for him, or at least he hoped that.

he completely ignored your question, sighing softly as he rested his forehead on your chest, not bothering to clear up his eyes.

“tell me, y/n, when is it okay to steal something?”

when was it okay to steal something? maybe it was okay when people got what they wanted through injustice manners. or maybe if it was something needed for an emergency, of course not that the cost of others. but then again what was stealing? poets would call it love, judges would call it a crime, thieves would call it a life.

you had so many answers that you didn’t want to say any, because what if the other was a better choice? so you stayed quiet, letting him fill the silence this time.

“tell me, y/n, when was it okay to steal my parents? when was it okay to steal my arm? when was it okay to steal my fucking life?”

the pain that rippled through your body was enough to ignore the snot and the buckets of tears that fell down your chest. in fact, it was too much, making your own eyes water, your hands instinctively rubbing his warm and firm back. who was he? the answer was too broad. too complicated. too scarring. it was all about him and nothing about him.

you didn’t mind the way that he gripped your arms, because the bruises would be nothing compared to what he went through. so, you pulled him close to you, letting him shake against you and cry against your neck.

bakugo didn’t know why he was opening up to someone like you. you both were just supposed to be fuck buddies, nothing else, and yet you had broken him down, and he fell voluntarily. maybe it was because of your quirklessness, or how observant and patient you were with him. but like many other unknown answers that night, it couldn’t matter to him, because you understood or at least wanted to. he needed you.

he needed a reason to live again.