#he's copied in his SUPERVISOR AND HEAD OF DEPARTMENT

[watchmakermori]

just dealt with an absolute wanker at work lads. I don't understand what compels people to be The Customer. like what do you gain out of being rude. everyone's just going to complain about you behind your back forevermore

[writerpetals]

all you have to do is ask | ❤️

; optional male lead fluff |  ☁️

He’s the cutest when he smiles. Your heart feels as if it will pound right out of your chest when you’re the reason for his grin flashed your way in the middle of studying the outline of the report you’re writing up while staring at a blinding screen for far too long. He chuckles any time you make a simple mistake, and his eyes wrinkle and his nose scrunches before he corrects your error with a soft tone and more patience than you ever expected.

He’s not your boss, and not even the supervisor of the department, but he has been in charge of helping new hires at the office you began working at a few months prior. Though, what should have been only a week of getting you settled in and set up with your workload, tasks, and anything else the head of the department likes to throw on his workers last minute has turned into him keeping a close eye on you in case you need a little extra assistance.

“Just until you get the hang of things,” he promises, but by now you have a hard time believing it, and even sometimes you find yourself hoping it’s just an excuse to get closer to you. 

You should feel a bit embarrassed he’s always coming to your aid when you forget an attachment or pointing out corrections before your supervisor notices, but it’s hard to turn away his help when his smiles make your heart flutter and his kindness makes it so easy to play the part of clumsy or forget new employee. 

“Did you remember to e-mail the updates on your latest report?” he asks while walking past your desk to make his way to the copy machine, a stack of papers in hand and a grin on his lips because he already knows the answer. “It’s important!”

“I, uh, I’ll get right on that!” you inform him, immediately clicking away to pull up your contacts on your computer as the heat rushes to your face for being so forgetful. “Thanks!” 

You hear his chuckle even after he’s passed, but you’re thankful he’s observant enough to keep you in line, wondering if he’s the same way with all of your other co-workers. Maybe you’re too anxious over making sure you don’t make another mistake he won’t manage to catch, but part of you wishes he isn’t just being nice and helpful to the newest employee. 

“Here, let me get that!” he says, rushing to your side two days later when you have managed to jam the only printer on your entire floor. You step aside, the warmth of embarrassment flooding your cheeks as he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work un-sticking the mess of paper you’ve somehow made.

“Thanks,” you say with a voice so quiet he almost misses it. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I try my best,” he teases, grin wide as ever and your body feeling tingling all over from the sight of him. 

A few weeks pass and you try to handle things on your own, however. Even if you enjoy his help every now and then, you do want to try your best so you don’t end up getting under his skin for his niceness to wear off. You also don’t want it to get around that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, so you leave post-its stuck to your monitor with reminders for all the attachments and e-mails you need to send, scribble down important times and dates of meetings and deadlines on the calendar resting over your desk, and even finish your latest report a day ahead of schedule.

You feel the pride swarming in your chest after a while, and even if you admit that you miss his visits to your desk to check up on you as well as spotting his soft smile or hearing his light-hearted chuckle, it’s nice to feel like you’re not so new and trying to get a grip on even simple tasks. You begin to feel like a member of the team, working hard to please your supervisor, and you even get a quick “good job” from your boss before leaving one afternoon.

Though, the confidence doesn’t last long when you sit down at your desk one morning to prepare to send the latest report to your supervisor, only to find the document wiped clean with no trace of a copy in an existing folder, and no signs of it accidentally being deleted in the recycle bin. Your heart sinks, wide eyes staring at the screen for a few moments as you click away to check every occupied space in your hard drive, stomach twisting as the seconds pass and the report you spent a week working hard on is nowhere to be found. You gulp, and close the document, only to open it once again, spotting a white page with a blinking cursor ready to begin typing. 

You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, knowing you trashed your notes the day before when you thought the report was ready to be sent. How could this happen? How could you be so careless? The doubts flood you over and over as you continue to stare at the screen with a furrowed brow and slacked jaw. 

It’s not until he walks past do you pull yourself from your trance, hearing your name being called in what sounds like a muffled voice once, twice, and three times until you finally snap your gaze in his direction.

“Everything okay?” he asks, curious and concerned and when you don’t reply, he takes a step closer to press his hands to the desk. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks even lower. You were doing so well. You were getting the hang of things, and now the report is gone and due in a day and you have no notes to start over. 

“Yes,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, forcing a smile that his frown insists he doesn’t believe. “Yes, yeah, yup! I… I’m great!” Nervous laughter falls from your lips to have him wrinkling his brow, but he doesn’t push the issue.

“Alright, well, if you need anything…”

“Got it! Thanks.” Your fake smile widens and he hesitates for a moment before walking away.

You can fix this, you tell yourself, trying to calm your nerves while you reach for the small garbage bin next to your desk in hopes that there are a few notes scribbled on paper you tossed the night before. But of course, the trash is always emptied Wednesday nights and there’s a fresh bag greeting you when you look inside.

Huffing, you slump down in your chair, considering spending your morning looking for new jobs because you just know when your report hasn’t arrived by the following morning your boss is going to fire you. Just when you were getting decent paychecks, saving up for a new place to live, planning to get away from your annoying, messy roommate you try to avoid at all costs and hey, maybe even buy yourself a new pair of heels while you’re at it. 

You can’t help but to groan as your head falls to your hands, mentally saying bye bye to that apartment with the view you had your heart set on, immediately feeling sorry for yourself until his words replay in your mind. You know you could ask him for help, but how could he even fix your mistake? Your report is missing, your notes are trashed, and there’s a possibility if you involve him, he could get disciplined for your mistake as well. The last thing you want to do is get the sweet, helpful guy that assisted you more times than you deserved in trouble right along with you. 

Still, you have no other options. He did offer, you tell yourself, rising from your desk on feet that won’t budge until you work up enough courage to move. Your legs begin to shake and you wonder why you’re so worked up in just asking for help. You know you don’t want to be a problem, something annoying to get under his skin. But he did offer, you remind yourself once again. 

It takes you twice as long to make your way to his desk, wishing your knees weren’t shaking so much, praying your heart stops pounding as hard. You spot him with a phone to his ear and a pen in hand, writing down a few things on paper a moment before he notices your presence. He smiles your way and you feel a bit sick to your stomach, as well as a bit disappointed you’ll never witness his smile again once you tell him the news and you’re fired over your mistake.

Bye bye sweet & helpful co-worker. You refrain from pouting while waiting patiently for him to finish his phone call, and it seems as if he speeds up the conversation with his client with a promise to get back to them before placing the phone on the hook with a click.

“Everything okay?” he asks just as before, smile fading when he senses your hesitation, and the fact that your eyes have fallen to the floor because you’re too embarrassed to face him.

“I…” you begin to whisper, seeing him shift his weight from the corner of your eye to turn his chair toward you, “...need help.” When you gather the courage to glance toward him, his brows are raised a bit, and when he stands is when you lower your head once again. 

“With?” he questions with a chuckle, watching you nibble on your bottom lip and shift from one foot to the other. 

“I messed up,” you exhale, closing your eyes for a moment, “big time.” 

“How?” He steps closer before crossing his arms over his chest, and in a wave of overwhelming embarrassment flooding your body in a rush of heat, you blurt out the words in a jumbled sentence, telling him your report was finished, informing him you tossed the notes before heading home the night before, filling him in on your shock to see the whole thing gone when you arrived that morning and even spilling how scared you were to tell him because you didn’t want to get him in trouble as well if he was involved. 

The air has escaped your lungs by the time you’re finished, and he stands, staring, taking it all in as well as the sight of you wide-eyed with your bottom lip trembling, wondering just how hard you’re working to keep yourself together before he offers a simple shrug.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” is all he says, voice calm as ever before he strolls over to your desk while you hurry behind him. He takes a seat  in your chair then straightens his tie, pushes back his sleeves, and concentrates on the computer screen with a few clicks of the mouse. A heaviness settles in your chest and you swear the nausea will get the better of you as you wait for him to do whatever magic he’s planning, and the moment his smile returns to his lips is when a split-second of relief washes over you. “There it is.”

“You found it?!” Rushing to his side, you nearly bump his shoulder trying to get a view of the screen. There you spot the report you had worked so hard on, complete and ready to be sent with only a few seconds of work from him. “Oh my God! I could kiss you!”

Your voice travels a bit farther than you would have liked, earning a few awkward glances from co-workers sitting at their desks nearby while he  chuckles and shakes his head. “Is this what was bothering you?” he asks. “You thought your report was gone forever.”

“Yes, ugh,” you groan, shoulder slumping and head falling. “I was so scared. I just knew I was going to be fired. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, for starters,” he tells you, rising from your chair, and you stand straight up to follow his lead, “you should have come to me sooner. Sometimes documents get wiped when the system forgets to automatically save, but you can always find them in the temporary folders.”

“I… should have thought of that. Ugh, I’m so dumb sometimes…”

“You’re not dumb.” Laughter falls from his lips as he shakes his head once again. “We’ve all made mistakes, and we all need help sometimes.”

“You’ve helped me so much since I started. I didn’t want to annoy you.” Your voice lowers as you admit your worries, but he raises a hand to dismiss them away. 

“You could never annoy me, I’m here to help” he tells you, same smile forming over his lips that makes your body weak. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Thanks. You really saved me here.” He nods in understanding before letting you get back to sending your report, but not before you reach for his arm to keep him for a moment. “Can I make it up to you? You’ve really done so much for me, the least I could do is buy you a coffee… or something.” There’s a certain surprise lighting up his eyes you’ve never seen as he looks down at you, pressing his lips together before the corners curl, and he agrees a second later without an ounce of hesitation.

The two of you find yourself at a cafe a few blocks from work after you clock out, where you both have ordered your favorite flavor of tea to drink while sharing a raspberry pastry. You settle for a table near the window to watch the people pass by with their umbrellas beneath a sudden afternoon shower, lucky to have made it on time to keep from getting wet, as well as have an excuse not to leave as quickly. You enjoy each other’s company, making small talk while you slip in a few more thank you’s because you couldn’t be more grateful for his help. He smiles and nods each time, the shyness evident in his face with every sign of your appreciation and somehow it makes talking to him much easier outside of work.

“Maybe I can take you out next time,” he says while chewing on the last bite of the pastry while you sip your tea through a grin. “Somewhere proper like…”

“Like a date?” you ask before you can stop yourself, and he bites his lip for a moment to hide his eagerness.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

“Do you?” He smiles at you answering a question with a question. It’s that same smile that makes you weak in the knees once again, and you’re blurting out words before you even have time to consider what you’re saying thanks to how irresistibly cute you find him. “Because I do.”

His smile widens. Your heart drums wildly in your chest. “Good,” is all he says, “me too.” 

“Well,” you begin, finding a sudden confidence from his words, “if you want a date... all you have to do is ask.”

[dankusner]

When I was an English teacher, I threw out books

Protecting child innocence doesn’t make me a tyrant, but some latitude good for education

In my 40-year career as a high school English teacher and English department supervisor, I was responsible for the daily reading and writing experiences of more than 300,000 children in the New Jersey public school system.

With my doctorate in education from Columbia University, and with my love of reading and teaching, I was well prepared to make acceptable judgments about what was appropriate for children to read in schools.

One year, a parent approached me demanding that I eliminate a novel from the middle school curriculum: Killing Mr. Griffin , written by the highly respected author of young adult novels, Lois Duncan.

This book had already been in the curriculum when I was hired and I was not familiar with the title, so I conducted a little research.

It was selected as an American Library Association Best Book for Young Adults in 1978, was nominated for the California Young Reader Medal in the Young Adult category in 1981, and won the Massachusetts Children’s Book Award in 1982.

It was also given the 1982–83 Alabama Camellia Children’s Choice Book Award in the grade 7–9 category and turned into a television movie that aired on NBC April 7, 1997.

All sounded good to me, solid endorsements from respected library associations, responsible state officials and NBC executives, a popular book in schools across the country, a book solidly placed inside the heart of mainstream America.

The suspense novel is about a strict high school English teacher who is kidnapped by some of his disgruntled students.

They forcefully place a bag over his head, tie him up, drive to a remote mountain location with the plan to frighten him and abandon him for a few hours.

When the students return, they discover that Mr. Griffin has died because he didn’t have his medication for angina.

“Dr. de Vinck,” the parent pleaded with me in my office, “That book is about murder, violence, drugs, lying. Is this what we want our children to be reading in school?”

“No,” I said. “That is not what we want,” and the next day I pulled 150 copies of Killing Mr. Griffin from the book room and tossed them all into the beat-up dumpster that sat next to the school’s loading dock.

Children see enough murder, violence, lying and drugs on television, computer streaming and in newspapers every day.

I am 100% against book banning in any way.

Hitler’s regime taught us the dangers of such a practice.

When I tossed out the copies of Killing Mr. Griffin , I said to the students and parents that if they chose to read the book, there are copies available in the school library, in the public library and in every bookseller’s retail outlets.

People in our country who ban books aren’t Nazis, but schools are also not in the business of indoctrinating children toward a particular agenda.

That is a political canard, not a reality in our public schools.

People waving American flags and screaming at school board meetings demanding certain books be tossed out of schools are not polarizing crazies wishing to force their way of thinking onto schools across the country.

They just want what is best for children.

And teachers are not trying to distort or destroy what we hold dear in our society.

Teachers are teaching children how to be better readers, better writers, better thinkers and better people. We all need to trust and support our teachers.

Of course there are a handful of misguided teachers in our schools.

Of course inappropriate materials wind up in the classroom at times as I have illustrated, but these things are monitored by teachers, supervisors, principals, superintendents, board members and parents.

Trust your community to focus on what is essential in education.

Parents ought not be frightened by the encroachment of vulgarities in our schools.

Parents ought to be in partnership with the schools to celebrate teachers, to celebrate reading and to celebrate the books their children are reading in school.

We all live with an interior notion of goodness and beauty that is something difficult to define, but we know what those centers of goodness and beauty are.

When such core values are threatened and distorted, we protest, some in less convincing ways, but still for the deep purpose of creating what is best for our children.

Many of us have nostalgic memories of childhood, remembering feelings of being loved or delighted or eager to play ball with the neighborhood kids. We want to re-create those years for our children.

Reading a book about kids accidentally killing their English teacher is not a school lesson; it is a lesson that threatens the innocence of our children.

Why dump more images of ugliness onto kids as they do their reading homework just before going to bed?

A few years ago it was reported in The Atlantic that there are more than 129,864,880 books in the world.

I think we can find a number of books in that pile that parents, teachers and children would be delighted to read.

I think we can build a reading curriculum based on laughter, generosity, compassion, innocence, beauty and hope.

If a child isn’t reading from a quality book every day, that child is being denied a true education.

Trust your education community to know what makes for a quality book.

I was given complete freedom as a teacher and administrator for 40 years to select books for thousands of children, and to suggest what my schools represented.

Given a choice, let’s have our children read books that are not just in the mainstream of our society, but also in the mainstream of our joyous souls.

Christopher de Vinck’s 17th book, “Things That Matter Most: Home, Friendship, and Love,” was published by Paraclete Press.

He is a contributing columnist for The Dallas Morning News.

'

[cherubify]

CHEAP COPY / LEON KENNEDY

3801 words

cw: agent (asian) f!reader, post re4 leon, cunnilingus, dubcon, virginity, p-in-v, unprotected intercourse, one-sided pining, angst, mentions of ada wong / minors dni

"A rookie," a fellow agent said. The man set a stack of documents onto Leon's desk. The latter raised his head, blonde hair hung over his questioningly blue eyes. A stick of gum jutted from his pursed lips.

"A girl. Look's like we're babysitting another kid this year."

The blonde sifted through the stack. He produced a piece of paper and stamped it mindlessly. "And her qualifications?"

"Beats me," the agent shrugged. "At best she was a cop or detective. Could've gotten lucky and sucked off a government official to get here."

The blonde chewed quietly. He reclined in his seat and stamped another paper with a thud.

"That mouth of yours is the reason why you're a divorcee."

Before the agent could protest, an admin waltzed into his office. The clerk thumped a folder onto his table. "She's all yours, Mr Kennedy."

He emptied its contents and a photograph fell out. Gingerly, he picked up the photo. Who would've thought; it was a familiar person he never thought he'd see again.

Except it wasn't her. Wasn't who he thought it was.

"My name's (y/n). I'm happy to be here!" you smiled brightly.

His shoulders tensed. The curve of your jaw was angled similarly to hers. Cupid's bow, nasal tip and the fluff of your brows were freakishly identical in person. But besides your face, that was as far as the resemblances went. Your voice was vastly different from her sultry one.

And your eyes. Your eyes.

They twinkled with the expectations of someone whose hopes hadn't been shattered yet. Those pair of eyes carried an innocence that she failed to possess.

The woman he had hoped for was a phantom of his past, a thorn at his side. Her name was like a curse on the tip of his tongue, her name a harbinger of pain that clawed at his heart whenever he breathed the two syllables of her name.

He knew. It wasn't who he had hoped for. But his heart hammered in the confines of his chest, confused from the cheap copy standing before him. A girl who was easily more than a decade younger, standing across him in his office– dressed in uniform with a cheery smile and big, bright eyes.

You could never be her, but just maybe–

"Mr Kennedy-?"

He blinked, and he was taken aback by the nonexistent distance that separated you two. His face was in yours, and yours in his, noses barely grazing against one another's. And your lips...

His eyes snapped to yours and he recoiled instantly. You had your notebook clutched tightly in your hands, your back against his deck. A wine deep flush ran across your cheeks.

"S-Sorry," he stammered. It was like he was in a trance and his body moved on his own. He cleared his throat and patted your shoulder. "You, uh, had some lint on your uniform."

"Oh!" your eyes widened and you looked where he had touched you. You straightened up as he plopped back down on his chair. "Thanks, Mr Kennedy."

"Name's Leon. You can drop the formalities," he stated, and you enthusiastically scribbled it down onto your notebook. He took one last glance at you before staring at the tiles.

There was no way he would fall for a cheap copy. No way in hell.

A day passed, then two, three, and more as weeks eventually flew by. The hands of time might as well have been manipulated because in a blink of an eye, one month had passed.

The job was easier than you had expected. As a rookie agent, you were temporarily tasked with paperwork and combat training. Both of which you excelled at from your previous occupation as a police officer. That was something you had in common with your supervisor, apparently.

He didn't divulge much about his personal life, but you learned from his fellow workers that he was once a member of the Raccoon City's Police Department. They also shared that he was forcefully recruited after he escaped the city. You were stationed in another city at the time, but you wondered what the man had gone through. You were only privy of the horrors from word of mouth and never personal experience.

Surely he had stories to share. Tales of how he kicked ass and saved the day. So you tried to ask. But when you brought it up, a distant look seeped into his cold, blue eyes. He would remain in a daze for a while, like what happened on your first day. Plus, he emanated a scary vibe when brooding. So you decided not to push.

Besides being inept at opening up, Leon was a great supervisor. The two of you got swimmingly along at work, and when he wasn't handing your ass to you during combat training, he would briefly share about his past missions.

"You saved the president's daughter?!" You slammed your hands on his desk, rattling his monitor. When he cast a disapprovingly glance your way, you cleared your throat. "Um, I mean, that's really cool. I can't believe the president of the United States is indebted to my mentor."

"It's not a big deal," he sighed. His long fingers dashed across his keyboard, "That was a little while ago. His daughter has likely forgotten me already."

"If I was in her shoes, I don't think I could ever forget. I wouldn't be surprise if she fell in love with you." You teased as you sat on the corner of his desk. You fiddled with the crooked lampshade and straightened it.

Leon took a sip of his coffee. It burned the tip of his tongue, but this was best drunk when hot. He muttered distantly, "She did suggest 'overtime', but I'm not into girls like her."

You tilted your head, "You rejected the president's daughter? That's... something. Then, what kind of girls are you into, Leon?"

He glanced up at you; you gazed at him earnestly. Once in a while, you'd ask him these personal questions. He squinted, it was as if you were trying to worm your way into his heart. Or maybe he was just being too sensitive. God, women.

"Take a guess," he shrugged. He took another sip.

"What about- girls like me?"

He spat out his coffee. You screamed. Brown liquid sizzled on your blouse and your chest. You practically ripped it open and gaped at your red skin. You ran out of the office with painful tears in your eyes.

Some time passed when Leon carded his hands through his dirty blonde hair. What on earth had happened back there? Why did he freak out over such a stupid question?

Was it because of your face? Because you looked like her? That he couldn't help but imagine it was her sitting beside him, on his desk, asking that same exact question then and there? God, he wasn't a pubescent teenage anymore. He was a grown ass man with self control. So he'd better start acting like it.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. He owed you an apology. And laundry fee.

When his office door creaked open, you stood at the doorway, wearing a tank to. You crossed your arms, unwilling accentuating the curves between your breasts.

His eyes shifted back to yours. "I'm sorry. Is it bad? Should we pay a trip to the medical room?"

"I'm fine," You sighed as you strolled in, "My skin's a little red, but it's not a bad burn."

"I have a first aid kit in my office. Let me check for some cooling gel." His eyes fell on your cleavage again. "...You're not gonna walk around like that, right?"

"It's not my fault that my supervisor spat boiling hot coffee at me," you huffed. "It was a nice shirt too."

"I know. This one's on me. I'll pay for the laundry," said Leon as he guided you to his desk. He sat you down and dragged a chair over to join you. "Sorry. You must be cold, too."

Almost as if on command, you shivered. You rubbed your arms together but to no avail. The air was frigid cold. The blonde stripped himself of his jacket and carefully hung it over your shoulders. You thanked him and clutched the lapels as he began inspecting the contents of the first-aid kit.

"I'm fine. You don't have to," you insisted.

He kept his silence, but his forehead was creased with a frown. It elicited a sigh from you.

Impulsively, you reached out and patted him on the head. He froze and his eyes shifted to yours. Your fingers stroked his soft, blonde hair.

"Stop fussing over me. It's seriously not that big of a deal," you offered him a smile. "I'm even ready for today's combat training. See?"

You flexed underneath his jacket with your usual smile. His expression softened and a corner of his lips quipped up.

"You're kind of cute. But in like, a really dumb kind of cute." He scoffed.

You rose an eyebrow, "Cute enough to consider overtime?"

"As if," he pinched your face and you squawked in pain.

After that event, things only got worse from there for him. The rookie's playful advances to her supervisor grew in boldness overtime. You loved his reactions; the eye rolls and exasperated sighs. Not so much of the silent treatment he'd give you, but even then you pushed his buttons a bit more everyday.

As for Leon, the struggle to come to terms with your existence grew easier over the months. It was clear to him now that you were not her. Your personality contrasted hers greatly, and while that woman was a closed book, you wore your heart on your sleeve rather proudly. He liked that about you, it saved him the effort of decoding your true thoughts by simply observing your facial expressions and body language.

But one step forward would result in two steps back. He couldn't help his wounded heart's persistent projections. Whenever he shared coffee with you, he would wish it was her. Whilst teaching you how to wield a knife effectively, he also wished it was her. No matter how hard Leon tried, he couldn't get her out of his mind.

He hated it. Hated how she would always torment him– and how he would forever be her willing prisoner.

But he also had another problem at hand. And that was the eager rookie who excelled at pushing his buttons with stupid questions.

"So I take it that it's a no, again?" You wriggled your brows teasingly. You sat on the corner of his desk again, legs crossed. "No overtime with your pretty little student?"

"Give me a break, woman. Why are you so obsessed with me?" he groaned. "I'm sure you have a long line of men waiting for you to look their way."

You froze. You were just teasing as always but he never reacted like that before.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. I'm sure there's a bunch of guys waiting to get lucky with you. Am I right?"

A silence ensued in the office. He viewed you from his peripheral. You had your back turned to him, so he couldn't see your face. But your back seemed smaller than usual, and your voice was unsteady.

"W-What makes you say that?" You laughed nervously. "Sorry to disappoint but I'm not all that pretty."

He scoffed, "Sure you are. There are plenty of men here who would love to score a night with you. Maybe you're the one who needs to get her eyes checked."

You turned your head as you fiddled with your hair. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you also share... similar hopes?" You practically whispered.

Leon shut his eyes, "We're just coworkers. That's all you need to know."

"No, I want to know," you placed a hand between his keyboard and him. You leaned forward ever so slightly. "Tell me."

A silence followed as your eyes searched his. His blue eyes, cold as always, carried that strange, distant look once again. It was like he was looking at something, or someone, despite you being right in front of him. You hated it.

How much more could you endure stifling your true feelings for him? Screw work relations, you would risk it all if it meant just one kiss. Just one.

You swallowed and slowly reached out. Holding your breath, your fingers ghosted over his cheek. Lashes fluttered close as you leaned in and pecked him on the lips.

As if a spell was undone, his eyes shifted to you. His lips twitched against yours, and you began to pull away. You were stopped when his hand clasped onto your jaw. He forcefully turned you to face him.

"I've had enough of your teasing."

The blonde swiped the papers on his desk aside and swiftly hooked his arm around your waist. You yelped and fell onto his lap awkwardly. The chair creaked with both of your weight, and you raised your head nervously to meet his clouded gaze.

"I told you no good would come from this," he hissed. "I warned you and you still pushed."

"Leon-" you winced when he tossed you onto a couch. Your back hit the hard unwelcoming leather and you whimpered. You scrambled to sit up, but Leon slammed a hand above your head. Strands of golden tickled your face as he leaned in.

"Told you not to push your luck but you just didn't know when to stop. You're fucking annoying, you know that?"

He scoffed, and you screwed your eyes shut in anticipation. The blonde dipped his head, and you shivered as he pressed his warm, supple lips to your nape. Your mentor caged you in with his arms, leaving you nowhere to run. As he trailed soft kisses down your neck, he slowly slid a knee between your trembling thighs.

You gasped when he bumped against your legs, and you pressed your thighs shut. You tried to push against him again, but he wouldn't budge. Dissatisfied, he nipped your neck. You cried out and grasped the arm rest behind you.

"Why are you playing coy? Didn't you want this?" His hot breath fanned against your neck. "C'mon, don't be shy, open up."

You shook your head in protest but he forcefully yanked open your legs himself. His knee pressed against your clothed core, eliciting a soft whimper escaped your parted lips. Fabric rubbed against fabric as he massaged against you. You bit your finger; this was bad– you were getting too excited from these new stimulations. At this rate you may end up doing something even you may regret.

You thumped your fist against his chest again, but he grazed his teeth against your skin as a warning.

"Try that again and I'll make sure to mark you where everyone can see," He chuckled against your skin. "We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"Please- I'm sorry-" Your heart pounded in your chest, "I'm scared, you have to stop-

"Did you forget? I'm your superior. I don't remember you having the rights to tell me to stop," he cooed coldly. Swiftly, he unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them down. Paralysed with fear, you let him drop your jeans onto the floor.

He shimmied down your body slowly, pressing fleeting kisses and stopped at your most precious place. The cold air tingled your skin, and the tiny hairs on your legs stood up as you trembled. Kneeling between your thighs, he licked his lips.

"Don't worry. 'M gonna take good care of you."

He peeled your panties off painfully slowly. The blonde whistled at the sight of the strings of arousal clinging to the thin fabric. Your face flushed from humiliation and you bit your lip. The undergarment hung from one ankle as he hooked your legs over his shoulders. His muscles rippled through the thin fabric of his shirt and you hated how you clenched around air at the sight.

He pressed a kiss to your slit, and you whimpered again when he flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up. Your hips bucked and he tutted. A strong hand pressed against the swell of your inner thigh while the other hooked around your other thigh.

Your cold supervisor set an unforgiving pace that racked your entire body with shivers. It felt like all your nerve endings were on fire, ignited by the presence of his tongue against your clit. You clamped a hand over your mouth and looked behind you, at the unlocked door. If anyone were to walk in right now, you'd lose your job–

A particular lick provoked you to kick out. Leon grumbled against your cunt and yanked you closer to him. Your hand flew to his head as a weird feeling pulsated in your tummy. Your fingers curled around his hair as a drawn out whine filled the room. Back arching, you chased that pulsating light as you ground yourself needily against his face.

"Ahn, ahn- Leon, Leon..." his name fell from your lips in a soft chant. "Don't stop, mhm..."

Your supervisor swirled his tongue around your clit teasingly. A broken moan filled the air when you finished. With a sigh, you collapsed onto the couch, throbbing and panting. Your tear stricken face was mushed against the seats, vision blurry.

Leon rose with a shit-eating smirk. He swiped at the sticky splotch on his chin with his tongue.

"Don't fall asleep on me. We're nowhere near the finish line, (y/n)."

You closed your eyes as the sound of metal clinked. When you opened them, you saw a belt sitting atop a fallen pair of denim. He forcefully spread your legs again and pushed the back of your thighs forward. Your knees dangled on either side above your face, a painful stretch that tore you away from sleep.

Fingers grabbed at his biceps when he stroked your slick with something big and warm. Your gaze fell on the shaft between his muscular thighs, curved and resting against your puffy entrance. A hand flew to his chest as you pushed him weakly.

"Wait- I've never done this before," you panicked. Your eyes widened as your heart raced, "I-I'm not on any contraceptives too."

"Not gonna wait," he exhaled impatiently. He pushed the back of your knee further down, "Need you now."

You shivered as he stroked himself against your wetness. Soft, low moans were drawn from his glistening lips with each thrust of his hips. His voice was like music to your ears– perfectly in sync with your own pleasured whines and moans. Your toes curled whenever he bumped against your puffy clit. Then he lined himself up and pressed against your tightness.

A broken sound withdraw from you as he pushed forward so achingly slow. A dull throb spread and you fearfully grasped his forearm. Your gummy walls clenched around his length in disapproval, and Leon clenched his teeth. Your fingernails dug deep into his toned arms as he continued his slow descent in you.

"Mhmf- relax," he exhaled through his teeth, "You're gonna break me in half."

"Sorry," you whispered. Moisture clung to your lashes as you gazed at him blearily.

Hell, how could he stay mad at such a pliant, good girl? His expression softened briefly as he stroked the curve of your jaw tenderly with his fingertips. It soothed you, and you tried to relax.

When he finally sunk all the way in, you managed a relieved sigh. It was foreign– this feeling of being so full. You wrapped your arms around his neck and yanked him down to you. You buried your face in his neck and he obliged with kisses along your collarbone. He pressed his mouth against your skin in an open-mouthed kiss.

Leon set a slow, consistent pace as he rocked his hips back and forth. He was fucking you so deep and slow that each stroke drew out a moan. You clung to him as your entire body gently bounced up and down on the couch.

"Leon," your breath tickled his ear. He met your teary-eyed gaze, "Need more. Want more."

His voice was a low rumble as he snickered, "Didn't I say that it's not up to you to decide?"

But he obliged anyway with a snap of his hips. You yelped as each snap sent him further and further into you. You clawed at his chest, and he pinned your wrists above your head. Your mouth formed an 'o' shape as your vision blurred again. A mixture of broken noises and his name fell from your pretty lips.

God, you were so pretty. You're pretty, prettier than ever like this, Leon realised. He cupped your face, but you were too blissed out to even care. And who would've thought the new rookie's pussy would be this good?

You whimpered when he yanked your tank top over your chest, exposing your bra. He nipped the supple swells of your breasts, littering your skin with bruises. Technically he wasn't breaking his promise if he marked places where most people couldn't see, right? The thought of you struggling to hide your chest from your fellow female agents in the shower elicited a smug grin.

Suddenly, you snapped out of your daze to squirm against him. He huffed against your breasts.

"Cumming again? You really are pathetic." He annunciated each word with a deeper thrust. "Cum for me then. C'mon c'mon c'mon..."

Each snap of his hips caused your moans to rise in pitch until you finally reached the your crescendo. Leon bit his lips as you clenched around him, and he thrusted sloppily once, twice, before stilling. He groaned against your sweat soaked skin as he painted your insides with ribbons of white.

Your laboured breaths were mismatched with his. The ringing in your ears were loud, but nowhere near as the pounding of your heart. The rest was a blur to you, and you felt his lips press against your forehead before you conked out for good.

As you fell into deep sleep, the blonde agent ran his fingers through his sweat stained hair. He pulled on his boxers and sat beside you on the couch. As if you didn't just have your insides rearranged by him, you snored softly. He gazed at his work and sighed. You were definitely going to whine about the marks later.

Oh well, all's fair in love and war.

He removed his jacket from his coat rack and gently placed it over you. Your fingers unfurled and you held the corners. You snuggled into the article of clothing and he managed an amused smile. He patted your thigh and you made a face.

Yeah, maybe you weren't a cheap copy after all.

all content written by @puppyina ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open for any past written characters.

[integratedorganizational]

How to Find the Right Development Officer - by John Curtis

College leadership often struggles with how to select the right development officer. Here are some tips:

a.  Distinguish between a development officer and an administrative support person. Make sure you have adequate administrative support so that your professional development officer does not spend time inputting and manipulating data, scheduling meetings, or handling routine administrative tasks. This is a waste of the development officer’s time and expertise—and a waste of your money.

b. Craft a good job description. This is a leadership position with significant design and decision-making responsibilities. Your Chief Development Officer is a senior level manager, part of the institution’s senior team.

c. Obviously, you have to hire someone who possesses the documented body of knowledge in fund development and demonstrates real-world experience.

d. In addition to expertise and experience in fund development, think about what you expect in anyone who holds a senior level position. For example: a Team player. Effective supervisor, mentor, and coach for other employees and for volunteers who help with fund development. Strategic and critical thinker. Problem identifier and fixer. Leader. (And you must define what you mean by “leadership,” because there are so many different interpretations.The right development officer, if he is the chief development officer, should be an organisation development specialists. This includes having familiarity with systems thinking and learning organisation management theories. They should have knowledge of governance to be able to facilitate that with board members on committees along with general management and strategic planning expertise.

e. You should understand enough about fundraising to be able to conduct an interview. For example, Certified Fund Raising Executive (CFRE) is the baseline credential for fundraisers. Maybe you will want to bring in a professional fundraiser to help review resumes, help craft interview questions, and participate in the interviews.Consider conducting a preliminary interview to verify specific information and get an initial impression of the candidate. Then, the school leadership should select the top candidates for interviews. Hopefully, you have identified three to five candidates for interviews. Make sure to send your final candidates critical information about your institution. You should expect the candidates to come prepared to comment on your materials. For example, include the following items:

Your most recent annual report, audit, current strategic and fundraising plan.

A couple copies of your donor communications, e.g., a donor newsletter, a solicitation letter, a case for support. 

Organisational structure, e.g., showing staffing structure and senior management team.

List of board members and their general information, e.g., occupation, etc.

Some donor statistics, e.g., number of donors, donor retention and acquisition rates.

The right development officer will be able to share astute insights from the information you have provided.

The Development Officer Interview Process

Construct your interview team carefully. Make sure everyone on the interview team understands his/her role and limits. The interview team should likely involve: three to four board members, including the Fund Development Committee Chair; one or two members of the Fund Development Committee; and perhaps the board chair. Additionally, members of the senior administration, e.g., head of departments, programs, missions and finance / business officer, and any member of the senior management team.

To identify the right development officer, interview questions are critically important. Good interview questions require that a candidate think carefully, respond thoughtfully, and demonstrate expertise and experience to you. Assign different questions to different people on the interview team. Alternate general questions with fundraising-specific questions. Determine the order in which you want to ask the questions. And, of course, other members of the interview team can ask for clarification even if they did not ask the question originally.

Considerations

Pay attention to what the candidates ask you. Their questions demonstrate their insights and expertise and experience. Their questions demonstrate their application of their knowledge and experience based on a review of your information.

You should expect job candidates to be assertive and gracious, candid and respectful. Expect the candidate to offer a gentle critique and advice about how to improve your institution’s fundraising. You do not want to hire a meek, mild, overly polite, go-along-to-get-along candidate. You want a leader—and that means being courageous, speaking out, challenging assumptions, and being a change agent.

Possible Interview questions

Describe how, in a previous position, you overcame resistance to fundraising from:

College administration

The board or fundraising committee Faculty or staff

What is the process or the thinking that you use to build a development team and a development function?

Share an example of a successful solicitation of yours. Describe the process from the concept and design of it through what made it successful, and what you learned from the experience.

Share an example of a not-so-successful solicitation of yours. Again, describe the process from the concept and design of it through what made it not so successful, and what you learned from the experience?

Tell us about your philosophy on relationship building, including the connection as you see it between relationship building and solicitation.

How will you help this institution identify those who are interested, qualify them as prospects, and then transition them into donors?

About John Curtis

John Curtis is president of Integrated Organisational Development (IOD). IOD provides analysis, insight and solutions for the capacity building and fundraising challenges of

Christian Higher Education! www.iodinc.com jcurtis@iodinc.com

View all posts by John Curtis →

[btsrunmylife]

a plot-adjacent spin-off of “Call Me Naive”

This story is based on a side-pairing from the above story. You don’t necessarily have to have read CMN to understand this, but there are a few references you may not get if you haven’t.

summary: When Nabi first started at Bangtan Publishing, she was nervous. A new job, new faces, new rules to follow and a lot to learn. To her relief, people are much more welcoming than she expected, especially the cute Junior Editor (later turned Senior Editor), Kim Namjoon, who takes it upon himself to make sure she gets settled in properly. Over the years of her employment, he doesn’t stop there, always checking in, always making sure she feels included and welcome, and always being as sweet as possible. There’s just one question on everyone’s minds...will he ever actually admit to his crush of almost three years???

pairing: Namjoon x f!OC

rating: pg13

genre: romance, fluff, coworker au, f2l, idiots to lovers, mutual pining

word count: 8.5k~

Nabi shifts her tote bag higher up on her shoulder, hugging the welcome folder tighter to her chest as she scurries after the man in front of her. Lee DonWook, a man in his mid-forties and her department supervisor, glances back at her as he motions around in lackluster movements. His tone is flat and bored, his eyes dull, as if he wishes he could be anywhere else. He’s also walking much too fast for poor Nabi’s heel-clad feet to keep up with.

“Here we have the copier room,” he rattles off. “Each department has a password and a set budget for copying. Someone will get you set up with them. The machines can be a bit temperamental. Better to ask someone for help than to make a mess.”

He shoots her a look that tells her to ask anyone but him for help and hurries forward. Nabi hides a grimace behind her hand and continues after him.

She huffs a quiet sigh when they reach the breakroom, which finally brings DonWook to a pause. He greets a few of their coworkers and, with his attention elsewhere, Nabi scrunches her nose and adjusts the shoes on her feet. A blister is forming on the back of her heel, the skin raw to the touch, and she has to bite her lip to keep a pained hiss from slipping out. Her lack of stockings really was an oversight on her part. She’d meant to wear them, but had been so anxious about her first day on the job she’d forgotten.

“That looks painful.”

She gasps and straightens, bag colliding heavily with her hip as she spins around with wide eyes. 

The man that had spoken offers a soft smile, a hint of amusement dancing in his brown irises as he glances over her. He ducks his head, adjusting the glasses on his nose, and lets out a quiet chuckle. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just–” He glances at one of the women across the room. “Jia-ssi, do you have any bandages in your purse?”

The woman looks up from her phone with a start, quickly nodding and digging around her bag.

At Nabi’s curious gaze, the man’s cheeks dimple in a wide smile and he leans in, as if about to tell her a secret.

“Jia has kids, her purse is pretty much an endless supply of first-aid and snacks.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s endless,” Jia smirks, passing him the bandage. She eyes Nabi. “You must be the new Legal Assistant.” At Nabi’s nod, she grins. “I’m Jia, I work in the Editorial Department with Namjoon.”

Namjoon offers a tight smile and a small bow as he hands her the bandage. “Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks,” Nabi offers a shy grin as she bows to both of them, setting her things down on a nearby table and taking a seat. “And thank you for the bandage.”

Namjoon’s grin widens as he watches her apply it to her heel, eyes flickering to DonWook. “And, uh, hey…if you ever have any questions about anything, we’re happy to help. We know DonWook-nim’s tours can be a little…”

“Quick,” Jia finishes with a laugh.

Nabi blows hair out of her face and laughs with a small shake of her head, gathering her things. “You can say that again.” She gets to her feet, relief washing over her at the added padding between her foot and the back of her shoe. She sighs gratefully and offers Namjoon a smile. “And thank you…again, sunbaenim…I might just take you up on that.”

His grin goes a little goofy, shoulders pushing back as he straightens his spine. “Cool. Yeah, anytime.”

“Park!”

Nabi’s eyes widen as she peers around them at DonWook, offering Namjoon and Jia an uncertain smile. “I guess I better get going.”

“Oh, yeah,” Namjoon nods and steps out of her way, allowing her through. “Uh, see you around!”

Nabi smiles at him over her shoulder, offering the two of them a little wave before scurrying out of the room.

Jia snorts once she’s gone, punching Namjoon on the arm. “Uh, see you around!”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Yah!” she yelps when he starts to walk away. “I’m still older than you! You better mind your manners!”

He shoots her a withering look over his shoulder, but turns around to hide his smile. “Sorry, noona.”

~*~*~

It’s a week into her employment when Nabi sees Namjoon next. This time, she’s been tasked with the arduous chore of making copies of this year’s Statement of Business Ethics, reminding everyone that they are the face of the company and that any information passed between departments regarding client projects is to remain confidential. There’s more drabble mixed into the pages, but it’s all common sense, in Nabi’s opinion, even though she knows it’s necessary.

What’s entirely unnecessary is how difficult it is to use the photocopiers.

Entering the password for the Legal Department is easy enough – she came up with a little mnemonic device to help her remember – but getting the machine to actually work is the problem. Not only does it keep beeping at her to put paper in the machine when there’s already paper in there, it also keeps jamming in various places and she keeps having to open and close doors just to get one page to print.

After the fourth time it jams, she growls and kicks at the bottom of the machine.

“Whoa, easy there.”

Nabi turns at the sound of his voice, pout pulling at her lips.

Namjoon can’t help but smile at the sight. “Copier giving you trouble?”

“Is it that obvious?” she sighs.

He chuckles, waving her off as he approaches. “Nah, not at all. Everyone goes around kicking things that are working perfectly fine.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Are you going to make fun of me or help me?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are you going to ask for help or just assume I’ll come to your rescue?”

She purses her lips as they twitch, fighting off a smile. She laughs. “Fine! Can you please help me, Namjoon-nim?”

“Of course.” He shrugs as if it was an obvious answer and she refrains from rolling her eyes.

“So,” he begins, ignoring her look of mild annoyance and tapping his hands on the machine. “Let me guess. It keeps saying it needs paper and it keeps getting jammed?”

Nabi lets out a noncommittal hum. “I take it this is a regular occurrence?”

“Every day,” he sighs reluctantly. “Old Betsy has gotten us through some crazy times, but it’s about time for her to retire. Until that can happen, though…” 

He motions for her to watch as he pushes a lever to the side and then opens a small compartment. He fiddles around a little, pointing as he goes. “This here is the waste container. Sometimes, when it gets a little too full, things can print a little wonky. Be on the lookout for that. The machine will tell you when it needs to be changed. These, here, are the drums. Don’t expose them to the light until we’re ready to change them. When we do, don’t expose the new ones to the light. For now, we’re just going to fiddle with these little sticks here.” 

He pulls carefully at orange sticks below each drum, sliding it in and out of the slot a few times.

“These are self-cleaning, but sometimes they need a little help. This usually keeps things moving along…but…” He finishes with the last one and closes the compartment, locking it by turning the lever. He shrugs and gets to his feet. “If that doesn’t work, you could always try reseating the fuser.”

At the blank look she gives him, he cracks a smile.

“On second thought, if it gives you too much trouble, just come find me in the Editorial Department or shoot me an email.” He turns back to the machine, pressing the “okay” button and grinning wider when the machine slowly roars into motion. “Should be good now.”

Nabi smiles, relieved and visibly relaxing. “Thank you, Joon-nim! I think you just saved my life.”

He blushes at the nickname, faltering slightly when she edges closer to glance at the screen of the machine. He scratches at his neck and gives her space. “Ah, it was nothing. Someone would have come along eventually. I just happened to be the first to pass by.”

She glances at him. “Still. Thank you.”

He smiles. “Anytime.”

~*~*~

The next few weeks, and subsequent months, become a whirlwind. As a small company, they have high expectations for their employees, requiring everyone to learn quickly and adapt on their feet. Thankfully, Nabi had never had a problem with that, keeping her nose down and attention focused until she got the hang of something, asking questions whenever she needed clarification. For the most part, she understands her role and, before long, can keep up with everyone around her.

Being a part of different departments, Nabi’s interactions with Namjoon are limited to brief emails about the copiers or lunchroom conversations. She sees him occasionally in meetings or in passing, but mostly, they remain fairly separate. That is, until one day Namjoon emails her about something new.

From: Kim Namjoon (knamjoon@bangtanpublishing.com)

Hello Nabi-ssi!

I know you typically like to eat lunch at work, but a few of us are heading out to a small barbecue restaurant around the corner. Not sure if you’ve tried it yet, it’s called Linus, and they have some of the best pork on this side of the city.

Anyway, we’d love for you to join us if you’re interested! Let me know, okay? :)

Best, Kim Namjoon Junior Editor, Editorial Department

Nabi grins at the email, unable to stifle the happiness bubbling in her chest at being included. Of course, some of that feeling is influenced by the handsome editor who had welcomed her so openly to Bangtan, but she would never admit that.

Glancing toward her direct supervisor a couple feet away, she quickly shoots off an email, accepting the invite. She’s just clicking back into her shared document with her boss when another email comes through.

From: Kim Namjoon (knamjoon@bangtanpublishing.com)

Cool! I’ll meet you in the lobby around noon!

Best, Kim Namjoon Junior Editor, Editorial Department

Nabi tries to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, tucking her hair behind her ear as she settles back into work. He’s just being nice, she probably shouldn’t be getting so excited, but she can’t help it. It’s sweet of him to think of her, sweet of him to go out of his way to make her feel included.

She sighs, shaking her head at herself and the direction her thoughts are taking.

She still has an hour before she’s going to meet with them. She needs to focus.

Focusing becomes a lot easier when her supervisor decides to stand over her shoulder, as if somehow knowing the temptations of intra-office emails. She buckles down for the last forty-five minutes, taking her supervisor’s comments here and there. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t vault out of her chair the moment it turned noon though.

“Whoa!” her supervisor, a man by the name of Baek Hyunki, laughs. “Hungry today?”

Nabi ducks her head to hide the blush that blooms across her cheeks. “Ah, something like that, yeah.”

He lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t bother to ask, motioning toward the door. “We’ll continue after lunch, hm?”

She nods, offers a polite bow, and swiftly exits.

On her way down to the lobby, she feels a flurry of nerves in her stomach. She hugs her sweater in her arms, wondering who will be joining them for lunch, and swallowing down more nerves when she enters the lobby to find Namjoon standing alone.

She approaches with a bow and a curious smile, glancing around. “Where’s everyone else?”

Namjoon turns to her with wide eyes, gaze moving down her frame briefly before he clears his throat and bows in return. “Oh, uh, they left – I mean, they’re meeting us there. It can get pretty busy during lunch, so they went to grab us a table.”

She nods slowly, both amused and endeared by his flustered state. It makes her feel marginally better about her own nerves and her smile softens. “Ah, okay. Are you…ready, then?”

His grin is a little too wide, a little too forced, and she swears she can see him sweating, but she finds herself even more endeared by it. “Yes! Yeah, let’s go!”

The walk to the restaurant is quiet, uncomfortably so. Namjoon still seems nervous, hands shoved haphazardly into his pockets and lips pulled into a troubled pout. Nabi sees him open and close his mouth a couple times, as if wanting to say something, but he never does.

And she doesn’t quite know what to say either.

So they walk in silence, the two of them bumping elbows a couple of times because neither of them are good at walking in a straight line and both of them are too clumsy to avoid the collision.

To say Nabi is a bit relieved when they reach the restaurant would be an understatement.

Namjoon’s claim that it’s busy at this time of day is also a bit of an understatement.

The place is mobbed, with people packed into tables from one end of the room to the other and people lining the walls to wait for one to open up. They get a few looks when Namjoon spots his friends and they start to make their way inside, Namjoon’s hand lightly touching her elbow to guide her.

The people they’re greeted by are at least familiar to Nabi, if not by name then by face. She recognizes one of them, having worked alongside her once or twice to prepare a legal document for a client. The other, the classically handsome one, she only knows because you can’t work at Bangtan and not know him. Somewhat of an office clown, Nabi doesn’t know his name, but knows his reputation well enough.

He’s a flirt, he’s always cracking jokes that he laughs far too loudly at, and he knows absolutely everyone.

And almost all of the women Nabi has talked to want to date him.

Not surprising, really, when met with his charming, handsome grin.

“Namjoon-ah!” he greets, voice loud even over the volume of conversation in the restaurant. “You made it!” His eyes flick to Nabi and he gives a little head bow. “Hello, Nabi-ssi!”

Nabi bows a little belatedly, glancing between Namjoon’s friends uncertainly. “Hello.”

Namjoon ushers her into an open seat, taking the seat next to her. “Nabi, this is Seokjin-ssi and that over there is our chaotic friend we like to call Mayhem.”

The woman, dubbed Mayhem, rolls her eyes. “Namjoon is just jealous I’m cooler than he is. But thankfully you already know that since we’ve already met.”

Nabi smiles, visibly relaxing at the easy banter. “That’s right!” Nabi bites back a laugh at Namjoon’s disappointed slouch. “How are things going in the acquisitions department?”

“Crazy as ever!” the woman huffs before launching into a tirade that has both men rolling their eyes, although Nabi does catch the overwhelmingly fond look Seokjin gives Mayhem when she’s not looking.

And it’s easy, sitting with them like that, picking at the food they order for the table and smiling in thanks at the drinks Namjoon keeps pouring for everyone. They each have one shot of soju, which she keeps half-full to prevent anyone from refilling it, and then they stick to water or cola.

And Seokjin fully lives up to his reputation, telling awful jokes that leave Namjoon groaning and Mayhem bursting into a fit of giggles…which always results in Namjoon groaning again. The whole thing brings an amused smile to Nabi’s face that Namjoon immediately notices and tries to shut down.

“Oh no, don’t you encourage him too,” he begs her, shooting her a pleasing look that makes her chuckle.

Seokjin scoffs, slamming a hand down on the table. “Yah! I’m still your hyung! Respect me and my jokes!”

“I respect you, hyung,” Namjoon grumbles. “But I don’t think I could ever respect your jokes.”

Seokjin puts a hand over his heart as if this mortally wounds him, pouting and wiping a fake tear from his eye. Mayhem is quick to pat his shoulder, which Seokjin leans into. “Whatever will I do without Joonie’s respect, May?”

“Live a very sad, humorless life,” Mayhem laments with a sad nod. “Just like him.”

Namjoon snorts and rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

It isn’t until Seokjin begins to fake wail, drawing attention to them, that Namjoon rushes to say, “Fine! Okay! I respect you and your jokes!”

Seokjin’s bottom lip trembles and he gives Namjoon a wide-eyed stare. “You mean it?”

Namjoon’s gaze narrows, but he nods. “Yes, hyung.”

The older man throws his hands in the air with a happy yell. “You respect me!”

Namjoon grumbles under his breath and ducks his head, only chancing a short glance Nabi’s way. Some of his embarrassment ekes away at the sight of her amused grin and he sighs, running a hand through his hair before downing the rest of his shot.

“Alright, good lunch,” Namjoon declares, setting the shot glass back down on the table. He glances at his watch. “Should we be heading back?”

“You go, I’ll get it,” Seokjin shrugs, waving them off when they all protest. He winks at Nabi. “It’s the least I can do for our new friend.”

Nabi blushes and doesn’t miss the flat look Namjoon shoots his friend’s way before he shoots to his feet. “Okay, thanks, hyung!”

“Are you sure?” Nabi questions, just to be on the safe side. She doesn’t know Seokjin very well and, despite him being older, she doesn’t want him to feel obligated to pay for her.

Seokjin purses his lips and waves her off. “You kids get back to work, yeah? I’ll be right after you.”

Nabi opens her mouth to thank him, but he’s already twisted around in his seat, yelling for the server before she has the chance. Mayhem just grins at the two of them, looking content to wait with Seokjin.

“Thanks for joining us today, Nabi! Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

Nabi smiles, liking the sound of that. “Thank you for inviting me and for the food.”

She offers a polite bow, which Mayhem giggles at.

“Get our new friend back to work safely, Joonie.” Nabi doesn’t know her well enough to know for sure, but she could swear there’s a mischievous glint in the woman’s eyes.

Namjoon mutters something and nods, waiting patiently for Nabi to gather her things and follow him out.

“Sorry my friends are so crazy,” Namjoon says once they’re out on the sidewalk, away from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant and swept into a different kind of chaos on the streets of Seoul.

Once again, the two of them knock elbows, this time due to the number of people flurrying past them and crowding around them.

“I like them,” Nabi shrugs with a small smile. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Seriously, thank you for inviting me.”

He shrugs, a small, shy smile twitching at his lips. “Thanks for coming.”

They settle into a silence as they walk, not at all phased by the number of people they accidentally bump into on their way back to the office.

The silence is only broken while they wait for the elevator. Namjoon glances sideways at her.

“So, would you actually consider joining us again?” he questions. “Or did you just look like you were considering it to be polite to May?”

Nabi hums. “Can't it be both?”

He stares at her for a moment, then shrugs. “I guess.”

She grins. “Then yes, I would definitely consider it.”

Namjoon smiles, motioning her into the elevator before him. “Cool. We’ll do it again sometime then.”

“Cool,” Nabi echoes, staring straight at the closing doors and biting her lip to keep from smiling too hard.

~*~*~

This continued over the years. Nabi didn’t always join them for lunch, and the trio didn’t always go out, but when she did she always left feeling full – hunger satiated and mood lifted from all the laughter.

Eventually, this transitioned into invites out after work too, sometimes group outings on the weekends. Occasionally, more people from work would join – DonWook drunk was actually an incredible sight to see and witnessing Jia let loose for a little while was wonderful.

Tonight is one of those nights, actually. Mayhem, Seokjin, and Namjoon invited everyone out for some drinks in celebration of a particular author signing with them. They did this occasionally, but more often when it was Mayhem who scouted them. Mayhem was moving up quickly, making a name for herself and proving her importance to the company.

Nabi never doubted her.

When Nabi arrives at the small restaurant, she stops short in surprise at not seeing any of her coworkers yet. She offers a feeble smile to one of the workers and ducks her head, tucking her hair behind her ear and stepping aside to let others in. She holds her sweater close to her, hoping she hadn’t missed a message somewhere about the outing being cancelled or relocated.

Thankfully, Namjoon walks through the door a few minutes later, looking relieved when he glances to the side and catches sight of her. He offers her his signature goofy, yet incredibly charming, smile and stops in front of her.

“Hello,” he greets, glancing around. “Is no one else here yet?”

She shakes her head. “I was actually starting to get worried.”

His smile turns reassuring and he motions toward a table. “No need to worry, the others are probably just running late. Let’s grab a table while we wait.”

The two of them move to a long table that seats eight, neither of them knowing how many will actually be joining them tonight. From the mass email they all got scolded for, it seemed like a lot of people would be here, which made it even more surprising that Nabi and Namjoon were the first to arrive.

“I’ll get some drinks and then text May to see what’s up,” Namjoon suggests, phone already in hand. “What do you want to drink?”

Nabi’s eyes widen and she clears her throat. “Oh! Um, beer is fine!”

Namjoon smiles and yells to get a worker’s attention, placing their drink order before shooting off a text to his group chat. Truthfully, he’s not surprised in the slightest when neither Mayhem or Seokjin reply immediately. He sets his phone on the table with a sigh, trying not to let his nerves show.

He does, however, wipe his sweaty palms on his pants beneath the table and offer Nabi a wobbly smile. “So…uh, how’s work going for you?”

“Good!” Nabi nods, offering a smile and a grumbled thanks as the server sets their drinks down. 

Namjoon holds his glass like an anchor, keeping him buoyed in uncertain waters. “Good! The copiers giving you any more problems?”

Nabi turns her head and takes a sip of beer, chuckling before turning back to him. “No, actually, your little tricks seem to work pretty well! But I did finally learn what the fuser is and how to reset it!”

He grins. “Wow, look at you becoming a pro!”

She laughs, and the two of them settle into a stilted silence.

Namjoon shifts in his seat, trying not to appear rude as he glances around, heart sinking a little when he still doesn’t see any of their coworkers. He glances at his phone, then notices Nabi do the same.

“Sorry!” Namjoon blurts. “This isn’t keeping you from something, is it? You don’t have someone waiting for you at home?”

Nabi’s lips twitch, but she barely represses her smile as she shakes her head and tucks her phone away. “I live alone.”

He shifts, a question on the tip of his tongue that he bites back when his phone rings. He scrambles for it, eager for this unexpected one-on-one time to be over. Especially with Nabi looking far too pretty sitting across from him.

He quickly accepts the call from Mayhem. “May?”

Mayhem’s voice is tinny and hard to hear, the sound of music loud and thumping in the background. “Joonie! Where are you?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow as he glances around. “I’m at the restaurant, where are you?”

Mayhem’s laughter is loud, and Namjoon swears he can hear Seokjin muttering something in the background. “We’re at Serendipity! Did you not get the email?”

Namjoon meets Nabi’s imploring eyes. “What email?”

Mayhem sighs. “Were you guys somehow left out of it?”

“You guys?” Namjoon repeats at the same time his eyes narrow. “Wait, how did you know I’m with—“

“Welp! You can either join us or stay where you are, I guess!” his friend quips in his ear. “I gotta go! They’re playing my song!”

“But May—“

The line dies and Namjoon has the worst, sinking feeling that this whole thing had been on purpose. He lets his hand fall against the table, tossing his phone onto it with a clatter. He offers Nabi a thin smile. “Looks like there’s been some sort of mix-up. They all went to Serendipity.”

Nabi’s expression falters and her mouth falls open with a soft, “Ah.” She stares down at her hands in thought. “That’s on the other side of town.”

Namjoon releases a sigh and nods. “We could…just order some food instead? I don’t really feel like clubbing tonight.”

Her hesitant gaze meets his hopeful one and she feels a flicker of…something, so she nods. “Okay.”

He grins. “Cool.” 

He turns and yells for a server.

Yeah, Nabi thinks as she watches his easy interaction with a man wearing an apron, cool.

~*~*~

Their emails become more frequent after that, with Namjoon occasionally sending one just to check up on her and make sure she’s not working too late or with Nabi firing one off when she overhears something particularly hilarious on her trips to the copier room. It’s nice, this friendship that they slowly build with one another. It’s easy, relaxed, with no pressure.

But Namjoon can admit he’s become a little addicted. Addicted to her little giggle when he says something she finds funny on a night out, addicted to the way she shyly tucks her hair behind her ear, addicted to the way she gives him and his friends a hard time whenever they do something particularly stupid.

He loves it, and he loves the little licks of excitement he feels whenever his computer dings with another correspondence from her.

“Seriously, why don’t you just ask for her phone number?” Seokjin snorts as he collapses into the chair beside him.

Namjoon quickly clicks out of the email, side-eying his friend warily. ‘What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in your own department?”

Seokjin arches an eyebrow, motioning to the still-steaming cup of coffee he’d just set down on Namjoon’s desk. “Is that really how you’re going to speak to a generous hyung who just brought you coffee?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, but mutters a “thank you, hyung” before blowing lightly on the hot drink and taking a careful sip. It warms him up instantly.

His hyung laughs. “Okay, I see that you’re going to ignore my question.” He slaps Namjoon on the back as he stands. “Just know, it’d be possible to talk to her outside of work if you had her number.”

Namjoon feigns innocence, shooting him a bewildered look. “Why would I want to do that?”

Seokjin laughs, the loud sound turning a few heads and making Namjoon sink down in his chair. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are, Namjoon-ah. Just ask for her number and get it over with, if you’re not going to ask her out.”

Namjoon’s face turns a deep shade of pink that makes Seokjin laugh again and squeeze his shoulder.

“Seriously,” Seokjin shakes his head and leaves him, not bothering to add anything further.

Namjoon stares after him, suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of him being so obvious. Does that mean Nabi knows too? Or is it just his friends, who know him so well? Does everyone in the office know about his massive crush on the not-so-new-now Legal Assistant?

One glance around at his fellow editors confirms his fears, each one looking quickly away before their eyes can connect.

He huffs and settles down in his chair, sipping irritatedly at his coffee and pointedly ignoring the email to focus on work.

But if he takes a short break later to respond…and maybe ask for her number…well, there’s no hyung standing over his shoulder to witness it.

~*~*~

The company party just before their break for Chuseok is somewhat of a tradition. Although Nabi had only been with the company for one of them so far, she knows this. Last year’s had been such a big deal that she’d actually been a little overwhelmed by it all. In addition to exchanging gifts, which she had already been prepared for, the office went all out in preparing traditional dishes.

Rather than dining out with the entire team or office, everyone contributed at least one dish for a company-wide luncheon. The spread was glorious, with red bean and brown sugar songpyeon, kimchi-jeon, braised beef short ribs, tteokguk, and sanjeok making up only a small fraction of the table.

The smells alone were enough to leave Nabi’s mouth watering, but this year she’s actually contributing. When Jia approached her about it, trying to get a good feel for who would be making what, Nabi had been hesitant. She’s never made food for a group of this size before, but Jia had quickly reassured her that there would be plenty of food and anyone who didn’t like her dish would have plenty more to choose from.

So, Nabi went with the safest thing she could think of – homemade hotteok, using a family recipe her grandmother had taught her when she was just a young girl.

Objectively, she knows the recipe is good. What she’s worried about is whether she’s made them as well as her sweet halmoni. She highly doubts it, knowing nothing could taste nearly as good as her grandmother makes it, but at least she tried, right? Her coworkers would appreciate the effort, if nothing else.

At least, that’s what she tells herself as she adds the container to the table in the lunchroom.

“Is that hotteok?” Namjoon’s voice asks enthusiastically when he peeks over her shoulder. He steals one off the top of the pile and takes a large bite. He tilts his head back in a moan, covering his mouth. “So good!”

“Jeez, Joonie, keep it in your pants,” Mayhem mutters quietly enough to not be heard by anyone else.

Namjoon’s cheeks flare, but his eyes narrow as he grabs another hotteok and shoves in toward Mayhem’s face. She willingly opens her mouth to the tasty treat and fumbles to take it from him. Her wide eyed stare is enough to turn Namjoon’s expression smug. He mouths back, “Keep it in your pants, May.”

She rolls her eyes, but offers Nabi a smile. “This is delicious, Nabi.”

“Oooh, hotteok!” Seokjin exclaims, reaching in between all of them to grab one. He groans as he takes a bite. “I love food!”

Nabi and Mayhem exchange a look, both smothering grins at the guys’ enthusiastic reactions.

“Alright, alright, enough eating at the food table,” Jia scolds, ushering them away. “Mind your manners, children. Take a plate and go!”

A chorus of “yes noona” and “yes unnie” echoes from the three, Nabi just shyly tucking her hair behind her ear before reaching for a plate to pile food on.

“You’re gonna sit with us, right?” Mayhem questions and it takes Nabi a minute to realize she’s talking to her.

“Oh!” She looks between them -- at Mayhem’s expectant gaze, Seokjin’s friendly smile, and Namjoon’s hopeful grin. “Yeah, sure!”

“Cool,” Namjoon mumbles, and Nabi can’t help but shoot him an amused grin.

“You know, for an editor, you have a small vocabulary,” she teases.

Namjoon’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red and he ducks his head, scratching at the back of his neck, much to Nabi’s delight.

Mayhem barks out a laugh, clapping Namjoon on the back. “She fits right in!”

Namjoon scowls at his friend. “You’re a bad influence.”

Mayhem merely smirks, giggling her way to a table. “Don’t you think life would be more interesting with more that one of me in it?”

“Hel—“ Namjoon pauses, glancing around with wide eyes before censoring himself, “Absolutely not!”

Seokjin sighs wistfully as he sits down next to Mayhem, giving her a playfully flirty flutter of his lashes. “The world wouldn’t be able to handle that much beauty!”

Namjoon snorts and rolls his eyes at the same time that Mayhem starts to coo and fuss over Seokjin.

Nabi tilts her head from her spot next to Namjoon at the food table, pausing long enough to look at them. “Are they—?”

Namjoon huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’d think so, right? But no, they’re completely platonic. Disgusting, but platonic.”

“Huh.” Nabi mutters before turning to finish loading her plate. She side-eyes Namjoon. “And you?”

“Me?” he questions with furrowed brows.

She nods toward Mayhem.

“Oh!” His nose wrinkles in disgust. “Definitely platonic!”

“I don’t know why, but I get the feeling I’m being talked about,” Mayhem calls from the table and Nabi and Namjoon laugh.

“Pipe down and eat your free food,” Namjoon instructs, rolling his eyes at the way she sticks her tongue out at him. So mature. He lifts an eyebrow at Nabi. “See what I have to put up with? Anyway, why’d you wanna know?”

She chuckles and shrugs. “It’s just good to know about the relationships throughout the office.”

“Ah, in that case, you’ll want to talk to Seokjin. He knows everything around here.”

“Really?”

He grins. “Yeah, come on! Let’s see what the new gossip is.”

“Cool,” Nabi grins, laughing when Namjoon narrows his eyes at her.

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon grumbles, but he can’t stop smiling, even when Mayhem starts up on her teasing again.

Because maybe, just maybe he likes it when Nabi teases him.

Just a little.

~*~*~

The fact that Mayhem was using dating apps wasn’t a surprise to anyone, Namjoon especially. Somehow, for reasons he can’t fathom, he’s on the receiving end of all the details he doesn’t want to know about the guys she hooks up with. Especially when he has to call her when she’s consistently late for work because of those hookups. So, he’s not really surprised when it happens, he expects it from her at this point, but he is surprised when he hears Nabi has a dating profile too.

“Wait, what?” he asks, tuning back into the conversation the girls are having over drinks one night.

“I swear, do you ever listen?” Mayhem sighs. “I was just telling Nabi that she should ask out the guy she’s been talking to.”

He furrows his eyebrows, turning his attention to Nabi. “You’ve been talking to a guy?”

“Well, there’s my answer to whether you listen,” Mayhem rolls her eyes and Namjoon glares at her. “She’s been talking to him for weeks now.”

His eyes widen. “What? Really?”

Nabi shrugs, laughing it off. “It’s just talking. It’s not going to go anywhere.”

“Not if you don’t ask him out, it’s not!” Mayhem points out, poking Nabi in the ribs and making her laugh.

Nabi shirks away, batting at her hands. Her gaze slides to Namjoon and then quickly away. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see.”

Mayhem looks between the two of them with narrowed eyes, then exchanges a look with Seokjin, who’s been looking between the two of them throughout the entire exchange. With a smirk, Mayhem rolls her eyes and sips her drink. “Whatever. Do what you want, I guess.”

~*~*~

Nabi never did ask the guy on a date, far too busy with work to even slow down long enough. It’s all she can do to keep up with his messages, something he seems to understand because such is life in Seoul. It’s a little soul-crushing, how consuming work life in the big city is, but it’s what she signed up for. It’s what she’s dreamed of her entire life and she’s finally found a company she’s happy and proud to work for.

So, maybe she uses that as an excuse to not even bother, to not even try to get to know the guy better. He’s nice enough, but not anything to drop her entire life for. She wouldn’t.

Namjoon doesn’t hear anything further about Nabi and her dates – potential or otherwise – and he’s not sure if it’s because she’s stopped talking about them around him or because she genuinely doesn’t go on them. The clarification that she’s single was appreciated, although he’s had his suspicions for a while now. He figures he would have at least heard about a significant other by now.

So, he stops worrying about it. Stops overthinking it. Stops feeling pressured to make a move. If she’s not actually looking for something right now, why would he? Why would he want to mess up a good thing – a valuable friendship?

It’s become abundantly clear, to himself and to both of his friends, that that’s not what he wants with Nabi though. But no amount of them meddling or hinting around or threatening to tell her themselves will convince him to make that first move.

Even though he knows, traditionally, he really should be the one to do it.

Mayhem would probably smack him over the head for thinking that way, but it’s the truth. The guy is still entirely expected to make the first move and, to Namjoon, that’s kind of terrifying.

What if she rejects him? That would suck!

What if she feels awkward around him after? That would suck more!

No, he’s okay with things the way they are. It’s not perfect, obviously, and definitely not ideal, but…it’s okay. He can deal with his feelings.

At least, he thinks he can.

~*~*~

There are very few times in Namjoon’s life that he can remember wanting to dismember someone. Occasionally he feels that way about May when she won’t stop flicking his ear, often he feels that way toward all the big corporations for their part in global warming, but…he’s never felt it quite as strongly as when May’s kind-of-date’s friend’s fingers grazed Nabi’s wrist.

They’re, of course, here to celebrate that very person. Apparently, Jungkook got a big promotion at work. Frankly, Namjoon doesn’t care. He doesn’t really know the guy. But he does know Nabi and does care that he’s touching her.

Even if the touch was accidental.

Although, that doesn’t seem likely. Why else would Jungkook be so intrigued by Nabi’s bracelet? It’s simple silver. Of course, it looks gorgeous on Nabi. Everything looks good on Nabi. But really, Jungkook?

Tightening his jaw, he tries not to appear too miffed as he waits for someone from their group to take a seat so he can finally sit down. Another of May’s kind-of-date’s friends, Taehyung, takes a seat and Namjoon blows out a breath as he follows his lead.

Thankfully, Nabi notices and decides to join.

And if Namjoon scoots a little closer and puts an arm around her shoulders, who cares? It’s not like he’s being rude. It’s not like it’s scandalous. He just…really does not want Jungkook to get too close.

Maybe he’s being too territorial.

At the pointed look Seokjin shoots him, he definitely is.

He sighs and shifts in his seat, trying to relax. It isn’t until Nabi scoots a little closer, leans a little further into his space, that he does.

He peers at her curiously, but her attention is still on Jungkook as they talk about something Namjoon hasn’t bothered to listen to.

He’s vaguely aware of when Mayhem comes back with Jimin, is even more aware of the look his two friends exchange at his expenses but he ignores them. He couldn’t be bothered to pay them more attention anyway, not when Nabi turns in her chair and leans back on him like it’s an entirely normal thing to do.

Not when she threads her hand through his fingers and holds his arm tighter to her.

He’s going to spontaneously combust.

To avoid this, he takes a rather large drink of the beer placed in front of him and clears his throat at the knowing smirk Mayhem throws his way. She tosses him a wink and he turns his attention promptly away, tuning into the conversation Nabi is having with Jungkook.

“So, you work in the legal department?” Jungkook questions. “What does that entail, exactly?”

“Oh,” Nabi blows out a tired sigh, waving him off. “Nothing exciting. I deal a lot with legal contracts and business deals.”

“Sounds exciting to me,” Jungkook shrugs, gaze flickering to Namjoon. “You’re Namjoon, right? You guys work together?”

He sounds like he already knows and Namjoon glances between the two of them, wondering what she’s told him. He nods. “I’m a Senior Editor for the company.”

Jungkook lets out a low whistle. “So, what? You read a lot of books and make corrections?”

Namjoon opens his mouth to correct him, to clarify his role, but he’s already blazing on. He clamps his mouth shut with a frown that doesn’t go unnoticed by Nabi, who squeezes his hand with a soft smile.

“You’re both pretty smart then, huh?” Jungkook looks between the two of them, shaking his head with a defeated sigh. “Smart people always make the cutest couples.”

Namjoon stiffens, staring with wide eyes as Jungkook downs the rest of his beer and gets up to grab another.

Nabi shifts slightly, pulling him back to the moment, and he blinks out of his daze. He glances at her hesitantly, quirking a wobbly smile.

He’s surprised to find she looks completely relaxed, unfazed by the remark.

“Mayhem looks happy,” Nabi comments, leaning close so he can hear her without raising her voice.

His gaze shifts in May’s direction, not at all surprised to see her looking enamored by Jimin, even as Seokjin regales embarrassing stories about her. He kind of admires that about her, that she’s not afraid to look silly or awkward. She merely shrugs it off because, well, she’s human and she is who she is. She never alters or filters herself for anyone…except work. She takes that seriously, at least.

He’s about to open his mouth to respond when a slow chant starts on the dance floor, stealing all of their attention. Their coworker, and part-time disc jockey at the club, takes the stage, waving at the crowd with a gummy smile.

It’s odd to see Yoongi like this, Namjoon thinks. He looks free…kind of careless in a way Namjoon envies.

“Do you want to dance?” The words are out of his mouth before he can think to stop them and he turns a wide-eyed stare to Nabi. Nabi doesn’t seem to notice his flustered state, merely grins and nods, keeping his hand in hers as she tugs him toward the dance floor.

Okay, so maybe…maybe being more like his friends and coworkers could work. Maybe he could stand to be a little more…bold.

Except maybe this is a horrible idea because he hates to dance and he quickly remembers why as soon as he’s on the dance floor with Nabi. Even surrounded by a crowd of people who dance just as horribly as he does, he feels embarrassed by how off-rhythm he is.

And his hands won’t stop sweating.

“You look miserable,” Nabi laughs, taking both his hands in hers and waving them around. “Come on! Loosen up, have fun!”

He tries. He really, really does. But he can’t focus on anything other than the bow of Nabi’s lips, the sway of her hips, the sweet glint of her eyes, and the softness of her hands in his.

“Nabi, I have to talk to you about something,” he blurts out, but he’s not so sure it comes out coherent because he definitely hadn’t intended to say it.

Nabi’s eyebrows furrow and she shifts closer, raising her voice. “What? You want to talk?”

He finds himself incapable of doing anything other than nodding. It seems he’s lost all capabilities of control.

Great.

He feels a little out of it, a little dazed, as she leads him over to a quiet corner of the club. He feels eyes on them, notices all the eyes on her, and he can’t say he’s surprised. She looks gorgeous tonight, but she looks gorgeous all the time. It doesn’t matter what she’s wearing, how much makeup she has on, or what she does with her hair on any particular day. She’s always been stunning.

When Nabi stops short and turns slowly to face him, eyes wide and cheeks stained crimson, he realizes he’s been saying all of that out loud.

Well, great. Awesome.

Cool.

Nabi bites her lip and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, averting her gaze to the people around them. They’ve made it off the dance floor, so it’s not as crowded, but it’s still loud. It’s a wonder that she heard his rambling at all. He wonders, briefly, how loud he’d been talking and takes a furtive glance around to see a few people looking their way.

He blushes.

Wow, he’s horrible at this.

“You–” she sighs, fiddling with the material of her dress. “You can’t just say things like that.”

He arches an eyebrow, edging closer in an effort to hear her better. It definitely has absolutely nothing at all to do with the tantalizing smell of her perfume. “Why?”

She makes a noise in the back of her throat, a hand coming up to cover her face.

He grins, not used to seeing this side of her, and reaches to move her hand, but pauses. “Nabi?”

She sighs and makes a humming sound, eyes flickering to him.

He’s dazed for a moment, completely enraptured by how adorable she is, then he blinks and his grin widens. “Can I hold your hand?”

The question clearly takes her by surprise, if the way her eyes widen is any indication. She nods in lieu of a verbal response and Namjoon’s dimples dance as he reaches for her hand, linking their fingers together.

He takes a moment to observe her, admiring the light blush of her cheeks and the way her eyes sparkle in the light. Then he clears his throat. “Can I…also take you on a date sometime?”

Her lips press together in a stunned smile, eyes comically wide in a way that makes Namjoon’s heart flip as he tries not to laugh. She nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he questions, if only to make sure he’d heard her correctly.

She nods.

He grins. “Cool.”

~*~*~

Namjoon and Nabi manage to keep the fact that the two of them are dating a secret for a while. Slipping off to lunch together or for drinks after work when others are preoccupied becomes easier once word gets out about the drama between Yoongi and Mayhem.

They’d travel as far as they dared during their lunch breaks, frequenting spots that Namjoon knows their coworkers don’t attend often. Then they’d travel a bit further after work, Namjoon taking it upon himself to show her all the best places on that side of town. Nabi has a few favorites she’d found and she’s excited to show him, even if Namjoon has already been to all of them. It’s better with her there, he’d argue.

Thankfully, the secrecy of their meetings means they have more privacy, less people prying into their business and asking questions about what it all meant. Namjoon doesn’t really care what it all means, he just enjoys spending time with Nabi. He doesn’t want to overthink it.

It also means that, when Namjoon finally works up the courage to kiss her on their fourth date, she has nobody to squeal over it with. It probably isn’t much to squeal over, really. It’s a quick and clumsy kiss as he drops her off at her apartment, one that he blushes about and then quickly bids her goodnight, but…Nabi’s heart thrums excitedly in her chest anyway.

And she may or may not squeal into her pillow about it too.

Eventually, though, the entire office inevitably hears about their relationship. Namjoon assumes it’s all thanks to Seokjin, who could never keep his mouth shut about anything, but once he realizes that Nabi doesn’t care that everyone knew, he finds himself not caring either.

That is, until he learns about the betting pool.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he groans, running a hand through his hair in slight annoyance. Yes, he sees the humor in what his friends are telling him – even Nabi is laughing about the whole thing – but that doesn’t mean he approves. “What would have happened if I never asked her out?”

“To be fair,” Mayhem starts before biting into an apple, the crisp bite loud. Juice dribbles down her chin and she sucks it between her teeth, swiping a napkin over her face. “I thought Nabi would be the one to ask you.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrow, mouth opening on a sharp retort, before Seokjin quickly butts in.

“I always had faith in you,” he reassures, slapping a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “I knew you’d get tired of pining for her eventually.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve liked me for three years,” Nabi laughs.

“Almost three years,” Namjoon corrects, to which Mayhem rolls her eyes.

“So, who won the pool?” Nabi questions, ignoring Namjoon’s comment entirely.

Mayhem pouts, glancing over her shoulder as Yoongi takes a seat next to her at their lunch table.

Yoongi grins. “I did.”

Namjoon snorts. “What did you win? Six thousand won?”

Yoongi’s grin turns smug as he puts an arm around Mayhem, pulling her in close. “Six hundred thousand, actually.”

Namjoon chokes on his coffee and Nabi rubs his back with a frown. “Six hundred thous– what?! How many people were in on this?”

“The entire company,” Mayhem shrugs.

Seokjin nods around a bite of ramyeon. “ShiHyuk-nim bet you’d take five years.”

“Our CEO was betting on our dating lives?” Namjoon groans, burying his face in his hands. “This is embarrassing.”

“Now, now,” Mayhem chuckles, reaching across the table to pat his arm. “The important thing is that you did eventually ask her out.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin snorts. “And now your new boyfriend has all the prize money.”

Mayhem grins. “Exactly!”

“Hmm,” Nabi sniffs and fiddles with the straw in her cup. “I think the least you can do with that money is treat us to a meal.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother to suppress his grin at her audacity. He shrugs. “Fine by me. Mayhem was going to make me take her out on a bunch of dates with it anyway.”

“You still are,” Mayhem argues with a challenging flick of her eyebrow.

Yoongi smirks, squeezing his hand on her shoulder. “Yes, jagiya.”

“You know, I’ll never say no to a good meal,” Seokjin mutters, but it’s muffled around a rather large bite of food that everyone grimaces over.

“We know, hyung,” Namjoon shakes his head with a laugh, sliding a napkin his way. “We know.”

[sunder-soul]

𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter One: There's just something about those Riddle murders that doesn't quite make sense... Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Permanent Taglist: @jujugentle @weirdowithnobeardo @pearlstiare @fromthehellmouth @whoevenfrickenknows @moatsnow @voidmalfoy @lucys-brain @sunles @arana-alpha @tallyovie @expectoscamander @nothinghcppens @itsjustfics @mikariell95 @suicide-sweetheart636 @toasterking

Name: MORFIN GORMLAITH GAUNT

Age: 46

Wand: fir, 10 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring

Residence: Gaunt Estate, Little Hangleton, Yorkshire

Marital status: -

Offense charge: three counts of murder in the primary degree

Date of charged offense: 1st July, 1943

Offense Detail: prisoner entered the residence of the Riddle family (Muggle, IM-00) and inflicting the Killing Curse (UC-001-1717) upon the three members of the Riddle family present; Thomas Riddle (63), Mary Riddle (60), and their son Tom Riddle (37). Use of the Killing Curse has been confirmed by Prior Incantato (see report DMLE-619-1951-BLE, SA: Robert Odgen).

Date of Testimony: 3rd July, 1943

Prisoner plea: guilty

Sentence: Azkaban, 360 years

Date of Sentence: 3rd July, 1943

You frown.

It’s very late, the candle your desk is barely a stub, the little flame hovering nervously on the surface of a broad pool of wax, and you’ve been copying over these stupid reports to the new, tamper-proof parchment forms for seven hours now – but something is extremely odd about these dates.

“McCollin,” you say slowly. “Did you work this case?”

“Hmm?” McCollin doesn’t look up at the desk beside you, head resting heavily on one hand and his spine curled into a perfect and truly concerning C-shape over his own stack of files. He looks close to passing out right there and then, salt-and-pepper hair a little greasy, scruffy five o’clock shadow, eyes bleary and shadowed.

“Gaunt,” you read, “1943. You were working with Odgen then, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I remember that nutter.”

“What happened?”

“Guy was from one of those ancient pure-blooded clans, you know, one of the real fanatical ones, inbreeding and liquidated assets and all,” McCollin yawns, dragging his hand down his face and smearing ink across his whiskered cheek. “Hated Muggles like nobody’s business."

“Yeah he killed three Muggles, right?” you peer at the report.

McCollin nods at the form he's copying. “Went off the deep end one day. Walked right up to their house and murdered ‘em. When they brought him in he was ranting and raving about how they’d had it coming for years.”

“He was arrested, charged, and sentenced within three days,” you say slowly.

He finally looks up at you. “So?”

“That’s the fasted processing I’ve ever seen.”

“The guy admitted to it, kiddo,” McCollin says in deadpan, “he had snakes nailed to his door and his family tree was basically a Christmas wreath.”

“Yeah, but… what made he snap?”

He laughs again, shaking his head despondently as he returns to his form. “You got a lot to learn.”

His tone wants to be fond but it just strikes you as patronising, especially considering the amount of times people have said that exact same stupid line to you. It’s like half the bloody department think being Muggle-born makes you incapable of understanding the subtle and unique intricacies of wizarding culture – as if bigotry and supremacists and assholes are exclusive to the magical world. “What?” you say a little too defensively.

“Families like that… guys like that… they’re not right in the head. Hate Muggles just to hate ‘em, reckon they’re all that’s wrong with the world. Honestly it’s a miracle he didn’t do it sooner.”

You look back down at the report, suspicions anything but assuaged. “Yeah,” you say quietly, “it is.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Did you ever watch Gaunt’s testimony?”

“You’re still going on about that?” McCollin drawls, heaving the towering box of finished files up a bit as he heads for the lifts.

“I looked him up in Records and the memory’s only available with supervisor permission,” you push, following him quickly. “If you signed me off then I could get Owler to –”

He slams the button and stares at the little golden arrow above the elevator grate slowly sliding towards the basement floor. “And why in Merlin’s name do you want to watch the Gaunt trial?”

You slip your hands into the pockets of your purple Ministry robes. “I’m interested.”

“Interested,” he echoes, shooting you a look. “Is that so?”

“He was processed in three days, McCollin. If it was that obvious he was guilty, it must have been one hell of a trial.”

“It was,” he scoffs as the lift dings and the grate grinds to a noisy open. “Fine, but only if you finish Johan’s quota by five.”

The triumph is impossible to keep off your face and McCollin rolls his eyes at your immediate glee. “I’m on it,” you grin, spinning around and racing back to your desk to get started.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Merlin’s beard,” McCollin mutters, shaking his head at the stack of completed transcripts. “I gotta hold stuff over your head more often.”

“Just sign the slip, McCollin,” you smirk.

He sighs and grabs the quill from your hand, and you hold your breath as he scribbles his initials on the slip. “You’re obsessed,” he drawls.

You seize the slip and round on the lift, heart racing with excitement. “I’m interested.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

The trial is absolutely insane.

Morfin Gaunt looks like a Witch Weekly cartoon caricature of a fanatical blood-purist and he rambles in a manic-edged, ceaseless torrent about how much he enjoyed murdering the Riddles as the Wizengamot mutters and blithers disapprovingly for about three hours – but something catches your attention right near the end. Something you can’t help but ask Owler about the second the memory ends and you’re thrown back into the Records Room.

“Who’s Merope?”

Owler’s sallow face looks about as thrilled at your question as he was at your request for the memory in the first place. “Merope Gaunt,” he says in a flat, nasally voice, waving his wand at the Pensieve and sending the memory swirling back into its phial.

“Merope Gaunt?”

Owler’s thin, anaemic lips downturn even more. “His sister.”

You stare at him. It is not at all what you’d expected. “And why did he call his sister a mud-soused, scumsucking slut?”

“Ask your supervisor.”

“He seemed to be saying he killed those people because of Merope, why on earth would his sister be why he –”

“I keep the records, I don’t conduct the investigations,” Owler interrupts with not inconsiderable disdain. “Now if you could please –”

“Did they bring Merope in for testimony?”

Owler gives your continuing presence a very dirty look. “No.”

“Why not?”

He pushes the door to the Records room open and stares at you.

You try to hold your ground but Owler is unrelenting, and you're forced to step past him with a curt sigh. “Right, well, good afternoon, Owler, thanks for –”

The door slams shut behind you.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Get what you wanted?” McCollin smirks as you collapse stony-faced into your chair.

“I forgot how impressively unpleasant it is to talk to Owler,” you mutter, resting your head in your hands. “Did you know about Merope?”

“Merope?”

“Yeah, Morfin’s sister.”

“Didn’t know he had one,” McCollin says disinterestedly.

“He was saying some stuff that made it sound like she’s why he killed those Muggles.”

“Uh huh.”

You lift your head, giving him an incredulous look. “He said she’s why he murdered three people, McCollin. How does that not interest you?”

McCollin throws down his quill and sighs sharply. “Look kiddo, the guy’s rotting in Azkaban, he admitted to the murders, they found the curses in his wand, and he had a memory of the whole thing. What exactly are you hoping to achieve here?”

You can barely believe it. “Why isn’t Merope Gaunt mentioned in any of his trial documents?” you say sharply.

“Either she wasn't relevant to the proceedings, or she's dead, or he made her up,” McCollin shrugs, “like I said, the guy went off the deep end.”

“But why doesn’t it say –”

“Just drop it,” he sighs impatiently, “you have work to do, and I won’t have you wasting clocked time on some case from nearly a decade ago.”

“Come on, McCollin, can’t you admit that it’s weird that –”

“I said drop it,” he says sharply, “don’t make me be the big mean supervisor here, you know I hate it.”

You glare at him. “Fine,” you say through gritted teeth.

It’s almost too easy to pull Morfin’s old file from where it’s still sitting in the refuse pile and subtly charm a copy of it that evening.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Merope Gaunt, as far as you can tell, fucking vanished off the face of the earth in 1925.

There’s nothing, no addresses, no marriage or death notice, no registered Floo connections, no DRC calls for gnomes or doxies or even the odd kappa, not a single trace of her after Morfin and their father Marvolo had a stint in Azkaban for assaulting Bob Odgen back in the 20s.

It seems like the second they were locked up, she scarpered.

You sit back in the Archives Hall and let out a long breath, flipping the folder shut dejectedly. Morfin’s file is a thick wad of anti-Muggle hate crimes rivalled only by his father’s, and closer inspection had revealed that the Gaunt family estate sat a cool twenty minutes' walk from Riddle House where the murders had occurred. If Morfin had lived so close to some of the Muggles he hated so much, he’d been sitting on a clear motive for murder for years.

So why suddenly snap?

What had pushed him over the edge?

Why did he cite Merope in his deranged testimony?

Why talk about her in that way?

Where the hell did she go?

There are endless questions and zero answers. Plus, you kind of get the feeling that if McCollin saw you hunched in the Archives after-hours trying to find those answers, you’d get your pay docked.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

That night, you sit bolt upright in bed with a surge of electric realisation.

Mud-soused… scumsucker…

You’ve heard that language before. You’ve processed about four hundred case files of harassment with that language.

“Idiot,” you breathe, smacking your forehead and falling back onto your pillows with a thump. “Idiot, of course…”

Because that’s the way Pure-blood extremists talk about witches and wizards who've fallen in love with Muggles.

Suddenly, you have a pretty good idea where Merope might have disappeared to the moment her blood-obsessed brother and father were out of the picture, and a pretty good idea of where you might be able to look to find her. Because you’ve been looking in the wrong place.

You’ve been looking for her in the wizarding world.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I have the craziest news for you,” you grin, slamming a silver Sickle on the counter and taking your seat at the bar.

“You say that twice a month,” Mori grumbles, setting your drink down and sliding the coin into his huge, calloused hand.

“It’s true twice a month.”

“It’s true half as much as you think.”

“I found her.”

Mori’s dark brows raise. It makes his gruff face look slightly less intimidating. “The lady from that old case you're into?”

“Yeah,” you beam, seizing your drink and leaning forward. “Started going through marriage certificates, and –”

“You’re telling me that your big-shot Ministry intern arse has been working this thing for a month and you didn’t even check marriage certificates?”

“Not Muggle ones,” you smirk.

Mori takes a glass off the bar and starts to clean it as he peers at you. “Go on.”

“She married the same guy her brother murdered, Mori,” you breathe, glancing around to make sure none of the shady denizens of Moribund’s are listening – it’s not like the bar's regular patrons are so welcoming to your big-shot Ministry intern arse on the best of days considering you’re half-way down Knockturn Alley in the dead of night. “They fucking ran away together!”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Mori mutters.

“Exactly!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink and feeling supremely pleased with yourself.

“What, you spent that much time investigating this thing for no reason?”

“Nah,” you say quietly, lips still in a smile. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than this. I still have to find out what happened to her after they got married and her brother murdered his new in-laws.”

“And what’s this guy’s name again?”

You give him a dry look. “You know I can’t tell you names, Mori, I’m pushing the bounds of my contract telling you this much already.”

He shrugs his massive shoulders, casting a wary look around the dark bar. “If you’re looking for people who might know a thing or two about murderers and Muggle-haters, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I’m here to talk to you, Mori, not the murderers and Muggle-haters.”

“You’re here to drink cheap and rant to someone who won’t rat you out to your boss,” he growls.

You give him another grin. “Cheers to that.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You find Merope’s name in a record tome of an old church parish almost by accident. There’s barely any information there, just one name on a huge list of those buried in the pauper’s graveyard less than ten blocks from where you’re sat amongst the looming shelves of the Muggle public archives at that exact moment.

But there is something.

It says she died in a place called 'Wool’s Orphanage' on New Year’s Eve in 1926. It’s not hard to guess why she might have been there, and how she probably died.

Merope Gaunt had a child.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Reply/message me to get added to the tag list! 💖

[moonctzeny]

Work for it

Part II: Promotion

pairing: coworker! johnny x reader

other members as background characters: haechan as johnny’s assistant

genre: smut

warnings: explicit smut, semi-public sex, spit in mouth, pussy slapping, throatpie (omg I got so embarrassed writing this down)

word count: 5,792

summary: “One of your co-workers, the supervisor of the Sales Department John Suh, is arguably the hottest man you’ve seen in your life. You try to act on your crush but he is just plain oblivious to your efforts, but you won’t stop until your fantasies come true”

 -------------------------------------------------------------

Work for you was living hell and no, it wasn’t for the normal reasons. You had a nice job as an intern in the Financial Department of a company, and with your hard work getting recognized, you were looking forward to being offered a permanent position soon.

Today was no different. You had made sure all your files were organized, calls made and deadlines in check. All you had left to do was look over a report in the office of none other but the man who was causing your suffering. Mr. Suh.

Mr. Suh, or Johnny as he insisted on being called, was the supervisor of the Sales Department but he didn’t let it get to his head. He was extremely friendly, willing to help his subordinates and brought a smile to everyone’s face. Working with him would be amazing if there wasn’t one little problem. He was the sexiest man you had ever seen.

Now, now, you weren’t some middle schooler. You came into this company committed to get the position you deserve, not beg for some man’s dick. But when he first welcomed you in the main elevator, tall height, hair pushed back and with a face of godly facial structure, you almost pressed the stop button so he could take you right then and there.

You brought some files along and ascended the stairs that lead you to his office on the top floor. It would be more convenient if Mr. Suh sent the report downstairs with his assistant and your best work buddy, Donghyuck, but you insisted on paying him a visit, saying something about how a little work out never hurt anyone.

When you saw Donghyuck at his desk, he didn’t even look up from his laptop, pointing at the door instead.

“Put your panties back on. He’s on the printing room”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, used to his teasing about your crush on mr. Suh and headed out for said room at the end of the hall. Johnny was hunched over a machine, shaking it from side to side.

You knocked lightly on the already open door to announce your presence, and he turned around, flashing you his killer smile.

“y/n, hello! I was just trying to get you a copy of the report, but the damn printer seems to be broken again.”

You tried to tell him that it’s okay, that you can use the printer from your floor downstairs, but then he bent over trying to locate the cause of the malfunction, giving you a perfect view of his ass in his fitted tracksuit. Rutting the machine around, he thrusted his hips forward, letting out the occasional grunt, and you took a mental picture for later. He must have shaken something a bit too hard, because ink started to spill out of the cartilage.

“Aww, it’s dripping everywhere”

He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, and you couldn’t help but stare at how veiny and strong his arms looked as he pushed down. Your mind wandered off, imagining how nice it must feel to have him on top of you, applying this kind of pressure with his pretty hands around your neck as he-

“y/n? Are you ok?”

“Uh-um yes! Sorry Mr. Suh, it’s been a hard day”

It’s been your cute ass that made it hard for me to function around you was what you actually meant. He winked your way, and you were almost sure he did a double take on a skirt you wore that he had complimented before.

See, it’s not like you never thought of making a move on Johnny. You knew he was single, and he even told Donghyuck that he thought you were cute. Romantic relations between coworkers was not a rare thing, but the way everyone around here respected him made you nervous to approach him. No matter how many people fell for his charming personality and his visuals, he was never part of the company’s gossips and you knew the reason. The guy was denser than a brick wall.

You tried testing the waters with him, taking the light flirting a bit further, but he never seemed to catch the point. Maybe he was so used to getting this kind of attention that he dismissed your attempts as just friendly banter.

But you weren’t ready to give up.

“Sometimes I like coming here to relax. This place is usually so nice and quiet. It gives you privacy to do so many things”

What you said must have piqued his interest, since he gave up on the printer and turned his attention to you instead.

“Things, that the company wouldn’t approve of doing in here?”, he said in a lower voice than before and your throat felt dry when you answered him.

“Yeah. It’s just, we wouldn’t get caught in here, you know?”

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean”

He took two steps towards you before lowering down to whisper closer to you.

“I actually know a place that has even more privacy than this room. I usually go there alone, but it will be so much more fun with you”

Droplets of sweat had collected on his temples as a result of his physical activity earlier, making his words sound so much more enticing. He looked around, checking if anyone was standing in the hallway, before whispering again.

“This will be our little secret, ok?”

You swallowed hard and nodded, ready to get your world rocked by John Suh. He reached for something in his back pocket, but instead of a condom, he whipped out something you’d never expect.

A pack of cigarettes.

“I told everyone I’d quit but the stress gets too much sometimes, you know? I didn’t remember you smoke, though”

Oh my god. Oh my god, you were so stupid. All this time you thought you coaxed him into a steamy, clothes-on, ass on the printer quickie and he meant sneaking you out for a guilt-drenched cigarette break??!!

“Right! You didn’t remember that I smoke because.. because I don’t! ...Anymore. I mean, I quit, just like you. And you know what Mr. Suh, we shouldn’t succumb to the needs of the flesh! Fight back to our bad habits and get healthier! Together!”

He was frozen in place, dumbfounded by your sudden anti-smoking monologue.

“Wow y/n I didn’t know you were so serious about this. Very impressed by your spirit though.” He patted you on the back before picking up the report from the printer and getting to the door. “I’ll tell Donghyuck to print this for you and deliver it to your desk. Won’t take too long, alright?”

And just like that, he managed to leave you in the printing room alone, horny, and one report down.

 ——————————————————

 The next morning at the office was as typical as any other, with the difference that it was raining cats and dogs. The low that was centered over the area caused continuous storms, the rain and moody atmosphere making it impossible for you to keep your eyes open.

You headed over to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, already the second one of the day, when you saw a very familiar someone occupying the coffee machine.

“Mind if you make me a cup too Mr. Suh? I hear you make the best coffee in the office”

He chuckled at you, instantly recognizing your voice.

“It’s my pride. I do love coffee” After turning on the machine he looked at you finally, a serious look on his face. “Listen, y/n, about yesterday, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to drag you down with me like that. You were right about the cigarette thing. I’ll quit for good”

You blinked at him, trying to grasp the ridiculousness of the situation and feeling a bit sorry for guilting him like that.

“It’s ok Mr. Suh don’t worry about it. No big deal”

“Oh and, please, call me Johnny. You make me feel a thousand years old. I’m not that much older than you.”

“Yes Mr.- Johnny”

Just at that moment, a lightning struck, making you jump in place. You glanced at the window, or rather the stormy mess outside, and sighed.

“Chose the wrong day to forget my umbrella huh?”

“You want me to drop you off?”, he offered, immediately making you panic.

“No no! It’s okay. The metro station is really close. It’s fine if I get a little wet anyways, I won’t melt, I’m not made of sugar”

You cringed a bit at your nerve-induced blurting, but it would all be gone in a second.

“You’re sweet like sugar though”

He poured the now brewed coffee on both your cups and you just stared at his movements in shock. Did he just? Initiate the flirting? And called you sweet?

Ok, this is it, you thought.

“Do you like sugar?”, you asked him seductively, making your arms touch. You had to take advantage of this opportunity. The ride home suddenly didn’t sound like such a bad idea.  

“Oh no thanks I drink my coffee black”

Looking at the clock on the wall he picked up his cup and took a sip, striding out of the kitchen and leaving you speechless, much like yesterday.

“I’m late for a meeting. See you later, y/n”

You groaned as you watched him walk away, pouring an excessive amount of sugar in your drink.

“That’s not what I meant...”

 ———————————————————

 Meetings usually meant making sure you had enough battery on your phone to silently play your favorite game, while you heard some old guy in a suit blabber on and on about the most boring topic on earth. Usually you’d be complaining about why they just had to take away valuable time of your day to talk about an issue that could very easily be briefed in a mass email, but not today. Because today, the man of honor who got to do all the talking, was Johnny.

To anyone else, you looked like the most eager intern in the company, taking in every single word that came out his mouth. In reality, you were just immensely turned on by his fluent English, his new suit, and his ability to capture everyone’s attention. You had no idea what he was talking about, but you could listen to him talk all day about how “Results are important” and “Taking a more aggressive strategy is vital”.

A sudden noise made everyone turn to the exit door, only to see that it was just the cleaning lady that had dropped her bucket as she was going down the stairs. You felt Donghyuck, who was sitting next to you as always, nudge you with his knee.

“Oh look, she brought a mop for your drool, how nice of her”

“I’m not drooling”, you whispered back with a glare, shoving him with your elbow.

“Right”, he chuckled, “you’re ready to get on your knees for him right now”

It was really hard to get the picture that Donghyuck had painted out for you off your head for the rest of the meeting. You pathetically rubbed your thighs together to get the slightest feeling of relief, and tried to mute out Johnny’s sexy voice with no avail. When the meeting was finally over, you walked out of the meeting room along with everyone else, when you saw Johnny catch up with you.

“Hey y/n”

“Hi Johnny! Nice presentation up there”

He beamed up at your compliment and you wanted to coo at him for looking so cute. His aura changed a color when he replied to you, turning solemn.

“Thank you. Glad to see you’ve finally dropped the formalities with me”. I can drop my panties too if you want, you thought to yourself, but you only smiled at him when he managed to leave you speechless once again. “Is it wet?”

Wet? Fuck, was Donghyuck right? Were you really so caught up on eating Johnny up with your eyes that he noticed? That he realized you were so turned on by him? He saw your confused expression and tried to futilely explain.

“Is it wet? Down there?”

You were losing it. Was he really asking you that in front of all your coworkers? Your face couldn’t possibly get any hotter, feeling as if you were burning up with a high fever. You realized you hadn’t said a word back.

“E-excuse me?”

“Wasn’t the cleaning lady going downstairs earlier to mop? I figured you’d know if the floor was still wet. Since your office is on the bottom floor”

Get your mind out of the gutter, y/n. Quick, say something already! Stop staring at him like a lost puppy!

“Uhh no I don’t know actually. I’m sorry, I have to go”

You turned swiftly on your heel to walk away from him, and save yourself from any further embarrassment.

If Donghyuck was here to witness this, you’d never get to hear the end of his teasing.

 ———————————————————

 You didn’t expect an email like that from the Sales Department. You were at your desk, minding your business when you got the notification, almost choking on the gum you were chewing on.

 y/n,

I have something very confidential to show you in my office. I think you’ll be very pleasantly surprised. Bring your sexy ass over here at 16:00 sharp.

Johnny Suh

 You must have re-read those 30 words about a thousand times to ensure you weren’t making things up. You freshened up your makeup, thanking the gods of sex that you decided to wear cute underwear this morning. All the things you were daydreaming about since your first meetup at the main elevator, were finally about to happen. Fidgeting around in your seat, you felt yourself getting wetter thinking of all the nasty things Mr. Suh was planning on doing to you in his office.

It was 16:25 when you walked up the stairs, not brave enough to make a man like Johnny wait. All his assistants were gone, probably send off somewhere to avoid having them hear your little unprofessional tête-à-tête.

You walked into his office, the door slightly open. He was sat on his chair, the back turned to you and you started to feel nervous. You didn’t notice he had changed his hair. And wasn’t he wearing a different suit this morning?

“Um Johnny? You asked to see me?”

He tsked at you, turning around.

“16:28? I thought you had more of a backbone than that, y/n. Also thought you’d come in here naked. Disappointing.”

The smug smile, the teasing voice. Donghyuck.

“The email was fake wasn’t it?”

“Luckily for you, yes, I was the one who sent it. I mean, seriously. This ugly brown suit for a dick appointment with Mr. Suh?”

When you graduated university with honors, you didn’t think you’d one day be charged with the murder of a company’s assistant. But right at his moment, as you grabbed the stapler from the desk and walked over to him ominously, you thought it was all worth it.

“Lee Donghyuck, after I’m done with you the only dick appointment you’ll make is with the ER doctor, to get these staples off your balls”

He got up, panicking, and started to back away from you.

“Somebody save me, please, mom!”

You were ready to grab him by his tie and fulfill your threat, when you heard someone clear his throat at the door. And this time it was the real Mr. Suh.

He had his arms crossed, a smile appearing on his face as you shoved your friend away and immediately dropped the stapler from your hold.

“You know, you two are always wasting time over here, messing around. Maybe I should punish you”

Oh god yes, please do.

It was Donghyuck’s deadpan expression that made you realize that you had actually said that out loud. Johnny raised his eyebrows incredulously.

“Oh, so you want the overtime?”

“S-sure why not? Not like I have anything better to do on a Friday night”

Your friend rubbed his palm over his face, cringing at the situation you got yourself in.

“Please, stop talking, I beg of you”, he murmured, when Johnny spoke up again.

“Well in that case, will you leave me and y/n alone to discuss some details?”

Donghyuck nodded, closing the door behind him and it seemed like he took all the oxygen along with him.

Johnny sat on his desk, whipping out some files for you. It might sound stupid, but the email, though fake, had put you in a certain mood, and having him sit so close to you wasn’t helping your situation.

“I will only give you the run down but please ask the supervisor in your department to explain further”

You tried listening to him talk about your overtime, you really did. But the way he was sitting on his armchair with his legs spread out, was practically begging you to do what Donghyuck had suggested yesterday and get on your knees already. You’d tell him to continue his work, challenge him to try and keep typing on his laptop as you’d palm him through his slacks. You’d wait for him to get a bit impatient, licking him over his clothed cock until it felt like it would rip from the fabric. He was definitely big, and you wondered whether you could take him. You’d put him in your hand and start sucking on the tip, then lick your way down to his base. Maybe he would have to take a call, and you would make it a goal to distract him by fitting him all inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. His little office slut.

“y/n. Get under the desk. Right now.”

His voice brought you out of your daydream but his words triggered another one. It felt like the world around you was shaking. Did he just ask you to get on your knees under the table? Could he read your thoughts? “y/n can’t you feel the earthquake? Get under the desk”

When you realized what was happening, you wished that the earth would just swallow you whole already, taking away the embarrassment with you.

Donghyuck met you outside. He had evacuated the building along with everyone else, happy that the small earthquake got them an extra five minutes of break.

“Did Mr. Suh pick you up in his strong arms like your knight in shining armor and save you?”

“Don’t talk to me I’m still mad at you”

He turned you around to face him, his lips pouting at you cutely and it was really hard to resist his doe eyes.

“I’m sowwyy I was just trying to help you out!”

“Help me out with what?”, you sighed, tuckered out, “he clearly doesn’t want anything more with me”

“Oh yeah? Is that why he hasn’t stopped checking out your ass ever since you left the building with him?”

You turn your head to Johnny’s direction, just in time to see his eyes shift from you and Hyuck to the floor. Maybe your friend was right. Did Johnny actually like you after all but was really just that oblivious to your crush?

“All I’m saying is”, he continues, “that you need to be clearer with him. He is the supervisor of another department than yours, he obviously won’t act out anything unless you give him the green light”

You nodded at him, a feeling of determination coursing through you. His words reverberated in your head until break time, planning out your seduction. You knew that there was no way you would be able to concentrate at work unless you gave it a shot with Johnny, even if it goes terribly wrong. Tomorrow, you promised yourself.

 ——————————————————

 And tomorrow did come, finding you right outside his office door. Taking long, confident strides, you walk past Donghyuck who for once, was speechless, eyes widening at your appearance.

Johnny’s favorite skirt hug your hips, garters barely peeking under it. Your shirt was a bit tighter than usual, an extra button undone, revealing your cleavage. The room was filled with the clicking sound of your high heels, that were as uncomfortable as they were sexy. It was barely considered work appropriate but you didn’t care. You hoped you’d manage to at least grab his attention, then let your talking do the rest.

Taking a deep breath, you knock at the door, slowly opening it. Johnny was typing away something, looking delicious as always. Your voice was way more sensual than you’d usually let it be in the workplace.

“Johnnyy~, good morning. I’m here for that file I need?”

He had his eyes still glued on the laptop in front of him, his tone as bright as ever.

“y/n! I would send Donghyuck over you didn’t have to- “

He finally looks at you, his eyes quickly moving from your chest to your skirt, only to stay for a bit longer on your legs. He seemed a bit taken aback, his breath hitching in his throat but he shakes his head lightly, regaining his stature.

“-you didn’t have to come all the way up here”

“I know”, you mewl, picking up a pen from his desk and clicking it closed, letting the tip rest on your bottom lip, “I just missed you”

You saw him stare at your mouth before he cleared his throat, coolly sitting back on his chair.

“I think you’ll take this back when you stay for your overtime tonight”, he laughed, too friendly for your liking.

“No, no. I would never get tired of you, Johnny. Besides, I have a great stamina”

“That’s good! Being mentally strong is very important in this business”

Ugh, take a hint already!

“Well, yeah, but physical strength is important too. You know, I’ve followed your footsteps and started working out. I can go on for hours”

His eyebrows lifted up at your statement, “Yeah? And you followed my footsteps?”

“Well, everyone in the office has noticed you’ve been hitting the gym lately, especially me. Maybe, you could show me some of your workout exercises later?”

He stayed silent for a moment, like he was contemplating his answer and you swore you saw the faintest blush on his cheeks. His answer, however, would disappoint you.

“I was thinking of organizing an online group aerobics class, actually. I think Yuta from my department might be interested in hosting it”

The feeling of defeat was written all over your face. You were done. Smiling politely, you told him it sounded like a nice idea and asked for the file. You felt so angry at yourself for listening to Hyuck’s advice, every painful jab your heels gave your feet seeming deserving.

Donghyuck saw you leaving the room and would follow you to comfort you but he fully understood your frustration. Since you left the door open, he had witnessed everything, and boy was he furious.

He barged into Johnny’s office unannounced, scowling at him. Boss or not, he had to give him a piece of his mind.

“Are you seriously that blind?”

Johnny blinked at him, surprised at his unexpected appearance.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t get that y/n was flirting with you?”

“R-right now?”

Donghyuck licked his cheek with his tongue, getting gradually more and more frustrated. “Yes! Right now! The hottest woman in the office was basically throwing herself all over you and you didn’t even ask her out?”

Johnny was shocked, fumbling for an answer, “I thought- I thought she was just being nice”

“Nice??”, the younger man screeched then took a deep breath to calm down, placing both his hands on his boss’s desk.

“With all due respect dude, but either you fuck her, or I will”

 ———————————————————

 Nothing could make the horrible feeling you felt from your embarrassing incident earlier worse right? Wrong. Because it was Friday and you still had to go through with that overtime you had stupidly agreed with.

All your coworkers from your floor were gone, no one crazy enough to willingly work on a Friday night. You saw them all leave one by one, internally cursing them for their luck. The office was especially hot tonight and you were suddenly glad for choosing that skimpy outfit to wear today, even if it didn’t fulfill its original purpose.

In your deep concentration over the files scattered on your desk, you almost didn’t notice the shadow next to your office’s door. You could recognize these broad shoulders from miles away.

“Johnny, you didn’t go home yet?”

“I’ll leave soon, just wanted to give you some tips your supervisor noted for the work you’ll do tonight”

He smiled warmly at you, but his eyes held something you hadn’t seen before. Slyness, mischief maybe? You didn’t have much time to think about it anyways, because in a moment he was standing over you, next to your desk.

“You see, the loss of this week’s sales…”, he started, lifting the sleeves of his shirt up and revealing his veiny arms that you so adored, “...it’s much bigger than you think”

You gulped, your throat suddenly dry. His voice was deep, seductive, eyes staring right into yours.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yes. Doing all this paperwork, it’s very… hard. And it’s so hot in here, right?”

He kept his gaze on you, loosening the tie he wore around his neck. Was this your mind playing games with you again? You weren’t sure but he looked so good you couldn’t help your body from responding to him.

You got up from your seat, resting the side of your ass on the desk to be closer to his height. “If I got it right, you suggest that maybe you need to stay around for a bit? Help me out?”

He nodded, coming closer to you. You couldn’t stop gawking at the way his chest filled up his shirt so nicely, not caring if you were being obvious anymore. He was standing almost between your legs, and you could feel his breath fanning your face.

“It’s going to be tiring, but if you follow my orders you’ll get to finish. Think you can take it?”

Was it his suggestive words or his plump lips that made you feel so lightheaded? Either way, you wanted to dive in, to finally taste him. But you just had to ask.

“Johnny?”

“That’s my name”

“We aren’t talking about finance, are we?”

He stepped even closer, situating himself between your thighs that you gladly opened for him.

“Fuck no”

The way your hands grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a kiss, was almost animalistic. Johnny kissed you back with almighty force, open mouthed and breathing heavily. With the dominance that characterized him and a bite on your bottom lip, he pulls you up on your feet by the ID that was hanging from your neck. He tasted like smoke and mint gum.

“I thought you’d quit smoking?”

You felt his right hand grab your throat and he broke the kiss, forcing you to look at him. It wasn’t the pressure to your air flow but his eyes that had you on edge. The usual golden flecks adorning his orbs were hidden behind his dilated pupils. “I’m just a man. There are some things I can’t resist”. He dipped his tongue into your mouth, making you feel like you’re in a fever dream with the way all your fantasies were coming to life. “Open up”, he growled against your lips and you obey like you promised to. He spit in your mouth, in a manner so dirty it had your knees shaking.

You started unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to see more of him. Starting with running your hands over his raging heartbeat, you continue down his abs and end up fumbling with his belt. Johnny helped you, springing out his cock and, damn, he may be half hard but that was the biggest dick you’d ever seen in your life.

He chuckles at your widened eyes but instead of making some cocky remark like you expected he leans down, leaving soothing kisses on your jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you”. He continued his kisses to your neck, all the while unbuttoning your shirt. Leaving it on you, he pulls your boobs over your bra and starts playing with your nipples. The tingling on your breasts was tightly linked it the one on your heat and you decided you needed more.

You took his fingers from your chest and placed them between your folds. Johnny cursed out with how wet you were for him, and started rubbing circles over your clit, occasionally dipping the tips in your entrance. He kept at it, relishing in your moans and he would have ripped his tight little skirt off of you if you were in his bedroom. The build up sexual tension along with the semi-public setting made you close to losing yourself in him. You just needed a push, and Johnny was more than happy to give it to you.

“You’re gonna cum for me. That’s what you wanted wasn’t it? Why you got all dressed up like that?”

“Yes, for you, fuck Johnny”

“Come on, let it all out. Cum so I can fuck the hell out of this tight pussy of yours”

You came all over his fingers, grabbing his arms for support. He gave you a moment, wiping the tears off the corners of your eyes while kissed you slowly. When you started kissing him back with a refuelled passion, signalling that you were ready for what he had to offer, he was back, rougher than ever.

He petted your pussy, collecting your wetness and spreading it all over your folds. You jumped up when you felt him slap over your clit, the lines between pain and pleasure from the overstimulation blurry.

You knew Johnny was strong, but the easiness with which he lifted you from the desk onto your armchair shocked you. Spreading your knees as wide as the cushioned seat allowed you, you stuck your ass out for him. He gave your ass a little slap while you waited for him to slip on a condom. He came prepared, you thought, probably planned on doing this from the moment he stepped into your office.

Johnny filled you up completely, your hypersensitivity making you feel his thickness in all its glory. He started off slow, careful of your tightness, but as he picked up the pace, your vision was all stars and constellations of pleasure. You must have moaned too loudly, because he stopped his thrusts and, in a moment, you felt him shove his tie inside your mouth.

“There’s still some people in the building, remember? Or do you like my cock so much that you don’t even care if they hear?”. You couldn’t muster an answer so you just kept drooling through the fabric your teeth bit into. Your pussy was dripping onto the leather, your wetness allowing Johnny to sink even deeper inside you. The feeling was so overwhelming that you opened your mouth wide in a moan, almost dropping his tie in the process.

You reached out your hand behind you to grab one of his arms in desperation. “I’m so close, so close, don’t stop”. He stared back at you with a crazy look on his face, and pinned your hand back on the headrest in front of you. Lifting one of your legs in the air, he starts fucking you so rough you thought the chair was going to break.

Your second orgasm hit you hard, your trembling body making it clear his size got too much for you. But there was no way you’d let him leave this office without cumming.

You climb down from the chair and got on your knees in front of him. Grasping his cock from the base, you started leaving open mouthed kisses on his balls first. You suck one in your mouth and glance up at him with the most innocent look you could muster, the contrast to your actions driving him insane. Johnny leans his weight on his hands positioned on your desk, letting you work your magic.

Returning on his tip, you ran your tongue in kitten licks on the slit, teasing him. An eyebrow raise from him compelled you to behave, pushing him all the way down at once. It was almost as if you pressed a button at the end of your throat with the way it triggered a guttural moan from him. He weaves one hand through your hair to keep you in place for a second longer and you gag. His dick pulls out, and the string of saliva falls over your white shirt making the fabric look see through. The sight of your lipstick on him, your watery doe eyes and your nipples poking through your now wet shirt was divine. He pushed past your lips again, and this time you made a good use of your tongue. You quicken your pace, his shaky groans and sharp gasps letting you know he was nearing his release.

Grabbing both his flexed thighs, you concentrate your breathing though your nose and deepthroat him again. Johnny growls, hips stuttering and eyes fluttered closed in delight. Warm liquid runs down your throat, almost choking you, but you take it all, relishing in his grunts and the way he moans your name.

After you catch your breath he bends down, planting a gentle kiss on your lips and offers a hand to help you up. You buttoned up in an awkward silence, not exactly sure what should be said after a session like that in a place like this.

“So, I’m guessing Donghyuck told you about my little crush on you?”

“Yup. You should thank him”. He smiles at you sweetly, pinching your cheek lightly and then moving his thumb in circles over the skin. “You also should have told me”

You rolled your eyes, “Not like I haven’t tried to! How much more obvious did I have to be?”

“I’m sorry! It’s just- you’re so pretty and I didn’t wanna be another one of the creepy guys that probably hit on you in the workplace”

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, you chose to forgive him and reached up for another kiss. He engulfs you with his long arms, and you push some hair off his eyes, admiring their softness.

“How about, I let you finish up here and we go for dinner after you’re done?”

“I’m not sure how I’m gonna concentrate after what we did”

“I’ll cover for you, but I can’t promise you that I’ll stop myself from distracting you”

[lonelyreputation]

2021 (AU)

A/N: Got a bit wine tipsy & wrote a teeny story! It’s a bit different from what I’ve written before, so I hope you all enjoy!! Would love to hear your thoughts!! Was thinking of making it a little series, so!!! Happy 2021! I hope this year (so far) has been kind to you !  💥💞 

Prompt: One-sided enemies to lovers (kinda) & No dialogue

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: One swear word // WC: 2.6K // Angst & Fluff

He stared at you.

No, he glowered at you.

He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you anymore. He’s been with you for as long as he could remember; from elementary school, middle school, high school…He was always a shadow in the room whenever you were in it. Always had been. Always will be.

His earliest memories included you scoring the top grades in school, teacher’s favorite student, handed in every assignment early, and you would always be picked first for a team in recess and gym class. He always resented you more for the latter. Ever since his best friend, Brian, picked you first for his kickball team in elementary school and not him…He ripped the title of best friend away from Brian.

Shawn Mendes hated you.

And he was fairly certain that you reciprocated the same feelings of hatred towards him.

In high school, Shawn studied day and night, turning down countless offers to parties because he was determined to receive the valedictorian title. Looking back on it now, five years since the high school became his alma mater, Shawn was still hung up over the fact that you stole his position of the highest education honor in high school.

He had the perfect farewell speech prepared for graduation. It was the perfect blend of a look how far we’ve come since freshman year speech and a see you later speech. Shawn was fairly close to the dean of student’s secretary and they may have tipped him off that he––more than likely––would be the valedictorian. So, his mother already had a copy of the speech framed and hung in the family room, next to his senior portraits, before the school year even ended.

Shawn finished the year with an exceptional GPA of 4.7.

But you…You finished the year with a slightly higher GPA of 4.8.

The feeling Shawn felt in the pit of his stomach was hard to pinpoint when he found out he was not valedictorian. Enraged didn’t feel like a strong enough feeling. Frustrated seemed like an adjective too soft to describe his disappointment. But the one feeling he could trace back as the reason for his clenched fists, locked jaw, and blinding vision of rage was resentment.

He remembers when the school sent out a congratulatory email to the top 10% of the graduating class. He expected to see Shawn Mendes as the name written on the top of the list. But instead, he saw your name on the top line, and his name at #2.

Shawn had even planned for his graduation party to be on the same day that the valedictorian announcement was made. He wanted to celebrate his achievements with his family and friends because he expected to have the title. He stayed up in his room for nearly an hour at his own graduation party to calm down his rage.

Maybe if he pushed himself a little harder, then maybe he would’ve beaten you out for the top spot.

Shawn Mendes detested you.

After all the years he spent with you––all the way from elementary to high school––he finally felt free after he was handed his high school diploma and shook the principal’s hand. He was leaving the small town of Pickering and attending university in Toronto where he would never have to see you again.

But Shawn wasn’t that lucky.

Because during an orientation session, a week before the first day of classes, he saw you walk on campus with your own orientation group. No amount of breathing exercises could calm him down. All he saw was red. And worst of all, you caught his blatant glare and offered him a small wave.

He ignored you, turned his head back to his group, and tried to engage in the ice breaker conversation.

Luckily, he only saw you a handful of times a semester. He had a different major than you; and always let out a sigh of relief when he walked into a general education class and saw you nowhere in attendance. It would’ve been ideal if he didn’t have to spend another four years with you, but he didn’t see you as much as he did in high school.

Until it came to senior year when you two both landed an internship at the same company.

Shawn thought he was in his own personal hell when he saw you in the lobby, on the first day, chatting with the other interns. He didn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve this kind of torture, but he would repent for the rest of his life to make sure it didn’t happen again. Thankfully, he was interning in a different department than you. But word somehow always got back to him about how wonderful every supervisor thought you were.  

When he finally received his university diploma, that was the day he felt truly free. He was done with school, done with his internship––Done with you. He drank a little too much in celebration that night. He drank to never having to see you again and drank to celebrate the job offer his internship offered him.

He didn’t have to worry about either you or trying to find a job as a new university graduate.

So when he showed up to the place where he was now an employee––dressed in a new suit––his smile disappeared when he walked out of the elevator and saw you. He tripped over his own two feet, spilling some coffee on his coat.

Shawn, I’d like you to meet the other new hire––I believe you interned with her.

In the lobby of his first job was where he silently apologized to any God he had ever offended. If this was punishment for missing Church for the past seven years, he begged for forgiveness. If this was punishment for getting into a fight during one of his hockey games, he begged for forgiveness. He begged for forgiveness, but he didn't think he’d be pardoned any time soon.

Because in his new office space, at his first real job, he was only three desks away from you.

/ / /

You stared at him.

No, you gazed at him.

You absolutely loved being in the same room as him. You’ve been with him for as long as you could remember, and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. From elementary school all the way through the wonderful years of high school. You always saw yourself as being academically equally to him. Although admittedly, you thought he was better than you.

A memory with him that was stuck in your mind was one from elementary school; you were nine and it was gym class. Brian had enlightened you that Shawn liked girls who could run fast. And after learning that bit of information, you convinced Brian to pick you first so that way Shawn would notice how fast you could run. So, Brian picked you to be on his team first…Not Shawn.

But after that day, Shawn stopped talking to Brian. And Brian came crying to your nine-year-old self while you were at the arts and crafts table saying that Shawn was ignoring him.

You had a little crush on Shawn Mendes.

But you weren’t all that positive that Shawn reciprocated those same feelings of giddiness you felt whenever you saw him on the playground.

In your eyes, you were one and the same with ambitions. School never came easy to you; so, studying for absolutely every subject was a chore. But you knew how smart he was, and you wanted him to think you were smart too. Along with studying, you buttered up to the teachers so that they would give you the benefit of the doubt and round that A grade––that was nearly an A+––to be an A+. 

You knew he used similar tactics, but he wasn’t as obvious as you.

While you made studying a priority in high school, one of your friends mentioned that Shawn liked outgoing girls. So, you turned down some study sessions, and went out on either Friday or Saturday nights––sometimes both––in hopes you could strike up a conversation with Shawn. But you rarely saw him at the parties you attended.

And even five years after you graduated highschool, you were still hung up about not spotting him at more parties.

You had all the right words to say if you ever bumped into Shawn at a party. You had it all prepared, and even went as far as practicing in front of a mirror more times than necessary. Stored away in your mind was an endless list of topics you could talk to him about. You knew he played hockey, so you made a note to ask him about his games. And you were tipped off by a friend that Shawn liked when people complimented his ability to play guitar.

Granted, you had never heard him play guitar, but you were still prepared to praise him. You would’ve felt proud of yourself for stepping out of your comfort zone to talk to the boy who made you shiver with a pleasant bundle of nerves.

Shawn was a smart person. If you remembered correctly, he was the smartest person in school. You always admired his ability to keep up with his course load, play hockey, and balance out a well-planned social life. A little bird flying around the halls whispered that Shawn found smart and well-driven girls attractive. So you worked harder than you ever had in your life to miraculously pull your grades up higher.

You finished with a well deserved 4.8 GPA.

Shawn finished with an admirable GPA of 4.7.

Ecstatic didn’t feel like the proper word to describe how happy you were. Relief seemed like an adjective that was fairly representative of how gratifying it was to read that email. But one feeling you could trace back as the reason for your blinding smile, infectious high-spirited mood, and rose colored vision was how proud you felt. 

Because the information in that email confirmed that you and Shawn were academic equals. And you knew how much he valued education. 

You spent nearly an hour in your room––at your own graduation party––to write in your journal about how amazed you were with Shawn’s intelligence. Tucked away in a shoe box, your high school journal was still under your childhood bed with that entry.

You were in love with Shawn Mendes.

After your years in school together came to a bittersweet end, you felt slightly deflated when you received your high school diploma. It was your final parting place with him. You didn’t know what his plans were after high school––Always too nervous to make small talk with him. You were leaving the small town of Pickering and facing your fears of living in a big city and attending university in Toronto. You thought you would never see him again.

But you were lucky.

Because during orientation week, you were walking back from coffee with some new friends, when you saw him. You felt your breath get caught in your throat when you saw him sitting on the lawn with his orientation group. All you saw was a familiar rose color when you caught his stare. With a deep breath, and a little pep talk in your head, you offered him a small wave.

Instead of waving back at a familiar face, he turned his head back to his orientation group. You felt a little sad, but you brushed it off thinking he didn’t see you. One of your friends saw you wave at him, and they excitedly took hold of your wrist, and whispered; is that him?

Unfortunately, you only saw him a few times a semester. You figured he had a different major than you; but you always held your breath in anticipation when you walked into a general education class. But when the professor started class, and he didn’t rush in late through the doors, you always let out a disappointed sigh.

You accepted the fact that you and Shawn were no more than people who had grown up in the same town and went to school together. The past was in the past, and you were trying to move on as you filled out multiple internship applications.

Until it came to your senior year when you two both landed an internship at the same company.

You thought you were in your personal paradise when you saw him walk into the lobby, on the first day, that you stopped talking with the other interns. You didn’t know what you did in a past life to deserve this positive karma, but you would keep up whatever good deeds you were doing. Unfortunately, he was interning in a different department than you.

But even as you worked in a different area of the office, you always heard words of praise about him from multiple supervisors. And you always reiterated how diligent of a worker he had been since high school. You even tried your best to try and go on a coffee run with him, just to see him for a little bit, but those plans were never successful.

You dreaded the day when it came to receive your university diploma; that would be the actual day where your thin ties with Shawn would be officially cut. And then you would have to wait for either high school or university reunions just to get a glimpse of him. You were done with school, done with your internship––Done with him.

You had a quiet celebration with your family, opting to go out to a nice dinner instead of having a blow out party. You only drank a little champagne to celebrate the night. You sipped to all of your academic accomplishments, sipped to celebrate the job your internship offered you, and sipped in sadness as regret filled your body.

Because even after having four more additional years of school and an internship with him, you were still too nervous to talk to him.

But when you were in the lobby talking with the head of Human Resources, the ding of the elevator caused you to turn your head. You didn’t think the smile on your face could shine any brighter. You thought he looked really nice in the suit he was wearing, and he seemed just as surprised to see you when he stepped out of the elevator. He tripped over his own two feet, some coffee spilling over the lid.

Shawn, I’d like you to meet the other new hire––I believe you interned with her.

Not only had you interred with him before; you also grew up a few streets away from him, went to elementary school, middle school, high school, and university together.

In the lobby of your first real job was where you silently thanked any God up in the sky that answered your prayers. 

If this was a reward for all of the nights you spent crying over sophomore year biology, you thanked your lucky stars. If this was a reward for the one time you went to one of his hockey games, and got a bag of ice for the athletic trainer when Shawn got hurt, you thanked your lucky stars. You thanked your lucky stars because you didn’t think you would be given a third chance to see Shawn any time soon.

Because in your new office, at your first real job, you were only three desks away from him.

tag list (add / remove yourself!): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @badreputatiom, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandpucks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer @determined-overthinker @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm @lovelysunset1 @samaratheweirdo @sarcasticallywitty15 @repostcentral​ 

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Coffee to go

Pairing: Chris Cuomo x female Reader

Warning: Swearing, Smut (only read this if you’re 18+ pls), NSFW, not edited

Note: Alright, this is my first attempt at smut so be nice pls (also I’m not a native speaker, so sorry for my grammar)

The cold November wind blows right into your face as you walk (actually, it was more of a jog) through the streets of Washington DC.

“You will reach your destination in 200 meters“ the computer voice from google maps tells you through your headphones. You break into a run, clutching your hot coffee cup tightly to prevent it from spilling over.

“Shit, don’t let me be late on my very first day of work“ you whisper to yourself, as you finally reach the huge glass doors of the CNN headquarters.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N“ you tell the security guard at the entrance, showing your ID„ I’m the new intern in the politics department.“

„First Elevator on the right, then all the way up to the 10th floor.“

You pass the security check and mumble a quick “Thank you!” to the guard as you make your way over to the elevator. You have 3 minutes left.

“This is my dream job, this is my dream job. It’s finally happening.“ you repeat to yourself, alone in the cabin.

You still can’t believe that you were granted the prestigious position as an intern for the DC politics department at CNN. You graduated with a degree in journalism from Oxford, UK this summer, but with the current political climate and the presidential election coming up, you felt like DC was the place to be at the moment. When you saw there was an internship at CNN advertised, you didn’t hesitate and applied. And all the hard work you put into getting excellent grades and doing tons of extracurricular work payed off, because here you were, on your first day of work.

You try to calm your fluttering nerves one last time with deep breaths and a sip of your still fairly hot coffee.

As the mechanical voice announces the elevators arrival on the 10th floor, you practically storm out of the doors...and run straight into a wall.

“Oh Fuck!“ a deep voice exclaimes, and as you take a step back you see that the wall you ran into was, in fact, a man. A very tall, broad and handsome looking man...with your hot coffee spilled all over his white dress shirt and a furious look on his face.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Sir!“ you cry out, praying for the ground to swallow you up. What a perfect first impression. You reach in your pocket to grab a handkerchief, but he dismisses you bluntly with a wave of his hand.

„Just watch where you going next time.“

Giving you one last sharp glare, he walks away, disappearing into a door further down the hallway.

Still mortified, you throw your now empty coffee cup onto the nearest bin and hurry to the room you were told to go in your admission email. It’s a tiny office, where a moddle-aged woman sits on a desk loaded with paperwork.

“Good Morning Ma’am, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the new politics intern, starting today.“ you tell her, hoping that your face isn’t beet red anymore and your jacket is free of coffee stains. The woman glances up from her computer screen and gives you a quick look over.

“About time. Welcome to CNN, I’m Susan, your supervisor.“

She rummages trough a desk drawer.

"Here is your company ID, a key to the break room, you already sent us your signed contract, didn’t you?“ she asks in a monotoneus voice.

"Yes, thank you so much.“ you say, taking the offered items. "Is there already a list of what my tasks here are going to be?“

"Yes, with the election coverage starting tomorrow, there is still a lot of preparation to do. You’ve been assigned to run errands for our anchor team today, and I guess also for the rest of the week. Paperwork, coffee, stuff like that, just be at their back and call. We expect it to be a tight race, and we need to cover it 24 hours a day. So be prepared to spend most of your time here.”

"There’s a locker in the break room, put your stuff there. The copy room is next door, make 3 copies of those papers and bring them to Chris Cuomo, he’s our lead anchor for the election coverage. His office is the last door down the hall on the right. And hurry, we don’t have a lot of time and he’s not exactly a patient man.” She starts typing something on her phone, obviously dismissing you.

You rush to the break room, hastily throw your bag and jacket in the last free locker, checking your appearance one last time in the mirror (face still a bit red, but no coffee stains, thank god) and go on to make those copies next door. You let your mind wander while the copier does it’s job.

Chris Cuomo. You know he hosts a well known daily prime time show on CNN, but you’ve never seen it as it airs in the middle of the night in the UK. You’re actually suprised they chose him for the job of the election lead anchor, considering he was originally based in the New York Office of CNN. You try to remember what he looked like, but you have no idea. And no time to google him.

So you just grab the stack of papers and bolt down the hallway to the door Susan described. There’s a provisional sign on the door, bearing the name “Christopher C. Cuomo”.

You knock three times and hear a loud "Come in“ from the other side of the door. You enter...and stop instantly, eyes going wide.

Standing in front of you is the guy from the elevator. The hot one. The one who’s dress shirt you ruined with your beverage.

Said dress shirt lies on the floor in a crumpled heap. The man, obviously Chris Cuomo himself, is wearing only a white undershirt, apparently in the middle of changing clothes . His huge, muscled arms are on full display. And he’s looking directly at you, one eyebrow arched.

“Can I help you?” he asks with a hint of annoyance in his deep voice.

You realize you are staring, and quickly try to compose yourself.

“Uhm, yes, I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr Cuomo, I’m Y/N, the new intern. I’m here to deliver those papers from Susan’s office . I’ve been assigned to assist you today...Sir” you add hastily.

“Assist me, huh? I hope this doesn’t involve any more coffee. I only have so many white shirts.”

“I’m so sorry again for that, Mr. Cuomo.”

“Don’t worry, kid” he says, now giving you a closer look. His eyes are a perfect shade of blue-green. The heat started creeping back in your face under his scrutizing gaze.

“You’re a Brit, aren’t you?”

You just give a quick nod, not trusting your ability to speak properly. He comes a step closer, arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“Have a good start then, Y/N” he says, voice dropping a bit, still holding intense eye contact.

You feel your heart rate going through the roof and pray that he won’t detect it. This mans presence was really intense and brought all kind of distracting thoughts to your mind.

Your "Thank you so much, Sir” comes out way less confident than you intended to, and you basically flee through the office door you hadn’t even bothered to close when you entered.

“Wow!” you think to yourself, “It’s the first day, and you already made a fool of yourself and now have a giant crush on the lead anchor, who’s at least in his 40s. Good job.”

This was going to be interesting.

(Next Day, afternoon)

“Don’t stare, don’t stare.”

You chant your mantra in your head for what felt like the hundredth time this day.

The last 24 hours have been the most exciting, stressful and demanding ones of your entire life. You currently run on what feel like 5 liters of coffee, some energy bars and a two hour nap you managed to catch on the couch in the break room, the circumstances leaving you with a constant feeling of giddy exhaustion.

But no matter how much your eyes were burning, you couldn’t take them off Chris Cuomos hands. Those big, strong hands with thick fingers, holding manuscripts, fixing his tie or just opening a bottle of water. You try your best not to think about how those hands would feel like on your bare skin, grabbing your hair, pushing your tights apart. The burning feeling between your legs intensifies as you feel yourself starting to get wet.

Chris is wearing a black suit today and looks so unbelievably good that you want to cry. His confident, almost dominant demeanor in front of the cameras, combined with his sharp witted comments on the latest news only fuel your growing attraction to him.

Youre standing in the corner of the studio, holding a stack of papers and a clipboard with the latest numbers of some irrelevant county in Alabama that you need to hand over to the anchor desk.

The cameras move over to Phil on the magic wall. Chris uses the quick moment out of frame to stretch his arms above his head, his shoulder muscles clearly visible even through the suit jacket. You’re staring again. And he’s looking directly at you with a knowing smirk.

He caught you.

You feel your face flushing again and you quickly begin to shuffle through the papers in your hand in a poor attempt to appear busy.

“Thank you Phil, we’re taking a quick break now, stay with us.” Chris’ voice sounds through the studio. As soon as you made sure that the cameras are turned off, you hurry over to the anchor desk, putting down the fresh manuscripts with the latest numbers and restock the water bottles, all while trying your best to avoid Chris, still mortified that he caught you checking him out.

The commercial break only lasts about five minutes, so you quickly make your way to the studios supply cupboard to fetch some new water bottles. They were on the top shelf, just barely out of reach for you. You were already standing on your tiptoes, but no chance.

“Need any help with that?” a deep voice suddenly says right behind you. You startle, loosing your balance and fall right into the hard chest of Chris Cuomo. Strong arms sneak around you, steadying you. In that moment you become aware of the heat radiating from his huge form, his delicious smell of aftershave and coffee filling your senses.

Your pulse is like a hammer in your chest as he lets go of you, giving you the opportunity to turn around and face him.

“We really can’t have any normal interactions, Y/N?” he asks, studying you, again with that intense gaze and a little smirk.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Mr. Cuomo, I don’t know what’s up with me, I’m usually not that clumsy. Must be the lack of sleep.“ you ramble and try to return his stare, forcing your voice to sound steady and confident, something you weren’t feeling at all.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind you falling into me at all.” He comes closer, his huge form filling out most of the tiny storage room. You take a small step back and feel the shelf behind you. You look to the floor, absolutely overwhelmed with the situation (and without a doubt, with a beet red face again) One of Chris‘ giant hands reaches out and turns your chin up to meet his eyes. His touch burns and tingles on your skin.

“I would appreciate it if you would look at me when I’m talking to you.“ he says in a intense and stern tone that sends a hot throb to your center and makes you take a sharp breath. You feel your nipples hardening under your blouse, wetness gathering in your pussy.

„Yes, of course, please forgive me, Sir.“ You look up to meet his eyes.

His pupils are dark and dilated as he lets out a deep, shuddering breath. The tension between you is almost palpable.

„Come to my office after the shift is over. Alone.“ he says and storms out of the storage room, leaving you behind in a horny, confused mess, waterbottles totally forgotten.

The next few hours are agonizing. Not only is the election a really tight race, your nerves are in a total frenzy because of what happened in the storage room. You keep replaying the interaction in your head and try your best to not stare over to where Chris was sitting, failing miserably every time. One time, your eyes meet his, but he just arches his eyebrows and looks back onto his laptop screen.

The dominance with which he had talked to you stood in a total contrast to the gentle touch of his fingers on your face. You are confused, and more turned on than you have ever been by anyone else.

You want to kiss him, want his hands all over your body, touching your naked skin, claiming you. Why does he want you to come tonhis office? The uncertainty was driving you crazy.

Time was creeping at such a slow pace, but finally the day shift is over. You ask an extremely tired looking Susan for a break which she begrudgingly grants you.

After quickly freshening up, you make your way through the empty hallway to Chris office, heart almost jumping out of your chest. What the hell was going to happen?

Straightening your blouse one last time, you knock on the door, waiting for the allowance to enter.

”Here goes nothing.”

Chris sits behind his desk, both suit jacket and tie hanging over the chair.He’s looking at you, as if he’s expecting you to make a move.

There was a prominent vein in his temple that became more noticeable the longer you stood there, failing to get a word out, hands trembling at your sides.

His shirt sleeves were turned up, and the view of his defined forearms sends a throb of want directly to your core. Finally, Chris breaks the silence and adresses you.

“Y/N, why are you here?”

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, accentuating his biceps. You just stand there, unable to move a single muscle.

He gets up from behind his desk and makes his way over to where you are, stopping directly behind you. A shiver goes down your spine because of the close proximity.

His next words are spoken with his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, his deep voice making the hair on your arms stand up.

“I asked you a question, little one. Answer me.”

You gathered every ounce of courage you had.

“I want you to touch me.”

He doesn’t move.

“Please, Sir.”

Suddenly, two strong hands grab your shoulders and spin you around.You stare directly into Chris’ face, his dark pupils are blown, there is a look of unhinged lust on his face.

A second later, his lips come crashing down on yours. The kiss isn’t gentle, all tongue and teeth and passion, making your head spin and your knees weak.

One of Chris hands sneaks around your back and grabs your ass, giving it a rough squeeze. You moan loudly as he holds you even closer, his hard bulge pressing against your abdomen. His big, hot body pushes you back against his desk and he effortlessly lifts you to sit on top of it.

Chris takes a step back, his large hands sprawled on your tights. You can feel the heat of his skin all the way through your trousers, the need to have him is so strong that you feel like your whole body is on fire.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, little one?” He says in low, throaty voice, holding your tights in a hard, almost bruising grip. “Staring at me, biting those pretty lips, undressing me with your eyes, making me hard every time. You’re just begging for it, aren’t you?”

He kisses you again, and starts to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. You can’t focus, your hands clutching at his back, little gasps of pleasure coming out of your mouth.

“Yes, please, I need you” you exclaim, admitting what’s on your mind since the moment you saw him wearing that undershirt. His hands leave your tights and start opening the zipper of your trousers, pulling them down your legs in one smooth motion.

His hands are now roaming up and down your bare legs, slowly coming closer to the pool of heat and want between them.

“Oh my God, please touch me.” you beg, longing to finally feel his fingers on your aching pussy.

One of his large hands leaves your leg and gives you a hard smack on your ass, the pain causing you to utter a sharp cry and sending a pulse of heat straight between your legs.

“Ah, be polite, little one. Use your words and ask me properly for what you want.” Your face is burning, why was hearing this so incredibly hot?

“Please touch my pussy and fuck me, Sir, I need your cock.”

You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. But this was an exceptional situation, and right now you’d say anything if it would result in Chris cock buried inside you.

He smiles a devious grin. “I wanted to do this since the moment you stepped into my office yesterday. Take off your panties, now.” he commands, giving you another slap on your ass.

While you’re hurrying to get rid of your underwear, he starts unbuckling his belt, opens his fly and takes out his cock. It’s long and hard, already leaking precum. You were in for a treat. He pulls a condom package out of his pocket and rolls the rubber over his length.

“Turn around and bend over” he said, you quickly obey and a moment later you feel one of his thick fingers parting your wet folds and entering you, while another finger rubs your aching clit. A needy whine breaks out of your mouth and you throw your head back in pleasure .“God, you’re already so wet for me, little one.” Chris groans, adding another finger.

You almost can’t take it anymore, feeling like you might go insane if he doesn’t fuck you right now.

“I need you in me, Sir, please” You’re begging now, totally beyond caring.

Chris removes his fingers, lines up his huge cock at your opening and starts slowly pushing in, inch by inch.He groans, grabbing your hips, and once he’s fully settled in your tight heat he starts a brutal, deep pace.

You let out a hiss as he stretches you and hold onto the desk, trying not fall over with the force of his powerful thrusts. The pleasure is overwhelming, his large cock filling you perfectly over and over again, a bruising grip on your hips, his deep voice groaning dirty things into your ear. You’re ability to form coherent sentences is long gone, only moans and short breaths are coming out of your mouth.

Behind you, Chris is breathing heavily as one of his hands reaches around you to rub your clit.

“Fuck, You feel so good baby, so fucking tight around my cock.” he swears as his thrusts are starting to become faster and more erratic.

His rubbing on your clit intensifies, and you can feel your climax approaching.

“Come for me baby, come on my cock.“ Chris leans forward, biting the tender the spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

Pleasure and pain surge through you as you hit your peak, Chris‘ name on your lips. You feel his body going stiff behind you, his grip on your hips tighening almost painfully as he finds his release with you.

For a while, the mix of both your ragged breaths is the only sound in the office, then Chris carefully pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness making you whimper.

Strong arms embrace you, and you hear a small chuckle as a kiss is being pressed to your neck.

But the gravity of what you’ve just done still hits you like a punch to the gut and you whirl around, eyes wide with shock, head still spinning from the intensity of your orgasm.

“Oh, oh no” you mutter to yourself, breathing heavily as you see your crumpled trousers and panties lying on the office floor along with several papers who fell from the desk during your activities. What did you do?

“Hey, hey, little one, calm down.” Chris says, sensing your anxiety right away. He cups your jaw and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your trembling lips. Your worry eases a bit as you kiss him back.

“How about you lie down on my couch and I go and get us snacks and something to drink. Maybe even some coffee?” he asks after pressing a final kiss to your head.

You manage a shaky nod and a small smile, looking up at Chris’ handsome face.

He flashes you a toothy grin, forehead still shining with a thin layer of sweat, his hair tousled.

He looks breathtaking.

“You’re staring again, Y/N.”

“I know.”

[betweentheracks]

On a scale of 1-5000, how annoyed do you get when people have the gall to tell you, “Wow! You’re so lucky!” when they find out that you work in entertainment and with celebrities?

Also on a scale of 1-5000, how unimpressed are you with the celebrities you end up working with?

Please share some horror stories so we can commiserate over nightmare clients! 😂

Yeef and also yikes, do I actually want to dive into this particular can of worms? Lmao. 

I thoroughly see spots of red in my vision whenever people try to do the whole “Wow, that’s really cool and lucky for you! How many famous people have you met or worked with? Your life must be so glamorous and exciting!!” Like please, spare me. It isn’t glitz and glitter all the time - in fact, the fun parts are in the minority of how working in this industry goes. Beyond that, I’m not ‘lucky,’ I worked my ass off to pull this off and have never slowed my pace (until this COVID-19 chaos) to ensure my post remains relevant. In accordance to your ranking, I guess I would go with 4999 points annoyed.

Frankly, my rating and impressions of my clients are like a river that flows on and on and yet there is no apparent water to be found. I have a good rapport with most of the ones I am contracted with exclusively, but they're prone to make my feelings change from sentence to the next. Celebrities will forever remain exhaustively effervescent. 

If you really want some dish, I can offer up some from a client I once worked with in my apprenticeship and how much I hate the time I had to spend with her while also retaining a sense of gratitude for helping shape me into someone that can withstand some of the prickly goings-on of the industry. She wasn’t even my client, as I was merely apprenticing and therefore was little more than a ghost that shadowed one of the veterans of our company. I’m highlighting this now before diving into the thick of what was the worst week in my career thus far because it is extremely important to keep in mind that I was under no actual obligation to work with this woman. 

Ahem, so, story time! Let me start off with first making it clear that even now I will only work with actresses and actors when I have no viable means of refusal. This is simply a preference of mine and stems mostly from this woman’s behaviors and treatments of me and some of the crew I worked with at the time. I was quite young when I entered my apprenticeship, like barely more than 20, and I was simultaneously accustomed and starstruck by the world I was entering. Before the apprenticeship, I had already been working off and on via temporary contracts and commissions as a MUA at the time, so I knew the ends and outs of the place and the people that worked my end of it. However, I hadn’t worked with many clients one on one as either a MUA or as an aspiring wardrobe stylist. Due to this I was still very green and awkward and hadn’t yet figured out the line between casual and professional (to this day, for me, this line is nearly nonexistent) and I tended to make a mess whenever I opened my mouth so mostly I kept quiet and melded into my role as an observing trainee with occasionally useful ideas but was mostly just an extra pair of hands. The stylist I was shadowing was, in a word, cumbersome. They weren’t a very great teacher and had a tendency to drop projects into my lap without much proper instruction or insight and would leave me to attempt making sense of what was wanted by means of vision boards and client portfolios. In much a similar fashion, when a scheduling conflict came up involving the actress which will star in this tale and another more major artist; naturally, he had to see to the client he had a more tangible contract with and stuck me with wrangling our golden girl. 

Within the first 4 sentences of our first exchange as stylist and client I hated her immensely. She was the type of client I abhor to work with; overbearing and demanding, thankless and impatient. She was in the midst of her career finally catching some interest which is the most pivotal time in any celebrity’s career and I like to think she was so bitchy and just plain mean due to the stress and pressure she was under but it doesn’t make what happened any more justifiable. Her immediate and first words to me were, “You’re young and clueless enough to be my baby sister. Whatever authority you think you can have in dictating what I wear ended with the sound of the door opening when you stepped in, get that straight now.” I remember this extremely clearly because I went from gobsmacked to incensed within the time it takes to pop the top on a can of soda. But! I knew at least enough to know to keep my mouth shut and temper my immediate dislike of this person and tried to push forward and steer the conversation in the direction of what her ideal style and presentation should be. It went well enough for all of an hour tops before she domed me again by calling me “baby sis” in place of my name. As I am, in fact, the baby sis of my family I am well aware of when a power play is being maneuvered in on me and spotted this for what it was: her trying to remind me that I had no right to be speaking to her, let alone designing her. This was a culmination of her being upset and put out that she wasn’t chosen by my mentoring stylist and was stuck with someone that had basically no merits behind her. 

Calling me this wasn’t really an issue for me, but it did chafe against my skin enough to make me feel uncomfortable and anxious. Still, I let it slide and she continued to call me as such for the duration of our time together. The true horror of this story is what comes next and the escalation from minor verbal insults meant to belittle me fanned into blatant sabotage. She and I had come to a sort of estranged agreement when it came to modeling her vision board - she wanted to retain some traces of her perceived sweet and demure self from when she was cast in her first role, but play up the maturity and grace she held now and have it reinvented into timeless class while holding a touch of being chic. It was a headache to make sense of since, from a the perspective of fashion and trends at that time, this wasn’t the ideal and even seemed counterintuitive to someone in her position and of her age. I went along with it and threw myself into the quest to pull from the brands she mentioned liking most and for days I learned firsthand how exhausting and tedious it is to make acquisitions and swear responsibilities/accountabilities one after the other and put my name and my company on the line. I handpicked every item and steadily managed to pull off forming my second ever ensemble of 4 sets of styles each with 2 or 3 substitution items that could alter the look entirely while still remaining within the realm of what the client had asked for. I worked upward of 13 hours for 4 days and when I finally was able to bring the client to her showroom and present my designs, I was only able to feel relieved for mere minutes before she began to yell and make a scene. She demanded my supervisor and the head of the styling department of our company both come to tend to her and see what a mockery I had made of her ideal image. She went on to use her acting quirks to insinuate that I had gone off half-cocked and overruled her every idea and word and then dared to present her with such low quality fashions. She even managed to produce a vision board that was entirely different from the one she and I had planned together! It was obviously done by herself and lacked the detailed attention any of the stylists housed in our company would have added, but it was convincing enough to appear damning. 

At this point my head was in a weird place, trying to make sense of the perilous world I was throwing myself into and the fact that this was actually happening to me at all and wasn’t just me daydreaming while watching daytime dramas. After I worked through that initial shock, I was more than mad but less than enraged. I was confused as to why this client was being so purposefully obstinate and difficult for me, even briefly wondered what sort of grievance I could have possibly cost her when I had only just met her and had done my utmost to seem cool and pro like all the seasoned stylists I had worked with. I thought I was going to lose my job and have to go back to my family with my tail between my legs and tell them they were right and I never should have strayed from my original course and career path. I only became aware that I was crying, like big fat tears that made a mess of my face and were embarrassing to the point that I wanted to flee, because my supervisor had given me his handkerchief. It was at this point that I teetered and looked deeply at the person accusing me and wasting my time and efforts and realized that it wasn’t about me and was only ever about her. This moment of clarity, though, was like the opening of a gate I had been clinging to all week in hopes of keeping all my spurned senses quietly simmering beneath my skin rather than wreck my name and finish off my chances before they truly begun. I very rudely told my supervisor and the department head that if they needed proof of my hardwork and dedication to the vision of a thoughtless actress caught in the weeds of her own wilting fame then they were free to examine my copy of the original vision board and compare it with the one she had; that they could check through the 15 or so LORs under my name and in her stead (both names are featured for security means). Anyway, she was attempting to spill a stain across our company and specifically the stylist in charge of me for blowing her off. Her idea was that if I failed in a big way it would make him look like a horrible mentor and cost him some of his reputation. I was merely cannon fodder.

This got insanely long - let’s put it up to me also being a storyteller and writer as well as very passionate about this encounter. It sparked the timid embers of my uncertain pursuit of my career into a fire that has since gotten me through many other rounds of hard hitting clients and their excessive personalities and entitled arrogance. I love my job a lot, but man is this industry full of bullies.  

[suddenlysackler]

Nice to Meet You

How you met each of the boys

Adam Sackler

Adam hit you with his bike

He promises he didn’t see you stepping off of the curb but you think he did it on purpose 

He can’t help but laugh at how dazed you look at his feet, once the initial “oh fuck I hurt someone” wore off

And you were pissed about it 

Scrambling to your feet and screaming and yelling at him, poking his chest and calling him every insult you knew

He’s still laughing because, fuck, you’re fucking adorable

No, you’re stunning

About two minutes into your raving and ranting and his laughing at the absurdity of it all because it was and accident and he did apologize, he notices the scrapes on your arms and knees

Insists that you let him take you to his place to clean you up because it’s not more than a two minute walk and you could yell at him more on the way and he promises he isn’t a weirdo (HA)

And despite your better judgement, you follow him with your tail between your legs, feeling so bad because you’d just chewed out this guy who doesn’t seem like a total asshole 

The ten minutes it should have taken him to clean you up turns into almost five hours perched on his kitchen counter while he sits just below your feet where he had ended up after swiping antibiotic ointment over the last of your scrapes

You just talk, you don’t know how it happens but he’s candid and so fucking easy to talk to, it’s like talking to an old friend

When you see the time you curse and say you’ve gotta get going

He rolls his eyes and tells you to stay

When you ask if his girlfriend will be pissed if you’re here when she gets home he shuts you up with a kiss

After he pulls back he wonders out loud if he misread the room

You answer with a kiss of your own

Clyde Logan

You and Clyde meet through mutual friends

You and your own friends had trekked over to Duck Tape after a long day at work, needing something, anything to take the edge off

And, apparently, one of your friends knew one of Jimmy’s friends, the two hovering around the bar while Clyde worked

You saddled up next to one of your friends, sort of off to the side of the action, and rested your elbows on the bar

Introductions are hastily made between your two smaller groups and Jimmy’s friend mentions Clyde’s name and you almost convulse right there when you catch a glimpse of gentle eyes and just the hint of a smile tugging at pouty lips

Clyde got to you last and could have kicked himself for making you wait, my oh my you were beautiful and someone that beautiful shouldn’t be kept waiting

As he asks what you’ll have to drink, his drawl hits your ears sweeter than honey 

After he brings you back your drink, you bat your eyelashes, talk all soft and such, try just about everything to anchor his attention on you

You’re successful and Clyde swears he hasn’t talked with a customer that wasn’t family so much ever

Duck Tape easily becomes a staple in your week

So does Clyde

But despite your initial boldness in getting him to pay attention to you, you’re just as shy as Clyde is

Who makes the first move at Jimmy’s insistence 

Poor boy is so nervous he asks you to get drinks after he’s done for the evening

As if you weren’t sitting in a bar

So you ask him if he wouldn’t mind coming to your place so you could show him the different drinks you know how to make

When he asks what you know and you answer “I can crack you open a bottle of beer” he gives a hearty laugh

It’s the first time you hear it, the first time you see his breathtaking smile

And after that night, it most certainly wasn’t the last.

Daniel Jones

Dan and you get tasked with running internship programming in the Senate

It’s not exactly what you wanted this summer and you’re begrudgingly participating until your partner walks in all tall, dark and handsome in a nicely pressed suit 

He’s quiet until your supervisor suggests paying by stipend so the interns can be paid less than the minimum wage

Then he goes the fuck off

And shit if you weren’t sold on Dan now, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back

While you can’t necessarily straight out flirt, you slowly start taking lunch breaks with Dan

He’s really grateful for the company

You’re a welcomed interruption in his stream of consciousness while he works

A gentle reminder to eat and take care of himself

And you are more than capable of going toe to toe with him when your discussions get more heated

Dan really falls for you when the interns get there

He likes watching you work with them

You’re patient and willing to teach and explain everything

And when did you get that fucking beautiful

So he starts intentionally walking past your office

Strikes up conversations when he can and even starts figuring out where you’ll be at certain parts of the day (he swears it’s not creepy don’t judge)

At the end of the summer, you finally break and ask him out 

He kisses you right on the steps of the Capitol building when you do

The best yes you’ve ever received

Flip Zimmerman

Flip gives you a jump start after you get stranded in Colorado Springs

You’re driving cross country to meet your new niece between jobs and your car breaks down on one of those quiet country roads and you know the police department isn’t a tow company but you literally don’t know who to call

So you call the police 

And Flip happens to be one of the only people available to come jump you, given the fact that he’s between cases

So he grumbles and heads out to the closest landmark you had provided and just about loses it when he sees you

You’re so perfect, he hasn’t ever seen anyone as stunning as you 

When he gets out to jump your car he flirts, asks you questions and makes you laugh without trying 

And scrambles back to his car for a piece of paper to scribble his number down, leaving you with the promise of a phone call when you reach your destination

After three days and no word he feels dejected

And then the phone rings

It’s you, asking for an Officer Zimmerman 

Honestly? Flip is over the moon and hangs on your every word through the receiver

He asks you to stop by and let him take you on a date on your way back home and you gladly accept and, ultimately, take a permanent detour in Colorado Springs

Ronnie Peterson

Ronnie and you meet after you both argue over the last copy of a new book on it’s first day on shelves

Honestly it’s a bit comical how the two of you go at it 

It’s like watching two middle schoolers

Finally, you two compromise

Split the cost, take turns reading it because neither of you are interested in waiting to read it 

So you buy it and develop a stupid little schedule for you two to read it within the first couple of weeks of buying it

Your little trade offs turn into little book club meetings

Until Ronnie finally asks you to actually get coffee and sit down and discuss it 

When you agree and you’re sitting under the warm lighting of the coffee shop, Ronnie is taken aback at how gorgeous you are

And is pissed that he missed it because he was so obsessed with the stupid fucking book

But absolutely doesn’t regret that your argument had gotten him your number and what seemed to be at least a blossoming acquaintanceship

On the other side of the table, you’re just as taken with Ronnie

And your heart almost bursts when his glasses fog up from his hot drink

So you take a chance and ask if he’d want to see the movie adaptation of the book with you when it came out in a few weeks

He immediately says yes

Even asks if it’s a date

Kicks himself again when you turn bright red because, yeah, you want it to be a fucking date

Needless to say you keep getting coffee in the weeks to come and get to know each other even more

And he kisses you for the first time outside the movie theater

He takes you back to the car early, maybe like half way through the movie

He wants to make out

You want to make out

The movie sucked anyway

Paterson

You accidentally get on Paterson’s bus on your first day commuting to your job by public transportation after your car breaks down 

Pat smiles when you pay your fare, fingers twitching as his mind swirled with the tomes of paper he could fill with prose about your eyes 

He won’t lie, he was more than a little concerned when the bus approached the last stop on the route and you were still in your seat

His concern only heightened when he noticed the tears streaking down your cheeks

And yeah, he’s more of an observer, but he can’t help himself as his feet carry him back to sit next to you after letting the last of the passengers out and pulling over

You explain that you had taken the wrong bus and were now over an hour late to your job as a professor at Columbia 

He m e l t s 

Tells you oh so softly what bus you actually need to get on and even tells you where his route connects with that route 

Fuck he even offers you cab money he feels so awful that you’re late to work

You decline but smile at how sweet he is and even move to stand and hold on to the pole closest to him and chat over the thirty minutes it takes you to get to the right stop

You thank him profusely as you step off and Pat drives away, knowing that he’ll be writing about you at lunch, that much is inevitable

Two days later you get on his bus again and he raises his eyebrows skeptically

You give him a scrap of paper and a smile before moving to the back and sitting down, getting off at the same stop he had shown you before

He looks at the paper at lunch and could have passed out at your number and a request for a thank you cup of coffee, which he gladly accepts

Charlie Barber

You meet Charlie at a Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids volunteer meeting

You run in late with a latte in your hand and plop down right next to him, hair windswept, cheeks pink, and smelling like coffee beans

Literally, Charlie thinks a piece of heaven just sat down next to him

You apologize to him for the interruption, double taking when you see how handsome the man next to you is

And for the next hour, you two nudge each other and make jokes under your breath

You get assigned to the same site for the next fundraising effort just by chance

And while you get to know the other four people in your group, you and Charlie stay stuck to each other like glue

Even though there are plenty of people you both know through work 

You had just kind of clicked

And at the end, you find yourself lingering in the small auditorium the meeting was held in

Neither of you really wanting to split although you’d see each other again soon

So Charlie takes a chance and asks if you’d want another latte

His palms are sweating because he literally hasn’t asked someone out in years

That’s what this was right?

But you say yes and let him pay for your second latte

And hold his hand

“It’s cold and you don’t have pockets on your sweater or gloves”

He walks you home even, laughing when you tell him where your building is and remarking that his building is two blocks away

You give him your number anyway, mumbling something about not wanting rocks thrown at your window at 3:00am

And he hugs you so tight before you head upstairs

It’s the tightest hug you’ve ever gotten

[btsmutimagines]

Washed Up (M)

A/N: Idk why I’m embarrassed to admit this but I listen to Korean boyfriend ASMR sometimes because I’m a sad lonely hoe and I love deep voices so I listened to one but I can’t find it anymore T-T however I vividly remember how it went down so... enjoy I guess

Requested (forever ago):  Can you write a dom taehyung smut , where he is protective and possessive in celebration for taehyung's blue hair? +  Daddy kink , over simulation, marking/giving hickeys , spanking , orgasm denial , body worship and possession kink? (was asking for kinks at the time lol)

Word Count: 4.1k

THe BLUE HAIR STARTED THIS FSKLDKL

Have you ever started the day, feeling ready for whatever life wants to toss at you but as the day progresses, every possible worst-case scenario you could muster up starts to feel like your reality?

That’s the kind of day you were having.

It started with your car stopping halfway to your job because you forgot to fill your tank and you had to hitchhike with a stranger to a gas station who kept insisting that they could drop you off at work but you weren’t about to leave your baby on the side of the road for god knows how long. Your eyes kept looking at your rear-view mirror, making sure that your ‘goodwill’ stranger wasn’t following you to work.

Thanks to your forgetfulness, you were late to work where you met with your supervisor breathing down your neck because you were apparently scheduled for a meeting that was behind schedule due to your tardiness and your supervisor had to roughly start on his own.

You jumped in, trying to not mess up the entire presentation but you ended up messing up on some of the quarterly sales to be corrected by one of the investors. You knocked over a chart, the PowerPoint presentation that you spent weeks on wouldn’t open for a good 20 minutes which was filled with you and your supervisor awkwardly trying to joke with the investors. Oh, not to mention that your coworker had mentioned to you after you got up that you missed a button on your blouse so whenever you leaned over, you were flashing them a nice view of your bra and cleavage.

Hell, maybe that will distract them from the train wreck of a presentation.

You just plopped back into your seat, trying to start your next presentation and making sure that it opened properly every time you saved and exited it. Amid your work, one of the senior girls came over to you and started to make small chat with you.

“Oh, hey hun.”

“Oh, hi.”

“You seemed really busy.”

“Kind of. Is there something you need?”

“Oh, Y/N, what makes you think that I only came over so you could do something for me?” Dunno, maybe because the last time you came over to chat, you left me with 15-page assignments that were due the next morning? While your ass went out for drinks with one of your ‘companions’ You had chills run down your spine at the thought of this woman and how she gets around a man she is pining over.

It had nothing to do with her age (she has solidified cougar status), but it was the overly seductive side that she tries to portray. She tries to mystify every man she takes a liking to, but it shouldn’t take too much to get someone who likes you as well to get to the hint, but she liked to overemphasize her interest.

Maybe it’s your way of thinking, seeing as your boyfriend could be as dense as men come, but you like to think the old ‘being yourself’ trick works well.

She still gets her men, so that’s all that matters to her, you guess?

“But since you were such a dear to ask,” here we go again.

“I was supposed to stay to midnight to examine one of my newest client’s records, but I promised my sister that I would watch her kids while she and her husband went out for dinner.” You internally sighed, knowing that she was probably making an elaborate excuse, but you also had no reason why you wanted to get out of it anyways.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to leave children unattended.” You said with a hint of sarcasm, but she still dropped the huge binder on your desk anyway. She took her high heeled self away from yourself with a fake smile before going back to her cubicle on the other side of the room.

One of these days she’s going to really need you and you’re going to make sure that you have some kind of plans that were so foolproof that she’ll have to actually, you know, do her damn job.

You checked your watch, only seeing that it was 10. You leaned your head back a bit, stretched your arms before getting back to fixing your presentation.

“Hey, Y/N?” You sighed, looking at one of your coworkers walking up to you. He only came over to you to do one of two things: awkwardly ask you to go to lunch with him or fix the copier because you ‘had the magic touch’. You were pretty sure he just wanted to watch you squat to fill the paper or to lean over to check if it was even plugged in.

“What is it?”

“I was working with the copier, but it wasn’t working again, I was wondering if you would check it out for me?” You got up, following him to the copy room. The copier was on this time, you saw that it was just waiting for confirmation before printing and you accepted.

“You didn’t know how to confirm a print job?”

“It wasn’t working before? It wouldn’t print when I confirmed, you see.” The copier printed a single page and you handed it over to him and he stopped you from leaving.

“Don’t you want to make sure it worked?”

“It clearly did since it printed if you would excuse me-”

���Just look at it for me?”

“Uh.”

“What I mean is that, wouldn’t you feel partially responsible if the copier screwed up after helping me out?”

“No.”

“What?”

“You broke the copier and I couldn’t fix it. I’m not maintenance. Now, can you like take two steps to the left?” You were ready to tackle this dude, not really caring about what the office would think but he flipped over the page in front of you.

It was simple, it had the picture of him holding a sign saying ‘lunch?’.

“I wonder how much Mrs. Kang would appreciate you using office supplies to ask a taken woman to lunch.”

“Taken? By who?”

“None of your business. Now, move it.” You rubbed your temples, regretting even trying to help that kid. You had to admit, his persistence would be valuable if it was for actual work.

You worked through your lunch, settling for food from the cafeteria and your senior coworker walked past you.

“Aw, you poor thing.”

“What?”

“Having to eat from the cafeteria. That young man in our department just treated me to lobster.” What? That kid could afford lobster for lunch? You thought he would just take you to the cafeteria and try to awkwardly feed you or something, but not some fancy lunch? Now, your soup seemed pretty inferior to the lobster you could have been digging into…

“That poor boy told me how you rejected him so harshly when he just wanted to treat you to a nice lunch since you worked so hard.” Of course, she ate up his sob story, he was footing the damn bill.

“I don’t think it would be appropriate to let another man take me out to lunch when I have a boyfriend.”

“You? A boyfriend?” She laughed mockingly, you rolled your eyes and faced her.

“Honey, you should explore your options. Men are like a buffet, why restrict yourself to only your favourites when there are so many things that you can sample?”

“Because my boyfriend is like my favourite restaurant, sure there are things that I know I’ll love but there are more things that I would discover. To everyone else, it’s just another restaurant but I love it.”

“Ugh. Listening to you is going to make me vomit the lovely lobster I just enjoyed. Enjoy your little soup.” She basically spat the last line at you, you flipped her off when her back was turned to you.

Without any further interruptions, you fixed your presentation and began to read through the client records that Ms. ‘Men are buffet’ should have been looking at. She even walked past you, exclaiming how excited she was to get home after a long day at work.

The office began to dwindle in people, your office light being one of the few that were still on and you started to yawn when you were reading the plans for the product. It was only 6 in the evening; a small nap couldn’t hurt…

You shut the binder, placing it on your table and placing your keyboard up on the base of your monitor to give your arms more room. As soon as you shut your eyes, you started to doze off.

You woke up to the sound of your ringtone next to your ear and you groggily answered.

What do you want?

Is that really how you want to start this conversation, baby?

Yes. If you can’t tell me why you decided to grace me with this phone call, I’m hanging up

Are you forgetting that you said that you wanted to come over tonight and it’s now 10?

No, I-shit, I did, didn’t I?

Yes, Ms. Forgetful.

I’ll be right there.

Wait-

You hung up before he could finish, turning off your light and grabbing your coat. You rushed down to the parking lot and getting in your car. It was raining outside, you forgot to check the weather before you left the house, but you had a car, so it wouldn’t matter, right?

That is, if your car would actually start.

“Fuck.” You saw the battery symbol light up, you cursed out loud and hit the steering wheel. You got out of the car, locking it and decided to trudge in the rain. His place wasn’t that far away, and you didn’t want to spend the money on a taxi.

So, you show up to your boyfriend, Taehyung’s doorstep, shivering and wet from the rain and he opened the door. He looked all warm and comfy in his sweats and a loose shirt and began to ‘tsk’ at you.

“If you let me finish, Y/N, I would have said that it was raining and that we could have met for breakfast or something.”

“Well, you were talking too slow.”

“I think you know how fast I can be, baby.”

“Are you going to stand there and boast or let me in?”

“My, my, you’re snappier today.”

“Well, my warm and dry boyfriend is just chatting up a storm while I’m cold, shivering and dealing with a kinda shitty day, thanks for asking by the way.”

“That was my next question, I swear.”

“Mhm.” He pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you and you looked at him with your arms crossed.

“To be fair, you’re the one that showed up late.”

“Well, I got extra work shoved on me because one of my coworkers, you know the one with the curly auburn hair that pinned in a weird updo?”

“The one that flirted with me when you went to get drinks?”

“I swear any relatively young-looking man with a pulse is her type.”

“Wait, relatively young-looking? What does that even mean?”

“You have a baby face.”

“Excuse you, I look extremely manly.”

“Oh, honey.” You said, touching his arm.

“God, don’t talk like that woman.”

“Sorry, she kept saying that to me today and I need a detox from her.”

“Agreed.”

“Anyways, she shoved her work on me to finish. Then some dude in the office asked me out to lunch. I said no, don’t worry yourself, Mr. Jealous.” You could see the relief wash over him as you said the last sentence, but it was quickly replaced with fake shock.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“Your expression speaks volumes, but I missed out on some lobster.”

“Pfft. Lobster. Baby, I could get you a four-course seafood extravaganza. Calamari, lobster, crab, whatever you name it.”

“Mussels?”

“Of course.”

“Shrimp?”

“Baby, who do you think I am?”

“Maybe, you’re not too bad, I guess.  You would make better company, anyways.”

“I can do much more than that.”

“And what’s that?”

“How about I get a nice, warm shower running, give you the one sweater you like to wear,”

“I like to wear it or you like seeing me in it?”

“Why can’t it be both, love?”

“What else?”

“And we can have some nice cuddles while we watch that movie you were talking about?”

“Hm. You seem to know me pretty well.”

“Only been at this for almost 2 years, I think I have some hindsight now.”

“That smart brain of yours should probably tell those feet to start moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said, turning on his heel and walking to the bathroom. You giggled a little as he saluted you before entering the bathroom.

“Such a dork.” You took off your shoes, placing them on the rack next to his and peeling off your coat. A shiver made you rub your arms with your hands and rush down to the bathroom.

“Didn’t think you would come in so soon.”

“Well, you did say a nice shower, not a bath.”

“Better warm you up faster, maybe the snappiness will wash away.”

“Eh.” You exclaimed, slightly offended and he chuckled.

“I was joking, babe.”

“Oh, so you think you’re funny now, huh?”

“When wasn’t I funny?”

“Were you ever funny?”

“That’s just a low blow, you know that’s a core part of my being.”

“You kind of walked into that one, bud.”

“Fair.” He began to unbutton your blouse, your wet bra accentuating your breasts and hardened nipple due to the cold rain.

“It was really cold.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” He stood close, your face gently pressed into his chest as he unzipped your pencil skirt and sliding it down. He took his time with your stockings, his face conveniently in front of your panties and he hooked his fingers along the strap.

“Control yourself, mister.”

“Of course, where are my manners? You can’t be the only one naked here.”

“That’s not what I…” He stood up abruptly, tossing his shirt over his head to reveal his torso. You appreciated the fact he wasn’t a gym monkey like Jungkook, besides it’s fine to play with his stomach.

“Cute.”

“What kind of reaction is that?”

“What? Your tummy is cute.” He sighed, you poked his tummy and he tried to fight the smile on his face before holding your hands.

“You’re ruining the mood.”

“What mood? I’m taking a shower and you took off your shirt for no reason.”

“I never said that you would be washing yourself. It’s more relaxing if someone else does it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Plus, we can spend more time together, we missed out on some quality time.”

“Fine, but don’t do that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Don’t be coy. You know exactly what I mean, where you put on that smouldering look and act all like Edward from twilight-esque.”

“Are you getting a fever?” He placed the back of his hand on your forehead and you smacked his hand. You slipped out of your underwear and getting behind the curtain. The warm water hitting your skin instantly made you feel better, Taehyung following you not too long after.

“I can shower myself just fine, Taehyung.”

“Y/N.” He singsonged your name, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. He planted a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I just want to help you relax, you’ve had such a long day and deserve to be pampered, hmm?” He didn’t give a real chance to respond, grabbing the loofah he kept for you when you stayed over and added some soap.

“Just close your eyes and let me take care of you.” He rubbed the loofah before gently scrubbing your skin. You listened to his whimsical hums as he glides the loofah as he wished.

“May I?”

“If you have to.” He fondled your chest, him trying to be innocent as possible about it. Although you didn’t miss the gentle brushing against your nipples or him needed to cup more of your breasts because he ‘couldn’t miss a single spot’.

He washed your back, you sensed him getting down his knees as he washed your ass. The way the loofah rubbed against your ass in a gentle circular motion, his hand lightly touching as he moved over the curvature.

He turned you to face him, letting the water now hit your back and his hand touched your leg.

“Lift your leg.” He commanded, you silently obeyed, and he got eye level with your leg. You watched him wash with long strokes, licking his lips a bit as he switched legs.

“All done.”  He stood while saying this, his fingers stroked up your thigh. You pressed your thighs together as a result, looking away from Taehyung who gently turned your head to meet his eyes.

“Let me return the favour.” You quietly said, averting your eyes from his face and grabbed the loofah he used for himself and a dollop of his body wash.

You couldn’t help but stare at the way the soap would wash off his torso, almost drooling when you watched his back muscles slightly contract as you washed his back. Jesus, it was one of the titillating things about him.

“You’re missing a spot, love.”

“Oh-uh you’re a big boy, you can do that yourself.”

“You offered.”

“To wash you, not give you a handjob with soap.”

“How about without the soap?”

“Are your brain cells still functioning?”

“Oh, don’t play games, love. Don’t think I didn’t catch you staring at me.”

“Or how you pressed your thighs together when I just innocently touched them?”

“Or how your nipples are still hard after all this time in the shower?”

“So what if that’s all true? What are you going to do about it?” You knew there was no point in trying to hide your arousal, he could see through you like glass.

“Why don’t you tell me? What do you want me to do?” He leaned in, teasing you by brushing his lips against yours but you pressed your lips against his. You didn’t care about how desperate you were, your lips shamelessly moving against his.

His hands grabbed your ass, you gasped at the sudden movement and he chuckled into your lips.

“Not funny.”

“You gasp like it’s the first time I’ve touched your ass.”

“It just catches me off guard.”

“So cute.”

“Not the exact words I want to hear, Tae.” He chuckled again, you hit his chest and he leaned in to kiss you again. You felt yourself chasing after his lips, seconds separating each kiss you two shared and you comfortably rested your arms around his neck.

His lips trailed along your neck, a small whimper left your lips as he began to nip at your skin. Your hands travelled to his head with a rough tug at his hair.

“I can’t believe that dick at your job doesn’t know you’re mine. All mine.”

“Someone sounds jealous.”

“Of who? I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this.” His left hand sensually rubbed against your inner thigh, his thumb brushing against your folds.

“The only one who gets to hear you like this.”

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath as his right hand expertly fondled your left breast.

“Don’t get quiet on me, sweetheart. I want to hear you while you unravel under my touch.”

“Hands against the wall.” He commanded, you swiftly positioned yourself. You were about to speak when you felt two fingers suddenly enter you.

“Jesus Christ, Taehyung.” You moaned, his fast pace was unforgiving.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking perfect. Your pretty little pussy taking my fingers so easily like it’s made for me.”

“Nngh, fuck, more.” You felt a hard smack on your ass, the sting only stimulating you more.

“Where are your manners, baby? Hm?”

“P-Please fuck- I want more p-please.”

“Good girl.” He obliged to your plea, a third finger squeezing its way into you. The gentle stretch was noticeable, Taehyung’s hand soothing your ass while he did so.

“You alright, baby?”

“Y-Yes.”

“So eager to please.” He continued his reckless pace when he felt you were comfortable, his fingers quickly stretching you out.

“You’re so good, baby, so good.” You could barely focus on Taehyung’s words, pleasure overpowering your senses. Though your incoherent moans, you found yourself on the edge of your orgasm before he stopped.

“What the fuck, Tae-” He silenced you with another slap to your ass, you giving him a silent glare.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you cum, did you?”

“You’re not coming until I see you trembling and sobbing for me to let you cum, understood.”

“Besides, I have to punish you for keeping me waiting.” You wanted to protest, your words barely making it to the tip of your tongue before you felt his fingers plunged back into you.

You were pretty sensitive from before, the addition of his thumb grinding against your clit only made it more of a challenge to stop yourself. He teased you, abruptly stopping for a moment before starting his wicked pace. All you could was stabilize yourself against the wall, getting a few warning smacks from slightly sliding out of position.

“P-Please- Tae. I can’t- Wanna cum-” You sobbed, not caring about your broken words and he rested his hands on your ass.

“In due time, baby. First, on your knees.” He watched as you shakily knelt in front of him, being formally acquainted with his throbbing erection. You silently awed at how he could show restraint while he was this hard.

You didn’t need a word before you wrapped around him, maintaining a good grip as you pumped his cock at a moderate pace. Licking your lips, you allowed the head to enter your mouth. Your tongue ever so slowly swirled around it, licking away the leaky precum and he groaned in response.

His hands made their way into your wet hair, sloppily gripping the strands as you began to bob your head in a rhythmic pace. You found yourself growing wet at the sounds of him cursing your name as you blew him.

“Fuck, your lips are so beautiful around my cock.”

“Love the way I hit your pretty little throat.”

“Fuck, makes me want to cum and watch you swallow it all up like a fucking good girl.”

“Shit-“ You stopped, wiping off a string of saliva that connected your lips to his cock. He helped you up, turning you to face the wall adjacent to you and lifting your leg. With his other hand, he rubbed the head of his cock against you.

“Quit teasing me already.”

“But it’s so much fun.”

“Taehyung.” You whined, him having the audacity to chuckle before slowly sliding into you.

“Fuck.” You two muttered seemingly at once, he was still for a moment before beginning to thrust his hips into yours.

He leaned in to kiss you, muffling your moans as he began to bang into you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, focusing on the insurmountable euphoria that came with each thrust of his cock. It was mind-numbing how he knew every sweet spot on your body from your neck to your collarbone. From your chest to your stomach, down to your hips and thighs and eventually your cunt.

And you knew him well, how much he liked when you tugged at his hair, the way his face heats up when you nibble on his ear. The way he moans when you kissed his neck and under his jaw, leaving haphazard hickeys wherever you felt. You knew he liked the way you straddle his thighs, not so discreetly grinding on him until he was uncomfortably hard and leave him to his own devices. His body was moulded to every touch you made and you loved it.

“Fucking shit, baby.” He growled in your ear, you biting your lips once again but unable to mask the whimpers from his attentive ears.

“Let me hear you.”

“Please-fuck, harder.” He graced you with a rougher pace, you needing to press your back against the wall before you slammed into it from his thrusts. You moaned at the hard grip he had on your thigh from holding your leg up and you could feel yourself stumbling to stay up.

“You like that, baby, huh? Fucking you so good you won’t want any dick but mine.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m a-all fucking yours.”

“Good fucking girl. You wanna cum?”

“F-Fuck, please.” He smirked, his free hand immediately rubbing your clit. Your legs trembled as you came, the release causing you to cry out.

He came a bit after you had, delectable groans escaping his lips as he did so. The two of you glanced at each other breathlessly, neither of you speaking as you caught your breaths.

“I think I have to clean you up again.”

[clarionglass]

tagged by @dheiress to post the first line of my last 20 fics (thank you! <3)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 other authors!

aight my lads here we go, there’s going to be a few unpublished wips and other piece of dubious writing in here bc i doubt i have 20 stories but anyway, here we go (this is very long! press j to skip or just get that dash scrollin bc this might take a while :// ) in very rough chronological order going backwards, starting with the published work:

1. so i ran to the river (tma grifters au, unpublished yet but will be soon!): The sunlight feels different on a face fresh out of prison, and it feels even better to Jonathan Sims now that he’s truly home.

2. crowned by an overture bold and beyond (tma pretentious college au, based loosely on the secret history):  It was a cool, rainy day in late March when I first approached the Magnus Institute--one of those days that served as a reminder that the London spring, that fragile creature, was still all too vulnerable to the occasional strike from the claws of winter.

3. we should ride this wave to shore (tma chatfic where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts): Friday, 3:14 P.M. “archives research & statement envestigation” Timothy Stoker renamed the group “drinks drinks drinks” Timothy Stoker changed Sasha James’s nickname to saucy sash Timothy Stoker changed Martin Blackwood’s nickname to martini kart Timothy Stoker changed his nickname to stonked stonked: so how bout it lads saucy sash: oh god.

4. i am the maker of rules (dealing with fools) (tma chatfic, an elias-and-peter-focused accompaniment to wsrtwts): Monday, 7:39 P.M. Elias Bouchard to Peter Lukas Elias Bouchard: Peter, I need to talk to you. Elias Bouchard: I’ve had the most infuriating day at work.

5. An Optimistic Tragedy (good omens orchestra au that i swear to god i’ll finish one day): Three years ago Eve shifted in her chair, her mind clearly on things other than Milhaud and the music in front of her.

6. The Spaces Between the Stars (the Beast of a dw fic that i can’t even begin to describe; a mate and i have been working on this since 2015 and it’s a sprawling mass of writing that encompasses Many google docs--what’s on ao3 atm is a very small percentage of it,,,,): The Doctor clutched the TARDIS railing as if somehow, it could take the pain away.

7. Carol of the Bells (a chrismas chatfic companion to aot! i’ve always been a sucker for a chatfic but oof looking back on this one my formatting style sure has changed): [Friday December 13, 1:31am] Anthony Crowley to Angelface: u up? ;)

8. An Exploration into The Nature of Human Beings, sub. Homo Sapiens: A Research Paper by Milton Jones (british comedy rpf. this is my oldest piece on ao3 and it shows, but there’s a special place in my heart for this dorky lil fic about an alien researcher making a place for himself in british comedy. fun fact! i actually added the final three sentences to this a couple of days ago, and will post it when i do my next fic update): <<I knew you’d be down here, as per usual. Do you never stop working?>>

and now for the stuff that i like but hasn’t yet/will never/one day, if i get my act together, might be posted to ao3... please ask me about these bc i love them, even though i’ll probably never post them :)

9. untitled mitchell spy comedy (a show that @monimolimnion​ and i want to pitch to the bbc in which david mitchell and victoria coren mitchell are married spies who work for MI5 and MI6 respectively, and most of britcom pops up in one place or another. it’s nothing more than a Lot of planning and a few snippets, but i love returning to this doc): [David is sitting at his desk, shaking his head at an open file.] David: They’re taking the piss. That’s what they’re doing, they’re taking the piss.

10. In the Demonic Style (a good omens au of @teashoesandhair’s glorious smooching contest piece, which is the first piece of fiction writing in the reblog chain. i’ve promised a chapter 2 to this, which i’m halfway through, and feel incredibly guilty for not finishing. still, my quarter-year’s resolution is to finish something old whenever i post something new, so maybe it’ll get done soon!): “It’s the end of the world” was not a good statement with which to start one’s morning in any circumstances, but the angel Bryndael was in the middle of cataloguing his newest shipment of tea samples when said statement reached his ears, and he didn’t much appreciate being disturbed.

11. magpie (good omens canon-mostly-compliant fic based around the song magpie by the unthanks/the magpie folk song/nursery rhyme): Wednesday (approximately 11 years before the end of the world) From a bird’s-eye view, St James’s Park was beautiful at this time of year.

12. untitled ficlet for tales of dwrwedd (a present for my writing buddy! the link is to her fic, i just wrote a bit of her two witcherverse ocs being soft as hell): The two women seated by the hearth didn't look old, either of them. But there was something about the pair--in their movements, or their mannerisms--that suggested an age far beyond what their unlined faces would suggest.

13: Tempo d’Attacco (an original bit of Light Crime a la midsomer murders, set in a university music department that is naturally a thinly-veiled copy of my own, hence why it will never ever be posted anywhere. i wrote this for my supervisor at the end of honours (her character is the sleuth) :P ) Dr Marisa Tan didn’t exactly start her morning well, on the day that everything seemed to upend itself.

patterns...... i’m not seeing that many, tbh? idk if i could call this in media res, but there’s certainly a good bit of plot starting without heaps of setup. 

my favourite? hmmmmmm i’d say my favourites would be crowned by an overture bold and beyond, and in the demonic style. i gotta say, going back to revisit a lot of my older writing has been nice! time and distance have been v kind :)

i’m hella bad at tagging things so if you see this and want to share your own writing please go ahead! i’m very shy when it comes to Fandom Interaction (tm) so i don’t feel comfortable launching myself into people’s notes (i loved this tho! i just need other people to make the first move lol), however i will give a specific shoutout to @monimolimnion whose writing i adore and who needs to do this!

[svtxsoju]

01. crush that hangover! | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is!  ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Pairings TBA! ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, mentions of sex, language, bad jokes ღ Word Count: 5.0k words  ღ Binu’s Note: ever stare at a selfie so long that it looks weird? ya that’s this chapter for me. there were just so many elements that i wanted to get right, but i kept changing things and now i can’t look at it anymore :c i’ll properly proofread it later, but for now enjoy!! i have some other content ima post later so i’m p excited for that hehehe anyway ya happy friday!!! 

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Disclaimer ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ 》

《 Previous ⊛ Next 》

Monday, September 2, 2019 9:05AM

This was not how Joohyun had imagined her first day at The Front. Whenever she described this moment to Jihoon, she was very clear about the way she would walk in so confidently that the senior writers would wonder why they forgot to email her an invite to their 8:30 meeting. Jihoon, who relished in raining on her parade, predicted that they wouldn’t even know her name. But she had no time for his blunt realism, because she had been living as a made-up person since June and her corporate daydreams were the only things keeping her sane. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but she figured that once they saw her talent, everything would be just fine.

So it’s not difficult to imagine Joohyun’s distress when she just barely stumbled into the office this morning, nursing a mind-melting hangover. 

She should have known she would be a goner when the sports section interns had challenged her to a drinking game at last night’s welcome party. Her drinking partner, a small girl interning at HR, had only made it two shots in before falling asleep on her lap. For the record, she had still made sure that she was the last intern standing (although she definitely wasn’t the same bright-eyed freshman that could chug a pitcher of soju and beer just to spite Jihoon). Looking around the office, she felt a little relieved to find that the other interns were suffering just as much as her, if their slumped positions and pained groans told her anything. So much for giving a good first impression.

Joohyun was trying her best not to look like she was two steps from an early grave when she was approached by a big woman with a laptop in her arms. She awkwardly bowed her head to greet her, but the woman’s gaze never left the screen of her Macbook. “Miss… Joonyoung?”

“Oh, that’s not--” 

“You’re the new advice column intern, correct?” 

“Oh. Yes, that’s me, but that’s not my--” 

“I’ll show you to your desk.” Without so much as a glance, the woman turned on her heel, now typing furiously on her laptop. Joohyun followed behind glumly.

This was all Jihoon’s fault. 

“So, how’s your first day going?” Jihoon asked over his bowl of ramen. He flagged down the tall waiter and ordered a bowl of rice.

“Fine,” was Joohyun’s curt answer. In truth, it was far from ideal. She had watched longingly as all the other interns were assigned with their first projects, while she was left with an empty inbox. How was she supposed to write an advice column when there was no one asking her for advice? She spent most of the morning familiarizing herself with the previous entries of The Front’s dating advice column, the most recent of which dated to the newspaper’s May issue… from 1997. 

When her supervisor told her to take a lunch break, she had made a beeline to meet Jihoon at the restaurant near the cafe he worked at. Now that she was sitting in front of him though, she wasn’t quite ready to confess that her dream job was much more mundane than she expected. “Hey, wasn’t this a fried chicken shop last semester?” 

“That bad, huh?” Jihoon clicked his tongue. Joohyun sighed - she didn’t know why she even tried to hide anything from him when he’s known her for 12 years. He probably knew some parts of her better than she did. “Come on Joo, don’t give up on Miss Soju so easily. It’s just because you’re a little hungover. We watched The Notebook like five times this summer! What more do you need to know about true love? Do you want me to set you up on another date with that freakishly tall dude for more hands-on experience? Ah, speak of the devil!” 

“Thanks, Mingyu.” Joohyun took the bowl of rice and gave the server a sweet smile, which greatly contrasted with the glare she shot at Jihoon soon after. The server, a stunning boy with jet-black hair and tanned skin, stuck his tongue out at Jihoon. She waited until Mingyu went to the other side of the restaurant to serve a rowdy group of boys to whisper-shout at Jihoon. “Can you try not to expose my identity to the whole campus before I even get the chance to write my first ever entry?” 

“Ohhh, that’s why you’re sulking. No one’s sent you a letter yet so you didn’t get to do anything today,” Jihoon said. It sometimes got annoying how he could read her like she was his worn-out copy of his favorite sports manga.  She had to admit though, he did find ways to make it worth it. Like when he said, “I might actually be able to help you with that one, if you want. I can make a little shout out for Miss Soju on my stream tonight. For a small price, of course.” 

“You’re streaming tonight?” The girl perked up from poking at her noodles. Over the past three years, Jihoon had built up a cult following through Woozi’s Universe, a Twitch stream where he shared music made by the underground artists on campus (including him). He only ever released new music on Mondays, so tonight would definitely have a large viewership. Joohyun immediately went into her business pose lest she show how eager she really was. “Well, what would you like in exchange, Mr. Lee?” 

“I merely request that you pay for my lunch today, Ms. So,” he replied. Joohyun looked in horror at Jihoon, a petite man who ate like he was three boys going through puberty; today alone he had had an extra-large bowl of ramen, three orders of rice, and two cans of Coke. 

Then, she imagined facing an empty inbox for the rest of the week. Yup, this was  definitely worth it. That didn’t stop her from making a show of taking out her wallet, taking care to sigh extra  loudly. She had to give Jihoon his moment to revel in his triumphs, otherwise he would get grumpy. 

Jihoon cackled giddily. “Pleasure doing business with you as always, Ms. So.” 

“Pretty sure my hangover is coming back.”

“Oh shit, shut up!” Jihoon suddenly yelped and ducked underneath the table.

“What the hell, Jih--” 

“No, don’t say my name! He might hear you and then I’ll have to talk to him,” Jihoon whispered, jerking his head towards a bright yellow blur skipping to the back of the restaurant. “He’s one of my fans. He found out I worked at the cafe and now he keeps coming in to talk to about how sad his sex life is.”

Joohyun pursed her lips and peeked a glance over. He had joined the table of rowdy boys.  “Hmm, maybe I should say hi... he seems like a potential Miss Soju reader.” 

“Just pay the check already, woman!” 

The new interns at The Front were not the only students sporting hangovers that day. This can only be expected of the second week back at MU. Sunday night had been the explosive finale of a full week of department welcome parties, happy reunions, and lots and lots of alcohol. Some of the incoming freshmen were convinced that Mansae University was not actually a school, but a training ground for surviving as many shots of soju as physically possible. That is until they woke up on Monday morning and still had to drag themselves to their 9AM’s, suddenly faced with the reality of what college really was: an endless cycle of perpetual hangovers and school work that’s due way too soon. 

This was all good news for the new ramen shop on campus, which had been serving the hoards of hungover zombies since 10AM. Vernon, who was in great pain from the night before, had been ambushed by his roommate after his morning class. He was brought to the restaurant under the pretense of curing his woes with a bowl of warm soup and noodles. When he caught sight of a man in red waiting for them at a back table though, he immediately knew what was actually coming. 

“Hello Vernonnie,” Seungcheol greeted him with a sly smile. “Care to take a seat next to me?”

“Uh, not really,” Vernon mumbled, but he sat down anyway. He scrunched his nose at his roommate as the boy slumped into the seat in front of him. “Traitor.”

“Sorry babe, Seungcheol hyung promised me free lunch. Also, you’re one to talk, after you abandoned me to fend for myself last night--! Ugh,” his roommate, Seungkwan, clutched at his head, where a rusty hammer persistently tapped away at his temple. “Hyung, why did you do this to me? My face is gonna be bloated for the rest of the week. I have an audition in two days, you know!” 

“Hey, I did ask you if you were sure you wanted-- what was that you ordered? Oh yeah-- ‘the strongest drink that is legal to serve in South Korea’!” Seungcheol said, his eyes wide. As he got more defensive, he began to point his finger excessively at Seungkwan. “And what was it all for? To impress your new crush?” 

“I am way too hungover to get lectured by a couple of hypocrites,” Seungkwan grumbled. “I was trying to get some inspiration, you know, a drunken spark of genius! How else am I supposed to figure out how to confess to them?”

“Okay, I wasn’t actually asking,” Seungcheol ignored Seungkwan’s offended gasp in favor of turning his attention to a fidgeting Vernon. His cherry red lips now returned to its wide grin. “I am here to discuss where our dearest Vernon went off to last night.” 

“Um.” Vernon answered with a nervous smile. “I just went home early--”

“Bullshit!” Seungkwan looked absolutely scandalized. “It wasn’t enough to abandon me, so now you’re lying too? I don’t know if I can take much more of this!” 

Vernon had only officially known Seungkwan for two whole weeks, but with the way the two had been inseparable since move-in day, everyone at the freshmen dorms had assumed that they had known each other for years and years. He knew that someone like Boo Seungkwan was a rare find as far as random dorm assignments went, and that not everyone was so lucky to have a roommate that reminds them to eat real food once in a while or a friend who’s willing to take care of them when they get their first real hangover. Just for that day alone, Vernon knew that Seungkwan deserved to know where he went. Plus he shared a room with him, so it’s not like he could hide anything anyway.

Seungcheol shook his head and slung an arm around Vernon’s shoulder. His grip wasn’t tight but firm enough that Vernon knew he was trapped there until he confessed the truth. “Look, I don’t need any details! I just wanted to make sure that you’re staying safe and all that junk. Also, I would like to know what base you got to.” He erupted into a fit of giggles, but soon cleared his throat to return to his investigation. “Really though, tell us what happened.” 

It wasn’t like Vernon didn’t want to tell Seungcheol either. Vernon’s and Seungcheol’s families had known each other since the two boys were in middle and high school, and when he found out that Seungcheol would be a senior at Mansae University that year, he felt some of his nerves ease up about moving out. Seungcheol had always been like an older brother to him, and was always there when he needed his help in high school. He trusted him! 

That’s probably why he subconsciously blamed Seungcheol for the pain he was going through at the moment. When the upperclassman had offered to sneak Vernon and Seungkwan into a party at the karaoke bar that he bartended at, the two freshmen all too eagerly accepted without thinking of any consequences. They had received no pointers, no words of caution. How were they supposed to know that bar parties were completely different from welcome dinners? And how was Seungkwan supposed to know that downing so many cocktails within the hour wasn’t a good idea? Most importantly, how was Vernon supposed to know that he would meet someone like her there? Vernon groaned into his hands as he could no longer resist the flood of memories from the night before, and leaned into Seungcheol’s shoulder as he tried to recoil from his past self. “Hyung, it hurts too much to say out loud.”

“It’s okay buddy, take your time,” Seungcheol patted his head gently and called the tall server over. Vernon continued to let out unintelligible noises of regret while the senior ordered bowls for all three of them. “How are you even hungover right now? I only remember giving you one drink last night before you went off with--”

“I’m not hungover.”

“Oh. Then what are you?”

“An idiot,” Vernon mumbled through his fingers. “A big, cringy idiot.” 

Seungkwan raised his hand, looking frantically between the two boys. “Excuse me? Did I miss the reading homework? Went off with who? Last night? What? How drunk was I?!” 

“Very drunk, but that’s not why you didn’t notice Vernon’s new friend. You were a little occupied with your own conquest,” Seungcheol stage-whispered from across the table. “Honestly, you two are wild. It’s only two weeks into fall semester and you’re already out here simping.”

“Um, and? I saw you making googly eyes at several ladies last night!” The higher Seungkwan’s voice rose, the harder the rusty hammer banged inside his head. “Ow.”

“Those were just my friends who happened to be ladies! Sorry that my eyes are just naturally soft and alluring,” Seungcheol said, batting his long, dark lashes at the boy. “What were her eyes like, Vernon? I only noticed that she had a nose ring. Couldn’t really see her properly while you two were ‘talking’ in the corner...” 

“The corner! A nose ring!” Seungkwan repeated and clutched at his chest. “Tell me more.” 

“We were just talking!” Vernon finally spoke, his face stuck in an embarrassed grimace. “There’s not really much more to tell. I just know that she’s the coolest girl I’ve ever met and I’ll never meet anyone like her again.”

“What! You two were talking for like two hours! And I saw you leaving with her!” Seungcheol said a little too loudly for Vernon’s liking. The server gingerly approached their table with their orders, setting the bowls down as quickly as possible before rushing away. Vernon noted to give him a big tip when they left. “Don’t tell us that’s all.”

“I just dropped her off at her apartment and went back to the dorms,” Vernon confirmed to Seungcheol’s horror. “I really didn’t want it to be just last night.”

“So... you asked her out?” 

“No.”

“You got her number?”

“No.”

“Her Instagram? Her Twitter? Her student ID number? Do you even know her name?” 

“I already said I was an idiot,” Vernon whined. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it. But yes, I did at least get her name.”

It was the only thing he could think of since he woke up. She was the only thing he could think of since he woke up. The way her eyes had lit up while they talked about her major. The way her lips had curved into a clever smile when she told a joke. The way her small hand had fit in his as they walked to her apartment. Then, he would remember how he completely fucked it all up before he started, and his headache would return full-force. 

“Dude.” Seungcheol fixed him with a stern stare, but it was kind of hard to take him seriously when his mouth was full of noodles. “Have you never asked a girl out before?”

“You know I have! I don’t know what happened either, okay? I guess I just froze up when she looked at me… then I just went home after telling her good night.”

Seungcheol feigned a gag. “Gross. I was joking earlier, but you’re an actual simp. Hate to break it to you like this.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” Seungkwan piped up from where he comfortably rested his head on the table.

“That’s nice, Seungkwan, but ‘sweet’ isn’t gonna get either of you laid,” Seungcheol chuckled. “Vernon, your girl was clearly waiting for you to make the next move. Trust me, girls don’t just ask anyone to walk them home.”

“I didn’t want to look like a creep!” Vernon sullenly stared down at his untouched bowl of noodles. “What am I supposed to do now, hyung?”

“Yeah, lend us your wisdom, O Alluring One,” Seungkwan chanted. “You clearly have plenty of experience from the past three years. 

“Like I said, I just have a lot of friends,” Seungcheol shrugged, then suddenly checked the time on his phone. “Oh shit--  speaking of friends, I have to meet one for a study session at her apartment in 15 minutes.”

“Sounds nasty.”

“Your mom’s nasty,” Seungcheol retorted with a provocative smile. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Boo! Then maybe you’d be able to think of how to confess.”

“Uncalled for!”

He placed several bills on the table and checked his phone again. “This should be enough to cover lunch, kiddos. I wish I could help you two, but I’m booked for the rest of the day. And the week.”

“But what if I meet her again?” Vernon asked desperately. 

“Then text me! I might not reply right away though. I’ve got two classes later and then I have dinner plans--”

“Another girl I presume--”

“Shut up! I also have to go to the gym before doing… uh, doing a thing. And then I have a shift at 24H.” Seungcheol stood up and looked at the distressed boys before him, his soft eyes more affectionate than alluring. Was he like this as a freshman? He reached over to ruffle the freshmans' heads. “You two should probably leave soon, too. I’ll see y’all later!” 

And just like that, Seungcheol was gone, and Vernon was once again left without any advice from the senior. Vernon was never one for dramatics, but his personal failures felt like a gray cloud of shame hanging over him. He began to worry that he was just gonna have to live like this forever, because nothing in the world was bright enough to break through his doom and gloom (well, her smile probably could, but Vernon was never going to see that again). The fact that Seungkwan seemed like he was about to Train to Busan his ass any minute now didn’t really lift his spirits either.

Lucky for him, the universe was not going to let him give up so easily. At that moment, a boy with glaringly yellow hair and a heavy camera on his shoulder bursted through the entrance. His smile brightened when he spotted the two boys in the back and he didn’t hesitate to bound towards them, skipping right past the server welcoming him in. “Seungkwan! I knew I’d find you here.”

“Dearest Vernon, it seems we have been joined by the lovely Soonyoung hyung. Perhaps he might know the medicine we require to ease our ailments in love,” Seungkwan suddenly stood up, all signs of his hangover expertly hidden. He smiled directly into the camera lens. “Hyung, would you kindly share your wisdom with us lowly freshmen? Pray tell, how does one woo the object of their affection?”

Vernon, who was well-acquainted with Seungkwan’s antics by then, watched on in silent amusement. If anything could distract him from his internal turmoil for a moment, it was Seungkwan; even if he was just spewing nonsense. What really made him crack up though, was the way Soonyoung (that was his name, right?) was clearly trying very hard to suppress his giggles. “Um,” Soonyoung managed to  cut in breathlessly. “You know I’m not rolling, right? Also, I didn’t understand any of the words that just left your mouth, but it definitely felt like you were putting some sort of ancient curse on me. Hi, I’m Soonyoung by the way!”

Vernon introduced himself and shook Soonyoung’s hand. Seungkwan could only sigh in exasperation at Soonyoung’s lack of culture (not that he was surprised of course). The boy apparently thought it was a good fashion choice to leave his apartment wearing a tiger print button-up. “I was  asking if you could help us out with confessing to our crushes,” Seungkwan said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Ohh, that’s what you said!” Soonyoung laughed until he was keeled over, clutching his stomach. Vernon and Seungkwan could only watch him with great expectation. When the boy finally caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow, he gave the boys a very serious look. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten any since January. So you should probably ask someone else.” 

This also did not surprise Seungkwan. 

“Excuse me?” The tall server approached them again, clearly giving them his best ‘I hate working in retail’ smile. “If y’all are done eating, could you please leave? You’re disturbing the other customers.” 

“I’m eating, I’m eating!” Soonyoung smiled until his cheeks reached his eyes, a power move that he saves for occasions where he found himself in trouble, which happened more often than he’d care to admit. Once the server let them be, muttering something about not getting paid enough, Soonyoung turned his killing smile onto the two boys. “Can I have some of this? I can Venmo y’all later, I’m pretty broke right now.” 

Vernon pushed his uneaten ramen towards Soonyoung, who looked at him as if he was the sun itself. The boy carefully set down his film camera and immediately began slurping away. Vernon nodded his head towards the contraption and asked why he was carrying it around.

 “Oh, I rented it before coming to find Seungkwan. I’m thinking about making him the subject of my film project this semester, since the theater program is pretty buzzed that he’s joining this year!” Soonyoung patted the camera affectionately.

“‘Thinking about?’ I thought I was your final choice!” Seungkwan blurted. The ramen he had for lunch seemed to have finally restored some of his strength, because he no longer clutched at his temple when his voice rose.

“I said ‘most likely’ choice! I just want to keep my options open,” Soonyoung responded with great care. He didn’t want to hurt Seungkwan’s feelings, but he was definitely re-evaluating alternate subjects at the moment.  “It’s only the second week!”

“This is why you’re single,” the theater major said in a huff. “Lack of commitment!”

“Hey! I am perfectly capable of commitment. It’s the girls that don’t want to commit, ” Soonyoung said in a small voice, and looked off into the distance wistfully. “I really hope Woozi does put out a new song tonight. Maybe he’ll tweet something soon.” 

“Woozi? Who’s that?” Vernon asked. At this point, he was just looking for anything that would fend off his memories, which lingered at the edges of his mind and waited for moments of silence to bring him another fresh glass of cringe. He was pretty sure that he had experienced well above the recommended daily serving. 

“Oh, he’s a Twitch streamer from MU! I was actually gonna say if you two are really struggling in the love department, you should definitely check out his stream tonight.” Soonyoung nearly wiggled with enthusiasm. “He usually promotes songs from artists around the area, but his self-composed songs are my personal favorites. They’ve been what’s getting me through this dry spell, honestly.”

“Oh, that sounds pretty cool.” It sounded like it was right up Vernon’s alley, actually. 

Soonyoung nodded. “You listen to them and you just feel hopeful to find the kind of love he sings about. I’ll send you the link later!” 

“Underground artists? No thanks, I think I’ll stick to Eva Noblezada,” Seungkwan scoffed. “I don’t really think a stranger can help me with my problems. They don’t even know me.” 

“Oh come on, Kwan. Let’s just give it a shot!”

Even after all his grumbling, Seungkwan still sat beside Vernon at one of the desks in their dorm later that night. They had opened the link Soonyoung had sent them, and munched on some snacks while they waited for the stream to start up. Vernon waited with baited breath for his distraction to begin; he had spent most of the day attempting to wall off any thoughts of her or last night, but it was kind of difficult to think of anything else when all of his professors only droned on and on about quizzes and homework. 

When a boy with fair skin and burgundy hair came into frame, he nearly sighed in relief. The streamer appeared to be sitting in a small, dark office only illuminated by his computer screen and several pink neon signs that hung on the walls. Vernon could recognize the faint outlines of several guitars and a keyboard behind him. The boy clicked around for a while as more people joined the stream before finally waving into the camera. 

“Hi guys, welcome in! Thanks for joining Woozi’s Universe. If you’re new here, I’m Woozi and I like to write songs sometimes. If you’re an old subscriber, I’m really sorry for the long wait.  I’ve been working on a lot of projects, doing some collabs - I’ll actually be releasing one of those collabs tonight and I’m really excited for you guys to hear it. If you have any new songs you want to listen to together, go ahead and leave them in the chat!”

As soon as the stream started flowing, Vernon immediately knew why Soonyoung gave Woozi such rave reviews. The guy just had good vibes and he definitely knew his music. Vernon was hooked. Even Seungkwan, try as he might to look disinterested, couldn’t help bopping his head occasionally.

“Thanks for the subscription @chweinggum! You just helped me reach my tenth new sub for tonight, and you guys know what that means. Time for the new song! It was really fun to write this with my collaborator, so we really hope you like it!” 

After spending the past hour just vibing in Woozi’s Universe, discovering new songs and artists, Vernon had really hyped himself up to hear the streamer’s personal work. If Soonyoung’s words were true, this would be the song that would truly heal his heartache, the song that would push him to forget about the whole ordeal. He listened in anticipation as pleasant harmonies played through his laptop speakers. But as the song progressed, Vernon did not quite feel the reprieve he was hoping for. In fact, he was kind of taken aback. The lyrics… felt like they told his story. Maybe not word for word, but enough to make Vernon stare at the laptop screen with his mouth open. What kind of hocus pocus, That’s So Raven, mind reading shit was this? The song broke down the walls he had tried to build throughout the day and left him vulnerable to its strangely upbeat and energetic tune. 

He had to admit that he didn’t hate it. The cringe from his own actions did not disappear, but the song helped him focus more on the moments that made his heart flutter, the moments that incited those pesky butterflies in his stomach. They were the moments that made him so hard on himself in the first place and the reasons why it hurt so much that he messed up. She had made him feel seen. She had done everything right. And all he wanted to do was to show her that he saw her too. He just had to figure out how. 

Woozi clapped his hands loudly when the song came to an end, bringing Vernon out of his deep reverie. “And that was Pretty U by yours truly! I collaborated on it with an artist who doesn’t want to be named as of now, so I’ll just say it was great to work with such a talented person and I hope to work with them again soon! Anyway, we know the lyrics are pretty cheesy, but let’s just say it’s based on a juvenile romance! I tried capturing that giddy feeling of liking someone and wanting to tell them pretty words but losing confidence at the last second. I’m sure we’ve all been there before.”

Vernon sat up, nodding his head as if Woozi could see him. After his song scanned his soul like that, Vernon figured it wasn’t impossible.

“I know that some of my subscribers listen to me because they go through these kinds of hardships. But I wanted to say that my songs can’t fix everything. Even I go through it sometimes and I need someone to lean on. There’s actually a new thing I just found out about from a friend - ‘Dear Miss Soju’. It’s a column that they’re gonna start publishing on The Front’s website, and you can anonymously write in all your burning questions about love, relationships, or sex. So if you’re having a hard time confessing like in this song, just know that there’s someone out there to help you out!

“Since you’ll be anonymous, you can write about your heart’s deepest desires, even if it’s a little freaky. Yes, I’m talking to you, user @callmesoon, please stop trying to tell me about your sex life. Anyway, I’ll put the email in the description for anyone that’s interested!” Woozi paused to laugh at several of the comments. “No guys, The Front does not sponsor me. But I can tell you about a company that does sponsor me. Hello Fresh--”  

Seungkwan closed the laptop and sighed. “Well, that didn’t help me at all. Soonyoung hyung said this Woozi guy was gonna make me feel better, but now he’s just telling us to spilll all our secrets to some other stranger. What a scam! Right, Vernon? Vernon?”

By the time Seungkwan turned to look at his friend, Vernon was already writing his second draft for his email. The boy sighed again. Maybe he could give it a shot.

The next morning, Joohyun opened up her laptop to find thirteen emails in her inbox. She smiled. 

Now she could get to work.

[iraacundus]

Butterfly Lies - Three

chapter three ✭  masterlist ✭ previous ✭ next ✭

mafialeader kun x reader

words: 4.5k

genre: fluff, smut (in later chapters), angst

warnings: implied murder, probably swearing idk i forgot

money makes people do strange things, is what people would say, it can even motivate them to murder. kun didn’t have people killed for the money, he had them killed for the power, he was a monster among men, is what people would say. in reality kun had only ever been motivated by one thing, his love for you

✭  ✭  ✭  ✭  ✭  

You had never been a person to waste time. The next morning you had already formulated an idea that would kill two birds with one stone. You just needed Kun to agree. So, when you put your interview suit on, you swapped your normal skirt for a slightly shorter one and made sure you wore the bracelet Kun had given you.

You were not opposed to such low tactics. You were a woman with a plan.

You grabbed your CV off from your desk, along with a copy of your university work placement letter that you needed signed.

You had thought all night about how to become a strength to Kun rather than a weakness. It didn’t take you long that your intelligence and good decision-making skills had always been a strength of yours.

Kun was smart, but you were smarter, therefore you could help him.

Well at least you hoped you could as you struggled to find the heeled shoe that matched the one you were currently hopping around in.

You spotted it under the sofa, pumping your fist in the air triumphantly when you finally managed to get it out from underneath.

You were running about half an hour later than you had hoped but it only occurred to you when you were already on the bus that Kun might not even be at his office. He might have taken the day off due to injury or at least have come in late.

You began to wonder if his line of work even tended to start at nine in the morning, seeing as it wasn’t your typical nine to five.

But by that point you were already halfway there so you decided to just hope for the best. Practicing over and over again in your head what you would say. You somehow guessed it wasn’t going to be an easy sell.

You pressed the button for the bus to stop as you approached the street where Qian Industries was situated. It was filled with buildings for some of the biggest firms in the country and expensive restaurants.

You still weren’t fully processing how far Kun had managed to go up in the world.

This time when you walked into the building foyer it wasn’t empty. Security guards stood just inside the door and there were four receptionists at the desk, working away. The other day when Xiaojun had gotten you both in the elevator you vaguely remembered him using a staff card, something you weren’t in possession of.

Instead you had to overcome the first obstacle, getting the people who worked on reception to let you inside. You approached the desk, putting a smile on your face. The man on the phone didn’t look up, neither did the three women next to him, even after you had been standing there for about thirty seconds.

“Hello, hi, excuse me,” you said, trying to get one of them to notice you. Eventually the man stopped typing and looked up from his computer.

“Welcome to Qian Industries, do you have an appointment?” he asked in a monotone voice. You had absolutely no clue why Kun had hired such standoffish members of staff.

“I’m here to see Mr Qian,” you said, not mentioning that you technically didn’t have an appointment.

“He doesn’t have any meetings this morning, you need to call him and arrange a time, please come back then.” The receptionist gave you a false smile before going back to typing.

“My name is y/n, if you could just call him, he will agree to meet me, we are close friends,” you endeavoured to explain. The man didn’t reply, he just gave a small nod to the security guards who immediately came over and started to drag you out.

“I can walk myself out,” you said, pushing them off you and walking the rest of the way out the door. You stopped for a moment and sighed, not in defeat but out of annoyance. Pulling out your phone, you clicked on Kun’s name, ringing him.

“Hey y/n, what’s up?” he said, answering the phone.

“Can you tell your staff to let me into your building, they didn’t believe we were friends and so I have been dragged out,” you told him.

“Why are you at my building?” he asked but didn’t give you time to reply, “never mind, I will come down now and get you,” he said, hanging up the phone. You stood with your arms folded, giving the receptionist your best glare. The security team were just doing their jobs, but the man, he was just rude.

Kun was taking his time in coming down to meet you and you were starting to regret your decision to wear heels, even if it had been part of your master plan. But seeing as step one: get into his office had so far failed, your optimism was somewhat dwindling.

Seconds later the elevator doors opened and Kun walked out. You took the opportunity to walk back inside the building to greet him.

“How’s your arm?” you asked. Kun didn’t reply and the look he gave you made you think you probably shouldn’t have mentioned the arm in front of these people.

“This is y/n,” Kun said loudly, causing all the staff to actively look over, whereas before they had been pretending not to, “she is allowed into the building at any time, please refrain from escorting her out in the future.”

He turned on his heels back towards the elevator, so you followed him, waiting until the doors had shut to bring him his arm again.

“Are you okay though,” you checked,

“I’m as fine anyone who was recently stabbed in the arm,” Kun replied. He didn’t ask you what you were doing there until you got to his office and he had shut the door.

You placed your CV and the university form down on his desk, side by side.

“I have a proposal,” you said, smiling.

Kun raised one eyebrow slightly but didn’t interrupt.

“I am going to be your strength, by using my brilliant brain to help your company.”

Kun shook his head and sat down in his chair, almost laughing out of shock.

“You are not going to work for me. Not going to happen, no chance, never, no, not happening.”

“Just listen to me before you make up your mind,” you urged. This was the reaction you had expected from him. However, you knew you had a card up your sleeve that meant there was no way he would refuse in the end.

“I am intelligent right, more so than the average person, I’m not trying to be arrogant… but we have all seen my test scores,” you began, “I want to be able to help you and with my amazing strategy and logic skills I can. I also need a work placement for University and you technically own a large firm.”

“Still no,” Kun said, “can you not find work experience, literally anywhere else, that’s not, you know, an illegal organisation.”

“Not by next week. The work placement I have currently got is not one I really want,” you explained, pulling out a third piece of paper and unfolding it. Pointing to the part you wanted him to see, “because it would make Minjun my supervisor, he skipped uni, his dad has a lot of influence, so he is already quite high up in this firm. I refuse to work for Minjun.”

Two birds with one stone. Help Kun, avoid Minjun. Minjun whose dad was one of the richest Korean businessmen in China and the ex-boyfriend Kun hated.

Kun rubbed his temple in frustration before looking up at you. He held up your CV, glancing at it quickly, as if that was going to make any difference at all, before throwing his hands up in the air.

“Fine, you win. You can work here. Nothing is worse than you working with that asshole.” He languished in referring to Minjun in a derogatory fashion.

Two weeks later you once again entered Kun Industries but this time you held an employee pass that had intern printed in large lettering.

You had been told to go to the third floor to meet the strategy department. You had expected to go in and see Xiaojun or Ten. Instead you saw a room full of people you had never seen before.

You greeted the supervisor who explained to you briefly what your job would consist of. It became clear very quickly that these people weren’t really involved in what Kun was really doing. Their jobs were to create the façade.

Your first task had been to come up with a presentation that one of the senior managers could give at a conference of what “Qian Industries” were planning on doing in the future. He said you could go with whatever engineering project you wanted, as long as it could be faked easily.

You were less than impressed.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be doing something dangerous or violent. You defiantly didn’t want that. You did however want to do something that would really benefit Kun.

You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he really did need help creating the façade, convincing everyone in the business circle that Qian Industries was a legitimate firm.

So, you worked hard. You came in everyday you were meant to be there from eight in the morning until nine at night. You came up with the best proposal and presentation you possible could.

Your work was impeccable, if you did say so yourself. Your manager said the same, he said he had never seen anything so impressive and that the boss would be pleased.

“Can I give him the proposal myself? He’s a friend of mine, I’m sure he would like to see me,” you asked the manager. On hearing Kun was a friend of yours he immediately said yes. He had always been nice to you, but he managed to become even nicer after that.

You smiled. Gathering up your files and walking out into the corridor and down to the lift. You pressed the button for the fourteenth floor with confidence. You had diligently done the work and now you were going to get what you wanted.

You knocked on Kun’s door,

“Come in!” he called out as you pushed the door open. A man exited the room as fast as possible as you entered, a fearful expression on his face.

“Tough day?” you joked, trying to ease the slight tension in the air. Kun didn’t bite.

“Not that I don’t love to see you, but why are you here may I ask?”

“To deliver your presentation,” you said, “read it over before you say anything.”

And he did, he spent five minutes carefully glancing over the key points of your work before smiling up at you.

“This is really good,” he said, “I think we should hire you full time,”

“Or you could let me do an actually useful job,” you countered.

“Those presentations are useful, without them people would instantly be suspicious of me and the company,” Kun said, trying to justify his placement of you.

“While that may be true, the presentations don’t need to be as good as the one sitting in front of you, the employee’s you have are competent enough. I want to do a job that really helps you, to make what you do less dangerous or more efficient, I want to be a strength, someone you can rely on.”

Kun closed your report, linking his hand with yours across the desk.

“I understand that, I really do, but I don’t want you to be sucked into the danger of what I do, because even with your brain, if you made it less dangerous it would still be life or death in some situations. You shouldn’t have to live like that just because you met me by chance.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You really think chance encounter friends is all we are. Yes, we met by chance, but we have been friending all this time by choice.”

“You didn’t know what I really did then,” he argued.

“I sort of did to an extent. And now I do, and this is the choice I’m making now, if you ever want there to be a chance of us ever being together you have to let me into your life. Not just a pretend part of your life where we eat ice cream, but the real part as well, where you make hard choices and do some questionable things. You don’t have to tell me all of it, I stand by that, I still don’t want to know all the grisly details, but I do need to know some of it and I want to be able to help you with that some of it. Help you make a better organisation. Make it so you don’t end up needing to save someone like Yangyang because something went wrong.”

Kun spun his pen, processing your words. He didn’t want to agree with you, but he also knew you well enough to know you weren’t going to give in.

He also knew deep down that you he couldn’t ever be your boyfriend if he had to hide ninety percent of his life from you. He needed to reduce that to about sixty percent at least.

“Okay. You’re right, I suppose I shouldn’t waste your intelligence when you could be a real asset.”

You clapped your hands together in excitement.

“I knew you would come around,” you beamed at him, mostly happy you had won the conversation.

Kun wasn’t smiling though.

“We are planning to expand to Korea, deal with some problems arising from there. I have a friend with a similar organisation there named Johnny. He’s a long-time friend of Ten’s. You can work with Ten to help plan the expansion. It’s not a super dangerous job innately but it will be super dangerous if it gets fucked up. So, use your 150 IQ to make sure that doesn’t happen,” he said, his voice monotone.

You squeezed his hand.

“Thank you,” you told him, “I’m not doing this to annoy you or upset you Kun, I hope you know that. I genuinely want to help you. That’s what best friends are for right?”

“I suppose so,” Kun answered giving you a small smile back.                          

Your first order of business however, turned out to be a black-tie event with Kun. Not the planning of Qian Industries expansion.

“I’ll get someone to drop off a dress at your apartment, it will be one of my top guys, I’m not just handing out your address, don’t worry,” he assured you.

About an hour later there was a knock at your door and Yangyang stood there holding a box.

“Not to be mean but how are you one of his top guys?” you asked, unable to take your eyes off of the horrible bruise all over his once broken nose.

“They call me young, dumb and enthusiastic,” replied, handing you the box, “well they don’t but I guess that is why, I am an enthusiastic team player. I’m also very good at grand theft auto – in real life, not the video game.”

“Fair enough, thanks for dropping this off,” you said, shutting your door. You walked into your room before opening the box. Inside was a note which told you to be ready by seven. You placed it aside and lifted the dress from the box.

It was one of the most beautiful black dresses you had ever seen. It must have cost Kun an inordinate amount of money. You had offered to wear one of your own dresses but Kun insisted he would buy you one.

You knew he had bought it so you wouldn’t stand out at a party of rich people, but he would never say that. It was one of the reasons you had a slight crush on him too.

You got ready, trying your best not to stab yourself in the eye with the mascara wand, something you usually had trouble with. You didn’t have a lot of time which made it particularly difficult.

You were still waiting for your nails to dry when you heard a knock at the door for the second time that day, cursing that you hadn’t sorted out the mess that was your nails before that point.

You blew on them as you grabbed your bag from the side, throwing your phone and keys in, hoping that somehow your nails would miraculously dry on the walk to the door.

You opened it to see Kun standing there in black tie attire, bowtie slightly lopsided but a mesmerising sight.

“Let me fix that,” you offered, stepping forward to readjust the bow tie. You could faintly feel his breath against your cheek as you sorted it out, “all better,” you smiled, stepping back.

“You look stunning y/n,” he said, his face beaming.

You had never seen Kun dressed this smart, he always wore a suit when you went to a fancy restaurant, but he never wore a tie or anything like that, so the tuxedo was something else.

“And you look indeed very handsome,” you said in a fake posh voice to indicate some sort of joke. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good looking, you just seemed to have an emotional issue, “shall we go and party with the rich?”

“We shall,” Kun said, shaking his head laughing, but yet still copying your accent, going along with it.

The drive wasn’t a long one, nothing was that far from your apartment in the centre of the city. You had no clue how you had found it for such a cheap price.

The event was being held at a large hall, there was a red carpet outside and tabloid photographers waiting, camera’s poised, hoping to get the best shot of a famous couple or a wealthy heiress.

The driver opened the door and Kun helped you out of the car, offering you his arm. He led you up the carpet as you did your best not to look awkward when there was so many camera’s in your face.

“What is this event for?” you whispered to him. Kun shrugged.

“I don’t know, some sort of education charity or something, Ten wanted to donate money, so we did, clearly a sizeable enough donation that they invited us here,” he explained.

“I think you’re more attractive now I know your such a philanthropist.”

“My only act of philanthropy was not killing Minjun, the rest is just being rich, it’s not hard to donate money when you have a lot of it.”

He wasn’t wrong there.

The people at the door didn’t even ask for your name, clearly, they were aware of who Kun was and so you just walked straight in.

As expected, it was all très extravagant, champagne towers, seafood platters, men in expensive suits, women in even more expensive dresses. A single bottle of the champagne they were serving could probably have paid your rent for three months.

“I don’t think I’m quite fancy enough for this event,” you said to Kun, staring at the other people around you, “I’m not rich, I’m a broke college student.”

“Yes, but I am rich, these days anyway, and you’re wearing a twelve-thousand-dollar dress.” He smiled at you softly, “care to dance,” he said, grabbing your waist with one and your hand with the other.

“Did you leave the tag on!? Can we take it back to the shop? That’s stupid money on a dress Kun,” you whispered forcefully in his ear. Kun just chuckled.

“That’s what it takes to fit in at an event like this, especially when you are as terrible at waltzing as you are.”

“Why would I know how to waltz, that wasn’t on my PE course thank you very much.”

You waltzed terribly with Kun for a while longer before gave you a reprise. Unfortunately, the next activity was much worse. Kun dragged you around to introduce you to many rich people and engage in the most harrowing of small talk about yachts and stories from swiss boarding schools.

At some point you just started making things up.

“Yes, my friend Marcos had a yacht that we stayed on in Italy for a week, we just got so bored of ski class you know,” some people around you nodded sympathetically and you had to pinch yourself to avoid laughter.

“I might actual die, how often do you do this?” you said to Kun when you finally sat down at a table away from other people.

“Twice a month or so, but only in the last two years have I had the money to do this, I got rich in a short period of time. Also, you seemed to fit right in anyway, what’s the issue, how is Marcos doing these days?”

You poured a shot of vodka in your champagne and downed the whole thing in one, hoping that somehow it was be better, if you were drunk.

A few drinks later and you were very tipsy and very warm.

“I am so hot, is it me or is it warm?” you asked.

“I’ll call the car,” Kun said, picking up his phone. Before he could dial you put your arm out and stopped him.

“Do you wanna maybe walk around for a bit,” you asked, and he nodded. You grabbed his hand and made your way for the exit. Thankfully the paparazzi were on a break. They would come back at around midnight to take picks of the less sober exits from the whole affair.

The hall wasn’t that far from the river, which was always beautiful when the city lights reflected in the water at night. You and Kun stopped by the railing, staring out across the water.

After a while you realised Kun wasn’t looking out over the water anymore, he was looking at you. You started to notice the lights reflecting into the depths of his eyes more than the river in front of you.

“I’m happy I could finally take someone to one of those events, they are so much worse when you are alone,” Kun said.

“Why did you never take someone else, surely I can’t be the only girl you know, there must be a rich girl out there, or a scary but cool girl in a leather jacket who works for you?” your eyes searched his for an answer.

Kun brought his hand to your face, slowly brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“You know you’re the only girl I care about, the only one I have ever been interested in.”

Your heart was on fire, it hurt so much to hear him say that when you knew that you had never said anything of the same kind back. That it wasn’t something you felt ready to say, even if you felt it too.

Instead, in your tipsy, adrenaline high state all you could do was close your eyes and step forward. Your hands tangling in Kun’s hair as you brought your lips to his. Kun didn’t react for a second, clearly surprised.

When his brain finally seemed to connect with his body, Kun’s arm snaked around your back and pulled you closer to him, somehow taking control of the kiss with ease.

Your brain was screaming at you to stop, that it wasn’t a good idea, but you couldn’t you were too intoxicated by his lips. You were surprised, Kun was usually so sweet, you hadn’t expected him to have a dominant side. On reflection you weren’t sure how you never guessed that of your gang leader… friend.

Before anything could go any further Kun’s phone began to ring. You pushed him away softly.

“You should take that,” you said, before covering your lips with your hand, contemplating how to beat yourself up.

Kun glanced down at his phone,

“It’s just Ten I can call him back later; I think it’s probably more important that we talk about…”

‘It’s late he probably wouldn’t call you unless it was important,” you said, the phone still ringing.

Kun turned around, picking up the phone,

“I’m kinda busy, is it important?” he asked, not wasting time to say hello. He listened silently for a moment before raising his hand to his forehead, “Fuck. Well you have to kill him then, the rule on that was always clear. If we don’t kill him then you know what will happen.”

You were in your own state of shock. You were witnessing Kun, smiley Kun, order someone’s execution, and you wanted to be sick. You started to feel dizzy and so sat yourself down on the cold asphalt.

Kun ended the call moments later. He turned back around and saw you staring blankly into space and remembered that you had just been there to hear everything you said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, apologising for the hundredth time that month. His voice snapped you somewhat back into reality, “I hate being the bad guy, you shouldn’t have kissed me, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have let you.”

You just patted the ground beside you, just wanting him to sit with you, even if it was ridiculous for you both to sit on the ground outside in the middle of the night. Kun obliged and tucked his phone back into his pocket before sitting down next to you.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you agreed and Kun’s face fell, even though he had said it himself, “not because of that phone call, I’m not stupid I have an idea of what you do, even though I don’t like it and even if it shocked me to actually hear it. I shouldn’t have kissed you because I’m still not clear about my feelings regardless. It wasn’t fair on you.”

“You shouldn’t be sympathetic towards me; you should run and never look back.”

“You’re being melodramatic Kun. Would you really be happy if I transferred university to a different city and never came back?”

“I would miss you, but I think you would be happier… It’s hard for me to watch you struggle internally with the idea of me and what I do.”

“You ignored me for a month, and I missed you enough to break every rule I had about not interfering with your life Kun, there is zero chance moving away from you would make me happy. But I promise, if I ever feel like that isn’t true, I will leave and never come back. Clean break.”

Kun took off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders.

“Then I only have one question,” he said, you nodded form him to continue, “was kissing me so bad you had to reassess your feelings. You laughed out loud.

“Your kissing skills are not under question here. I just need to do a bit more… internal struggling as you called it. That’s my fault not yours though. You are pretty great Qian Kun.”