#sometimes wish i had skills that could be more uh profitable i guess >.>

[kakashihasibs]

x_x

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

previous | masterlist | next

[joheun-saram]

To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 02

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

previous  | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, slow burn, fluff eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut 

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger's house. 

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Everytime he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash. 

As he brushed his teeth today, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year. 

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he doesn’t need the tutoring anymore, he does enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would be an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but everytime he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he can’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head. 

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous.

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez. Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while staring at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh... this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter. 

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

  ____________________________

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it.” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first...” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon... slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session. 

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that. 

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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

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[valentino-red]

sinnerman

Chapter 2

take me to the hamptons, bugatti veyron

Ralph looked over at the backseat, where Nicky was looking at Soledad like she was a mountain he needed to move. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and the kid seemed to know that she was in a pickle. It wouldn’t do to have a government agent so close to Nicky; Ralph knew this, which is why he had brought out the gun he hid in the Royce.

Little Miss Diaz-- Captain Diaz, who would have thought-- sighed; and suddenly, Ralph could see it. There were the tear-troughs, the eye bags, the stress lines; Soledad suddenly looked older than him.

“I have to admit,” she began, “that I have worked as an… intelligence officer after I was promoted to captain.”

“You mean a spy.”

Nicky’s voice cut through the tension and he was suddenly the head of the Valentino Family, not the love stricken puppy of ten minutes ago. This was the Nicky that Ralph dealt with everyday, and it was the Nicky that he saw the most of right until last night. But now that Ralph knew how his boss could be (a little bit soft, yeah, but so much happier) he sort of wished that he never saw Nicky Valentino, mafia boss extraordinaire, ever again.

“Not exactly,” Soledad said, “but that’s close enough. I would go to the indigenous tribes and make deals with them on behalf of the government, try to make sure that they wouldn’t side with the communists in the region, or ask if they knew the whereabouts of the New People’s Army. So it wasn’t really spying, it was… negotiating. Investigation, if you will. Intelligence gathering.”

The kid was eerily calm, with no trace of emotion on her face or voice. Ralph supposed that maybe this was the Soledad that existed before Nicky.

 Her gaze flickered to the gun as Ralph’s side. Her eyes didn’t widen, and she didn’t panic. No; she seemed to relax at the sight of it.

“Threats and guns,” she sighed. “Brings me back to my glory days.”

Nicky shared a look with Ralph that said ‘she’s crazier than I thought.’

“Marone,” he muttered. “Look, Sol. I don’t wanna hurt ya, ‘cos I know that I’d regret it. So give your story to me straight.”

“Fair enough,” she said, settling into the plush leather seats. Sol was the most relaxed of the trio even with her hands cuffed behind her back. Ralph had to respect how composed she was, seeing to the fact that she was unarmed with two men that she barely knew, and was in possession of firearms. 

“I guess I should start from the top. My grandfather was a general, so when I was a child I wanted to be just like him. This, of course, led me to the army; except I was twenty-one with an inferiority complex, so I decided to join the Marines.” 

Nicky watched her smile, as though she was recalling fond memories. 

“We were the elite; the best, the brightest, the few. I saw the frontline three times in my career, where the army had skirmishes with rebel groups. These are the NPA, the New People’s Army-- communists that tell poor farmers and idealistic college kids that the system is corrupt and the only way out is a makeover. All good and well, except their leader isn’t even living in the Philippines, and their higher-ups are just as corrupt as government officials. So they’re a bunch of rapists and thugs that profit from their hypocrisy.”

Ralph glanced at Nicky, who had his complete focus on Soledad. The Rolls Royce had been at a standstill for five minutes now.

“Then,” Sol said, “the rebels attacked a city in the south of the country, Marawi. I served there, got promoted to captain. My grandfather died shortly after, and that’s when I was offered a slot in the intelligence division. I agreed, got new assignments. Usually, the army uses ‘retired’ officers to gather data and intelligence. Like James Bond-- he was a commander.”

“James who?”

“Oh,” Soledad said. “He’s, uh, a fictional character. Hasn’t been created yet.”

Nicky gave a slow nod; it was surprisingly easy to believe everything that Sol told him, so easy that it felt almost like cheating. But everything she told him was too bizarre to be anything but true.

And he knew what she looked like when she told the truth; people lie in many ways, but tell the truth in one. Nicky noticed that she spoke slowly when she was talking about herself, as if she wanted to be clear and concise-- as if she didn’t want to be misunderstood.

‘I’ve got a wide skill set.’

Well, Nicky thought to himself. I guess I know what her skill set is now.

And to wrap his head around the fact that she had seen war-- it felt like having a secret that they both shared, a sudden kinship. Because Nicky himself had been at war, and had led it, had scars from it.

He didn’t know if this was what drew him to her-- but then, there were many things about Soledad that he adored. Nicky loved the way she made him laugh; he loved how her hair curled under her chin; he loved how she said the plain truth, how she didn’t mince her words. Nicky didn’t know everything about her, but he could spend his lifetime doing that.

So did he mind that she didn’t tell him about her past? No, not at all. There were things that he did that he didn’t tell her yet, and somehow, Nicky knew that Sol would understand his silence on a few spots in his life.

“Hey, toots,” Nicky said. “Ya need a pin? ‘Cause those handcuffs don’t look like they’re gonna unlock themselves.”

“Oh,” she looked surprised. “I forgot about that.”

Nicky snorted, “how could you forget being handcuffed?”

“I don’t know, maybe I was worried about the fact that a certain someone was maybe mad at me?”

Nicky got a pin that he had in his jacket, and Sol turned her back to him. He was touched at how ready she was to trust him with unlocking her handcuffs, even after his open hostility.

“I already told ya, sweet thing.” There was a metallic pop, and the handcuffs were out. “There’s no need to worry. I got you.”

She turned to face him, and the afternoon sunlight that came in through the car’s window somehow made her look more golden, made her brown skin look deeper. For the first time since he met her, Sol looked like she didn’t know what to say. Nicky placed his hand on top of her’s, both sticky from sweat; suddenly, he couldn’t see anything but her dark eyes and the curl of her hair. All at once, he realised that she had been what he was waiting for, body and soul.

“Looks like we need ‘ta get outta here,” he said, voice lower than he intended. “What do you say, toots? Wanna go to my place at the Hamptons?”

***

If Sol was going to ask if she could drive the car one more time, Ralph would explode. He had a little vein in his forehead that didn’t exist until last night. It was crazy, how bullheaded someone could be; crazier still that Nicky was looking at her like she hung the stars and the moon.

It was dark already outside, and the air was getting colder, whipping at cheeks and turning exhales into wisps of smoke. Outside the world of the Rolls Royce trees were shedding their leaves into dark green heaps that could barely be seen in the lack of light. Inside the Rolls Royce, at the backseat, Nicky had his arm over Sol, and she was resting her head on his chest.

Ralph rolled up to the driveway, noticing, somewhat smugly, that Sol barely batted an eyelash at Nicky’s mansion. He had been waiting for some girl that wasn’t impressed with Nicky’s spending habits.

Said man nudged Sol at the ribs, smiling. “Do I know how to spend money, or what?”

Said girl chuckled. “I’d go for the ‘or what’, but I don’t wanna hurt your feelings.”

Nicky put a hand on his chest, acting as if someone stabbed him. “Too late,” he rasped, collapsing into her. “I may never recover.”

Sol pecked his cheek. “There,” she smiled widely. “A kiss to make it better.”

Ralph gagged, parking at the entrance as quickly as possible.

“Get out,” he said. “I got a date with a pair of dancers tonight, and I don’t wanna have to explain why I got a toothache.”

Nicky raised an eyebrow, but Soledad slid out of the car laughing. Ralph wanted to snort-- at least someone knew how to take a joke. Nicky could be a bit sore sometimes.

“Have fun, Ralph,” Sol said. “Don’t stay out too late, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s not much,” Ralph rolled his eyes, walking to his car and leaving the two love birds behind. Nicky gave a small wave, his eyes warm and smiling. Sometimes the man showed his affection in small ways.

Sol paused to look at the house, with its cream colored bricks and French design. Somehow, it reminded her of her family, and a way of life that was lost to her. Homesickness settled at the bottom of her gut; that’s how she knew it was shit.

“Honey,” she said, “it ain’t that bad, but I gotta tell you. It's pretty obvious that a young man with new money owns this place. But not to worry, when the ivy grows it will look distinguished. Ivy gives everything an air of gravitas.”

Nicky peered down at her. “And how exactly are you an expert on gravitas, toots?”

“Well, I’m with you aren’t I?” Sol said it like it wasn’t flirting, but a fact. “Besides, my family is so old money that we have no money. I saw it, but it never reached me.”

“Well, honey,” he grinned, “you can reach for all the money you want. My treat.”

She punched his arm playfully, and Nicky winced at the force of it. Sol was an army captain alright.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got a swell place that’s perfect for stargazing. You can see entire galaxies up there. Wanna check it out?”

Sol shook her head, and Nicky tried his best to not feel disappointed.

“It’s a cold night,” she replied, “and I am physically, psychologically, socially, culturally, genetically and spiritually unable to stand the cold. I’m from the Philippines, and that’s at the middle of the equator.”

Nicky chuckled. “Well, I have some mink that I could lend you for New York in the winter.”

Soledad groaned. “Just throw me to the sun, please. I hate winter.”

Nicky didn’t mean to grin at her despair, but he couldn’t help it. “Too bad, toots, ‘cause I love snow.”

“Hay, susmariosep,” she muttered to herself. Nicky blinked at her, and she sighed, stepping into the house-- she was cold already, standing in the evening air.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she clarified. “But we Filipinos take revenge on our colonizers by bastardising their language, hence: susmariosep.”

Nicky led her into the mansion, and Sol was struck with how immaculate everything was. The marbled floors were shinier than a brand new Ferrari, the decor was a tasteful creme color, and the chandeliers gave a welcoming golden light to everyone under it, with Nicky’s brown eyes looking like a setting sun over still waters.

“Care for a quick drink?”

Soledad nodded, and her favorite mob boss led her to a study furnished with heavy mahogany shelves and plush velvet seats. She carefully mapped the layout of the house in her head, a habit of her’s that was born from paranoia and grew into a faint buzz at the back of her mind, like how some people ran their hands through shelves in the grocery. 

Nicky mixed her an Old Fashioned as she sunk into an armchair, tucking her legs under her. It was difficult for her to be on her guard with Nicky for too long; there was something about him that made her feel at ease, like how one feels after a good massage.

Soledad nursed her drink in its perfect crystal tumbler as Nicky told her of his place, his position, before she stumbled into the Twenties. His eyes were a hard amber as he talked about being the head of one of New York’s Five Families, of being on the cover of every paper in town, of being young and dangerous and flaunting cash. Soledad could see it happening; she could see how the very same man that made her drink and called her cute pet names was also the kind of man that dipped more than his toe in bootlegging and crime. Maybe it was in how he carried himself, or the way he talked-- whatever it was, Sol knew power when she saw it, and Nicky Valentino oozed it.

“Look, Sol.” His brows were set and stern. “I got a lot of regrets about the things I done. There’s a lot of wrongs I can never right, and that’s why I got out. The big house never scared me more than the big sleep.”

His face softened a bit, as if he was sharing a fond memory. “But becoming a man; seeing the consequences of my actions…”

Nicky Valentino’s wandering eyes settled on Sol’s, and she could see forests of unexplored secrets in their depths.

“That’s why I left. Easier said than done, though.”

Sol watched his face get flustered, ears heating up, as she took a final sip of her drink, tilting it back.

“Trouble just seems to find you, huh?”

“I have myself to thank for that. But worst comes to worst, I still got my secret headquarters.”

Sol smiled, cradling the crystal glass in her hands. “You’ll have to show me, someday. Just in case.”

Nicky returned her smile. “Of course,” he said, almost whispering. “I got one last place to show you, if you’d let me.”

Their footsteps were quick in the quiet night, as if they were teenagers slipping from shadow to shadow, scared of being found out. Nicky held her hand like it was glass, idly taking note of how light it was, and where her hands were calloused and where it was smooth.

The night breeze was fierce, blowing white curtains into the house like spectres, half-alive and half in love, reaching for something. Soledad walked beside him, and under the moon she looked like she was dreaming, in another place that didn’t exist. He brought her to a swimming pool, smiling under the stars. 

“I’m going to dip my feet in for a hot second,” he said. Soledad followed him, and they sat at the edge of the pool’s deep end together.

“Trust me, Nicky,” she muttered. “Every second with you is a hot second.”

“Yeah,” he blushed. “But you’re cold aren’t ya? Here, take my coat.”

He took his black coat off, wrapping it around her; Sol was grateful for the sudden warmth that it gave her. She breathed in deeply; it smelled like smoke and cognac.

They spent a few minutes in silence. Sol knew that there wasn’t a need to say anything. It had been a long day, and she was grateful for quiet moments like these. The oceans in her stomach settled when Nicky held her this way, when they both looked at the deep blue pool together.

“My ma used to tell me, ‘Your soulmate is somewhere out there looking at that same moon.”

Sol smiled. “Oh? And did you listen to her?”

“I was more concerned about finding out how I could sneak into the Polo Grounds and catch a ball game.” 

They shared a smile. 

“But now,” Sol said, “you’re a romantic.”

“Yeah, now I am.” They were both quiet for a heartbeat. “What about you? Is you a romantic?”

Sol looked away from Nicky and the moon, her smile getting sadder. “I never let myself think about romance,” she said. “Like I said, you don’t get to be twenty-nine years old with no boyfriend, ever, without a bit of paranoia.”

“How about me?” Nicky’s gaze was heated, focused on her. 

“What about you?”

“What happened? You met me and figured out the power of true love?”

Soledad snorted, rolling her eyes. “Not everyone goes out and buys jewelry for their future lovers, Don Juan.”

“When it comes to love, everyone’s got a chip and a chair,” he chuckled. “So long as you got a single chip and a seat at the table, you still got a shot.”

“You really are a romantic,” Sol huffed, grinning.

Nicky wrapped his arm around her; there was something behind her eyes that was still closed off to him, but he could see that she was keeping something close to her chest. He had seen that look before in the mirror, and he knew that whatever she was keeping close to her, she didn’t want to let go of yet. Nicky didn’t want to take it from her hands.

“It’s been a long day,” he said, not noticing how his voice dropped to a lower octave. “We should both hit the sack.”

Sol nodded, and the new goosebumps on her arm were not from the cold. “Where’s my room?”

“Take a hard left down the hall,” he replied. “You can’t miss it.”

***

Soledad had changed into an oversized polo shirt and baggy shorts that she had found in the dresser, and had already settled on a makeshift bed on the floor. There was something about fluffy mattresses that made her feel like she was drowning, so she took the heavy comforter from the bed and a pillow, fashioning a spot that vaguely resembled a sleeping bag.

There was a gentle knock on her door, and Nicky’s face peeped in. Surprise colored his face, and Sol smiled back sheepishly. She didn’t know why she felt embarrassed at being seen trying to sleep on the floor-- she did it many times back home, never caring about other people’s perception of her. But the way that Nicky looked a little bit concerned had her face flushing. 

It’s because it’s his house, she thought to herself. 

“Force of habit,” she explained, sitting up from the floor. “I, uh, don’t really like soft beds.”

Nicky nodded, pretending as though he understood. “Army training, huh?”

“Army training.”

He hummed lightly, rolling on his heels. “Would you like a quick nightcap?”

Nicky showed her the two mugs he was holding.

“What’s that? Coffee?”

“Coffee? At this hour? Do I look like a barbarian to you?”

“Sorry if I have a caffeine addiction,” Sol muttered. “It takes three cups to wake me up. Besides, coffee can be had any time.”

“Not if you’re Italian.” Nicky looked mildly embarrassed. “No coffee after breakfast. That’s how it’s done in the old country. So what will you have? Tea or hot chocolate?”

“The hot chocolate, please. I may be a coffee addict, but my true love is hot chocolate. I should really make you a cup some time. My recipe predates the Americans.”

Nicky smiled at her rambling as he walked over to her and gave her the cup. “Something sweet for my something sweet,” he said.

Soledad took a sip. “It’s good, but trust me when I say that mine is better.”

“Oh? And what’s it like?”

“Thicker.” Soledad blushed, hoping that he didn’t notice the double entendre. “Less sweet, more bitter. But the cacao from Davao? The best, the absolute best, I tell you.”

“My ma used to make hot coco, too.” Nicky sat on top of the bed, which was stripped of its blankets. “And I remember that she did make it thick. But my pa didn’t like it, because apparently anything that brings any kind of joy didn’t make you a man in his eyes. The irony, coming from a man whose soul was crushed by the factory.”

Nicky’s eyes were still tender, and Sol was jealous that he was able to talk about his father that easily. 

“Well,” Nicky said, standing up. “We best get to bed already. It’s going to be busy tomorrow.”

Sol remembered some things that Ralph had mentioned on the trip to the Hamptons. “Long day at your lawyers’ office?”

Nicky shrugged. “Can’t always be getaway cars and police men on your tail.”

They shared a look with each other before Nicky headed to the door. He opened it, and Sol memorised the way he looked like, before pausing. Nicky held her gaze one more time.

“I’ve chased it before; that danger. You can get hurt. Go after it long enough and you will get hurt.”

“I know,” Soledad said. She said it so quietly, she wasn’t sure if Nicky heard her.

“I just wanna be honest with you, as someone who’s been there, done that. I just don’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

Soledad sighed, sitting up straighter. She wondered what he thought of her, sitting on the floor wearing what might be his shirt.

“I’m here for you,” she told him, and it was as simple as that. “I’m not here looking for a thrill, or for money. I’ve had enough of that in my old life, and I’m used to it and the demons that come along with it. So I’m here for you, Nicky, and I’m ready to stay with you.”

“You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

They smiled at each other, and Sol forgot how to breathe.

“Takes one to know one.”

Nicky turned off the light, closing the door behind him as gently as he could.

***

That night, Soledad dreamt of the midday sun on the top of her head. There were gunshots, but she couldn’t hear them. She only knew how they felt, because with every beat of her heart a new one was fired. There was a familiar weight in her hand, and her trigger finger squeezed. Bullets flew and people died like leaves falling from acacia trees.

***

She woke up to orange stains in the sky. The sun greeted her, as though they were lifelong friends. Her hands folded blankets and fluffed pillows with no thinking on her part. This was routine, and Soledad knew the rhythm of it. The only thing that was missing, she thought to herself, were small lizards and the occasional cockroach. Sol smiled; she didn’t miss those things.

She changed back into her yellow dress, for propriety’s sake, before setting off to the direction that she deduced the kitchen was. As luck would have had it, she was right, and before she set foot in the place she could already smell breakfast.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “Can I help you in any way?”

A stout woman with wild curly hair came up to her, wiping uncooked batter on her white apron. “And who might you be, missy?”

“Soledad Diaz, ma’am.”

The older woman shook her head, muttering something about a new hire, before ordering her to chop onions. Soledad smiled, not wanting to correct the chef, and got to work.

There was something about holding a knife that she enjoyed, and she did her part in making breakfast. There were four of them working; the stout woman, a younger black man, an old hispanic lady that spoke in broken English, and Soledad. She had traded a few words with the woman (“de donde eres?” Sol asked. “Cuba,” the old lady replied, smiling through the steam that rose from a nearby pot. “Cuba.”).

Bridget, Joshua, and Mamita. Soledad enjoyed working alongside them, but soon excused herself, saying that she needed to go to the bathroom. Bridget had let her go with a wave of her hand, not taking her eyes off the sausages that she was frying.

Sol went back to her room, humming a song from her youth. She idly wondered if Mamita knew any Spanish songs that she knew, and suddenly Sol missed the guitar that she left back home in the Philippines.

Her thoughts came to a stop as she spotted a familiar face holding a basket full of petals, back facing her.

“Nicky?”

He turned to look at her, blushing harder than he ever had since she met him. It was adorable, and she laughed, only a little bit sorry that it was at his expense. He scratched the back of his head, and Sol idly looked him up and down. He was only wearing dark blue slacks and a white button down, but he looked good. Better, even.

“I didn’t know you were already up, toots. Army training?”

Soledad nodded. “Army training. Anyway, what are you doing? That’s going to be a pain to clean up.”

Nicky crossed his arms, and she could see his muscles underneath. “I wanted to surprise you when you woke up, but I guess you’re the one that surprised me. Breakfast’ll be in an hour yet, so maybe we can move to the veranda? It’s got a view of the pool.”

“Trust me,” she smiled. “I know that breakfast is coming in an hour.”

...

A/N: no beta we die like men. literally just finished this five minutes ago. i have no idea where this story is going, so i’m just sprinkling seeds for future angst that may or may not sprout. uh, in this chapter i tried to go for a more prose-y style, and i wanted to sort of start a bit the nationalistic streaks of sol here, since i figured that she’d have to be somewhat in love with her country, since she was a soldier.

i’m a little concerned that the romance part between sol and nicky is fast, but since it’s fast in canon, i suppose it’s alright for now. especially since they both have skeletons in their closet, that again, may or may not pop up later.

if yall have any suggestions, or anything that u wanna see, please tell me!!! do yall want scenes that are mainly canon compliant, or divergent? should i include more of the canon dialogue? i love feedback, mainly because i don’t have a lot of people to brainstorm with, so pls dont hesitate to drop me a dm!!!

Prologue | Chapter One