#walking through the process of him typing and sending the email

[effluentstream]

first chapter is posted!

so my melanie & miles investigative team au fic is officially in progress.

[ID: A screenshot of text from a word document that reads as follows:

“Miles calls Melanie as soon he finishes reading the tip email about Mount Massive, not realizing he’s failed to consider the time difference between Colorado and London until Georgie picks up the phone and says, ‘Upshur, it is 3 in the morning here. Melanie’s asleep.’ Her voice sounds soft, thick with sleep, and - remarkably - only slightly annoyed.

‘Investigative journalism never sleeps, Barker,’ he quips. Georgie responds with an airy, exasperated sigh.”]

[tiki-was-here]

The Deep x Marine Biologist Reader P1

Word Count: 1.1k

This takes place post gill breakdown . Basically hes so desperate for any sort of positive attention hed probably suck ur toes if you asked nicely. Also there’s like zero gifs of the deep cmon guys do better.

Also also CW for the deep being a teeny bit sexist at the start

The Deep sat hunched over on a plush armchair in his shitty apartment, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He was supposed to be on standby for a mission involving some flooding in a coastal city, but as usual, the others had it covered–despite the fact that he told Ashley that all water related missions were supposed to be his only. He sighed, tapping through social media, pausing his doom scrolling to occasionally say some not so PG words under the posts of a poor family taking a beach day out. If she wanted to post her ugly ass kids then she could have at least shaved before she went out.Then, a notification caught his eye.

Specifically a DM. He didn't get much of those in general but after the situation with Starlight died had died down his number of daily messages got cut down to almost nothing.

He squinted at the username “marinebio_enthusiast”. He was ignore it when he noticed something unusual—it wasn’t hate mail. Curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the message.

“Hi! My name is [Y/N], and I’m a marine biology student at Sandalwood University. I’ve been really passionate about ocean conservation lately, and I thought it would be amazing to get your perspective on a few issues. Also, I know this might sound a little weird, but I’m a big fan of yours! I think it’s great that you care so much about the ocean and its wildlife. If you’re interested, I’d love to buy you a coffee and chat about it! I also sent an email just in case this doesn’t reach you. I really appreciate your time! :)”

The Deep reread the message twice, his eyebrows lifting. A fan? Someone who actually wanted to talk to him?(bros too lonely to care about stranger danger)

A warmth spread through his chest. It wasn’t just the praise that made him feel good—it was the way you’d worded it, like he was someone important. Like his opinion mattered. He glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell him it was a joke.

He typed back before he could second-guess himself.

“Hey [Y/N], thanks for reaching out!!!!! I’d love to help out and chat about marine life🪼🐠🦈. Coffee sounds great 👍👍👍. How about tomorrow at noon?”

He hesitated, then hit send. Instantly, his phone buzzed with your response.

“Wow i really didn't expect a response so soon. Thank you soooo much for this opportunity!

Noon is good for me i’ll meet you at [insert some random coffee shop name idgaf]. I'll see you then!”

The Deep couldn’t help but grin, the night spent planning possible outfits and stalking your profile.

The Deep watched the door intently, his foot tapping nervously. He would never admit it, but he’d actually gotten there twenty minutes early. He’d opted for something casual—jeans, a button-up, and a beanie to hide his identity a bit. When you finally walked in, he couldn’t help but straighten up, almost knocking his coffee off the table in the process.

He raised a hand, and when your eyes met his, you smiled so brightly he felt a bit self-conscious. You made your way over, and he stood up, almost tripping over his own feet to shake your hand.

“Wow, it’s really you,” you breathed out, eyes wide. “Thanks for meeting me!”

He cleared his throat, trying to sound confident. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I’m always happy to, uh, help with marine stuff. You know, it’s kind of my thing.”

You giggled, and his chest puffed up a little. “Yeah, I figured. I saw your speech on marine preservation from a few years ago. It’s what got me into marine biology in the first place.”

The two of you sat down, and you immediately started talking about the project you were working on—something about coral bleaching and how to promote rehabilitation efforts. The conversation flowed easily —mostly you talking about your project while he nodded along, occasionally throwing in random facts he’d Googled last night. He even made a joke about dolphins being the “mean girls” of the sea, and when you actually laughed, he felt like he’d just won the lottery.

“You know,” you said after a while, stirring your latte, “it’s really admirable how much you care about marine life. I think people forget that sometimes.”

He blinked, surprised. “Yeah, they do,” he admitted, a little softer than intended. “Most people just see me as… the fish guy.”

You gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, I think it’s great. And I really appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

He couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well… it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

You nodded, eyes softening. “People can be pretty harsh. But you’re doing your best. That’s what counts.”

The Deep wasn’t used to this—being treated like a person.

You glanced at your phone,checking the time. “Hey, would you mind coming with me to check out a spot? I’d love to show you what I’m talking about.”

He blinked, surprised. “Uh, sure! Yeah, let’s do it.”

He followed you out to the parking lot, still a little confused. You opened your car door and gestured for him to hop in.

“I promise it’s not far,” you said. “It’ll make way more sense if you see it in person.”

He hesitated, trying to rationalize the situation. You seemed nice enough. Plus, you’d picked a spot by the ocean, so if this turned out to be some trick, he’d have the advantage. With a shrug, he got into your car.

The drive wasn’t long, and when you pulled up, he realized you’d taken him to a little cliffside overlooking the ocean.

“Wow,” he murmured, stepping out. The ocean stretched out below, waves crashing against the rocks. He couldn’t help but feel calmer just being near the water.

“Cool, right?” you asked, leaning against the car. “This is where I do most of my research. I thought it’d be the perfect place to explain my idea.”

He glanced back at you, surprised to find you tugging your shirt over your head. His brain stalled, and he nearly choked on his own breath.

“W-what are you doing?” he stammered, eyes widening.

You shot him a playful grin,stripping the rest of your clothes so you were now just in your boxers. “I’m going in. You’re welcome to join me.”

Before he could process it, you ran to the edge of the cliff and dove gracefully into the water below. His heart leapt into his throat.

“Oh, shit—” He bolted to the edge, peering over. You’d vanished beneath the waves. Panic set in, and he didn’t think, he just dove in after you.

The water rushed around him, cool and familiar, but when he surfaced, you were nowhere to be seen. His heart pounded.

“Hey!” he called, splashing around. “Where’d you go?”

His mind raced, imagining the headlines. He couldn’t handle another scandal. But before he could dive down again, something grabbed his leg.

[hotchner-edu]

Candied Hearts | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: You and Aaron have a no-strings-attached relationship, but things change after Aaron suffers an injury while on a case.

Pairing: BAU!Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: sugar baby arrangement kinda, allusions to smut (heh), fluff, jack doesn't exist in this universe (sorry)

"Aaron?" Your voice comes out thick with sleep, eyes still closed as you slowly rouse. The man in question stands frozen at the foot of his bed, having accidentally dropped a binder on the floor just moments before.

"Yeah, sorry for waking you." He says softly and walks over to rub your back as you roll to lay on your stomach.

"What time is it?" You practically slur out as you sink back against his pillows.

Aaron smiles fondly, one that you can't see, and smooths down your hair. "Too early for you to be up."

"Going to work?" You crack an eye open to peer up at him as he stands by the bed, hand trailing down to your spine. Shivering at the touch, your mind flashes back to the events of the night prior.

He hums and nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll be away for a couple of days. Are you sore?"

"I'm all good, agent." You tease quietly and smile tiredly. "Go save some lives."

He chuckles and nods. "Alright. Get some more sleep." He whispers to you before standing straight again and getting ready to leave. When you hear the front door shut, a vibration from your phone causes you to sit up slowly and grab it from the nightstand.

Glaring back up at you is an email from your university with a receipt thanking you for your tuition payment. Huffing softly in disbelief, you shoot a quick text to Aaron, knowing he was the culprit.

'I thought we agreed that it wasn't necessary?'

He doesn't reply until twenty minutes later when you've managed to lug yourself out of his warm bed to brush your teeth.

Of course, even without any context to your message, Aaron knows exactly what you're talking about.

'I wanted to'

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed, and shake your head, typing back quickly as you swipe your toothbrush from the medicine cabinet.

'Thank you, be safe <3'

'Always. Have a good day.'

You suppress a smile as you place your phone down on the sink, beginning to brush your teeth. As you stare at your reflection, you attempt to ignore the way the moment feels all too domestic, a faint whiff of his signature cologne dancing around the bathroom.

In hindsight, you wishing him good luck was probably a jinx.

Or at least, that's all you were thinking when you had gotten the phone call that Aaron was in the hospital for a pretty bad head injury, getting banged up in the process of chasing their suspect.

It had been two days since you last saw Aaron, and only a few hours since he last called you to send you money for lunch despite your protests. So you hadn't bargained on hearing that he was involved in an accident serious enough to leave him hospitalized.

You had initially been sent into a blind panic as the man on the other side of the phone asked if it were possible for you to fly out since Aaron kept asking for you.

That's how you knew it must have been bad.

Aaron was the type to suffer in silence as to not burden others, so if he was asking for you enough that someone had to call you— it must have been really bad.

The moment you land, you're rushing to the hospital without even dropping off your bags. Your taxi driver had wordlessly slammed on the gas when he saw your pallid face, only asking for directions when you were already halfway out of the airport drop-off.

You practically fly through the hospital once you get there, weaving around nurses and patients as you make your way to the front desk.

"For Aaron Hotchner." You say breathlessly, ignoring the incredulous looks you were getting.

The nurse receptionist quickly types on her computer, not batting an eye at your disheveled appearance. "ID, please?"

You quickly grab your wallet and slide your ID for her to check and note down.

"Aaron Hotchner is on the second floor, room 206. Here's a visitor badge, please keep it on the entire time you're here." The woman says politely, handing you back your ID and a visitor badge sticker.

"Thank you." You rush out before quickly making your way to the elevator, a fog of dust practically erupting behind you from how quickly you race away.

When you manage to locate Aaron's room, you see a couple of people already hovering by the door, peering inside. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, you pat down your clothes a little before stepping forward.

"Sorry... is this Aaron Hotchner's room?" Your voice comes out a bit meek as the three unfamiliar faces suddenly turn to you. Their eyes flicker around your face and stature almost imperceptibly, a brief pause occupies the air between you all as they assess you.

"Yes, it is. I'm Derek Morgan. We spoke on the phone I believe." The man is quick to introduce himself, extending a hand forward for you to shake.

"Oh, yes, hi. I'm glad you called." You shake his hand and smile a bit nervously. "I'm Y/N."

"Thank you for coming so quickly. Are you a friend of Hotch's?" One of the women speak up, eyes gleaming in curiosity. You gaze at her dark hair and sharp features and you couldn't help but notice how attractive Aaron's work friends were.

Perhaps it made dealing with suspects easier?

"Oh, yes. I'm a friend." You reply softly, knowing it must be a strange picture for them to digest since you were a bit younger and looked completely unfamiliar to them. "Is Aaron okay?"

"He'll make a full recovery, he just got a pretty bad concussion and whiplash from the crash." The blonde woman explains, stepping aside so you could make your way into the room.

Your brows furrow in worry. "Oh... thank you."

As you step in, your eyes immediately find Aaron's figure on the hospital bed, sitting up but looking a bit dazed. There's another blonde woman doting on him, hovering by his bedside and holding some balloons.

"You cannot do that again, sir! Do you know how terrifying it is that the one time I come with you guys, you nearly get flung through your windshield?" The woman says in exasperation, shaking her head as if trying to escape the mental images her words conjured.

You just stand there for a moment, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but Aaron glances toward the doorway and sees you.

"Honey..." his voice is barely audible, and you can see the relief in his eyes.

The woman spins around with an expression of utter shock (and delight?) before grinning brightly, a complete switch from her worry while fretting over Aaron just moments prior. "Hi! You must be Hotch's friend! I'm Penelope."

You go in for a hand shake but she opens her arms and you wordlessly oblige, charmed by her already. "I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Is he doing alright? I heard he was asking for me."

Before she can answer, Aaron speaks up again. "Sweetheart, come here."

Penelope catches on to her boss' fond tone and a smile tugs at her lips. "I'll leave you both to it then!"

She's hurries out of the room without another word, closing the door to give you both privacy.

"Aaron, are you okay?" You immediately ask, walking toward his bedside and reaching to gently cup his cheek.

His hands moves up to rest on yours and he nods. "I'm okay... just needed you here."

You can tell he's a bit high on pain medication at the moment and you chuckle. "Yeah, I was surprised when Derek called me. They really did not hold back with the pain meds, huh? I suppose that's good, otherwise you'd probably have a hard time even talking to me right now."

"I'm fine." He grumbles, clumsily reaching for your other hand.

Watching him grasp your hand gently, your face softens a bit and you sit on the edge of his bed. "How long have you been up? You should get some sleep, Aaron. Your body needs to heal." You say gently, leaving no room for argument.

He stares at you with a small frown, probably not even realizing how tired he really was. "You just got here though..."

"And I'll still be here when you wake up. You need to listen to your body."

He glances down at the bed and starts scooting over to one side. "You should rest too, then."

"What if I accidentally smack you in the neck while I'm asleep?" You ask with a raised brow, only being half serious.

"It's fine." Aaron mumbles and lifts up the blanket, his hospital gown and semi-delirious gaze making him look less and less like the collected man you were used to seeing.

Sliding into the vacant spot next to him, you have to caution him again about his own injuries when he tries to turn over to spoon you. "Goodness, Aaron. How high are you right now?" You stifle a laugh as he gives you an indignant glare.

"Okay, fine, fine. We can cuddle."

While Aaron is able to snooze after you both settle in, the cramped hospital bed and Aaron's light snores wake you up after an hour.

Instead of laying beside him as your right leg felt fuzzy from restricted blood flow, you slip out and decide to go grab a few things from the vending machine.

The floor you were on was quiet, your trek going undisturbed as you fish out what few bills are left in your wallet.

When you get back to his room, you nearly jump out of your skin when you see that Aaron is awake and sitting up, staring at you owlishly. "Oh my goodness!" You gasp out and hold a hand to your heart.

Aaron says your name softly, voice tinged in confusion. "You're here?"

"Yes?" Your tone matches his. "You don't remember me getting here? You were pretty high from the meds, so that's fair." You joke softly and close the door behind you.

"I remember bits and pieces... but I thought it was a dream." He says, slowly leaning back as he watches you walk toward him with a variety of snacks.

"Oh? Do you remember whining and begging me to spoon with you?" You tease and smile, opening up a cold water bottle for him to drink.

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and drinks some of the water. "I'm sorry you had to fly out here."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I didn't miss any classes or anything, but I had to cancel a date I had." You joke and shrug.

Aaron immediately frowns at this and his eyes avert to look out the window. "I'm sorry." He says softly.

"Huh?" You tilt your head and sit by his bedside again. "I was just kidding, Aaron. Who would I be going out on dates with? No one can pay for my tuition and my takeout like you can." Your teasing words draw a grunt out of him as his lip twitches, a smile threatening to appear on his face.

"Brat." His hand reaches to draw you closer.

"Old man." You retort and scoot closer to him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Better now that you're here." He says quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your nose scrunches at that and you smile in disbelief, spurring him to continue. "I'm being serious, y'know..."

As you gaze at him, his hand comes up to cup your cheek. "When they took me into the ambulance, I kept going in and out of consciousness. But I kept thinking about you... the night before I had to leave for this case, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"About what?"

Aaron draws in a deep breath and his thumb mindlessly sweeps across your cheek. "I think we should end our arrangement."

Your heart drops at his words and you laugh softly to hide your hurt. "You thought you were going to die and your last thoughts were that you should have broken it off with me first?"

His mouth parts a little in surprise before he shakes his head quickly and sputters a bit. "No, that's not, uh, that's not what I meant. It's just that for me, this—" he gently gestures between the both of you, "has turned into something deeper... and I wanted to end it so that we could start a real, closed relationship together."

"I mean, our relationship has never really been open." You say with a humored smile. While it was true that the arrangement wasn't exclusive, neither of you had ventured to start any connections with other people.

Aaron chuckles a little and nods, his hand dropping down to take ahold of yours. "I suppose you're right. I also wanted to talk to you about this because I know that having a romantic relationship together wasn't on the table for either of us when we started this... but I want you to know that I am in no way trying to steer you toward something that may be uncomfortable for you."

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you shrug a little and smile at him shyly. "I'm not uncomfortable... I think I want to give us a try too." You respond quietly.

"Really?" He breathes out. From the way his eyes flicker around your face, you can tell that there are a plethora of thoughts consuming him right now. "I... It's selfish of me to want you so wholly, sweetheart. With my work and my age, you deserve better."

"Aaron, if I wanted someone else do you think I would have stuck around this long? I mean I sure as hell wouldn't have gotten on the first flight here in a blind panic hoping you weren't dead." You retort, squeezing his hand as you try to mollify his insecurities. "Besides, who said being old doesn't look sexy on you?"

That elicits are an amused huff from him as he shakes his head. "You're probably the only person who thinks gray hairs and aching joints look good on me."

"Well that's just wrong, but even if that were true, my opinion is the only one that matters in this case." You smile cheekily and kiss him.

He kisses you back, slowly and meaningfully as your words sink in. Pulling back a little from your lips, he whisper softly. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Positive." You whisper back. "Now be quiet and let me make out with you."

Aaron's chuckle is deep and smooth as he smiles. "Yes, ma'am."

On the other side of the door to Aaron's room, his team are huddled together to try and peek into the door's little window.

"What are you people doing?" Rossi's voice suddenly rings out, painted in amusement at how ridiculous they looked. They all look back at the older man, eyes comically wide and resembling guilty children caught red-handed

"Trying to figure out who Hotch's mystery friend is." Derek answers, coolly stepping back as he plays off how his face was practically pressed against the glass.

"Oh? See anything of intrigue?" Dave asks with a small grin, tucking his hands in his pockets and pretending like he had no clue about you and Aaron.

Derek is about to answer, but he's interrupted before he can utter a single syllable.

"Uhh, guys, they're..." JJ says softly, drawing everyone's attention back to the glass. They see you both inside and they suddenly straighten up and step back.

Emily is the first to speak after a long pause. "Dinner, anyone?"

Penelope looks dazed and shakes her head. "Yes, and some new eyeballs please."

Rossi chuckles and begins walking toward the elevator, deciding to let Aaron fill them in later about his experience as a sugar daddy. He was just pleased that he was no longer going to be alone in the team's inescapable teasing about old men and their love lives.

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Somehow, he managed to get ahold of the rants you drafted in your emails to him… now he’s determined to eat your words (read: fuck you stupid). Pairing: Hyunjae x fem!reader Tropes: academic rivals au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, yn described as shorter than him Smut Warnings: arguing as foreplay, dirty talk, rough sex, wall sex, unprotected sex, degradation, god kink (not really, but Hyunjae is being cocky) Word Count: 1,572 Note: Thank you to @anyamaris for beta reading this! Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ Criminal by Taemin

“Fuck you,” you grit.

“Ask nicely, and maybe I will.” Hyunjae smirks at you.

“That’s not what I–” You cut yourself off with an exasperated sigh.

Hyunjae keeps that irritatingly hot smirk on his face. Yet again, he somehow scored barely higher than you on this exam. It shouldn’t matter anymore. You’re literally in university. The only reason grades should truly matter against another student’s grade is if you’re fighting for that Valedictorian place. In your case, you’ve been back and forth with Hyunjae for that position for the entirety of your educational life. No matter what you do, you always end up just slightly below him academically. It doesn’t help that he’s fucking gorgeous, either. Each time you see him, he enrages you, but some small piece of yourself also admires his appearance (even though you hate that you do it). 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” He chuckles, walking backward toward the door.

“So you finally admit you think I’m cute.” You try to bite back.

He just scoffs and jerks his chin at you before backing out of the room. Knowing you got the last word of that exchange, a bit of pride swells in your chest. For some reason, your mind chooses to fixate on the fact that he called you cute. You hate him in every sense of the word, but still, your mind fixates there rather than the fact that you want to punch that annoyingly hot smirk off his face. 

There’s only one way that you can get all of your frustration regarding Hyunjae out of your system. Some of your friends call you an absolute dork for doing this, but it’s cathartic for you. The moment you get home, you pull up to your desk and pull up your email. This is what you do. You rant, chew him out in an email draft, and never send them. You can say whatever you want without repercussions for your actions. After all, you’re the only one seeing it.

You angrily type out an email; you’re not entirely processing what you’re typing. You press a few buttons to save it away in your drafts with the other ranting emails. With a huff, you push away from your desk and tidy your apartment. You and your roommates divided the chores by day, and it just so happened to be your day. You’re feeling a lot lighter about everything that happened earlier, dancing around the living room as you clean. Then a knock sounds on your front door. Clearly, it’s not one of your roommates, given that they’re knocking and not just walking in. 

Your eyebrows furrow together as you shuffle your way over to the door. You’re not expecting any guests; any deliveries you get go to the mail room, not your front door. You open the door and are met with the last person you want to see. Hyunjae is right outside your door waiting while tapping away on his phone.

“Why the fuck are you at my door?” You bite.

“Did you mean those things?”

Your stomach drops through your ass, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Are you serious?” Hyunjae scoffs, “You sent me a two-page email.”

Oh fuck.

In your anger, you must’ve accidentally sent the email rather than drafted it. While you don’t remember much of the rant you accidentally sent, you do remember mentioning some rather… impulsive thoughts you had. There was definitely something about wanting to get fucking him out of your system rather than letting these unwanted feelings stew inside you. You step aside and gesture for him to step inside. Usually, you would want anything else but for him to enter your space. If you were in his position, you’d want an explanation.

“Just tell me, did you mean what you wrote in that email?” He asks cautiously.

You just stare at him for a few moments, “Well…”

“Well, what?” He interrupts.

“Let me speak, damn it! You’re so fucking annoying–”

Hyunjae raises an eyebrow, “Annoying enough that you want to ‘kiss that smirk off my face,’ hmm?”

You feel your face grow hot at his comment. He steps closer to you, just barely invading your space. He raises a hand to your chin and tilts it so you’re looking right at him. You don’t have it in you to stop him anymore. His eyes search yours in a calculated way. He’s checking to ensure you’re not uncomfortable and trying to find the fastest way to break you.

“Answer me.” He threatens lowly.

“I– I want–”

“Hmm? What is it? Maybe this is why I’m always beating you; you can’t articulate yourself.” He taunts.

“Want you to fuck me.” You finally admit.

Hyunjae drops his hand to your wrist, holding it, and tugs you against his body. He has your arm pinned behind your back. Before you can think or react, his lips are pressed against yours in a harsh, heated kiss. You feel your knees buckle at the intensity. Had he not been holding your waist, you would’ve been on the floor.

“Where’s your room?” He asks, voice husky with need.

Your face is hardly separated from his as you respond, “This way.”

He lets you move your hand from behind you and lead him to your room. You hardly get the door shut before he has you pinned to your wall. Hyunjae lifts you by your waist and puts his arms under your knees. He grinds against you. You thank whatever intuition told you to wear loose, tiny lounge shorts and a cropped tank top to clean. The feeling of him grinding against you with just the barrier of your thin shorts and his pants is already enough to make you desperate. 

“Y-you could’ve just fucked me in the living room.” You say, trying to sound irritated with him.

Hyunjae chuckles at your comment, “You’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you? Let someone come home to see you being used like a common whore in your own home?”

He reaches for his pants and finally releases himself. He hooks his finger on the seat of your shorts a moment later and tugs them to the side. If you thought the feeling of him grinding against you a few moments ago was going to send you spiraling, feeling his bare cock against your soaked folds is even more drool-worthy. He pushes into you in one movement, making you let out a broken, breathy moan.

“Damn, you needed this, didn’t you? All that arguing gets you hot and bothered, huh? I bet you fuck yourself on your fingers after we argue every time. If that damn book you sent me testifies for anything, you’ve been fucking desperate for me for a while now.”

“J-Jae!” You moan, throwing your head back against the wall.

He fucks you so hard you can’t form any intelligent thought. He keeps spewing filthy statements at you. Your brain simply doesn’t comprehend anything he says. All you know is that you’re fucking loving it. You feel that familiar heat grows strong in your lower belly. You clench around him, which only drives him to fuck you harder.

“Hyunjae– I- fuck! Jae– cum– gonna–!” 

You know you don’t make any sense, but you’re sure that was also his goal.

“You wanna cum? How cute.” He teases, “You cum when I tell you to.”

“Please, please, please! Jae, please!”

Hyunjae marks up your neck with bites and hickeys, completely ignoring your pleas. His thrusts are aggressive and fast. Each time he pushes back into you, your ass bounces off the wall. Surely, there’s going to be a bruise on your tailbone later, but you can’t find it in you to care. You cling to him, hoping he’ll let you cum soon. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving small crescent shapes there. 

“Cum.” He practically growls.

That’s all the permission you need. You let your orgasm burn through you. It feels like you may have ascended or seen God.

“Oh my god! Fuck, oh god!”

“That right, I’m your god.”

His cocky comments typically make your body fill with rage. Now, though, it only makes you want him more. His thrusts grow faster still, and he pulls out and cums against your belly. A few little spurts land on your shirt, but you couldn’t care less. You’re completely sated, and all you can think about is how badly you want more of him. Hyunjae carefully places you on your bed, tucking himself back in his pants before wiping his cum off your belly.

“You okay?” He asks, genuinely concerned.

“Y-yeah… not that it should really matter to you.” You pout without realizing it.

He sits beside your lounging form, “I just fucked you really rough. I would need to be a real asshole to leave you alone after.”

“We hate each other.”

Hyunjae lifts your lower legs and places them in his lap. He gently massages your leg. The gesture is sweet, almost as if he really did want to take care of you. His gaze is gentle, borderline sweet. You shift under his gaze, unsure what to make of it.

“Sweetheart, let’s be honest.” He starts, “The line between love and hate is so fine, especially for us. It’s almost nonexistent.”

“Hyunjae?” You question, unsure how to react still.

He squeezes your calf before speaking again, “We don’t hate each other, do we?”

“Maybe we don’t.”

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[yril-writes]

— BEAUTIFUL

synopsis ; never been treated like this before, but your two boyfriends shower you with love and affection in their own ways.

type ; drabble

includes ; geto and gojo

pairings ; characters x fl! reader

genre ; a hint of spice and a daily dose of corn

Who would've thought you'd be invited to your class reunion this time, it was always that they would celebrate it without you most of the time and even hang out with you. This made you feel unwanted and out of place despite being one of the popular kids in school back then, and here they are again crawling back to you and sending an email for an invitation.

Though they didn't put anything about bringing someone, so grabbing your phone across the bed and dialing up Gojo to invite him to be one of your plus to the reunion.

"Sure, anything for you." His voice sounded a little bit hoarse, it's no surprise for you though since it is early in the morning for you to be calling him, but that sultry voice of him really hits you big time.

"Oh, and don't forget to tell Suguru. Okay, Satoru?"

"I thought for a second we would only be having a date, turns out that HE is going to be with us..." Listening through the phone you immediately visualize Gojo all pouty and acting like a spoiled child.

After a minute call, you turned off the phone and placed it near the table next to the bed. Finally getting off the bed, a little stretching wouldn't hurt to do so. Twittering birds out the window were heard and the rays of sunshine are now letting themselves in through the windows.

(This day, it feels like it's going to be a good one!)

The morning routine didn't seem to change or had something new to it, it was just normal. The boring old normal routine. But still, today felt different maybe because you had something finally worth going to this time. A morning jog, and a healthy breakfast these were the things you most do and important for you to start this day.

"So glad that I still have leftover rice last night! I'd die without rice..."

Across the table, your phone began to vibrate and played the calling ringtone. Glancing at the phone, Geto's named popped out. Knowing that, you grabbed your phone and answered the call.

"Hey, babe. Satoru told me about the reunion thingy. I have your dress sent to you there."

"Dress?"

"Well, this dress was truly picked by me. And a mini purse too that Satoru chose. We hope that you'll wear it for tonight."

"But both of you just bought me a dress and a purse last week..."

"Let us spoil you a little, babe. We'll pick you up at 7. The dress would arrive in an hour. See you later."

Blinking a few times, it took a while for you to process what just happened in that short call only that you have been sweet talked again by Suguru. Gifts have been one of their love languages, and though it is a good thing to receive gifts all the time? Not so much. But both of them insist it still bothers you how they give so much for you.

(They always do this, but still. I feel happy to have them not just because of those gifts because I feel loved by them...)

From a good start of the morning turned into an afternoon then led to night. Time felt overly fast for you, even the dress arrived the moment Suguru turned off the call. Putting the dress on was a challenge, it had these sparkly jet black gems that made it a little bit heavy and hard to wear but it still was a fit, as if they knew every corner of your body.

They only said that, only a dress and a mini bag would be delivered but they excluded the black high laced heels in the picture. Putting everything into place, walking towards the mirror revealed a woman you never seen before, you felt as if you were looking at a stranger.

The jet black gem dress was fit, your body shape was on the spot and it has a slit leading up to your left hip, this revealing your thigh and even leg. Down to that are the black high laced heels which are on point and a match to your outfit and to finish it off your gold laced mini bag.

(They really know who to dress me up, I feel like their barbie now at this point. Now time for the make up! Let's go simple yet a giving aura.)

Highly maintained make up on your face was not your ideal, you always thought that removing that much make up on your face is a hassle and that you'd prefer to look fresh and clean. Putting on a red rose colored lip gloss, made your lips shiny and fresh together with the simple eyeshadows and mascara plus those eyebrows made you look like a fierce independent business woman.

(I think this is a little too much!)

Before you even decide to remove some of the make up, you heard the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall it was already time to be picked up by Gojo and Geto.

(IT'S ALREADY TIME?!)

Panicking you hear your ringtone, it was them calling. Picking it up you hear them both telling you to come down. There wasn't even an impatient tone to their voice rather than that their tone was excited as if they were actually looking forward to seeing you in the outfit that they picked.

"Babe, come one open the door."

"Anytime now, we want to see you walking out of this door."

"Wait just a second, I'm on it!"

Rushing down the stairs made you skip a beat because you nearly fell due to these high heels but luckily you held on to the beam of the stairs. Making your way towards the door, revealed two men waiting in suits.

"Hey! Sorry it took longer to get down, I was just preparing..."

Both of them were in awe at the sight they were looking at right now, no words even tried to form into their mouths, no thoughts to be formed as well. Only that you look stunning enough to stun them for a minute.

"Holy, you look too hot and sexy. I might rail you in a public area tonight."

"I'd make love to you until the sunrises tomorrow."

"Are you both done?! You could've stopped with the hot and sexy, thank you very much!"

a/n ; originally this should be more like a smut but then Tumblr bugged out and didn't save my hard ass work of words. Still coping lol, might start commissioning soon!

taglist ; @sammushy

masterlist

[walktalkfashion]

Title: My In-Laws Tried to Sabotage Our Marriage… and I Just Found Out

I (28F) got married to my husband (31M) about a year ago after dating for four years. We’ve always had a pretty solid relationship, and I truly felt like I hit the jackpot. He’s caring, supportive, and always stood up for me, especially when it came to his parents. They were… difficult, to say the least. His mom, in particular, had a knack for making passive-aggressive comments, and his dad wasn’t any better. Still, I figured this was just how some in-laws were, and I did my best to maintain a civil relationship.

Fast forward to a few days ago. I was at my in-laws’ house, helping them pack up some things since they’re planning to downsize. My husband was at work, so it was just me and them. While we were going through old paperwork and family memorabilia, I came across a folder labeled “For [Husband’s Name] Eyes Only.”

Now, I’m not the type to snoop, but this felt weird. I casually asked my mother-in-law about it, and she got super flustered, immediately trying to take it from me. Her reaction made me more curious, so I opened it anyway (yeah, I know, not my finest moment). Inside were a bunch of printed emails and messages from random women… to my husband. Or at least, that’s what it seemed like at first. They were all messages about “getting back together” or how he “promised” them things while we were dating. I felt sick.

Before I could even process it, my father-in-law walked in and tried to explain that they had sent these messages. My in-laws had created fake accounts, pretending to be other women, and sent these to my husband while we were dating, hoping he would cheat or that it would plant some doubts in his mind about our relationship. They thought I wasn’t “right” for him and wanted him to break up with me.

I was floored. How could people be so manipulative? I asked why they didn’t just tell him their concerns. Their reasoning? “We didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so we thought this would be a better way to steer him in the right direction.” WHAT?

I left their house in shock, not knowing how to handle this. When I told my husband that night, he was livid. He had no idea about any of it. He immediately confronted his parents, and they basically confirmed everything, saying they were just “looking out for him.” He hasn’t spoken to them since.

We’re now in a weird place. I love my husband, but I can’t help but feel disgusted by his family. How do I move forward knowing what they did? Do I just cut them out? Has anyone else dealt with anything this insane?

TL;DR: My in-laws created fake accounts to send messages from “other women” to my husband while we were dating in an attempt to sabotage our relationship.

[mysteriousxgirls]

Harmony stepped into the studio, the warm steam from her tea rising in the cool air, and her oversized bag slung over her shoulder, filled with all the essentials she might need for the day. She had dropped off Nathaniel's hair sample yesterday, but the nervous flutter in her chest hadn’t eased. She didn’t know what the test results would reveal, but deep down, she knew she had to find out. Nate deserved to know, just as Cassian deserved to know. And more than that, her baby needed a father. She walked into the dressing room, the familiar hum of the studio’s energy surrounding her. She placed her things on the counter and took a moment to breathe, gathering herself. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she quickly unlocked it, typing out a message to Nate.

Good morning. I’m on set, just getting my makeup done. Can’t wait to see you.

She hit send and leaned back in the chair, her fingers tapping nervously on the armrest. She couldn’t help but feel the tight knot in her stomach. Her makeup artist hadn’t arrived yet, and as much as she tried to focus on the task at hand, her mind kept wandering. She prayed it wouldn’t be Lily who walked in. If it was... she wasn’t sure how she’d react. How she could react. The thought of facing her was almost unbearable, and she pushed it aside, forcing herself to focus. Taking a deep breath, Harmony picked up her phone again, scrolling through her emails, looking for anything to distract her. Her finger paused on one email, one she hadn’t opened yet. She frowned and tapped it, her eyes scanning the subject line.

Then, as she read the email, her heart stopped. Her pulse quickened.

She had gotten the role��the main role—in a brand new movie set to begin filming next year. Her audition had paid off, and she had been chosen. It was everything she’d dreamed of, a huge opportunity in the industry. A wave of disbelief washed over her, and she couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. Her hand instinctively went to her mouth, her fingers covering her lips as she tried to process the news. She had done it. This was her big break. She wanted to scream, to jump up and tell the world, but she wanted to tell Nate first. Face to face. She couldn’t wait to share this with him, to see his reaction. She could already imagine the pride in his eyes, the excitement he would feel for her.

He hadn’t quite realised how effortlessly he had fallen into routine—how much he had come to expect the quiet, unspoken gestures that once framed the start of his day. The warmth of a freshly brewed coffee waiting for him, the soft press of lips against his lips before the chaos of the set consumed them both. But this morning was different. This morning, he bought his own coffee, the bitter scent curling in the air as he stood alone. And instead of the lingering warmth of a kiss, he was met with a low, sharp murmur—spat out like venom laced with something almost brittle. “Don’t you dare even speak to me. You’re a cunt." He didn’t flinch, didn’t offer a reaction beyond a slow exhale, dragging a hand down his face as he stepped past her. The weight of her glare clung to him, thick as smoke, the air between them crackling with the kind of tension that only came from wounds still too fresh to scab over. He supposed he deserved that.

The set was already a quiet hum of activity by the time he made it to his office—or, at least, the glorified storage closet with a desk that passed for an office. He set his bag down with a heavy thud, exhaling as he leaned against the edge of the desk. But today already felt uncomfortably different. It wasn’t just Lily’s icy stare drilling into his side, it wasn’t even the disorienting return to his habits more than two weeks ago. It was Harmony. It was the undeniable fact that he didn’t regret it.

As the weight of his decisions settled heavily against his ribs, there was something else stirring in him—a tug in his chest, a kind of yearning he hadn’t realised he’d been starved of. He sucked in a breath, the air thick with the weight of unspoken things, and grabbed his camera bag with deliberate force. Time to work. Time to drown out everything else. Even though every fibre of his being was keenly attuned to the inevitable moment Harmony stepped onto the set.

[cultherent]

An Accidental Email [Ch.6]

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

TW: Toxicity, Pegging degradation not in a sex way (rude asf way)

Chapter 6:

Thursday

“Hey, Y/N. Are you doing alright? You’ve seemed pretty down the past few days.” Todoroki glanced at you, your eyebrows furrowed as your pen pressed against your lip. You both were in the recording studio, working on a project together. 

You sighed, “Do you mind me getting personal?”

“Go ahead.”

“There’s this guy I’m seeing, and he’s been really distant. I’ve tried to talk with him, but he’s been ignoring me. I don’t know what to do or what to think.”

“I see,” he hummed, his finger going to his chin. “If you don’t mind me intruding… Is it Bakugo?”

Your eyes widened, “Is it that easy to tell?”

“I’ve just noticed the lack of arguing. While others would be relieved, I knew something had to be going on between the two of you.”

You sighed, moving a strand of hair out of your face. “I just don’t understand what happened. We talk about seeing each other more, but it’s been radio silence on his end. Like, what happened?”

____

Last Saturday Night

“It’s nothing, Uraraka.” Katsuki closed the door behind him, not wanting the neighbors to hear the commotion. It was after midnight, and he didn’t want another noise complaint. 

“Did you hurt yourself?” Uraraka stepped forward, her hand reaching for his forearm.

“No, no. I didn’t hurt myself.”

She removed her hand and folded her arms. The space between her eyebrows wrinkled, and her eyes darkened. “Did someone do that to you?”

“That’s not important right now,” he walked towards the kitchen. “Why are you here?” She invited herself over many times before, even though he told her repeatedly not to do so. 

She followed behind him and tugged at his shirt, stopping him from getting closer to the kitchen. They stood underneath the door frame that separated the living room from the hallway. 

“Don’t be silly, babe. I’m always here.” 

Katsuki rolled his eyes. He internally cringed at the pet name. He turned to continue down the hall. 

“Anyways,” she continued, “I know you love me, so why don’t you trust me enough to tell me these things?”

“Ochaco, please. Let’s not do this right now; I’m tired.” There were bags under his eyes, and after getting himself annihilated by you, he just wanted to grab something to eat and knock out.

“No. Who did that to you? Do I know her?”

“No, relax,” his back still faced her. 

“Am I going to have problems with someone now?” 

Aggravated, he turned around as they reached the kitchen, “No. You’re not gonna have problems with my coworker-” 

Time stilled. His eyes widened internally from his slip-up.

Uraraka’s head tilted to the side, “Ohhh… That’s who she is… Is she pretty?”

“Ochaco, please.”

Her head proceeded to wobble, “No, no. Is she prettier? Is she the better fuck?”

“You’re getting out of line.”

“What? You can’t tell me if she’s the better fuck?”

“No, Uraraka. Stop,” he lied through his teeth.

“Stop? Are you kidding me? I’m right here, but instead you went out and got some dirty convenient pussy.”

“Uraraka, enough!” Bakugo’s fist tightened, and he stepped back from her. “You cannot talk about her like that.” 

She stepped back, her mind processing what he just said. “Oh,” her shoulders lowered. “My bad, I went too far. How about we just enjoy the dinner I prepared for us? I’ll go warm it up.” She smiled and tightened her hand that held his forearm. Her fingernails soon dug into her palms.

. . . 

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Uraraka watched as Katsuki grabbed his towel and entered his own suite. Once the door shut, she waited a couple of minutes to make sure he didn’t leave anything. 

When the time passed, she grabbed Katsuki’s phone, which was on the charger. She pressed the button on the side, then typed in the password she'd seen him put in many times. 

She clicked on the messages app and started going down the list; she stopped when she got to your contact. Opening it, the screen was littered with sexts you both had been sending each other. She bit down on her cheek and opened a social media app. You both followed each other, and she concluded you were his work friend. 

She went through his work calendar, remembering there was an event his work was having—a dinner of sorts. More of a drink, eat at high tables, dance, and talk. She didn’t care what it was about, she just wanted several words with you. 

____

A Week Later - Friday - Dinner Party

“Did you see that he brought someone?” Your eyes were glued on Katsuki and his plus one.

“You mean the girl in the bright red dress and matching makeup? Yes, yes, I did,” Shoto glanced.

“She had her arm wrapped around Katsuki's, and she had a big smile on.”

“Mhm.”

“My thing is, how are we going to have this whole arrangement and not tell me you have a girlfriend or are in a relationship?”

“Well, if we’re talking about the whole blackma-”  

Your hand darted to Todoroki’s mouth. “Shhh!” You rolled your eyes as he chuckled.

“Let me get you a drink to calm down. I’ll be fast.”

You nodded, then looked around the room. The lobby of the building was decked out with balloons, assorted colored lights, tables, and a bar. You leaned on the table, eyeing the girl Katsuki was with. You had tried to ask him to be your date for this event, but he only avoided you. You rubbed your forehead, trying not to recount the many embarrassing moments you had been sharing. 

“Don’t do that so much; it’ll stay that way.” Todoroki handed you a drink. 

“Thanks, Shoto…”

“Oh, come on. Keep your head up.”

“Easy for you to say. The girls you want don’t play with you like Bakugo is doing to me.”

He chuckled, “You’re joking, right?”

One of your eyebrows relaxed, the other raised. 

“You see that girl over there,” he discreetly pointed out. “Momo confessed that she liked me, but she’s been avoiding me nonstop since her confession. I’ve been trying to get with her, but none of my approaches have worked.”

The both of you ponder on your shared dwindling love life as you take sips from your glasses. 

“Y’know what?” You put your drink down. “Let’s make them jealous.”

Todoroki smiles, “I like the sound of that.”

“Find me on the dance floor.” You winked as you walked over to the DJ. Not many people were dancing, but you pulled out a playlist that would send everyone running. After giving the DJ the song suggestions, he gave you a thumbs up, and you walked to the dance floor.

Shoto was there, shimmying to the music, patiently waiting for you. Once the song came on, you both put on your game faces. You grabbed your dress, which had a slit and danced with Todo. You held onto his white tux, smirking as you got closer to each other. It was a bit sultry, but not too much. Your eyes would look toward Bakugo's, and you knew he was looking. 

You watched as his eyes couldn’t stay away, but his lover noticed. She turned his head with her hand and kissed him, her eyes not closed but on yours. Your eyes squinted, and you grinned. "Oh, that’s how we’re playing.”

You weren’t going to get mad at the girl. You had no idea of the preconceived relationship they had. What you did know was that you wanted to cause a bit of havoc. 

Shoto glanced at you with an idea. He brought you close to his chest and placed his lips right next to your ear. Katsuki could only get angry internally, but you could see it in his shift in demeanor. 

“I’ll grab Bakugo, and you grab Momo.”

“Smart idea.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, you danced towards the girl who stood before the dance floor. Her eyes longingly saw herself in the pit of beautiful bodies. 

“Come on, let’s dance.” 

You grabbed her hands, and she didn’t hesitate. You pulled her in and spun her around. Conveniently, you pressed your back against Todoroki and switched partners. Your hands were gripped by Bakugo's, which were slightly clammy. You moved around, following the beat of the music. He was tense at first, but he found the rhythm with you. 

“Loosen up, Katsu. It’s only me.”

He chose to stay silent, and you accepted that. You were happy that he was this close to you after all the separation. 

Your bodies grew closer, and the temperature increased. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your mouth was slowly opening until the music cut out. Bakugo smiled, nodded his head, and then let go of your hands. You watched as he walked away.

Seeing Shoto dancing with the woman he liked, you went to find an empty table after getting a drink. Placing your arms on the surface, you took out your phone and bobbed to the music.

“Oh hey!” You peered up from your phone, your vision engulfed by Bakugo’s plus one. You turned off your device and gave her your attention. “You’re Y/N, right? Bakugo has told me so much about you!” She smiled.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I saw you were a little busy, but I wanted to talk to you, Y/N.”

“Uraraka, what are you doing?” Katsuki walked into view, internally filled with dread.

“Oh nothing, sweetie. Just having a chat. Go get some drinks or food. I’ll be with you soon.” Katsuki’s lips quivered slightly, but he turned and walked away. “Boys, y’know how they get.”

Your stature shifted, and you relaxed more while the girl stood straight, “Sorry. Do I know you?”

“Oh, no! But you will,” her smile remained. “I’m Katsuki’s girlfriend.”

There was something about her. You expected wrath to come from her. You exhaled from your nose, disguised like you were breathing, “Weird, ‘cause he’s never mentioned you.” You took a sip from your drink.

“That’s because I told him I wanted our relationship to be private. He listens so well.”

“Bless your heart,” you muttered. 

“I like your outfit, by the way.”

“Same to you.”

“Thank you. Mine is designer!”

“Really?” You could tell from the seams of the dress that it was a lie. “Mine is thrifted.”

“Yeah… I can tell. It suits you, though.” Your eyes widened, and you chuckled internally. You knew how she was going to play this petty game, and you knew how to combat it. “Personally, I could never let that touch me. But that’s just because I like better things on me.”

You took another sip of your drink.

“Can I be honest? Real girl talk?”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” you copied her from before. You watched her facade crack a little.

“I saw the little gift you left on Bakugo’s neck, and as his girlfriend, I don’t really appreciate that. I think you need to give him space and respect our relationship.”

Your eyes go from this Uraraka girl to Todoroki, who passed by and greeted you both. 

“Oh… Oh. I get it, him too?”

You chuckled, remaining silent, and took another swig, purposely dragging it out.

“Damn, you’re good. I totally respect that. I could never; I respect myself too much. I guess it's that easy for you. You’ve got to spill; how many more office bodies have you caught?” 

Your mannerisms stayed the same. It made her irritated. 

“Not telling? I get it. After that many, I wouldn’t say either.” Her face stayed as innocent as before, and her lips curled as if she hadn’t said the most darndest thing.

Ready to break your silence, “Listen-” 

“Anyways! He’s been coming home rather stressed recently. I’m starting to see why…” She looked you up and down, smirking.

“Pfft, I’m looking at the real reason right now. Thinking I’m the reason he’s stressed is so far off, I’m not surprised you didn’t understand.” What you said caught her off guard, so you leaned forward. “Love, he’s less stressed moaning my name and saying how much he loves my strap in his ass. That’s how he’s able to come home to you in the first place.” 

You walked to the side of her, your hand patting her shoulder. “Not that you’d know what I’m talking about.” You walked away, not hearing a single word come out of her mouth. 

You made a B-line to the bathroom, but before you entered, your arm was grabbed, and you turned to find it was Katsuki. “What the fuck do you want?” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you so badly wanted to push the bathroom door open.

“What happened between the two of you?” His expression was scared and timid. 

“Why does it matter? You should’ve told me you were in a relationship. I want nothing to do with you.” You pushed the bathroom door open, only for him to follow you inside. It was a one-person bathroom, and you stood with your arms folded.

“Firstly, I’m sorry for whatever she said to you. And secondly, we are far from an exclusive relationship.” 

Your weight shifted between your legs, and your head tilted. You were interested in what he had to say.

The blonde sighed and sat on the closed toilet, “We’re just fuck buddies. We’ve discussed before that we can see other people, but I don’t know what happened. She got obsessive, started calling me pet names, and whenever I asked about her other partners the way she responded shifted.”

“You don’t have to air out all her drama. But, you’re telling me that you’re just seeing each other? No girlfriend-boyfriend situation? Exclusive?”

“We are just seeing each other.”

“And what about you ignoring me for the past few weeks?”

“I’m really sorry about that. She’s been coming to my apartment every night. I didn’t want anything to happen to invoke a response.”

You took a deep breath in and placed your hand on the bathroom door. “Katsu, please get your shit together with this girl. I can see something happening between us, but I’m not dealing with some toxic bitch.” Before walking out, “Have a good night.”

. . .

Taking his shoes off, Bakugo could not shake off the uneasiness he felt about the looming Ochaco. He watched as she disappeared to the bathroom and returned in normal attire. Her face didn’t help either; on it only laid a smile, and he knew that didn’t mean anything good.

“Bakugo. Let’s have a talk.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

She stared at him, her smile dropping. “What the fuck have you been doing with that girl.”

“Ochaco, we’ve discussed that we’re in an open relationship. Whatever I’ve done with Y/N shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Are you gay now or something?”

“Excuse me?”

“No, be honest with me. That has to be the only reason you like her. Because you get fucked in the ass like a gay man.”

“Uraraka, what the actual fuck is wrong with you!?”

“Y’know what. You’re a dirty fucking man whore who can’t get hard when he sees a sexy girl in front of him.” Her eyebrows furrowed, and her arms folded. “I’ve tried to sleep with you countless times. Every time, you couldn’t get it up. Just because you want to be fucked in the ass? You’re sick. Disgusting.”

“You’re far from holy either, Uraraka. Spreading your legs for the whole block, but for some reason being obsessed with me? Be fucking real. Tell your pastor who’s the real whore, you fake Christian bastard.” Katsuki walked to the bathroom and grabbed her things. He threw her clothes out the door and held it open, “Get the fuck out of my apartment.” 

Ochaco’s mouth gaped open, not realizing how badly she had messed things up. Her eyes began to water, snot soon coming after, “I’m sorry, Baku, I didn’t mean it. It was an outburst. You know how I get. Please forgive me. I know you love me.”

“The only person that loves you is yourself.” He went into her pocket and grabbed the key that he’d been meaning to get back from her. “Never come back.”

The room was filled with the slamming of the door and then silence. Katsuki walked to his room, which was far away from his apartment door entrance. He curled himself into a ball and started crying. No one had ever made him feel bad about his sexual preferences. Even though his liking for her was fading, he still thought of her as a friend. They had known each other for so long, and for those words to come out of her mouth, it ruined him a little. 

. . .

“Oh my God, Katsu, are you crying?”

“Can I come over?”

“Of course.”

[lis-likes-fics]

Yes, Sir | Chapter 1

You walked through the busy building, your mind set on your destination as you carried yourself with your head held high and your hips swaying slightly to the song playing in the back of your head. You carried a small stack of papers and folder in your hands, going over them in your mind as you headed for your boss' office.

Walking through the dark wood doors of Mr. Mikaelson's office, you spoke calmly and clearly, "Sir, I have a few things for you to sign off on so that I can turn it in before the end of the day." He did not look up at you as his pen scrawled over the pages he was currently working on in an elegant cursive.

Without looking up at you, he nodded and held his hand out for the paperwork he was to be signing. You handed them to him as you went over a very brief, very vague summary of the documents. You took a look at the papers he was already working on, it looked as though he was tweaking his presentation for the meeting coming soon.

Mr. Mikaelson quickly scrawled his signature on each of the documents without a word. He trusted you by now to know what he would and wouldn't approve of signing. This was a usually routine when it came to needing his signature. It sped up the process and made for good business.

As his assistant, you would read his important documents for him and carry what he would sign to him. Having known him for five years, you were able to pick up a few things along the way about how this man worked.

You there while he signed the papers, going over the agenda for the rest of the day (the day that was more than halfway over). "Our meeting with the Salvatores starts at 5:30, the meeting room is vacant and will be set up very soon. Everything should run more than smoothly, sir."

After signing the paperwork, he handed them back to you and finally spoke, his gaze still on his documents, "I need you to double check my presentation, make sure the catering is set, and print out these copies for the meeting. Please and thank you."

You smiled and nodded, "Right on it, sir." You adjusted the papers in your arms to tidy them, glancing at your watch to make sure everything was being done in a timely manner. You would never let him run late.

Mr. Mikaelson added, "I have already emailed you the print-outs and the presentation. I trust you already know the menu for the catering?"

Again, you nodded, "Yes, sir."

"And what about the new chauffeur?" he asked.

You nodded, "Yes, he should be here soon, sir. I've already got the selections done. I just need to do a fitting and he should be ready to work in no time. He's a very good worker."

"Excellent," he spoke, his eyes scanning over the page in front of him.

You turned to leave the large office, setting the documents on your desk just outside of his doors. He called your name and you turned around, walking up to the doors with a hum. He gave a smile and finally looked up at you with those chocolate eyes, "Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N. You're the best."

You smiled back at him, sending a wink his way, "I know, sir." You then set your hands on the door handles and closed them shut. You sat down in your chair, fixing your pencil skirt as you brushed the invisible lint off of the fabric.

You opened your laptop, typing away at an unfinished email before hitting send after double and triple checking it. You then looked over your emails, clicking on the two sent by Mr. Mikaelson. They opened as you quickly scanned over the information, hitting the print button so fast you double checked to make sure they actually printed.

You then picked up your tablet sitting next to the computer, opening the presentation your boss had sent you so you could look over it like he asked you to. You stood, your eyes still on the screen, as you headed to the elevator to get to the copying room just a floor below you.

As soon as you entered the elevator, two other employees entered with you. You all gave polite nods and smiles as you greeted each other kindly. You then turned back to your tablet, tapping through the presentation.

The elevator starting to descend, hitting your floor first as you got off. You turned off the tablet once you reached the copying room. You stopped by the door when you saw someone standing in the room. He muttered under his breath in frustration, hitting the palm of his hand on the copying machine as it whirred and made noises.

"Damn copier," he muttered.

You spoke up, "Is there something wrong?" You walked further into the room and tilted your head. He turned around, a nervous smile on his face as he went to scratch the back of his neck. He chuckled lightly, "Oh, sorry. I just...the copier isn't working."

You raised your brows as you walked further into the room, "Have you checked the paper? Most times people just forget to restock it." You did just that, looking to see if the copier had any paper in it to work with. When you saw the empty tray, you offered him a smile and a stack of copying paper off one of the shelves.

He smiled bashfully, rubbing his hands together, "Oh... thank you." The machine began printing the papers as he mentally cursed himself.

"Are you new here? Don't think I've seen you around here before," you asked him as you stood, waiting for your copies.

He nodded sheepishly as he spoke, "Yes, it's actually my first day. My name's Joshua Rosza, but people just call me Josh." He held his hand out for you to shake and you did with a smile.

"Ah, yes. I've been expecting you. You're the new chauffeur for Mr. Mikaelson. I'm Y/N Y/L/N, Mr. Mikaelson's assistant. It's wonderful to meet you," you told him. You gestured to the room, "What are you doing in here?"

He scratched his neck again as he chuckled, "Funny story, I was looking for the right floor to meet you and a woman stopped me and told me to go pick up some papers from copying. I didn't want to be rude, so here we are now..."

You chuckled with him. You were proud of your hiring skills, you made the right choice with Rosza. "Gotcha. You probably ran into Pierce, she's a bit of a bitch around here."

As the words left your mouth, you hear the annoying feminine voice coming down the hall. "I heard that, Y/L/N." You raised a brow as you looked at Josh, "Speak of the devil."

Josh smiled with a snicker as you both turned to see Katherine enter the room. "Pierce," you greeted stiffly with a smirk. The woman eyed you, shooting daggers at you with just her glaring eyes. If looks could kill, everyone in the building would have been dead by now.

She spoke bitterly, "I just came to see why pretty boy was taking too long."

You almost rolled your eyes, "Well, 'pretty boy' isn't your assistant."

Katherine didn't even try to refrain from rolling her eyes as she sighed, "Speaking of assistants, I heard you and Mikaelson were striking a deal with the Salvatores."

You gave her a bittersweet smile - one that was more bitter than it was sweet - as you picked up both stacks of papers from the copier. "And I heard they declined your deal last year." You handed her stack to her with your smile and she eyed you before snatching the papers.

You sighed, "Well, I would love to stay and chat, but I have a business meeting to finish prepping. See you, Pierce. Josh, please follow me."

"Glady," he muttered as you both exited the copying room together. You walked over to the elevator, stopping next to him as you told him, "Don't mind Pierce. Watch out for her and you should be perfectly fine here. I will be seeing you later today about fittings and sizes for your uniform. If you need anything, simply ask for me and I will help you anyway I can."

He smiled at you and you shook his hand. He nodded, "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it," you told him before letting him go. He went to one elevator while you took the other, both of you going in opposite directions. You quickly got back to your desk, separating the papers that needed to be taken care of later and the documents for the Salvatore meeting.

Katherine Pierce was Mr. Mikaelson's assistant before you. She was moved down after an incident just before you were hired to take her place. People always loved you and applauded your work, some would openly claim how much of a better assistant you turned out to be.

Katherine held a grudge. It was the reason she hated you so much. Now hearing that you're attempting to strike a deal with the Salvatores - something she tried and failed at doing - she was really working up a temper.

And you loved to do it.

You finished looking over the presentation on your tablet, approving of the perfection that was Mr. Mikaelson's work. You wrote back to him on his email after you finished up.

'Everything is perfect, as always, sir. It is perfectly ready for the meeting.'

You sent the response and went straight to the meeting room with your stack of documents and tablet. You pulled up the menu for the catering to make sure everything was set. When you walked into the room, you smiled as things were just being finished. There were three people left in the room, adding their last touches and arrangements.

You looked over everything a second time, making sure everything was perfect for Mr. Mikaelson. You double and triple checked, just to be positive. You looked over the chairs and counted them. One, two, three, four. You furrowed your brows. There are supposed to be five chairs present: one for Mr. Mikaelson, two for the Salvatores, one for their lawyer, and one for yourself.

You checked your watch to see the time and cursed. 5:17. It was too late to grab another chair, you were supposed to be early, as early as 5:20 sharp. No exceptions - by your own standards at least, Mr. Mikaelson allowed your flexibility because you were such a good assistant.

You sighed before setting out the papers at each space. You fixed the waters just slightly, nitpicking at everything to make up for the missing seat. Everything had to be perfect.

Just as you finished up, Mr. Mikaelson walked in and examined the room. 5:20 sharp. He gave an approving smile and spoke, "Everything looks perfect. Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N."

You nodded with a smile, "Of course, sir."

His smile faltered a bit as his eyes narrowed at the set up, his gaze darting between each of the seats. "Wait, there are only four chairs present. Where is the fifth?"

You internally sighed, crossing one leg over the other as you spoke, "There was no time to grab an extra so I will be standing during the presentation, sir. Besides, it helps for when I pass out documents."

He shook his head, "Nonsense, take my chair. I will stand."

You opposed with a small smile, "Really, it's fine. As your assistant, I adjust to what you need. It's no problem for me to stand during the presentation. It works out well."

Mr. Mikaelson thought for a moment over your words, silence settling in the room. You tried not to fidget with your watch, a habit you had been trying to break. Relief washed over you as the sound of your boss sighing filled the room.

"Very well then," he said. He went over the agenda of the meeting with you one last time - even though the two of you had been going over it over the past week to prepare for it - before he allowed you to go to the door and prepare to greet the incoming clients.

You waited for only a few minutes before the three men got off the elevator to your floor. You gave a welcoming smile as they walked over to you. You offered an outstretched hand as the younger Salvatore shook your hand first. "Hello, Mr. Salvatore."

He shook his head with a polite smile, "Please, call me Stefan."

You nodded, "Welcome, Stefan." He let go of your hand and you reached for the second brother. He gave you a smirk, one he expected to have you fawning over him as you stared into those icy blues; however, you were used to dealing with men like this. He didn't affect.

You greeted him respectfully, "Hello, Mr. Salvatore." He sauntered over to you, shaking your hand as he stood fairly close to you. He wiggled a brow and winked at you, "Damon." You nodded once as you continued to smile at him, "Of course. Come right in."

He walked into the room, shooting a look at you over his shoulder. You breathed a light chuckle and turned your attention to the third man. You shook his hand firmly, "You must be the Salvatores' lawyer. I'm Y/N Y/L/N, Mr. Mikaelson's personal assistant."

He gave you a nod and a smile, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. Alaric Saltzman."

"Shall we go in?"

"Lead the way," he said. You both entered the room as you closed the door behind you. You took your place behind Mr. Mikaelson's chair, adjusting a folder in your arms as he greeted each man. Damon's eyes kept looking back at you, winking and smirking as he flirted. Stefan seemed to notice this as he mouthed "sorry"s to you.

Once the introductions were finished, everyone took their respective places around the table. Mr. Mikaelson clapped his hands together and gave a professional smile, "Well then, shall we begin?"

~

The hour long meeting was a mix between long and short. Between you standing - which didn't really bother you - Damon's winks and smirks, Stefan's mouthed apologies, and the professional words exchanged between the men about the deal, you couldn't quite tell.

You smiled as you looked at each person throughout the meeting, noting the approving looks of Mr. Saltzman and Stefan - Damon seemed more interested in you than he did the presentation. But as the meeting came to an end, Mr. Mikaelson spoke as he looked between each man, "What do you think? Do we have a deal?"

Stefan and Mr. Saltzman shared a glance before all three of them turned their chairs more toward each other and away from you and your boss. They whispered to each other as they talked it over.

You narrowed your eyes a little as you watched them, glancing down at Mr. Mikaelson at the same time he glanced up at you. You gave a small smile and nodded once, which had him smiling in response. You both turned your eyes to the men and you did your best to keep from fiddling with your watch.

After another few moments, they broke up and turned back around to face you and Mr. Mikaelson. Their faces were blank as they seemed to assess you both the same way you were assessing them.

Mr. Saltzman's eyes landed on your boss' as they stared each other down. That's when your smile widened very slightly. Mr. Mikaelson always won stare downs. His gazes were always so intense and intimidating that it was impossible not to look away or crack under his powerful look. You would win this one.

Mr. Saltzman soon smiled, glancing away at Stefan momentarily to ease the tension of Mr. Mikaelson's stare. Both he and Stefan nodded as they held out their hands. You both shook their hands as Stefan spoke, "It's a deal."

You internally celebrated at their acceptance to the offer, keeping a professional stance as you shook their hands. You told them calmly, "It will be a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Saltzman. You won't regret it."

He smiled, "Please, we're business partners. Just call me Ric."

"Very well then," you smiled, "Ric, is it."

Mr. Mikaelson smiled as he spoke up, "I propose a celebration in honor of our new deal." You smiled up at him and the men nodded. Alaric spoke, "That'd be great."

He smiled regally, "How about drinks at the Mystic Grill. 9:00, on me."

"Great, we'll see you then," Stefan smiled.

Alaric spoke up then, "I actually won't be able to make it tonight. I have prearranged plans."

You nodded, "We understand. It was wonderful to meet you, Alaric."

"And you as well, Y/N, Mr. Mikaelson," he said. There was one last round of hand shaking as everyone began to exit the meeting room. Damon spoke, "I hope to see your lovely assistant, Ms. Y/L/N, as well."

Mr. Mikaelson turned to you, that same smile still resting on his face as he nodded, "Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Yes, I will be there," you smiled, "I can't leave Mr. Mikaelson on his own. What kind of assistant would I be then?" Small laughter scattered through the rooms as the meeting officially came to an end.

At the door, Damon kissed your hand cockily and winked, "I'll see you tonight." He then turned and left with Stefan and Alaric in tow. Stefan shot you one last look to apologize for his brother. You shrugged and watched them leave. Once the elevator doors closed behind them, you turned with a heavy sigh to face the room again.

You smiled at your boss, "Another job well done, Mr. Mikaelson."

You walked over to him, your gaze moving up with each step closer. He smiled back at you, a more casual smile versus his professional one he usually kept on his face. Instead of looking at you with a raised head, he lowered his gaze so he could see you properly.

"All thanks to you," he responded, "You really are an amazing assistant."

You blushed very lightly at the compliment as you chuckled lightly, "It's nothing, sir. I'm just doing my job."

His hand came up to his lip, brushing his thumb against it as he told you meaningfully, "And you are very good at your job, dare I say the best. I truly appreciate your help over these past five years. I could not have asked for better. I have you to thank for most of my accomplishments - if not all."

You breathed a chuckle, diverting your eyes to the ground to hide the blush that was creeping up your neck at his kind words. Even if you didn't have huge feelings for the man, he knew the right things to say to get a girl blushing.

"Well, if it weren't for you, sir, I wouldn't have this job. So I suppose we both appreciate each other," you tilted your head as you looked up at him. He licked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting his lip slightly before nodding, "I trust I'll be seeing you tonight?"

You nodded gently with a gracious smile, "Yes, sir. I'll be there. Who else is going to plan it?" You both shared a laugh before he gave you a quick nod and left the room. You took a moment to stand there and breathe, allowing your thoughts to wander to the man you were so happy to be able to know and work for. 

When the moment was over, you shook your head and began tidying the room. You then returned to your desk, tidying the things out of place as you got your things together. You grabbed your laptop and tablet, putting both in your purse before grabbing the folder of the signed papers from earlier in the day.

You knocked on Mr. Mikaelson's door, listening in for his answer, "Come in."

You opened the door and spoke gently, 'I'm taking these papers before I head out, sir. Also, the new chauffeur Mr. Rosza arrived. I will inform him about tonight and what time to pick you up. Is there anything else you need before I go?"

He shook his head with a smile and said, "No, that should be all."

"Great," you said, "I will see you tonight then, sir." You ignored the tiny skip of your heart as the words left your mouth. They were just simple words. Nothing to get excited over. He nodded, "Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N. I'll see you tonight."

You closed his door and left toward the elevator. Just as soon as you got on the elevator, Katherine joined you. You sighed as she stepped in next to you, her own bag thrown over her shoulder as she got ready to leave. There was a smug look on her face as usual as she prepared what nosy comment she was going to say to you.

"I overheard you talking with the big boss man. What was that about 'seeing him tonight'?" she asked, looking at you a with suggestive, and quite vexing, expression. You were tired of her sticking her nose in places she shouldn't.

Maybe you shouldn't have gloated, but it was the end of the day and you were close to tired - especially after dealing with Damon. "The Salvatores accepted our deal and the five of us are going to celebrate tonight. It probably would have been cool if you were able to, huh? Do you have anymore questions for me, Ms. Pierce?"

She kept quiet, now annoyed and pissed off by your fortune. You relished in the silence of the rest of the trip down to the lobby. When the elevator doors opened on the lobby, she got out as her heels clicked on the marble floors.

You smiled as you stepped out, walking over to the receptionist. "Hey, Cami," you smiled at her, leaning over the counter. She looked up at you and smiled back, happy to see her friend visiting her, "Hey. Long day?"

You thought over it, thinking about Stefan and Damon and then taking into account Cami's job. You sighed, "Probably not as long as yours."

You both shared a light laugh and continued, "Yeah, I gotta get ready for something with my boss. We made that deal with the Salvatores!"

Cami gave an excited look as her eyes widened, "No way! That's awesome! 

You nodded proudly, "Yeah, we're celebrating at the Grill tonight." She went to respond when the phone went off and she sighed. "I've gotta get back to work. Congrats on that, though."

"Thanks. Bye, Cami," you waved as you began walking away. She waved at you as you walked out of the building into the parking lot where you got in your car and headed back home.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

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

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

[xelbleedsglitter]

So here's the deal with my postal nemesis.

I go in there pretty frequently because I'm mailing buttons to people on a pretty regular basis. If you've bought buttons from me you know that they come in a teal bubble mailer with purple writing on them and the package makes a nice clickety-clackity sound. They are kind of hard to miss.

I also am difficult to miss! My hair is currently neon green and I'm usually dressed like a Hot Topic threw up on Lisa Frank.

So I've been going into this post office nearly weekly with the same shit over and over and it is primarily the same guy behind the counter.

Many of you will know by virtue of living in a different country than me that I frequently send buttons to everyone and so sometimes I need to send a teal envelope to Poland and sometimes Argentina, it just happens. International packages it turns out take a lot longer to process than anything contained in my own country. Fine makes sense the formatting is different and they have to make sure I'm not exporting human remains or something.

This dude glares at me through the entire process.

A process which takes a long time because he only has two functioning fingers.

I'm not exaggerating about this. He's clearly got some kind of thing going on where only two fingers work on one of his hands and the other one is held very close to the other side of his body. When he needs to move something off the table he has to bring up his entire other arm and just kind of slide the mail with the side of his palm into the bin.

I think it is great that someone properly gave somebody with physical limitations a chance at the same kind of employment everybody gets, this is not the issue.

The issue is that this dude is a dick. He lets out these big angry sighs with every single thing he has to type. Everything he says is a syllable best and just sort of a sound at worst. I have worked in customer facing retail so I understand that there's really no money on Earth that they can pay you enough to give a fuck. You aren't being paid to be happy or to like it there you're being paid to push the buttons and put the mail in a box.

But I'm in there all the time and every time this dude glares at me and I watch him enter International addresses with one finger. And then probably in a rehearsed motion that he has been using to compensate for the fact that he's only got the one finger to work with, he blasts through every option on the menu.

How many times have I told this man that I need tracking on these envelopes and that I need the receipt emailed to me? Dozens.

You know me dude I can tell that you know me because you look upset every time I walk in there with my gay hair and my teal envelopes.

I get grumpy right back at you every time you override my request for an email receipt.

I need them because it's much easier to put them into PayPal to prove that I'm not scamming people if I just have it emailed to me rather than copying it off of a receipt that I will inevitably lose in my wallet you catastrophic shithead

I don't know what solution you want me to have about sending pins to people in Europe. I'm going to keep doing it. This is what your job is actually. I know you are facing a pretty unique situation. I myself have historically been standing in front of you in absolute agony with a cane because you were taking 45 minutes to send six envelopes. I sympathize with working while disabled because I was technically doing the same thing by mailing out the objects I had designed and made while you were standing there angry and growling at me with every keystroke. I've also been still in the room walking away while you apologize to the people behind me for me choosing to send things internationally.

Neither of us is having fun here bro.

And so now that this man and I mutually recognize each other and are each very unhappy to see the other and yet he still can't remember that I just want my fucking receipt in my email could you please stop overriding everything I do and just say hello

he is my post office nemesis

Today I am mailing a print, buttons, and a Furby

[dweetwise]

[Riconti] Silver linings

Felix: hates snobs Also Felix: is a snob Rated T | 1.3 words | ao3 link

Felix was a very nonviolent person.

Some people might have even called him a coward, but Felix liked to think of himself as rational. He avoided confrontation whenever possible, felt squeamish about gore and violence in the media, and never understood people who went looking for a fight and most often got their asses kicked.

And that mindset had served him well. He'd small-talked his way to professional success, was on friendly terms with former colleagues and ex-partners alike, and had even survived years trapped in another world where powerful monsters hunted him on a daily basis.

But for every minute Felix stared at his latest client's long email filling up the monitor, he was starting to understand why some people flipped out and committed bloody murder.

In the midst of composing a passive-aggressive reply, Felix barely noticed Ace walking past the doorway. But he heard footsteps pausing in the hallway, and then Ace was backing up until he was standing in the doorframe to Felix's home office.

Felix's murderous expression, manic typing and mutters of asshole and Hurensohn were apparently enough to warrant the double take.

"Huh," Ace said. "I thought that was a storm cloud in your office, but it was just your face," he joked.

Felix kept glaring at the computer screen.

Ace paused before approaching. "You okay?"

During the time Ace had been living with him, he'd learned not to disturb Felix while he was working from home. Not only because they were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship and having Ace around made Felix want to do very unprofessional things on top of important blueprints, but because Felix was easily distracted and needed space to focus when he was in the zone.

Fortunately, Ace had sensed that Felix could really use a distraction today.

"I am one email away from looking up old Imperiatti rituals to send this client to the Void," Felix gritted out.

"Ouch, that bad, huh." Ace winced sympathetically, coming to stand behind Felix's office chair.

When Ace's hands landed on Felix's tense shoulders and started lightly caressing them, the tension in Felix snapped.

"This absolute imbecile of a spoiled, snotty little man-child that we made the horrible mistake of taking on as a client—" Felix started, his voice growing more heated with every word as he launched into a tirade.

Felix was aware that his professional image was quiet and polite—if a little stuck-up—and he sometimes wondered what his colleagues would say if they saw him at home with his walls let down. 

Because around those he was comfortable with, Felix was prone to ranting. While he smiled and nodded and stood tall in public, in private he wanted nothing more than to slouch against Ace and complain about idiots or geek out about a new interest.

Ace had never seemed to mind. At first, he'd joked that "You know, I don't think I've ever heard you speak that many sentences in a row," but after Felix tried to apologize, Ace merely made himself more comfortable against the couch and urged him to continue.

By now, it was almost an established routine. While Felix told him all about the latest client's wrongdoings, Ace kept humming at the right parts and offering scandalized "he didn't"s, all the while calmly petting Felix's hair and massaging his shoulders through the childish tantrum.

"And then he had the gall to ask me for our first draft! After two weeks! We had barely received the geographical data of the area!" Felix raged.

"Wow," Ace said. "What an entitled dick."

"It wouldn't be so bad if—even after I explained the process—he didn't keep calling every single day to give us pointless updates about his new designer carpet or sudden obsession with green walls or the golf simulator room that he can't make up his fucking mind about!"

With a sound of pure frustration, Felix crumpled onto his desk, his forehead coming to rest on the keyboard and writing a string of hjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj into the open email.

Normally, Felix enjoyed working from home. The time saved from the commute along with the silence of the Richter manor meant he was able to focus better than at the office and also got more time to spend with Ace. But, naturally, it also meant bringing said work home; thus exposing his boyfriend to deadlines, conference calls and dealing with shitty clients.

Felix just wanted this work week to be over. He wanted to celebrate the weekend with Ace and not stress himself to an early grave about a project. But no, it was only Tuesday, meaning three more days of this misery—and that was without the stupid tennis course his aunt had finally managed to bully Felix and Ace to attend tomorrow evening.

How he ever managed his old sixty-hour work week and mingling with his grating relatives without Ace’s support, Felix would never understand.

With that in mind, Felix straightened up and caught Ace's hand on his shoulder, turning it to kiss the inside of his wrist.

"This weekend," Felix promised. "After work and tennis, let me take you out."

"Aww, come on," Ace, predictably, tried to protest. "You don't have to. You're probably gonna be tired."

"Maybe, but I want to," Felix said. "Let's go to that French place you love."

"Huh?" Ace perked up. "Are you talking about the way too expensive one?"

"It's not expensive considering the quality," Felix argued. "We should try the twelve-course tasting menu this time. I've heard good reviews about it."

"And I've heard they've got a waiting list of at least two months."

"I'll call in some favors."

Felix didn't normally abuse his status, but making Ace happy was always the exception.

"Mr. Richter," Ace said, mock scandalized. "I'm starting to think I should give you a backrub more often," he teased.

Felix swiveled around in his chair and wrapped an arm loosely around Ace's waist.

"And I should remember to appreciate you more often," Felix said. "I'm sorry for complaining so much about work… or the weather, or the neighbors—or that idiot cashier the other day."

Felix winced as he realized just how unpleasant it must have been to be around him for the past few days.

But Ace just smiled and stepped in between Felix's legs, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

"You've got nothing to apologize for," Ace murmured, his smile nothing but fond. "Besides, how else will I get the latest gossip about the neighbor's tax fraud or Lauren's messy divorce?"

Felix chuckled and tilted his head up. Ace, ever the expert at body language, didn't hesitate to lean in for a kiss.

Ace was warm and perfect against him. When he hummed softly into the kiss, Felix's earlier annoyance all but melted away.

"So," Ace said when pulling away. "Wining and dining, huh?"

Felix nodded. "I'll make the reservation and have our good suits pressed for the weekend."

"Sounds amazing," Ace said. "But for today..."

Felix frowned and waited for him to continue.

"Today, I think you need to relax," Ace decided. "How about you finish up early, we watch a marathon of some shitty cooking competition show on Netflix, order the greasiest pizza we can find for dinner, and fall asleep well before 10 PM."

Felix chuckled and buried his head against Ace's chest.

He never thought he would find someone who understood him so completely; who could both effortlessly bullshit with haughty clients during cocktail parties and also happily lounge around in sweatpants watching terrible reality television with Felix.

"That sounds perfect," Felix said. You're perfect, he didn't quite have the confidence to say.

Ace smiled softly, like he got it anyway. "Right back at you."

[candyflosstoxicity]

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

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

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

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

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

[hrh-henrywales]

acd-at-oxford​:

TEAM WORK || HENLEX (AUGUST 16)

“For our grade’s sake,” Alex agreed, watching as Henry pulled his hand back. Careful and proper as always, Alex thought inwardly. “And probably for both our sanity’s sake as well,” he added, turning back to his computer. He couldn’t imagine either of them wanted to go through the entire term fighting and arguing. Not only would it end up with a poor final product, but also wouldn’t exactly do wonders for anybody’s mental health. He glanced over at Henry’s screen, and nodded, “yeah, send them through and I’ll send you through what I find. Why don’t we set up a Sharepoint, then we can both just link or insert what we find in there? And we can used shared documents then as well, for when we’re writing or drafting.” He started clicking away, setting up a Sharepoint folder they could both access, and sending Henry the link. 

They managed to get through the rest of the class without biting each other’s heads off (or rather, without Alex saying something stupid, because even he was smart enough to know that’s generally how things had started between them), and had settled into a mild form of tolerance and exchange of information. They figured out what their plan moving forward would be, at least for the initial stages of the project. When the time came for the class to wrap up, the professor informed them as they were packing up that, from this point onwards, all work would have to be done outside of class and regular curriculum would return next class, which Alex didn’t think anybody would be surprised with. After all, they were Masters students. But it did mean he and Henry would need to work out a time to meet up outside of class.

He tore of a piece of his notebook, scribbling down a series of numbers before passing it to Henry. “Here. My phone number - it might be easier than the student emails. No that we don’t see each other around enough,” he swung his bag over his shoulder and shrugged, “but it might come in handy, to work out times we should meet up. Maybe in the library or something. Text me your number, yeah?” With that, Alex looked at Henry for perhaps a second too long, before nodding and turning to leave the class. He had a free period next, and he just wanted to head back to his dorm and process the last hour of his life.

Henry caught that last comment Alex about it being better for their mental sake, and even if he didn’t comment anything further on that he had to agree. It would make things easier, and he somehow felt the other man would want things to run smoothly so he could get away from that pesky assignment, and Henry’s company as soon as possible. He nodded when the other mentioned making a Sharepoint where they could upload and share any notes, ideas and all things to do with their work. Once Alex had it set up, Henry sent the whole file he had just opened in his laptop, so he could read it and give his thoughts on it later. The rest of the class went by uneventfully, with them making some comments on things they could insert in their eassy eventually, so all in all, they managed to make up a first draft of what they wanted it to be in the end.

He couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face when Alex handed him the piece of paper with his number on it. It ocurred to him then they didn’t do anything like that back when they had to spend the weekend posing for photographers and pretending to be friends, because really, what was the point about that then, even if he would often dreamed about that, and now he actually had the paper with Alex Claremont’s phone number in his hand. It all lasted perhaps half a second, before he composed himself and nodded. “Sounds like a good idea” he said, then put his own things away, while Alex was already walking away. Once he was out of sight, he saved the number in his phone, and typed:

“There you go.”

“You better not share this with anyone, or I’ll set the MI6 on you.”

“Kidding. Or not?”

“It’s Henry, by the way.”

END SCENE.

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn 

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 7.3k 

Masterlist

A/N: hey yall this is my first ff im posting on tumblr :D im kinda scared to post but i hope anybody who stumbles on lil ol’ me will join me along the way :) also important!!! i made oc/reader asian cus i am lol (and this whole thing is basically a glorified self insert) so plz keep this in mind when reading!! oh god i didnt realize how slow this first part was sry... 

The cold silence of the room felt like stabs at your inside. You commanded your feet to stop bouncing up and down as you unconsciously started to bite off the dead skin of your bottom lip. The white corporate light from above reflected off your brand new lanyard hanging delicately from your neck. You felt the coarse blue fabric rub against your neck as you mindlessly fiddled with your lanyard; the newly printed photo of your face stared back at you with a smile. 

The creak of the door to your left was what broke you from your nervous fidgets. Whipping your head up from your lanyard, you immediately stood up ready to bow to whoever came through that door. 

It was a girl. She looked around the same age as you, if not older. Her attire was what gave her away. Her appearance essentially mirrored yours: hair tied back into a ponytail with a white blouse and black work pants. She also had the familiar blue ‘JYPE’ labeled strap hanging from her neck. 

“Hello,” you spoke meekly, scared to disturb the cold silence that had a hold on the room you were in. 

“Hello,” she replied. “My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern and today is my first day.”

This is so relieving, you thought, another newbie to share the stress with me. 

“This is my first day too,” you perked up, “I’ll be starting as the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” 

Getting the acceptance email from JYP Entertainment was definitely a high point in your life. The feeling of butterflies swarming your insides as you clicked the email open only to see your acceptance was immediately locked as a core memory. All the years of memorizing thousands of Korean and English vocabulary flashcards, the panic attacks before your finance exams, and the many, many late night coffee breaks were worth it the moment you received your first legitimate job offer, and from the esteemed JYP Entertainment company no less. 

“Chinese marketing?” Na-eun asked. “So you aren’t from here, I take it.” 

You shook your head. “I am from China. I completed my degree a while ago with a major in Language and a minor in Business. To be honest, I’ve done internships back home, but it’s been my dream to move to a new country.”

All of what you said was true. Up until now, your surroundings have never changed in all of your twenty-three years living. From the walk with your grandmother to daycare to the vast campus of your university, the view of your city has never changed. Your social circle stayed stagnant since you were able to talk and your love life was — for a lack of a better word — uneventful. 

It wasn’t until the day you decided to start applying for careers outside your home country that you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could find an escape from your inert lifestyle and escape the burnout and stress that has been building up over the years. And so, on a day when you were feeling unusually confident, you gathered up the courage and spent hours sending out applications to organizations all over Asia that pertained to your specific degree. The applications were mainly for small jobs at small companies, however, your strange spike of motivation gave you the confidence to apply to the everso esteemed JYP Entertainment located in Korea. Of course you knew about this company — you and your friends played songs by ‘Twice’ nonstop back in highschool — but you didn’t realize the full power that this company had on the entertainment market until you did your full research. To say that you thought you had no chance was an understatement. This application was so far of a reach that you purposefully forced your mind to erase all memory of even applying. 

However, with your education, your work experience, and whatever tiny bit of luck you had, you somehow made it through the initial application process. Then the next. And the next. Then the interview. And now, you were nervously sitting in this white painted room with Na-eun, in a completely new country, waiting for your manager to come greet you. 

“So you’re from China? You’ve got to teach me chinese sometime.” Na-eun smiled. 

You giggled in return while nodding your head. You were relieved that you’ve met a potential friend so early in your career in this company. This was one of your big worries. With your social circle being so stagnant for the majority of your life back in China, you rarely had the opportunity to meet new people, much less make new friends. 

You were about to inquire more into Na-eun’s life when the door to your left abruptly opened. In the blink of an eye, three new people strutted in — two women and one man. They seemed to be higher status than you and Na-eun judging by their attire. All three were styled in some type of blazer and dress pants and there was no lanyard to be found on any of them. 

“Hello new employees,” the man greeted. Judging by his face, he looked to be in his late thirties at the least. His hair was styled back neatly and his lips slanted up, giving him a fox-like appearance. “I am Executive Manager Kim. Joined beside me on the left is Social Media Manager An and to my right is Marketing Manager Chen.” 

Both you and Na-eun immediately stood up to bow and introduce yourselves. 

“Hello. My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern.” Na-eun said. 

“Hello. My name is y/n, I’m the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” You repeated after her, copying exactly what she said. You did not want to screw anything up on your first day, especially your first impression. 

Manager Kim reached over to Na-eun, introducing himself and giving her a firm handshake. He then slowly moved over to you, and reached for your hand. 

“Y/n,” he gave time for your name to settle on his tongue as he gave a sly smile. “You’re not from here, aren't you?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No, sir. I’m from China where I studied language and business. I hope to do well here as the Chinese marketing assistant.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so timid. 

“I’m glad to hear,” Manager Kim chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll treat me and your other managers well.”

You felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you as he brushed his thumb along your hand before letting go. This feeling was excused as nervousness, after all, this was your first day and your first time meeting your higher-ups. 

You introduced yourself to Manager Chen, assuming that she would be the one you were to assist in your time here at JYPE. Judging by her last name, you presumed that she was Chinese as well. 

“Forgive me for being so straight up Manager Chen, but are you Chinese?” You asked. 

“That is alright, y/n,” she smiled, “I’m not. My Husband is, but I’ve lived in China for more than half my life. I don’t want to brag, but my mandarin has gotten proficient over the past decade or so.”

Proficient? It’s amazing. You thought. This first day was turning out better than you thought. Other than the weird feeling you received from Manager Kim, everything was turning out splendid. A potential friend and a manager that could speak your first language.

“Since it’s about noon right now,” Manager Kim took a look at his watch, “What do you all think about some lunch?” 

The other managers nod their heads in agreement and gestures for you and Na-eun to follow them out of the waiting room you were in for so long. 

The whole building seemed so clean. With every corner lit, by natural light or artificial light, you could clearly see that every room, every piece of furniture and decor had been purposefully placed. You couldn’t help but have a stupid look of awe plastered on your face as you mindlessly follow your superiors over to the cafeteria.  

You turned your head over to Na-eun and gave her a tilt of the eyebrow, silently saying wow, this is where we work. 

With the turn of a corner and several silent strides, your little group made it to the cafeteria. 

The difference between your claustrophobic waiting room and this vast room was astonishing. With countless tables and romantic yellow lighting, this place almost resembled a five star restaurant. You’ve never seen a cafeteria as extravagant and clean as this before. However, to be fair, you’ve never had the experience of working with such a large corporation before. 

The managers led you to the serving station where you grabbed yourself a tray and proceeded to spoon small portions of rice and side dishes onto your plate. This cuisine was different to what you were used to, but nonetheless looked delicious. You were prepared for the small cultural differences, especially with the food, but from everything you’ve witnessed so far, the culture shock would be easier to overcome than what you’ve anticipated. 

“Have this soup y/n,” Manager Kim’s grating voice came from in front of you, interrupting your inner monologue. “It’s good for your complexion.” 

As Manager Kim hands over the bowl of soup, you feel the sleeve of his blazer brush up against your shoulder, causing the pit of your stomach to drop.

First day nerves. That was what this feeling was. You thought. 

You quietly thanked him with a small nod and walked briskly from the service line, trying to find where Na-eun went with the other two managers. Thankfully, they were just a step away and you quickly made your way over to the comfortable spot beside Na-eun. She gave you a small grin and you both followed your way to a table right in the middle of the room. 

Soon, all five chairs of the table got filled and sounds of chopsticks tapping and scraping against plates and bowls filled your ears. An awkward silence dominates your table as you start to pick at your food. 

“So,” Manager Chen cleared her throat, “after lunch I was thinking we should go to a meeting room and discuss Miss. Y/n’s role in our new project.”

“I was thinking the same for our new Intern Choi.” Manager An cut in, “What do you think, Manager Kim?” 

“It all sounds good. I will be accompanying Manager Chen to her meeting room as I wish to also further discuss the preliminary steps for our project.” Manager Kim looked from Manager Chen over to you. 

“Project?” You ask. 

“We’ve had a very successful year with our idol groups and we wanted to ride this success and start marketing in China. Recently, we’ve noticed a very large and growing Chinese audience for this group. I’m sure you’re very curious now, however we can discuss further details once we are in the meeting room.” Manager Chen replies while taking a sip of the water in her glass. 

Manager Chen appeared to be a very professional and respectable woman. With prominent collarbones and wide shoulders, she easily looked the part of a confident and adored manager. She needed minimal makeup to highlight her tall cheekbones, and even with a short heel on her feet she seemed to tower over you. However, her warm and comforting voice was what broke her intimidating demeanour. Just listening to her voice felt like you were back in your high school classroom with your favourite teacher explaining the motif of a sad love poem. 

After some more awkward conversations mixed with a few work discussions, the five of you finished the delicious food on your trays. 

“Please excuse me whilst I head to the restroom” Na-eun spoke up after your group finished clearing the table. 

“Please excuse me as well.” You quickly followed, bowing as you both ventured off to the washrooms. 

I should get her number so I’m not completely a loner in this place, you thought to yourself. And so, after a quick inner struggle to speak up, you finally decided to ask. 

“Hey, should we exchange contacts? I don’t wanna look like the newbie eating in the cafeteria alone after today.” You chuckled. 

“Totally!” Na-eun beamed. “I was actually thinking the same thing…” 

And so, you both quickly exchanged each other's contact as you made your way to the restrooms. 

The hall of the washrooms were narrow, hidden away from the main cafeteria. You walked in, deciding you only wanted to retouch your hair and makeup before your first official meeting. You carefully fix the loose hairs that somehow escaped the confines of your elastic and dab on a fresh layer of foundation before applying your lipstick which rubbed off while eating. Looking over at Na-eun, you see she’s quite in the zone redoing her mascara. 

“Hey, I’ll just wait for you in the hall.” You said. 

Na-eun gave you a disinterested nod back as she kept focusing on her mascara. 

You walked to the end of the hall, leaned against the wall, and pulled out your phone. Smiling, you opened the virtual Tamagotchi app and saw your little friend staring back at you, bouncing up and down. The bundle of virtual pixels happily bounced as you fed and bathed it, making you happier in return. Playing this game, you were so entranced with your phone that the abrupt closing of the washroom doors broke you out of your hypnosis fast, causing you to flinch and drop your phone. 

You looked up, only to see a brown haired man wearing a long sleeved black shirt. The hem of his sleeve fell, covering his hand as he bent down to pick up your phone. He stood back up, fully facing you now and you immediately recognized who he was. You weren’t a fool, of course you did all your research on the artists of JYPE before applying for the job. Looking down at you right now, holding your phone in his hand, was Bang Chan of Stray Kids. 

The wispy tufts of his brown hair bounced over his forehead as he stepped over to you. He smiled, his dimple poking out of his cheek, and handed your phone back to you. “I think you dropped this.”  

Blushing tomato red, you embarrassingly accepted the phone, trying not to make your shaking hands noticeable. It seemed like that failed, however, as you noticed him glance at your hands and dimple grow deeper. 

“Thank you.” You meekly chirped and lowered your head, still in awe that you somehow bumped into a JYPE idol in the bathroom hallway of a cafeteria. 

“It’s good that there’s no cracks.” Bang Chan said, looking in your eyes. 

You looked back into his eyes. His smile never left his face, and you physically felt the warmth radiating off his body like rays from the sun. Some boring, objective part of your brain knew this interaction only lasted a fraction of a second, but you swore that time froze.

“Hyung!” A distant voice called. 

Your trance was broken as Bang Chan looked over to the person calling his name. He turned back to you, politely bowed, and casually sauntered over to the man who called him. 

What just happened? Your inner monologue ran, still trying to process the embarrassing interaction. The scent of his cologne lingered, swirling the atmosphere around your body. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on this interaction as Na-eun finally opened the washroom doors and was making her way toward you. 

You and Na-eun trailed behind the managers until you reached the set of elevators. It was there where you had to unfortunately separate from your comfort work buddy as she hopped in the elevator across from yours with Manager An. The other two managers led you to the elevator at the end and pressed the button for your destination floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. You stood there, fiddling with your nails. 

Once the elevator gave the ding of arrival, the three of you headed down a hall where you presumed had the meeting room. 

Manager Kim took a look at the watch on his wrist. “We are a minute late, everybody should be there already. Enter silently and respectfully.” He said in a stern voice.

You reached the frosted glass door of the meeting room and entered through the already opened door. The managers followed behind you with Manager Chen being the last one in and closing the door. 

Your eyes widened at whom you saw.

There was Bang Chan, who sat in all his glory, staring right into your eyes with his mouth ajar. His shocked expression didn't last long, however, as he quickly composed himself to fit with the professional atmosphere of this room. 

But why was he here? You thought. He’s an artist, isn’t this a management meeting? 

Your inner monologue was broken by Manager Kim’s stern voice. “Y/n, why don’t you sit with me for today?” He asked with a slight tilt of the lips. His hand was hovering above your back, almost guiding you to the seat just right of the head chair. 

Your heart rate quickened. There was no way that you could handle sitting right beside a high position manager on your first day. You barely knew what your duties entailed, you definitely could not handle the pressure of this seat today. You whipped your head around to look for Manager Chen. She was already sitting in her seat, looking like she was right at home. 

“Manager Kim, if you don’t mind, I would like to sit in this position for today, '' a voice spoke up, “I have a lot of new ideas I’d like to share that are written in my notes.” 

Bang Chan.

He paused a brief second, eyes switching between you and Manager Kim, and raised his iPad to show the screen filled with words. 

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.” Manager Kim monotonously replied. He then made his way to the head chair. 

You looked over at Bang Chan, trying to subtly send the most grateful facial expression over to him. He returned your look, slightly grinning as his fingers tapped on the screen of his iPad and sat down to the right of Manager Kim. You looked over to see Manager Chen gesturing you to sit in the chair beside her and swiftly made your way over. At your seat, she handed you a notepad and pen, both adorned with the JYPE logo. 

“Now, as of 1:02 p.m., September first, the meeting will officially begin.” Manager Kim clasped his hands together on top of the table. “As most of you already know, we are in the preliminary stages of planning a Chinese debut for our artist group ‘Stray Kids’. All we have right now is the estimated timeline, which is four months. We have a basic grasp of the concept we are working towards, however, as you all know, trends are always changing and growing. While we are working to create a new and original concept for Stray Kids, we also want the concept to gather as much audience reception as possible.” 

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Your hands struggled to keep up with writing down what Manager Kim was saying. You knew this relatively new group was really starting to explode in the past year, but a debut in another country? This group must work really hard to even have the company consider a step as risky as this. So this is why Bang Chan is also involved in this meeting. 

You peaked your head up from your notepad. Bang Chan sat across from you, one hand on his chin and the other one holding the pen to his tablet. 

Manager Kim then carefully discussed the duties that each group in the room would take. Many of the jobs were directly involved with developing the concept itself, such as producing music, concept art, and theme development. Your pen never took a break from gliding on the notepad as you hurriedly jotted down everything that Manager Kim said. 

Eventually, Manager Kim’s delegations moved to Manager Chen. “Manager Chen, I’ll let you take over from here.” 

“Thank you Manager Kim,” Manager Chen cleared her throat. “While my main job here was to market Korean comebacks towards the Chinese audience, this new project changes things up a bit. Now, not only will I be in charge of marketing to the Chinese audience, but I will also be directly in charge of the concept itself. I will be working carefully with our team in China to monitor the trends which we can incorporate into our debut.

“This is my new assistant, y/n,” She turned and gestured to you. You politely nodded your head. “She will be gathering information on useful trends and reporting back to me, as well as some translating. Please report any ideas that you deem useful to her by the end of every week for her to sort through and deliver to me.” 

You almost want to call Manager Chen crazy for giving you so much power, after all, you were only starting out as her assistant. Despite this, however, you were determined to go above and beyond with the new responsibilities given to you, after all, you knew that choosing to work in an organization as big as JYPE would take blood, sweat, and tears. 

After some clarifications given by Manager Chen and a few more questions directed at her, Manager Kim took the reins back in his hands. 

“Now, as I’m sure you all know, this is Bang Chan: the leader of Stray Kids. Although our management team is in charge of this debut, we like to include the opinions of artists whenever possible. He will make an appearance whenever he can and act as a representative of Stray Kids, sharing their ideas and opinions.” Manager Kim explained. 

Bang Chan politely introduced himself, and quickly went on to express some concerns of his members. He made sure that each concern was answered thoroughly by Manager Kim before moving on to the next. 

“As for our concept ideas,” Bang Chan’s soft brown eyes met yours, “will I have to report to y/n?” 

You felt your ears redden. 

“You could, yes,” Manager Kim straightened his back, “but if you find the weekly deadlines too much of a problem, you may just report to me or at any subsequent meeting.” 

“No worries sir,” Bang Chan’s eyes lingered on yours for a fraction of a second more before grinning at Manager Kim, “I’m always punctual.”  

The rest of the meeting consisted of more introductions and preliminary plans. After about an hour, everybody seemed satisfied with the contents of the meeting and were starting to pack up all their clutter on the table. You looked over at Manager Chen, silently asking what should I do next? 

Manager Chen smiled. “Let's head to my floor. I can give you a quick tour, you can get settled at your desk. I have some paperwork that I’m almost done with; I’m sure you’ll have no problem finishing it for me.” She already was standing up and straightening over the creases of her jacket. 

You stood up as well and followed behind Manager Chen like a lost baby duckling. You both made your way over to Manager Kim to bid farewell. You politely thanked him, said your goodbyes, and were about to leave when he stopped the two of you. 

“Manager Chen, let’s go out for drinks tonight.” Manager Kim took a look at the intricate watch on his wrist. “With our whole team, of course. It’ll be a welcoming night and we can get to know the people on our team better.” 

“That’s a great idea, Manager Kim,” Manager Chen nodded at his idea in approval. She turned on her iPad to quickly get a glimpse at her schedule. “What do you think y/n? Can you make it tonight? I know this is very last moment, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for you to get to know your coworkers better.” 

“I should be able to make it.” You definitely could make it. You had no plans anyways. 

“Am I invited to this top secret party you’re all having?” A now very distinguishable voice came from behind you. Bang Chan stared at Manager Kim with a very mischievous expression. 

“Would your manager allow it?” Manager Kim questioned, knitting his eyebrows. 

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t drink alcohol or eat anything,” Bang Chan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance, “but I want to be as involved as I can. Just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean I can’t help behind the scenes as well.”

“Very well,” Manager Kim nodded with a fixed expression, “Let’s all meet at that restaurant about a block away west. I’ll go tell the others.” And with that, Manager Kim left you, Manager Chen, and Bang Chan to stand in awkward silence. 

“Well,” Bang Chan cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I’ll get going as well to do some work now, but it was nice meeting the both of you.” 

“You as well.” Manager Chen replied for the both of you and Bang Chan left soon after. 

Manager Chen then led you to the elevators again and you headed up yet another few floors to reach your destination. You nervously fiddled with your hair as you silently waited behind your boss, looking up at the smooth lines of her blazer every few seconds. The elevator doors dinged, letting you know of its arrival. The two of you swiftly headed out the elevators and walked to what you presumed was Manager Chen’s office area. You kept following behind Manager Chen in silence before you stopped in front of a set of doors that looked identical to the ones at the previous meeting room. Manager Chen opened the doors for you, and you headed in. 

You paused a step in, looking wide-eyed at the interior. The office was clean. A big glass desk sat right in the middle of the vast room in front of a huge set of windows. There were a couple of soft looking chairs placed right before the desk with a huge rug right underneath it. Over to your left, you spotted a water dispenser with a kettle right beside it. You stared at the room a bit longer before realizing you must have looked very stupid with that astonished look on your face. 

“Is this your office, Manager Chen?” You asked. 

“Yes. It seems that you like it,” She chuckled. You felt the heat rise to your ears. 

“Since you’ll be working so close to me, I’m sure you’ll be happy to come here more often.” 

“Thanks.” You awkwardly laughed. You blamed your bad response on the fact that you still weren’t familiar with the language, not your blatant awkwardness. 

Manager Chen made her way over to her desk, picking up a small stack of papers. “These are some letters I’ve received from several designer companies in China. Since we are still in the very preliminary stages of this project, we would like to keep our options open for the stylists here.” She picks an annotated letter from the pile. “I’ve translated and created a summary of the main points of this letter. There are a few more left which I believe I can trust you with. Just do as I did with this letter and add the sample pictures along with it.”

You quickly complied, taking the stack of papers from her hands. 

“I’ll show you to your new work space.” She led you out of your office and over to a cubicle that wasn’t too far away. It was considerably smaller compared to Manager Chen’s office, but you thought it had a certain coziness to it. Plus, working close to your coworkers could also boost your motivation. “Here is your desk, it’s not the most exciting thing, but you may bring photos or whatnot to decorate it. Now, I’ll let you settle in and get started on your work. You can meet me at my office around six, I can double check your work before we leave.” 

You thanked her before she left and immediately got started on your work. You diligently translated the whole of the letters before picking out the main points that matched with Manager Chen’s example. After this was done, you included the photos that came with each letter and slipped them into their own cozy folder. This work was monotonous, sure, but it was something you needed on your hectic first day here. 

You were so captivated by your work that you completely forgot about the time. The sun was starting to set, and you only remembered to look at the time after you tucked your last letter neatly in its folder. You briefly panicked, praying that you weren’t making your manager wait. Thankfully, it was only a quarter until six. You took the next fifteen minutes double checking your work, making sure to also check the time every once in a while. At exactly six, you left your desk and scurried over to the big doors of Manager Chen’s office. 

Knocking a couple times, you waited patiently to be let in. 

“Come in.” 

You let yourself in, handing the papers to your manager, then sat quietly in one of the chairs before her desk, crossing your fingers together. You fiddled with your thumbs, patiently waiting for Manager Chen to speak up. 

“Not bad, this is some decent work.” Manager Chen announced as soon as she finished glossing over your work. “I’ve noted some places that you can either fix or improve. I’ll scan them and hand you a copy tomorrow.” 

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A tidal wave of relief washed over you as you let yourself relax further into your chain. Not bad, this is some decent work. You proudly repeated this moment in your brain. Although you were disappointed with the mistakes that you let slip through, to get somewhat of a compliment on your first day meant a lot to you. 

“Shall we get going now?” Manager Chen asked. 

You grabbed your bag and stood up. “I’ll let you lead the way.” 

                                                         _______

It seemed like all you were doing on your first day was following Manager Chen around like a lost puppy. The situation right now was no exception either, as you tried to copy her confident strides over to the restaurant a block down. You watched the busy rush hour streets and sidewalks fill with people, some people going home after a long day, some people going to party just like you.

Soon, after a few more minutes of walking, the both of you arrived at the small wooden doors of the restaurants. It seemed like the both of you were a bit late as Manager Kim was already waiting in front of the entrance with the rest of the team. Bang Chan was also there, head down looking at his phone. 

“Sorry we’re late, have you been waiting for long?” Manager Chen somehow sounded confident despite making everybody wait on her.

Her voice seemed to have caught everybody’s attention. You watched as Bang Chan swiftly turned his head up from his phone, his eyes making contact with yours. You immediately focused your eyes somewhere else, trying to casually play off the fact that your eyes subconsciously drifted to him. 

“We’ve only been waiting for a couple minutes.” Manager Kim gave a tight smile. “Let’s go in before you all get too cold.” 

Your little group of around ten people slowly entered the doors, filling the restaurant. Manager Kim called over a waitress, signaling that you had ten people in your group, and let the waitress lead you all to a long wooden table. 

The restaurant was nice, nothing too fancy, but that’s how you could tell the food was good. With dim lighting and tightly packed tables, it made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside. 

However, your thoughts on the restaurant were soon broken by a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with me?” Manager Kim’s lips curled up, “After all, this is a work gathering, how good of a boss would I be if I didn’t even treat my newest team member to a drink?” 

Your brain was in shambles. You seriously didn’t feel comfortable sitting with him all night. However, the logical side of your brain was saying something different. He’s just being nice as a boss. You don’t know how people in this country act anyways, stop being paranoid. 

It seemed like your inner turmoil was taking longer than necessary, as you heard another familiar voice speak up. 

“Manager Kim-” Bang Chan called out. 

“You don’t need to sit with me here, Bang Chan.” Manager Kim chuckled as he stared directly in Bang Chan’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about work outside the office.”

You watched as Bang Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, looking back to you in reluctance. You smiled at him before turning your attention to Manager Kim. It was just one night, right? Plus, there’s no harm in establishing a good impression with your boss. 

“I’ll sit with you, Manager Kim.” You smiled, “thanks for offering.”

And so, you took your seat next to Manager Kim at the table. Bang Chan, who was to your left, looked askance at Manager Kim for a brief second before his facial expression did a complete 180. His familiar, boy-ish smile was plastered on his face like it was the most natural thing. 

When the menus came, everybody at the table — including you — started to order onslaughts of food and alcohol. After brief moments of casual chatter about topics such as the weather or how good the food was here, everything that was ordered arrived at your table.

You grabbed a can of beer and started sipping on it. You’ve drank before — of course — with your old friends at university, but it’s been at least a year since you last did. Better ease myself in. You thought. 

However, your preconceived plans were ruined when a small glass of clear liquor got pushed in front of you. 

“Y/n, surely you aren’t going to sip on that can all night.” The ends of Manager Kim’s lips curled up. 

“Wasn’t planning to, sir.” You replied while tipping the glass up and into your mouth. The bitter liquid burned your throat as it went down. You took a moment to recollect your surroundings. Seems like your tolerance was higher than you thought. 

“Bang Chan, do you not drink? Why not eat something then?” Manager Chen pointed to the food on the table. 

“No can do ma’am, I’m on a strict diet. My manager would kill me.” Bang Chan pointed to his glass of water. 

“In that case,” Manager Chen filled another glass, “Y/n, have another drink.” She slid the glass down the table in front of you. 

You gladly accepted your second drink, downing the alcohol in one go. Your eyes instinctively squeezed together as you felt your throat burn. From the tips of your ears to the ends of your toes, your whole body felt warm and alive. 

You lost track of the time. As your conversations got livelier, your head got fuzzier. You stopped counting your drinks after four, especially since so many people were eager to offer the new employee a drink. Although your vision was starting to blur, you could still think straight. I can still think, you thought to yourself, still — what a powerful buzz.

Your thoughts ran rampant in your mind as you stared at the lightbulb across the room. What a pretty light. So bright. Warm. 

“Y/n.”

Was the light calling your name? 

“Y/n!” 

Your eyes focused again and snapped away from the lightbulb. Where was the voice coming from? You slowly turned your head. Bang Chan.

“Hi.” You smiled. 

“Hi.” He smiled back. So bright. Warm. “It’s been hours and I haven’t even offered you a drink yet.” 

You tried to focus your eyes on his face as he slid the glass over to you. One more drink wouldn’t hurt your buzz, right?  

You gladly accepted, slowly moving your hand over to the glass to pick the clear liquid up. It went down in one go just like all the others. 

Huh? Was this water? 

You struggled to focus your eyes on the person who offered you the drink. “That was yummy.” 

“I bet it was,” the talking blur chuckled, “How about another one?”

You nodded, then took the glass he slid towards you. It’s funny how water flows even when in a cup. Water. You needed to pee. 

“Hey,” your words dragged out, “where’s uh, where’s the washroom?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.” Manager Kim stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You didn’t want to take it, but it seemed like nobody was noticing his offer. 

Reluctantly, you took his hand and stood up, only to stumble down again. Did your knees not want to listen? 

“Whoa there, better hold on.” Manager Kim said. 

“No, I can walk. I-I can walk.” You let go of Manager Kim and tried to focus all your brainpower on moving your feet in a straight line. This tactic only worked for a second, however, as your knees gave in and you stumbled down. 

“It’s obvious that you can’t.” Manager Kim’s lips turned up. “It’s time for you to go home. I’ll take you back.” 

What? No. You didn’t want Manager Kim to take you home, not after all the awkward events of today and the general vibe from him. You tried to express your thoughts, but nothing came out of your mouth. 

“Manager Kim, you’ve been drinking!” Bang Chan’s voice came from some part of the room. “It’s not safe to drive, I’ll call a taxi for you.” 

“What about Y/n here? I’ll get a taxi for us both.” Manager Kim said. 

“I called my manager earlier to pick me up, we can drop her off along the way. It’s not a good idea to put two drunk people in a car. I’m completely sober right now, so let me do all the work.” Bang Chan grinned, patting Manager Kim on his shoulder. 

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” Manager Kim glared. 

You dizzily nodded. 

“Alright. In that case, I can call my own taxi later.” Manager Kim grimaced. 

“Stay safe, Manager Kim.” Bang Chan smiled. He turned to you. “My manager’s been waiting outside for a while now, do you want to leave now?” 

You nodded. You tried to start walking again, but your damn knees just wouldn’t listen. 

“Do you want to hold on to me?” Bang Chan knitted his brows together and held out an arm.

“I,” you slurred, “can walk.” You tried to start your feet again, only to end up stumbling down. 

“I know you can,” Bang Chan said as he reached his hands out to stabilize you, “but — ah —  I’m really tired after today. Can you hold on to my arm so I won’t fall out of exhaustion?” 

You agreed to help him. Bang Chan waved to everybody still at the table before leading the two of you out to a black SUV. He allowed you to stumble your way in the back seats first before sliding in himself. He asked you for your address, which took many tries for you to accurately type it into his phone. 

You leaned your head against the window, staring at passing blurred lights as Bang Chan’s manager started driving. Just being away from the loud and bright environment seemed to have cleared your head a little, but the pounding would not stop. You cursed yourself for being so irresponsible on your first day, especially because you were still alone in this new country.   

“Hey,” you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “want some water?” You looked over to see Bang Chan holding out a plastic bottle with the lid screwed off. 

You languidly reached your hand out for the bottle and gulped down as much water as you could in one breath before handing it back to him. The street lights started getting blurrier as you tried to fight exhaustion, the muscles in your eyelids starting to get more and more uncontrollable. 

“Y/n.” 

“Hmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there. Ten more minutes.” 

You couldn’t hear anything after that, however, as you felt your eyes give up on you and your body fall into a deep sleep. 

“Y/n… Y/n.” A familiar voice called.

You fluttered your eyes open, your head pounding. Not knowing where you were, you surveyed your surroundings in a panic. It seemed as though you were in the back of a car… Parked outside of your apartment building? 

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” Bang Chan’s voice entered your ear. It all came rushing back to you; the restaurant, the drinking, entering the SUV. 

“How long have we been parked here?” Your groggy voice sounded inhuman. You had to clear your throat a couple times. 

“It’s only been twenty or so minutes. I’m not allowed to leave the car, are you able to get home alone? I can ask my manager to go with you.” Bang Chan scratched the back of his neck. 

“I should be fine.” You mumbled, a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep in the car of a person you just met that day. This wasn’t even his car, it was his manager’s. 

“Hey… can I put my number in your phone?” Bang Chan avoided your eyes. “Just so you can tell me when you get home.” He quickly added. 

“Okay.” You awkwardly handed him your phone with your contacts already opened. He quickly typed his phone number in before handing it back to you. 

“Text me when you get home. Remember to lock your door, okay?” 

You thank both him and his manager before hurrying back to your apartment. Your head was still pounding unrelentlessly as you pressed the elevator button for your floor. The events of today were still unprocessed in your brain. You met a potential friend, which was a highlight. However, you also met two higher up managers and an actual idol, only to get hilariously drunk in the presence of. At least it’ll make a good story to tell my mom. You thought. 

In no time, you made it in your apartment and locked the door behind you, remembering what Bang Chan told you in the car. You texted the new number in your phone. 

Y/n: Hi. It’s y/n. I just entered my apartment.

Not even a minute later, your phone lit up, signaling a new text message. 

Bang Chan: great!! remember to lock the doooor hahaha ( ◕ω◕✿ )

You subconsciously grin at your phone. Cute. Throwing your phone haphazardly on your bed, you begrudgingly began your night routine. After washing up and throwing on a random shirt from your closet, you fell on your bed ready to sleep. You were about to close your eyes when your phone lit up again with a ding. It was another text.

Bang Chan: Hey… Just so you know, if you ever feel unsafe around the office just tell me okay? I’ll always try to help you in whatever way I can.

[justkending]

Moral of the Story (Prologue)

Series Summary: From childhood friends, to highschool sweethearts, the two naive, young, and lovestruck teens decided the best way to keep a strong relationship during college would be to marry right out of highschool. No one batted an eye at the idea as everyone knew they were soulmates. However, college is a big step in a person’s life. You learn new things about yourself, you make new friends, find new hobbies… And maybe being newly weds and going to different colleges across the states wasn’t the best plan… After a falling out, and a tragic heartbreaking divorce, the two now hold grudges for how the other handled the whole thing in the past. Neither not really knowing both sides of the story. 10 years later, and they both get a call from the lawyers office that settled their divorce. Somehow the papers never went through and the divorce was never completed. So now, the exes, or should we say husband and wife, have to meet back up after all these years to settle their failed marriage once and for all. (This summary will be shorter in other chapters. I just needed to get the full concept out there;)

A/N (repeat): So the other day while I was doing my hair (quite the process), I was playing music and the song Moral of the Story by Ashe came on. Mind you, I’ve heard this song hundreds of times, but for some reason, this time I got a major story idea! Listening to the lyrics brought me to this new series. Of course, the lengthy summary above will give you an idea of what came to my brain, but I recommend you listen to the song still because it plays a big part in my thought process:) (Plus it’s a good song;) Enjoy and please do not hesitate to share your thoughts and comments with me! I love each and every single one<3

(I will release the first chapter at the beginning of next week! That way I can give myself some time to write more chapters before sharing it!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N (Modern AU)

Word Count: 1200+

Prologue:

"Melody, have the papers for the Bee's Knees company come in yet?"

"Uh, no. But I can call them again and see if they faxed it or sent over a physical copy though," Melody answered from her desk, already typing away to find the company.

"Perfect. We have a meeting with a recycling plant next week and I want to get everything set before we go in with them," Y/N nodded, coming out from her office with a file in her hands. She turned to her assistant at the front desk who was about 20 emails deep and already finding the issue. "Hey, you're not coming in tomorrow, right?"

"Um, no, no. I am. I rescheduled that date," she answered bashfully as if she had been caught in the act of something.

"Melody..." Y/N drug out, hand on her hip.

"What? I- He understood. He said he was fine moving it to Saturday," the young woman shrugged, never looking back at her boss that was clearly sending her a motherly stare.

"You're already over your 40 hours this week, and you've rescheduled with him, what? 3 times now?" Y/N moved to the front of the desk so the young brunette had to make eye contact with her.

"Yes," she answered hesitantly.

"Is it just nerves or something else?" Y/N smirked.

"I'm not nervous... It's just been a while since I've had time for a date."

"Two things about what you just said in the past minute. One, clearly this guy likes you because he's rescheduled with you this many times and hasn't called it off yet. So if you're nervous about it not going well on his end, I think you're safe," Y/N pointed a finger at her.

"But-," Melody started.

"Second," Y/N cut off with a raised eyebrow. "I'm giving you time to go on a date and you're still not taking it. Work is no longer an excuse."

Melody stopped avoiding eye contact and looked up at the Y/H/C hair woman leaning on her reception desk.

"You've been talking with my mom again, haven't you?" she sighed.

"I promised I'd take care of you. So yes, I have. And though her reasoning for you dating is because she wants grandbabies, I just want you to have fun and live your life. You're 22. Don't waste your young years being scared."

"Ugh, fine. I'll text him now and see if he's still available for tonight," she groaned.

"Perfect!" Y/N grinned in victory as she started to walk back to her office. "I expect the details in the morning," she winked before she walked in.

"Oh, Y/N!" Melody stopped her. "A message came for you while you were in that last meeting."

"Who from?" Y/N quirked an eyebrow, moving back to the desk.

"Uh, I don't really know. Didn't sound familiar, but here's the name and number they said to call back from," she answered, handing her a note.

Y/N took the small paper and looked it over. Her face dropped and her eyes widened.

"You ok? Is it someone you know?" the young assistant asked, noticing what looked like horror on her face.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, an old acquaintance of mine," Y/N tried to quickly brush off. "Um, I'm going to take this. Can you hold any calls and if anyone comes to talk, tell them to just email me?"

"Oh, ok. Yeah, I'll take care of it," Melody nodded.

"Thank you."

Rushing back to her office and quickly shutting her door, she raced to her phone. She read the business name again, not sure if she was dreaming or if it was a hallucination.

Nope. Hammer Attorney was written in Melody's perfect penmanship on the paper with a number that held an area code from New York. A place she never thought she would hear from again and from a town she hadn't visited in almost 10 years._________________

"Buck, did you tell Fury about getting those new water therapy machines?" Steve shouted from his room.

"We're at home, Steve. Why are we talking about work?" Bucky groaned as he slouched on the couch. A beer in hand and a documentary with I Survived stories playing in front of him.

Steve came in from around the corner looking down at his phone in hand before moving his eye line to his roommate.

"Because I just got a call from the night crew saying that the last one that was working, finally went out tonight while they were running it for some test," Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh, you would think that a facility run by a billionaire who literally makes his money on high-tech machines, wouldn't have to ask for those kinds of things," Bucky groaned, grabbing his own phone and going through emails. "Let me check to see if the email went through. He wasn't in office when I went to tell him."

As he was sorting through the hundreds of emails sent back and forth just this week alone, he found the reply message.

"Yeah, management confirmed it. They should be in by Saturday it looks like. Guess Stark was still working out the kinks to a new one and was waiting to send one our way until the last one died to get more time on his newest model."

Steve nodded before walking to the kitchen and typing Bucky's response to the other crew members.

"The man is always finding new ways to upgrade them before he can even send them to us."

Just as Bucky was about to throw his phone to the side again though, it started ringing. Looking at the caller ID, he didn't recognize the unknown number. It was from in-state but in his hometown area of Brooklyn. He pinched his eyebrows together confused at the call, but answered it anyway, thinking it must be someone from home.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Mr. Barnes?" The other voice answered.

"Yes, this is him. Who's this?" he asked, sitting up a little and putting the beer on the end table.

"My name is Matthew Murdock. I work at Nelson and Murdock Law firm," he went on. Bucky shook his head not knowing what that was supposed to mean. "Well, you may actually know us previously as Hammer Attorney. We recently just took over their business after some fraud issues."

Bucky's heart stopped. He knew what that name meant.

"I hate to inform you, but we were going through some of their old files. Ones we were informed could be incomplete or done completely incorrectly due to little care in the actual cases, but more so in taking the money."

"Incomplete cases?" Bucky said softly. His brain was still trying to wrap around the conversation.

"Yes, unfortunately, it looks like a lot of cases having to deal with divorces that the past owners handled, were done strictly in order to launder money. They weren't actually certified, nor trained in handling divorce settlements."

Bucky froze. Eyes wide. Mouth agape.

He stuttered out a response when the man on the other line didn't continue.

"A-And talking about incomplete divorce settlements, you called because..." Bucky knew. He needed to hear it out loud because if he didn't, it wasn't true. It couldn't be.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Barnes, but it looks as though you and your wife, Y/N Y/L/N or sorry, Y/N Barnes, are actually not divorced."

(I will release the first chapter at the beginning of next week! That way I can give myself some time to write more chapters before sharing it!)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555  @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​ @pham-tastical 

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​  @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @carls1022​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @carls1022​ @anise-d-castle6​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​