#when a task is DONE and an email SENT

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One phone call was never going to be enough for Bradley. Another opportunity falls into his lap, and he emails you right away to see if you can make a little time for him. When he shares a bit more with you than he bargained for, he's pleasantly surprised once again by how open and authentic you are.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being vulnerable

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley was never usually one to get lost in a daydream. He was exceptionally good at focusing on flying when he was in the air. If he had a task to complete on the ground, he always got it done. But when he spent the rest of his day after talking on the phone with you in his bunk, he wasn't focused on much except the sound of your voice. Then he dug out the pictures you'd mailed to him so he could see your face as well. The combination of everything about you was almost too much, and he didn't know how he'd manage in person.

He still had weeks of his deployment left, and he'd never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That first date was already set. He was annoyed he couldn't give you a firm idea on when it could happen, but you didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, you told him you'd be ready whenever he got back. And that you'd take him any way you could get him. Well, as long as you still wanted him next month, you could have him.

With a smile on his face, Bradley reached for the stack of letters from your class and took the time to judge the drawing contest. All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

He wrote on the back of each picture, chuckling the whole time. Then he got to the one you drew, and he noticed something he'd missed when he first opened the newest box from your class. Next to his name written on the side of the F/A-18, you'd drawn a little heart. He was all smiles as he flipped it over and started writing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

After he packaged everything up and dropped it off to be sent back to the states, he made his way to dinner. He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over. You'd be asleep now back in California, but maybe there was a chance you had in fact emailed him that selfie before you went to bed. And that is what once again lured him back to the lounge. You had a vise-like grip on every part of him, and he was itching to know exactly what you looked like tonight while he was talking to you.

Unsurprisingly, he had to wait a bit until there was a computer free that he could use. Sundays always seemed to be when the lounge was swamped, but he didn't mind. He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

"Shit," he grunted, hopping up when it was finally his turn, and he logged into his email account to find that you wrote to him approximately fifteen minutes after the phone call ended. And when he opened your message, he leaned in a little closer to make sure nobody else around him could catch even a glimpse of the photos you attached.

His heart started beating in that same erratic way it had when he listened to you telling him you thought about kissing his scars. Not only had you emailed him a sweet looking selfie of you in bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt, you sent a second, decidedly spicier one, too. 

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth and mustache, trying not to groan as he quickly memorized every detail of that second photo. You'd removed that oversized sweatshirt and snuggled down under the soft looking sheet, and there was not a scrap of shirt fabric covering your arms or chest. Inch after glorious inch of the soft swell of your breasts was visible before the sheet forced him to imagine what the rest would look like. And he had a very vivid imagination.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo. The little smirk you wore in it let him know you were absolutely intentional about this, and that was such a huge turn on for him. This is how you wanted him to see you. Fuck. He scrolled back up to the first photo where you were wearing your sweatshirt and a much more innocent smile, and he whispered, "Okay, Gorgeous. You've ruined me."

He realized as he scrolled all the way back up to your actual message that there were probably a lot of guys who got sent straight up pornography from their wives or girlfriends when they were deployed, but this had to be the hottest looking thing that ever graced his inbox. And you were still completely covered up. He shook his head to clear his mind as he started reading.

Bradley,

Thank you for the phone call. I'm sitting here kind of regrouping while the butterflies are still going crazy in my belly. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is with you that sets them off, but hearing your voice for twenty minutes straight has turned me into a boneless heap on my bed. I'm almost afraid of what might happen to me if you touch me.

It's gone. I deleted my profile and the entire dating app. I'm no longer looking for single guys with jobs who are between 30 and 40 years old. I'm just looking for a 36-year old Naval aviator who wants to take me to the beach in Coronado to watch the sunset with Thai food and Prosecco.

I hope you come home soon. Do you have any idea how much longer you'll be gone? Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on? I'd just really like to see your face in person as soon as possible.

I'm attaching two photos, probably against my better judgement. Maybe it's just my excuse to get you to call me Gorgeous again. I can't wait to see you.

Your favorite pen pal

He wanted to wait until he had some gym selfies to send, but he couldn't leave you hanging. Not when those two, flawless photos caught his eye again. So he started typing up a response, and soon he found that he wanted to talk to you on the phone again badly enough that he was going to go back to one of the admirals to see if there was any way he could.

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

You had such a hard time falling asleep on Saturday night after talking to Bradley. It was like your body had accepted the inevitable before your brain had. You were completely enchanted by him, and the call made it so much worse. Hearing him call you Gorgeous through your phone speaker was almost more than you could handle. You were turned on and too warm, even without your sweatshirt. You couldn't believe you sent him that photo. You couldn't believe you trusted him enough to keep it private.

He probably dated women in the past who sent him things that were way more explicit than a selfie where they were covered up, but you were still a teacher who wanted to keep her job. You loved your class, and you knew nobody else could handle your kids as well as you could. But you wanted to give Bradley what you could for now.

It was the description of the perfect date and the promise that he'd kiss you as soon as he saw you that kept playing in your mind. And you let it keep playing on loop, because he lived in Coronado. And that's how you finally dozed off. When you woke up on Sunday morning, you had a brand new email in response to your selfies.

Gorgeous,

I'm thrilled to hear the app is gone. All of the other single guys aged thirty to forty are probably at home crying right now, and I can't blame them. I'll just sit here with a smug look on my face.

That phone call was one of the best of my life. The way you say my name is somehow better than I imagined it would sound, and I'd been spending a lot of my free time thinking about it. Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You don't need an excuse to get me to call you Gorgeous. Hopefully by next month, you'll be hearing it so much in person that you'll be sick of it. And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when.

As soon as I have a better idea of when I'll be back in San Diego, that information will be in your inbox immediately.

I can't wait to see you,

Bradley

You couldn't wait that long. You would never make it. Your sheets were brushing your bare skin as you thought about him calling you Gorgeous so many times that you got sick of it, but you knew that would never happen. You were going to need another hobby or maybe five to help you pass the time, but for now, you decided to work on your lesson plans for the coming week.

Your kids would probably be happy to learn that you were planning on extending your aviation lessons to the end of the school year. Or at least until Bradley got back. What you wouldn't give to have him visit your classroom. Just the idea of him standing in front of the board, maybe in his flight suit, left you light headed. You already knew your kids would be absolutely delighted to meet him after writing back and forth so many times.

After you managed to distract yourself for a full day, you were just getting into bed when you heard your phone ping with a notification. "Oh god," you groaned in pleasure. When you opened the new email from Bradley, you were met with the promised gym selfies. One was of his reflection which was taken in a long mirror that seemed to cover most of a wall. You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

And then you read the short message.

Two gym selfies, as promised. You asked for a nice closeup of my face, and that's as good as it gets. Talk soon, Gorgeous.

You were still looking at the photos when you fell asleep.

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

Bradley shouldn't have been surprised that another mission was in the works. He'd been so caught up in you, he almost expected smooth sailing and a direct path back to San Diego so he could get on with his personal life. But no such luck. After several days holed up in planning sessions, the only real happiness he found was in each new email from you.

There was another class photo in one. There was a selfie of you at a Thai restaurant in another. And there were always a lot of fun details about your day, too. But it was the bits where you let him know you were thinking about him that made him a little weaker for you with every passing day. His favorite was when you told him you donated all of your DVDs of movies with spiders in them. He also loved it when you told him that your students wanted to meet him.

If he could just get back, you and he would be watching all the spider-less movies together, and he'd be more than happy to visit your classroom. But, fuck, this deployment was dragging. He was tired, but he wasn't sleeping well. And there seemed to be cabbage rolls every evening in the cafeteria. When he finally made it out on deck a few days before he was supposed to fly the mission, he ended up talking to Marty.

"You need a hand with that?" Bradley asked the mechanic as he worked on taking apart an engine.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Marty replied, handing Bradley some very greasy bolts and a wrench. "Just hang onto those for me."

Two minutes of watching him work, and Bradley wished he'd brought his phone with him to record a video for your class. "The kids would love this," he muttered, and Marty chuckled.

"You still sending stuff to that elementary class back in San Diego? The pen pals?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "I think I've kind of adopted them. Or maybe they've adopted me? Either way, I've been writing to them this entire deployment. And... you know how you asked me if I was dating a teacher a few months ago?"

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?"

He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home."

"Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Bradley was ready to jump at the chance to see your face and hear your voice at the same time, but instead he said, "I can't take that from you, but thanks, man."

Marty shrugged. "I'll just end up talking to my sister again. You can have it."

Bradley stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"All yours."

Bradley stayed long enough to get the details and help Marty unload everything else he needed to finish his project, and then he got cleaned up and went to the lounge to email you. If you were able to talk to him over FaceTime, it would be everything he needed to get through this last flight mission and end his deployment on a high note.

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

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said my drawing is the funniest one!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw likes the rooster beak I put on my jet!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said mine is the least realistic in a good way!"

You were trying not to laugh as you looked at each of the little messages Bradley wrote on the backs of the F/A-18 drawings. They were all somehow well thought out and personalized. It was as if he actually knew these kids. But you supposed that in a way, he did. You kept going back to your desk to look at the note on the back of your drawing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

Seeing him was all you could think about now. You were almost completely convinced that your feelings would translate well from virtual to personal interaction. How could they not? He was as sweet and sincere over the phone as he was through his writing.

When you checked your phone after your kids were dismissed for the day, you tapped on a new email from Bradley before you started packing your bag to head home.

Gorgeous, any chance you have ten minutes you're willing to spend on a FaceTime call? Tomorrow night around 8:00 for you?

You squeaked in delight at the mere thought of it. His face and his voice and his words and his attention all at the same time? Ten minutes of it?

Yes! I'll be ready!

Now you had to wait. You also had to get your friends to bump up the Friday night dinner reservation to 5:00. And you needed to make sure you looked nicer than you did when you were usually lounging at home in your oversized sweatshirt. 

So when Friday evening rolled around, and you barely made it home from dinner by 8:00, you were a little frazzled. You wanted to take the time to fix your makeup, and you wanted to change into a cuter shirt that your friends would have definitely called you out on if they saw you wearing it to dinner, but there was no time. Your phone was already ringing at 8:01.

This time, the butterflies erupted as soon as you accepted the call and saw Bradley sitting there in his flight suit with a hesitant smile on his face. He didn't even have to say a word to make you feel like you were going to float up to the ceiling even as you tried to sit down on your bed.

"Bradley," you breathed softly, and his smile grew exponentially. 

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip as you took in all the details of his face on your tiny phone screen. His brown eyes were wide as he did the same to you, and you couldn't stop yourself before you said, "Hey, Handsome."

His cheeks immediately flushed with a pink tint, and he looked down at the table in front of him with a bashful smile. You wanted to climb through your phone to get to him, settle yourself down on his lap, and feel how rough his flight suit was against your hands. You wanted to tip his face up so he was looking at you again, and when he did that on his own, you almost screamed in delight at what he said next.

"Damn, Baby. You didn't need to get all dressed up just to talk to me. You look beautiful right now, but I'm also partial to your sweatshirt."

You looked down at yourself and then back at him with a little laugh. He was staring at you in awe as you said, "I always look like this."

"You always look like this? You always look this hot?" he asked, that little grin you liked so much dancing around his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't do anything special. I wanted to, but I ran out of time, and I definitely didn't want to miss your call."

Your heart was thudding as he really scanned your face and let out a low whistle. "I guess I'll find out for myself soon enough. About two more weeks to go, and then I'll be home. I just got that information today."

"Two weeks!" you exclaimed, nearly dropping your phone. Images of beach sunsets and Bradley's big hand holding yours filled your mind. "That's better than I was hoping for!"

You watched him run his hand through his hair, almost like he was nervous now. "Same. So what do you say? Two Saturdays from now, as long as everything goes as planned, you want to go on that first date with me?"

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do."

His voice was deep and raspy as he said, "Then it's a date." But his eyes still seemed uncertain, and you knew instinctively that there was more going on as he asked, "You think... maybe we could talk about date number two for a minute? I was thinking we would go out to a restaurant so I can prove to you that I clean up okay."

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you said, "I have no doubt in my mind that you'd look just as good in a tee shirt as you would in a tuxedo."

That made him laugh as he scratched along the stubble on his jaw. "Humor me, Gorgeous? We would end up going out on a second date, right?" he asked, and somehow you could tell that something else was on his mind. "Maybe we would even go on a third?"

"Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?"

He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. "We only have a few minutes on here, and I'm fucking it up because I'm nervous." You noticed he was rubbing his palms along his thighs, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "I really like you. All I can think about is getting home and doing all the things I promised. I don't usually feel like I have anything special to look forward to in San Diego. Or at least I didn't before we started talking." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm flying a final mission here in a few hours. It's a sensitive one, and... I just wanted you to know that I'll be thinking about you until I have to put my head down and get to work."

"Oh," you gasped, suddenly more aware than ever that he had the kind of anxiety inducing, adrenaline spiking job you could only ever dream of. Your fourth grade classroom was tame by comparison. Your students were nothing compared to opposing fighter jets. His career was dangerous.

Tears filled your eyes as he groaned a little bit and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baby. I kind of killed the vibe."

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes they close off communication as we get closer to port. Of course I'll email you if I can, otherwise I'll let you know when I'm back in San Diego." His brown eyes flicked to the side and then back to you. "I'm going to have to go in a minute here."

There were a lot of things you knew would have to be left unsaid for now, so you told him what you could. "I really like you, too," you promised him, and some of the worry melted away from his face. "And I'm thinking dinner at an Italian restaurant for our second date. That way you can get cleaned up nice, and I can wear a dress that I'll be stressing out about all night long. And you can tell me that I look gorgeous while my foot keeps intentionally bumping yours under the table." He was smiling now, so you decided to go for broke. "And you kind of promised me takeout on your couch with a spider-free movie. I was hoping you'd play a song on the piano for me. I was hoping to cover both of us with a blanket and kiss you senseless. How does that sound?" You were gripping your phone a little tighter, hoping you'd be able to hear his response before he said he had to go.

"That sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he said, looking a lot calmer now. "Let's do that."

"Please, be careful."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

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

Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else. If he never got to meet you in person... well he couldn't even think about that right now. He was supposed to report to his jet on the main runway in an hour, but you kept popping up in every corner of his mind. You were more emotionally open with him over a ten minute call than Vanessa ever was.

"Bradshaw!" He turned to see a petty officer coming toward him with a box. "Last mail call."

"Thank you," he replied, already smiling as he recognized your handwriting. His nineteen pen pals were here to keep him company once again, and his heart swelled with something he didn't even want to try to identify at the moment. All he could do was drop the box off in his bunk and tell himself he'd open it when he got back after nightfall.

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

Vulnerable Bradley is nervous just thinking about what might happen. He's starting to feel like Gorgeous could be be the one waiting on the San Diego end of all of his deployments from now on, but he needs to get through the rest of this one first. Maybe they can meet in the next part? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[navybrat817]

Like There's No Tomorrow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: When you make a rash decision after you're passed over for a promotion again, Bucky encourages you to follow your dream. It's the start of an unforgettable journey. Word Count: Over 3.4k Warnings: Insecurities, impulsivity, reflecting, slight angst, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best, okay?). A/N: Writing this was very personal and therapeutic after my recent work experience. While I can't actually live this life, I know Firecracker and Daredevil will have many adventures together. Also for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love Challenge (Ludus - Road Trip / Surprise)❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for the encouragement and @buckyownsmylife for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quit your job on a Friday afternoon.

On paper, it appeared to be an ordinary day. Nothing different from your usual routine. You got up, brushed your teeth, showered, dressed yourself, gave your boyfriend a kiss, selected a caffeinated beverage, and got to work. While you wouldn't call your job your dream job and some of the tasks were monotonous, you were good at it and you cared about your teammates.

In fact, they were one of the reasons you stuck around for as long as you did.

“Just wanted to say you've done a lot for us and we wouldn't be where we are without you.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope this doesn’t get you down.”

“I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”

“For what it’s worth, they made a mistake.”

Tears filled your eyes as you looked through the messages a few of your teammates sent after the promotion announcement was made minutes ago. There was an overall mixture of surprise and confusion when they heard you didn’t get it. They knew how hard you worked to move up and how badly you wanted it. You wished you hadn’t gotten your hopes up since that usually led to disappointment.

Of course, you were happy for the candidate who got the job. It wasn’t their fault you didn’t advance. Their success called for celebration. It didn’t make it any easier for you though and it didn’t lessen the hurt that you were passed over once again for something you were more than qualified for.

You somehow held it together though, not wanting everyone around you to see you break. Crying was reserved for the bathroom, your car, and home. Plus, you had shown enough vulnerability to management during the lengthy process and aftermath. They didn’t deserve an ounce more.

Especially after you were told that the value you provided wasn’t enough.

“I know this outcome is disappointing, but this isn’t a setback. You still have a lot to be proud of,” your manager told you the day before when you received the email entailing that you didn't receive the promotion and why. “Take the feedback we’ve given you and use that to get to the next level next time.”

He was only trying to help, but who would want to try again when they’re told they aren’t enough more than once? If the intention was to fuel your fire, they snuffed it out. Then again, your feelings were so raw because you hadn’t given yourself enough time to digest the news. Being told you were just out of reach was salt in the open wound, stinging much more than it should have as you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

Because you had to have done something wrong, right? Were the words you wrote in your application not eloquent enough? Did you not display the right amount of confidence in your interview? Why were you always on the cusp of greatness, but never quite there?

Blinking the moisture from your eyes, you straightened up and began to type again. Personal feelings aside, you had a job to do. You needed the income. You also had to prove that they were wrong in overlooking you. Again.

But as the sound of your fingers flying across the keyboard became white noise in your head, Bucky’s words from earlier in the morning shimmered into your mind.

“Just quit, Firecracker. They don’t deserve you and you deserve better.”

Bucky Barnes, your boyfriend. The kind of man you didn’t think was real until he came into your life. Gorgeous, faithful, doting, protective - you thought men like that only existed in books. He supported and hyped you up every time you went for a promotion and wiped away every tear when you didn’t get it. Your crying and self-doubt broke his heart and this morning may have been the last straw for him.

Maybe it was the last straw for you, too.

Glancing around the office as you saw everyone else typing with minimal conversation, the room had never looked more lifeless to you. There was nothing about the place or the job that inspired you, so why continue to give yourself over to a place that didn’t give back to you in return? Why stay in a place that dulled your shine?

The sudden realization hit you square in your chest that you didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Have a great weekend, team. Good luck and thanks for everything.” You sent in a message before you could stop yourself.

You had never had an out-of-body experience before, but it was as if your spirit was beside you as you began to close the programs on your computer. Glancing at your desk after you set your phone to voicemail, you realized you had hardly any personal touches in your space. Except for the photo of you and Bucky.

He was your one bright spot in the building.

With the utmost care, you put the photo in your bag once you shut everything down. Your heart sank as your gaze swept over your team, an uncomfortable pit settling in your stomach as you went to see your boss. Disappointing anyone always brought you a sense of dread and you didn’t want to let him or anyone else down, but you were thinking of yourself for once.

You owed yourself that.

“Hey,” your boss smiled as he glanced up from his desk before he noticed you had your bag. You shifted on your feet when his cheerfulness shifted to concern. “What’s up? Are you clocking out early?”

“Not exactly,” you answered, gripping your bag so hard your hand began to ache.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

You didn’t know how to respond because it wasn’t okay and nothing he could say or do would change how you felt. You didn't want him to try and sway you to stay. The heartbreaking part was that he was, overall, a good boss. He taught you a lot and helped you better yourself. So did the team as a whole. They were rock stars. Each and every one of them.

But now they weren’t enough to make you stay and maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t go anywhere with your job.

So with a bittersweet smile, you uttered, “I quit. I’m sorry.”

You tossed your building key onto his desk and turned away before he could reply. Your mind raced as you put one foot in front of the other and ignored the stares of your coworkers who caught on to what had just transpired. It was hard to breathe, but your steps for once felt light instead of heavy. Your boss may have called out for you, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when you couldn’t stay in there another minute.

What you didn’t expect was for Bucky to be waiting outside as you went out of the door.

Your boyfriend managed to take your breath away every time you saw him and today was no exception. All 6’4” of him, he decided to cover his beefy frame with one of his favorite leather jackets, a fitting shirt, and tight jeans. His stormy eyes zeroed in on you as he pushed away from his old pickup truck and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. He was stunning.

He was yours.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you blurted out as you raced toward him. “Get me out of here. Please.”

But why was he there? You didn’t plan to meet up with him until after work and your shift was only a little over halfway over. Did he want to surprise you?

He caught you easily with his large hands before you could stumble into him. “Whoa, easy. Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door and helping you in. Your hands trembled as you buckled yourself in, your body in flight mode because you had to get away from the office. He wasted no time getting in and peeling out of the parking lot, the building becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

You weren’t even sure how far away he drove before he pulled over and stopped the car since you didn’t look behind you. Resting your shaking hands on your thighs, the high of walking out dissipated until it left you cold. Reality sank in. Would it pull you under?

“Talk to me,” Bucky urged, his voice calm and gentle instead of demanding. “Please?”

“I quit my job,” you whispered, your gaze set in front of you, but not seeing anything in focus. “I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bucky leaned over to turn your face toward him, sympathy and understanding filling his eyes. “Oh, baby, I knew today would be the tipping point. Waited most of the morning for you to walk out,” he said. You were about to question how he could possibly know that, but he could read you better than anyone. “Just a feeling I had.”

“I quit my job. I quit,” you said again, your breathing more shallow than before he engulfed you in a warm and grounding embrace. Your fingers twisted in his jacket as you breathed him in. Sandalwood and citrus were scents you now associated with love because of him. “What did I do?! I didn’t even give notice. I just tossed my card down and left. Fuck, I just burned my bridges with everyone there.”

You stifled a sob as you hid your face in his neck. You swore to yourself that you would never be that person who walks out on a job, but you did just that and screwed over your entire team. Would any of them understand why you did it or accept an apology? How long would it take for that guilt to go away since you essentially gave up after the words of kindness and encouragement they gave you?

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you” he whispered, rubbing your back as you steadied yourself. “Yeah, you quit today. And maybe you burned a bridge, maybe not. But I couldn’t be fucking prouder of you.”

“You’re proud that I walked out on my team?” You asked, whipping your head up so fast you were lucky you didn’t get whiplash. “They don’t deserve to deal with that. Not to mention, I have nothing lined up.”

The thought of starting over again made your stomach drop again. The job market could be a terrifying and hopeless place. What if you couldn’t find anything? Or what if you burned through your savings by the time you did?

“I’m proud that you walked away from something keeping you down. After everything you’ve done for them, I’m sure most of them will get why you couldn’t do it anymore,” he assured you, the corners of his lips turning down when you sniffled. “And don't worry about not having something lined up. We'll figure it out.”

“We?” You questioned. Bucky was your boyfriend, but this wasn’t his problem.

“Yeah, we,” he said, pointing between the two of you with his forefinger. “You and me. I'm in this with you.”

Your heart melted before logic tried to take back over. “I should just go back there and apologize. I can say that I-”

He framed your face and pressed his warm lips to yours before you could say another word. He coaxed you to return the kiss with ease and you responded with parted lips and a sigh. His kisses left you lightheaded as sparks ignited, threatening to explode if you went much further. Which was why he stopped to let you catch your breath.

“No. You’re not doing that,” he said, his scruff tickling your forehead as he pressed a kiss there. He knew that was a weakness of yours and it instantly stopped you from arguing. “We're going on an adventure and we can’t do that if you’re chained to a desk.”

“An adventure?” You repeated with uncertainty.

“Yeah. We’re going to drive and see where it takes us,” he said, his lips touching your forehead once more before he started up the car again. “Just need to grab a couple of things before we go.”

“What about work for you?”

“It’s taken care of,” he assured you. He wasn’t the type of guy to lie, but when did he have time to plan this? Neither one of you had mentioned going anywhere.

Leave it to Bucky to do something impulsive to make you happy.

“Okay,” you said, trusting him and deciding to play along with his endeavor. “You said we need a couple of things. What do we need? Besides the essentials.”

“Your laptop. And a journal if you don't feel like typing.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. My laptop so I can apply for new jobs and pray that they don’t reach out to my now previous boss as a reference, right?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, a playful smirk on his face when you swung your head toward him. “The laptop is so you can write like you've always wanted to. And the journal if you prefer to write some of your thoughts and ideas down by hand.”

“Wait. You want me to write on this trip?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your boyfriend was certifiably crazy, but you loved that about him. “Bucky, no. I can't just write,” you said.

“Why not?” He shrugged.

“Because it doesn't pay the bills or provide security,” you replied.

Writing was a silly hobby that you did from time to time to help you channel your emotions or escape from the real world. At best, it was a dream. Nothing more. He knew that. At least, you thought he knew that.

At the end of the day, it wouldn’t put a roof over your head or food in your stomach. How were you expected to hold onto dreams that wouldn’t take you anywhere? And at what point did you stop believing in them and yourself?

When did you start thinking so cynically?

“But working a job you're not passionate about just to provide safety is the better option? There’s a difference between doing something you love and doing something you’re good at when your heart isn’t in it. You’ve done the latter for years now,” He said with a huff as you inhaled. “That isn't living and you’re lying to yourself if you think it is.”

Your eyes narrowed as his words sank in, your shackles raising. “No, it isn’t living, but it’s the most practical thing I can do! And, yeah, I am good at my job because I worked my ass off!” You argued, taking a breath. You didn’t want to start crying or snap at him when he was right. “Or at least I was good at my job. And I would’ve done my best had I advanced, but I couldn’t even accomplish that.”

Which begged the question of why you applied. The higher title and pay would’ve been nice for recognition and comfortability. You believed you earned it. But was it what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Was that your path when you looked toward your future?

You hadn’t taken into account your own desires and values.

“Hey,” he said softer than before. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“And say I do try and write for real. How can I even enjoy this adventure knowing I'm probably just going to fail again?” You asked in a small voice.

How many hits could you take before your armor cracked?

Bucky's jaw clenched. “And that's exactly why I'm glad you finally quit. You've had so many people over your head telling you that what you do isn't enough to achieve what you want. And now you believe it,” he said, his hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that you feared he’d bend it with his strength. “Fuck that and fuck them for making you feel that way.”

Your mouth fell open as you stared, his fury for and defense of you making your chest tighten. “I…”

“Why can’t you be a writer, huh? Why not try? You’re talented and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. That’s where your heart is and it shows with every word,” He pressed, knowing you put your whole self into your creative outlet. “And, listen, we have money set aside for the time being and more than enough for this excursion. So I don’t care if writing doesn’t pay the bills for a while as long as you’re happy and doing what you’re passionate about. We’ll have each other and that’s enough in my eyes.”

Contemplating his words, you had to give him credit. The job wasn’t something you did because you were passionate about it. You did it because it was safe and expected of you when in many ways it held you back. Besides, what did you have to lose at this point? If you didn’t try, you’d never know. You’d look back one day and regret it if you let the chance pass you by.

Why not do something impulsive?

Why not make the most out of the moment you were in?

“Okay. You’re right. I should try to write and we should go,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s grab a few things and see where this trip takes us.”

“There she is,” he smiled over at you, making your heart swell. “There’s my Firecracker.”

The nickname would always warm your heart. “You know, this actually sounds a bit like that book idea I had the other day,” you said, excitement seeping through your veins. Your fingers twitched a bit, too, with the urge to write. “Do you remember? I told you about it while we were eating pizza.”

Bucky took one hand from the steering wheel to grab yours. “I remember everything you've ever said.”

“Flattery will get you everything, Daredevil,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “So, we're really doing this. We're just leaving?”

“Not just leaving. We're taking a long overdue road trip," he says, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “You deserve it.”

“We both do,” you said, the uncertainty leaving your body more with each passing second. You even turned off your phone so you wouldn’t be tempted to look at any emails or messages. “We deserve to live today like there’s no tomorrow.”

“‘Like there’s no tomorrow’,” Bucky quoted back to you with a hum. “Sounds like a good book title.’

“I’ll have to write it down so I don’t forget,” you smiled, linking your fingers together. “And don’t forget your journal, too. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

“I won’t forget it,” he promised.

“Bucky?” You asked, swallowing as he gazed over at you. “Thank you. Really.”

It felt like you could breathe again without a weight in your chest. You didn't feel perfect, but you felt good. All thanks to him. You didn’t know what you’d do without him.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby, but I should thank you for letting me take you away,” he winked, keeping your hand in his as he faced forward again. “Makes me feel like a real hero, even though you wouldn't let me storm the castle.”

Oh, he wanted so badly to go off on your manager, but there was no need. “You are a hero,” you said. He saved you without knowing. “But try not to speed, Daredevil. I don’t want us to get pulled over before we get started.”

He groaned, but nodded as he let off the gas. “I’ll try not to speed. Need to make sure I get you to where we’re going safely.”

“I trust you.”

You would find out soon enough that Bucky had a list of things written in his journal that he planned to do with you on this trip. Everything you had ever said in passing that you wanted to do or try, but never could because of work. Because he paid attention to you. And you were right.

You deserved to live today like there’s no tomorrow.

And he wanted to be by your side while you lived your best life.

So, lovelies, where are they doing on their trip first? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[m-artemisa-c]

Lucky night

Pairing: Lando Norris x f!reader

This is an (18+) story which means if you are a minor, you are not allowed to interact.

......................................................................................................................

So this is the first time Im posting something, I was little bored and decided to write one of my many sex fantasies haha english is not my first language so sorry in advance for the grammar errors etc....i don't know if anyone would read this but if you do I hope you enjoy it <3

“Can you please send me the quotations we received today? I already asked you this twice, please focus more on your duties!”  –  I heard Derek, my manager from the other side of the corridor... what an ass... 

The truth is that I’ve been out of my mind for a while, unable to focus on any task. It’s been overwhelming, I must say, a new job, new apartment, new people, and a new city to discover or that’s what I thought. It looks like Monaco is as small as my little hometown, it took me only a week to “discover” my new home. Impressive?  Yes, I would never imagine being here, but I’m not sure I’m going to fit in with all these petulant and fancy people. Everyone seems like some kind of famous shitty person. 

“Do I have to send you a reminder? Or are you going to do the job you are being paid to do? “ – It looks like being a needy asshole is a required skill if you want to be a manager – “I just sent them to you, I also attached the price analysis I made for these suppliers”

For the last 8 years, I worked for an automotive company, it was my first job when I graduated from business school. I started as a trainee for the quality staff and after a year the logistics supervisor asked me if I was interested in joining his team, after some years I got promoted to the sales area. 

I was happy and grateful for the job I had; I'd make enough money to pay my rent and to provide my cat Murphy with all the toys and food he needed to be happy. My life was good or that’s what I thought. 

“There is nothing attached to the mail you sent…” – Derek screamed from his office - “Fuck! You need to stop now “- I screamed to myself. 

“Is everything ok with you? I know you just moved here two weeks ago” – I turned my face and saw my coworker Mike approaching me from his desk – “Ohhh... I’m..Yes, I’m ok thanks. I’m still getting used to my new life haha “ - I responded awkwardly, I turned my face again to my computer screen making sure to attach the files this time and send the email... again. I’ve only been working here for one week and Derek already thinks I’m retarded. 

“Do you have plans for later? We can go for a drink or two” – I turned my face to Mike – “Ammm .. I...mm sure, why not? Having some drinks sounds like a plan to me “ – I reply with a smile on my face – “Nice! So, you tell me when you are done with work, and we will leave. I know a nice restaurant with a stunning view. I’m sure you will love It” – he said as he headed back to his desk. 

One of the main reasons I accepted this job was because I felt something was missing in my life. And when I say “something” I mean sex...sweaty, passionate, and unholy sex.  It’s been 5 years since the last time I had slept with somebody... a guy I met on Tinder... a total disaster.  And after that, I decided I had enough shitty sex and  I spoiled myself... I bought my first sex toy. I named him Timmy because I have a crush on Timothée Chalamet, so since Timmy arrived, I’ve been a happy woman with plenty of orgasms. 

I love Timmy? Yes! no doubt about that, I would never imagine I was able cum so many times in one night, but I cannot deny I want to feel the heat of a dicks men while he is drilling my pussy, I want to feel how his tongue travel all over my body and praise me for being a good girl because  I ride him all night. 

It might sound kind of pathetic that a “grown woman” like me wants to be called a “good girl” but let’s be honest, being 30 is a nice age... That’s what I say to myself when I feel like I’m too old to try to flirt with men or go out. What a disaster! When I was 23, I was way bolder than now, I remember how I used to enter the clubs, knowing exactly which guy I wanted. The flirting game was so fun. Guys trying to get closer to me and dance while they ground their bodies with my ass, grabbing me by the waist and caressing my skin, saying sweet lies to my ear ... good days ...

“So, are we ready?” – Mike’s voice snapped my thoughts. I looked at my clock and realized I  spent 2 hours thinking about my younger years... a nice way to show Derek I’m not retarded – “Uhhh...I just need to send some emails. I will see you in the lobby if that’s ok with you “- Mike nods his head with a smile while he heads to the elevators. 

Maybe tonight is my lucky night, maybe instead of daydreaming about my younger years I need to lose control and show Mike the whore inside of me... – “We need to schedule a meeting with the coil supplier for next Monday and I need to know the amount we have been paying to our broker for these operations. That’s all for today, I expect you to be ready for the meeting “ – my manager said with an annoyed look before leaving my desk. God I need Timmy right now, maybe I can bring him with me and lock myself in the bathroom when I feel angry. I set up the meetings and headed to the elevators to meet Mike. 

While waiting for the elevators I couldn’t stop thinking about Mike and my lucky night. I know I said I was a flirty master when I was younger but now? Hahaha I am a complete loser, I don’t know how to talk with men. How am I going to seduce Mike? He is way more attractive than me, a good-looking man. If I had to guess I would say he is 35, has a nice body, and a charming smile... “Over here!” -  Mike raised his hand and I greeted him with a smile – “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind waiting for me “– I said - “It was only 15 minutes don’t worry. My car is over here “– he put his hand on my back – “Do you seriously drive to the office?” – I looked at him with a surprised face – “Well yes, don’t you?” – he replied – “No haha it's only a 20 min walk from my apartment to the office. I like to walk. It's a nice way to start the day” – it's true, walking is nice, and it feels stupid to drive such a short distance...this is what I mean when I say I’m not sure I’m going to fit here.

We arrived at a nice luxurious restaurant. This is not what I had in mind when Mike said we would go out for drinks, but the view was amazing, just like he promised. Don’t ramble! Remember your lucky night, Mike wouldn’t suggest drinks if he wasn’t attracted to me in some way, right? There is only one reason a man would suggest drinks... Maybe I need some alcohol so I can let myself lose and have fun ... – “Bonjour, je voudrais commander quelque chose à boire? “– the waitress asked and all I could do was look at Mike with a confused look- “He asked if you wanted something to drink “– Mike said with a childish smile – “Oh! Tequila for me please “ – I said as I looked at the waitress- “How come you moved to a city and don’t speak the language?” – Mike asked with an intriguing look – “Ummm well, I didn’t know I was moving until I had to move here haha It was kind of messy, at first the job offer was to be the intermediary between the company and the suppliers. No need for relocation, just weekly meetings but then I got a better offer due to my experience so here I am, completely lost. I’m going to learn how to speak French, people here are kinda pissed if you speak in English all the time ...Maybe you can teach me “– I suggested with a flirty look... or at least that was what I thought I was doing – “Sure! I moved here 3 years ago so I can teach you some basic sentences haha”

Drinks finally arrived and after 1 hour I could feel how tequila was making me forget about my insecurities, now was the time to suggest Mike take me home and maybe invite him another drink. Wait, I need to change my underwear into a nice set of lingerie... Do I even have lingerie? The last time I remember I bought sexy underwear was when I was dating my ex-boyfriend from university, well maybe I can improvise with some thong and a nice bra. 

Alcohol and overthinking don’t get along, take note! While I was deep in my thoughts, I ignored what my new friend Mike said – “Ready to go?” – Mike asked –” Go where?” – I said intrigued – “To my place “- he gave me a confused look -” I asked if you wanted to have some drinks at my apartment. Did you change your mind? “– oh shit... it is happening. Finally, my lucky night is happening – “Sorry, I just feel a little tipsy from the alcohol haha let’s go!”

The drive to Mike’s apartment was fun, he was talking about his favorite spots in Monaco and I was completely lost daydreaming about all the sex I was going to get, while adjusting to my seat I felt how wet my pussy was. My god, I'm so nervous, do I have to make the first move? or should I just let him take control of the situation?

“Babe! I’m so glad you are finally here! “– a beautiful woman said as she came close to Mike and kissed him – “I'm sorry to be late sweetie, we had a couple of drinks before work. I want to introduce you to my new coworker; she moved here two weeks ago, and I thought it would be nice to invite her to our open house so she can meet new people. This is Florence, my girlfriend, she’s from Monaco, she can help you with anything you need. Right, babe? “– I was in shock; all I could do was smile stupidly - “Bienvenue à Monaco ma chère! It's a pleasure to meet you. Mike told me you were having a tough time adjusting here. I'm so glad he suggested this, and as he said I’m here to help you if you need something “– Florence said as she smiled at me. 

What was I thinking? Of course, he is not attracted to me at all, he was only trying to be nice with the new coworker - “Can I offer you a drink? What would you like? We have wine, gin , tequila” - Florence asked me - “Mmm I'm already a little drunk so a glass of water would be nice. I mmm where is the bathroom? “- 

As I head to the bathroom I regret every choice I made for the last month. This was a mistake, everything was a mistake, what was I thinking? I don't belong here, I can quit my job and go back home. My boss hates me and I just embarrassed myself with the only “friend” I made. As I wash my face I decide that it would be better if I just go home. 

“Hey … mmm …I …  am sorry but I don't feel well, I guess I'm not used to drinking alcohol anymore haha I should leave now before I make something I regret” - I said -” Wait what ? When I told you about the party you said you would love to come, what happened?” - Mike asked - “Yeah yeah , I was excited about it but you know I forgot to feed my cat in the morning, he must be starving now. I need to go. Sorry” - I said as I grabbed my purse - “Do you want me to drive you home? It's more than a 20 min walk to the office from here “- Mike said jokingly - “No no , don't worry you have guests coming soon, you must be here. I will order an uber. I will see you on Monday and it was a pleasure to meet you Florence. You have a wonderful apartment, maybe I can visit both again when I'm not drunk”- I said awkwardly as I opened the door. 

Once I was alone in the corridor I realized how pathetic I was. I've always found a peculiar way to expose myself to awkward situations but haha this one is definitely in the top three. Maybe Derek is right and I'm kind of retarded. Fuck! the things I do to get laid, thinking about my sex fantasies is making me lose all my concentration. Maybe I can ask Florence to introduce me to some friends I can - “For fucks sake, get out the way” - I heard someone screaming at me - “Excuse me.. what did you say?” - I asked as I turned my body to face the rude voice  - “Wow, are you deaf? I've been here asking you to move so I can get to the elevator “- another spoiled rich guy, what a surprise. This is it, I'm going back home - “I'm sorry but that's not the way you should talk to people, you never know what is going on with others. Maybe you can be more polite “- I said as I rolled my eyes - “I was polite the first three times I asked you to move so don't try to turn it to me, you are the one who should be apologizing” - Oh god, I want to punch his face so badly - “Yeah, whatever you said Junior, why don't you go back to your daddy's apartment and cry with him “- I said as I begged for the doors to open- “Watch out! A little bitch over here! “-  the guy jokes as the doors open and we both enter …why me...- “You know, there is no valid reason for you to act like this. What is your problem? Your boyfriend doesn't fuck you enough?” - He said with a smirk on his face. Why are attractive guys such jerks? I look down as I wait to get to the lobby - “Yeah, that's what I thought, you are frigid don't you? I bet men don´t even enjoy your company, you look like a boring woman, now I understand why you are such a bitch”

It was all too much, the alcohol, the disappointment, and this spoiled guy. I tried to ignore him but his last words were like a stab in my heart… he was right, men don't enjoy my company, I turned into a boring woman with no sexual appeal, and then I exploded  - “You know what? You are right! I'm a boring woman, I'm all dried up, there’s no joy in my life anymore. Men don't enjoy my company even if I try to seduce him” - I was crying and yelling at him - “I haven't been fucked in almost a decade ” - the guy was completely in shock, you could tell by the way he opened his eyes.He was regretting saying those things - “you can say all you want about me being a bitch but it's not my fault. If men knew how to give a proper fuck I wouldn't be here…trying my best to be flirty - silence filled the elevator as I realized what I was doing -”…sharing personal information with a stranger and embarrasing myself …fuck”- oh god, this day is getting worse I think I'm going to lose my mind. Yes this guy is a jerk but I'm being mental over here. I need to calm down  - “look I'm sorry” - I said as I wiped my tears- “it's not a good day “

I buried my face in my hands pretending I was back home when I felt the elevator stop. I looked at the guy and he was pressing the red stop button - “What the hell are you do…” - was all I could say. In a matter of seconds, I felt a warm tongue deep inside my mouth while a strong pair of hands grabbed my face, cornering my body between the wall. The kiss was so passionate I could barely breathe, his tongue was exploring my mouth like crazy, suddenly this rich spoiled guy sucked my lower lip making me moan from the pleasure. When I opened my eyes all I could see was a pair of eyes looking into my soul, wonderful blue eyes that made me feel so vulnerable yet excited and horny.  His fresh breath was on my face and we stayed like this for what it feels like an eternity. I was completely mesmerized by this guy. 

He ran his thumb over my lower lip, just where he sucked it and I saw how he smirked. His other hand moved to grab one of my boobs- “You are a wonderful woman” - he said as he caressed my breast over my blouse. I let out a soft moan  - “And most important, you are not dried up “- he said as he kissed my neck - “I bet I can make your delicious pussy soak all over me” - I felt his thigh between my legs, just where my clit was. The friction was pure pleasure to my soul and I let a loud moan escape my mouth as I grabbed his strong bicep - “Come on, let yourself enjoy this' ' - he said as he kept kissing my neck. I was in heaven, he was kissing me just where I wanted. It was like he knew my body and how to touch me, I let myself lose and grind harder on his tight  - “Oh my g.... mmmm…yesss” -  I moaned as my head fell back giving him more access to kiss my neck. I could feel his smile on my throat as I kept moaning from the pleasure  - “Fuck!” - he muttered in my ear - “I can already feel your wetness” -  he said as both of his hands grabbed my waist guiding my movements - “Open your eyes, look at me. I want to see how much you are enjoying this” - he commanded as I was on the edge of pleasure, unable to react to his instructions.I kept grinding harder on his thigh with my eyes closed enjoying the pleasure and chasing my orgasm. I could feel it coming, my legs were shaking and I was babbling nonsense words and moans, and suddenly it stopped. I opened my eyes with an angry look - “Why …mm. noo … I was so clos..”- I felt how he turned my body to face my reflection on the mirror wall. One of his hands grabbed my throat while the other slid down to my pussy.  - “Open your eyes, sweetie. I want you to see how pretty you look when you moan” - his hand was teasing my pussy over my jeans - “Mmmmm yeesss” - I moaned as I leaned my head back to his chest - “No no “- he said as he guided my head back so I could see myself again - “I told you I want you to see yourself “ - he said as he gently rubbed my pussy - “Do you like what you see? Fuck you look so sexy, I can see how bad you want it” - I nodded frenetically - “ Yess please, I want it, please please don't stop this time” - I saw how he smirked proudly - “Mmmm such a good girl for me. Do you want me to touch you? Feel the heat of your soaking pretty pussy?” - What a jerk, he is making me beg for it … it's worth it…be a whore for him -” Yess! Touch me and make me cum”. 

I felt how his hand unbuttoned my jeans and slid into my underwear just where I needed him. Fuck ! I could hear how wet I was, sticky noises filled the elevator as  he opened my folds, his long fingers were traveling all over my dripping pussy  to my clit and teasing my hole. I watched the obscene scene from the mirror wall, this cute guy was driving me crazy. I felt a wave of confidence and I started to grind my body against him, I felt his hard cock against my ass, his big, hard, and delicious cock. Our bodies were like matching pieces from a puzzle, perfectly moving while we enjoyed the friction. 

I grabbed his neck to increase the pressure and in a violent move, he ripped the buttons of my blouse. With no hesitation, he moved my bra exposing my bare chest to him - “Mhmmmm…you have a pair of delicious nipples over here”  - He said as he cupped one of my boobs, my nipples were hard and aching for more - “Come on, cum for me pretty girl” - he commanded - “Ahh..yes.. please..mmm.. keep… keep going... I just …mmm… kiss me “ I felt his warm tongue in my mouth once again. I was moaning against his mouth as he violently abused my clit making my legs shake from pleasure. He kept rubbing my soaking pussy and without a warning I felt an amazing jolt all over my body -” Fuuck yes! Yess cum all over my fingers!” - I heard as I felt my soul leave my body, I was shaking like crazy. 

It took me a while to recover from the amazing orgasm, I was unable to stand by myself, luckily a pair of strong arms were helping me. Once my brain was ready I opened my eyes, I saw how this spoiled rich guy was licking his fingers covered with my cum. Fuck, he is so hot! I look at my reflection in the mirror and smile to myself. Sweat was coming down my forehead, my face was red, my nipples were hard and you could easily see how I still had goosebumps - “You taste like heaven”  - I heard from behind. I gave him a shy smile as I tried to fix myself but he stopped me. I faced him and he grabbed my face between his hands - “I'm sorry for being a jerk” he kissed me once again, a soft and gentle kiss - “And as i said…You are not dried up sweetie” - he said as he put one lock of hair behind my ear -”If that thought crosses your mind again I will gladly remind you how wet i can make you” - I instantly blush as I bite my lower lip, I tried to cover my chest with my ripped blouse - “Fuck, I'm sorry for this too”- he gave me a childish smile - “Why don't you come over my place? I will give you a shirt …” 

Maybe being here can be an exciting adventure after all, maybe Monaco isn't as bad as I thought. “Im Lando by the way, please accept my offer…You can apologize for being a bitch…”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Office Menace

Pairing: boss!Toji Fushiguro x reader

Warnings: dubcon, power play, unhealthy work dynamics, swearing, smut, attempt at humor.

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Being your boss' favorite employee is no easy task.

_________

Toji Fushiguro is the type of boss everyone hates and loves at the same type.

There wasn't a day he actually showed up on time. All his calls before 11 am end up being sent to his voicemail, regardless of the situation. Emails? He has his secretary sort all of his stuff for him. Reports? Haven't done one himself in a very long while. Overtime? Never for him, of course. He's outta there long before 5 pm. His employees, though? It's better not to ask.

He's such a slacker most people who don't work close with him wonder how he ended up as a vice president, overseeing a department of more than 50 employees. This guy probably spends more time in a gym than in his office.

But his people know why Toji is here, thriving even more than an utter workaholic Nanami Kento. Despite his seeming lack of interest and necessary skills to handle the job, Toji is sharp and observant, and his problem-solving ability is god-tier. Unlike many of you, he never sweats the small stuff. There wasn't a day when he cracked under pressure, even when one of your biggest suppliers suddenly went out of business, leaving you hanging on a thread with a horrifying deficit of goods. Even Geto was on a verge of a mental breakdown that day, but your boss just left the room, made a couple of calls, and returned an hour later with three more factories willing to pull the weight of that bankrupt supplier with less than one month delay. It was a freaking miracle. You still aren't sure how he managed to do it, but it's likely thanks to his impressive network and a sixth sense: Toji Fushiguro can smell smoke long before fire starts. He never comes unprepared.

That's not why his employees love him, though. Regardless of their annoyance at his style of work, they rarely leave because Toji is one of the few bosses who values his resources, and his resources are his people. When the company was going through a severe restructuring, letting go of more than a third of its workers, Toji's department retained the majority of his employees. He fought for them over and over until he wore down higher management and HRs so much they started avoiding him like the plague. To this day, some of your coworkers remind him of his heroic feat when they get drunk enough at the corporate parties.

Besides, while most of you do unpaid overtime, you get rewarded for it with bonuses and other perks like additional vacation days he somehow beats out of management. "We work hard and play hard," says Toji before he goes out for lunch at 12 and disappears from the office for the rest of the day.

He is, surely, a legend.

Jokes aside, you still remember vividly one day when you were supposed to have a significant presentation in front of the heads of departments, including Gojo, Geto, and Kento, and an hour before you discovered a mistake in your calculations because you collected data from the wrong time period. Blood drained from your face when you realized you had an hour to re-do all the formulas that could possibly change the outcome of the whole analysis you had spent weeks working on. If you didn't make it right, your mistake would affect all the crucial decisions made while developing the new collection. You were done.

When Toji found you a couple of minutes later, nearly sobbing and shaking in your seat, he quietly took a chair, sat next to you, and asked you to explain what the problem was. After you told him, biting your lips to shreds, he shrugged, compared the raw data from those two periods, found 4% difference in sales, and asked you to leave the report be. The change was insignificant. It wasn't going to affect the outcome of your analysis, and no one would even see your mistake. They would, however, see your puffy face and think you're unfit to give presentations of this sort if you couldn't handle the pressure.

So Toji just brought you a glass of water, told you to go powder your nose, and left as you stared at his broad back, unblinking, unsure if you wanted to keep crying or fly to him and kiss him all over his handsome face instead.

Least to say, Toji Fushiguro will always be a legend to you, regardless of circumstances.

Or not, given the situation you are in right now, your boss standing right behind your back with his hand not-so-subtly caressing your ass.

You bite down on your lower lip, thinking feverishly if you need to scream - given it's 9 pm and the office is empty - or smack him and run for your life. Both options seem worthless, and, to make it worse, you suck at confronting people. Especially someone as menacing and effortlessly cool as your boss.

While you're stuck in your thoughts, Toji moves his hand to pull your skirt up, and his large hand cups your pussy through your panties as you squeal. His breath warms your ear when you finally manage to utter a single, "S-Sir?"

You can feel him smile against your skin, his lips on your neck. "Sh-h-h. You're safe with me. I won't do anything you don't want."

Respectfully, you are a liar, Sir, you think because you sure as Hell don't want him to stuck his hand between your thighs and do this. Sleeping with your boss, even if he's as handsome as Toji Fushiguro, is a bad fucking idea. But you can't for the life of you get those words out of your mouth, and his fingers are already stroking your clit as you breath out loudly, shivering against his large form.

"Sh-h-h-h," he repeats, making you lean onto him as he moves your panties to the side, his other hand gently caressing your throat. "It's just me. I won't hurt you."

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to at least make it seem like you find his touch repulsive. Your brain refuses to recognize the fact your boss is actually forcing you to have sex with him. Toji Fushiguro? The man who's paying your salary? The one person who's been anything but respectful to you and your colleagues? It must be a mistake. He'd never do anything like that to you, one of his favorite employees.

He does enjoy having power over you, though, given the satisfaction on his face whenever you call him "Sir" despite how outdated it seems to use this word in a business setting. He wears this strange expression every time you wholeheartedly compliment him on helping his team with something only he can do like he's some sort of your personal hero. You didn't think much of it, but now it seems like...

Oh god, he's so fucking good at fingering you bite back a moan, afraid to make a sound. He's been teasing your swollen clit so much your pussy is drenched, and your knees are trembling. What the fuck? He only just touched you.

"Feels good, huh?" He whispers in your ear as you squirm, desperately clenching the desk in front of you for support. "Wish I could eat you out right here."

"S-sir!"

Apparently, it's the only thing you can say while he fingerfucks you, his long, thick digits working your sex, his other hand lightly squeezing your throat. You grow feverish at his touch, unintentionally rubbing against his crotch as your pussy tightens around his fingers, and Toji exhales into your skin.

He doesn't give you a second to think, pumping his fingers in and out of you as if he wants you to think with you pussy, his hand on your throat squeezing it till you are a bit lightheaded, you hole growing tighter.

Everything else happens like in a dream with you cumming on his fingers before he turns your head to him and forces his tongue inside your mouth. He's magic. You still think it's wrong for him to do it to you, but it feels good, and you are far too intimidated by him to say a word against it when you feel his huge boner pressed against your ass. It feels so fucking good.

But Toji ends it there, carefully pulling your skirt down before he hands you a pack of napkins you keep on your table. When you look at him, bewildered it's ended just like that, he laughs and tells you to be a good girl and meet him tomorrow at 7. He's far from done with you.

_______

Tags: @minshookie29

[mechaknight-98]

Edge of Tomorrow (NSFW) FT Dami of Dream catcher

Authors note: A little piece for the birthday girl.

You sat in your cubicle numb to the work that needed to be done around you. You had finished your daily tasks and the office server was down so now all you could do was wait. It was mind-numbing but at least it paid the bills. You yearned for your bed and to be cuddling with your stellar girlfriend Dami, but the time would not move faster so you continued to wait. About 35 minutes into your 8-hour shift you get a text. You see it’s from Dami. You wonder if you left anything at home so you do a quick spin of your cubicle and nope everything is there. Where it needs to be. This drives your curiosity about what the text could be about so you unlock your phone and are met with a harmless message

My pretty panda: Babe I miss you. :(

You smile and begin to type back

You: I’ll be back before you know it

You are surprised when you get a text back almost immediately. It’s a message with a selfie of Dami pouting. You save the image (because you treasure every picture she sends you) and read the attached message.

My pretty panda: but I do know it and I want you back now.

You chuckle and begin typing but you get a message

My pretty panda: let's play a game babe.

You delete your previous response and with trepidation, you begin typing a new one

You: what kind of game dear?

My pretty panda: a fun one, but I won't tell you till you agree.

You squint you love Dami but this could easily be a mistake, but your curiosity beats your boredom.

You: okay I'm down what's the game

My pretty panda: the game is simple you may touch yourself but don't cum.

Your eyes widened at her message and you scrambled in your response

You: Dear I'm at work

My pretty panda: it's too late now you already agreed now put your hand on your cock and send me the picture.

You groan but comply nonetheless. Your anxiety spikes as you send it. It lessens when you see those three grey dots but it gets worse. She sends a pic of her sensually cupping her abundant chest attached is the message is

My pretty panda: stroke your cock slowly. Send me the video

You take out your aching cock and begin to stroke slowly while gazing at the picture she sent. Your pace is tortuously glacial and mirrors many times where Dami would edge you all day to turn you into a “volcano of cum”.

You sneak to the bathroom and send her the video. Your girlfriend is quick to respond

My pretty panda: you have the stroke timing just the way I like it. Now babe go a little faster.

After that is a video of her massaging her perky tits

“I can't wait for my favorite little slut to get back home. I'm gonna fuck all of those little and big thoughts out of you. You'll be my cute little toy.” Dami cooed.“When I'm done with you tonight. You'll be m mindless fucktoy begging for me, now stroke faster and faster until you are about to cum then stop. Don't even think about cumming because I'll know. Wait forty minutes then start again, but slowly.” she added. You do as she says and get back to work. You reply to a few more emails answer a few more messages and talk to your boss before you are back in your cubicle. You get another three texts and videos from Dami.

My pretty panda: you've been a bad boy.

To emphasize her point she sends you an extremely lurid video. She's in your bed touching herself tortuously slowly. You watch as she indulgently has her fingers slosh and squelch in and out of her sopping pussy causing your already-hardened cock to drive you further into lusted madness. “Mistress isn't pleased by missing her updates,” she said with an authoritative lilt in her voice. Oh dear things have escalated and you were in for it now, but you knew if you sent Dami an update about work getting busy she would calm down and go back to loving girlfriend, but part of you liked Mistress Dami. Responsible you won out though.

You: I'm sorry mistress work picked up a bit for your toy and I needed to talk with my boss.

My pretty panda: thank you for the update. Your punishment has been averted.

You: thanks mistress, but can you please fuck me up tonight I actually will need it after today.

You knew the text was risky but you had so much on your plate that her earlier promise seemed so appealing. When you got the text back you were happy and worried

My pretty panda: oh so you want my attention? Well, you've been good and hard at work so that can be arranged. What does my good little toy want his mistress to do to him?

You ponder her question but know in your heart there's only one thing you truly desire tonight

You: turn my brain to mush from pleasure. Fuck me so hard that I forget my name. Empty my balls and my brain.

You finish typing and are surprised by the speed at which Dami replies

My pretty panda: :) that can be arranged.

You go back to work until your lunch break. Dami keeps you in relative silence. During your lunch break things take a radical shift. Dami video calls you in your car.

“Hi toy,” she says with a malicious grin.

“Hi mistress,” you say

“Take your cock out,” Dami demands you comply. “Now stroke slowly,” she adds. As you stroke yourself your mind begins to blank. “Good toy. Get lost in the pleasure.” you begin to moan as your mistress encourages you to continue. “That's it's good plaything keep stroking.” you continue to and when you get right to the edge your mistress demands you stop. You hate it because now you are desperate to cum but you know Dami is going to take exceptional care of you when you get home. After your lunch break the rest of the day moves even slower as you fight to stay awake.

When the clock finally says it's time to go you race to your car and flee from the office with the speed of the wind. You get home and see Dami smiling at you. She goes to hug and she lightly nibbles your ear before saying “You'll have to wait a little bit longer, before you get your relief but trust me I will take care of you.” you nod as you shiver.

“So how was your week babe?”

“Long, but I got my first script sold. 6 more and I can finally quit my office job,” you answer

Dami smiled, “You know you could quit now and I'll take care of you.”

You chuckle, “As much as I would love to be your stay-at-home sugar baby/trophy boyfriend. I want to stay grounded as to why I'm working so hard.” Dami’s eyes widened with pleasure and adoration. “I love that fire you have,” Dami said with appreciation.

“Thanks, babe. Im excited. How about you?” you ask “I'm sorry I missed your birthday.”

“Oh don't worry our schedules didn't line up so it's fine. I do have a call with Siyeon to discuss our next comeback.”

“Oh nice,” you say with a smile. The two of you share a chaste kiss or so you thought as you broke the kiss you felt a hand on your cock stroking slowly. Dami your girlfriend is gone and Mistress is back as she breaks the kiss. She stops stroking you and cups your balls. You gasp.

“Oh they're so full.” your mistress says. Maybe I can get a little taste. She takes off her sweats and mounts you. You moan

“Ah fuck, mistress. You're so tight.”

Dami throws her head back as she grinds on you, “You're filling me up so well.” she grinds for a few seconds before hopping off your rod. You groan and almost force her back down, but you know better mistress rewards patience and obedience and punishes insubordination harshly. So you comply. You get up shortly after and kiss her cheek. Dami smiled “Good plaything.” she said, and she went to her call. While you wait you make two sandwiches and eat them. As you finish the first and consider going for the second Dami springs back and steals it from you.

“Hey I was gonna eat that.” you cry out. Dami gives you a smug grin as she takes a bite.

“Mmm, why aren't you a professional chef? Your food is always so good” Dami compliments. Sitting down next to you. She leans on your shoulder and eats in silence afterward.

After she finishes you give her a tight hug and say “Happy birthday pretty panda.” Dami gives you a bright smile that morphs into something else. She turns your stool and takes her sweatpants off. She leans in front of the hard rod. She blows on it causing you to begin leaking.

“You wanna cum? Then beg for it.”

“Oh god please Mistress let me cum.”

“You can do better than that.” she chides.

Your brain is fried and you fully submit to her, “Oh please mistress relieve my aching balls. I need you to fuck me.” your mistress smiles before mounting you once again. Her tight pussy digs into your cock as she lowers herself into you. She bounces exactly three times before you erupt into her wet hole. She smiled as she continued to ride you. Your body begins to act on its matching thrusts in perfect synch. The last thing you remember before blacking out is hearing “good plaything.”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Price You Gotta Pay

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 1: Love Bites

Summary: Steven has his own plans for the evening.

Warnings: edging, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), kinda a little dom!Steven?, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1293

Originally, there had been a plan to the evening. Tasks that need to be completed. Chores you were going to get done. 

But that had pretty much been thrown out of the window. 

When you’d come back in from work you’d given Steven a quick kiss before you showered, itching to get the dirt of the tube and train from your skin, and changed. 

You’d been in the middle of talking to him, explaining about some paperwork you should crack on with while you also asked him about what he fancied for dinner. And sent a last-minute email on your work phone. 

Steven had crept up behind you, pressing close and kissing your neck. Whispering thinly veiled promises while he took your mobile out of your hands and coaxed you to bed. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t taken that much convincing. 

He muttered how much he had missed you during the day between pressing soft kisses to your skin and enticing you out of your comfy clothes. 

“What’s got you so worked up?” You had whispered as he gently pulled off your top, pretending you weren’t as eager as he was. 

“What do you mean?” He had asked innocently, but there was a devilish look in his eyes that told you differently. 

“Did you see another photo of a particularly voluptuous statue?” You tease playfully, calling back to an incident that happened a few weeks prior. 

Steven shoots you a dark warning look before continuing to kiss your skin. “No.” He mumbles but a slight flush dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Are you sure?” You tease again. 

Steven glares but smiles. “You’ll pay for that love.” 

And pay you did. 

You weren’t quite sure how many times you’d nearly cum. But you knew you’d definitely lost track around the fourth time. 

“Steven,” you sob as you wiggle under him. “Please!”

He glances up at you from his spot between your thighs, still softly sucking your clit as you writhed. “Hmm?” He answers, purposefully sending still vibrations along you. 

You mewl, tears on your cheeks as you try to grind up against his mouth. His forearm presses firmly against your stomach, pushing you back down into the mattress. 

“Steven,” your breath catches as he swipes a board, flat lick slowly through your sopping folds. Your empty pussy clenches around nothing as he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head ever so slightly. 

From this angle you can just see how his own hips move, steadily moving in languid circles as he rubs his aching cock against the bed. 

The fact that as much as he was edging you, he was edging himself does little to comfort you in this state. 

Your wetness saturates his skin, running down his chin to pool at his collarbone. The sheets beneath you are soaked, drenched with the physical evidence of your desperate need. 

He runs another long lick through your folds, paying special attention to your clit as he laps at you. 

Pleasure coils tightly in your stomach. Just a little more, just a little more and you would cum. Could taste it. 

You bite your lips together, clenching your jaw hard to try to hide the wanton sounds that crave to escape. 

Just a little more and-

You cry out in frustration as Steven pulls back and away from you, his dark eyes watching you as you try to follow his mouth. 

“Steven, no, how did you-” you sob. 

He chuckles and kisses your inner thigh, gently sucking another love bite into your soft skin before nuzzling you. 

He lightly touches each bite mark, bruises looking so pretty in the neat little rows in which he had made them. Six in total. Six times you had been so, so close. 

“Did you know love,” he swallows, almost managing to hide out wrecked it sounds. “That the number seven in ancient Egypt was considered a lucky number?”

“Steven,” no matter how much you love him and usually are enamoured with his fountain of knowledge, now just isn’t the time. “I-”

“Shh, love,” he teases, tracing your folds with the very tip of his finger and you moan. 

He nips lightly at the most recent love bite he made before he continues. “As I was saying, seven is quite an important number. Seven scorpions guarded Isis, seven little stings. He gently pokes each love bite on your thighs, counting softly to six until he lightly circles your clit. “Seven. It represents perfection, completeness.” He laughs to himself. “It even sounds a bit like Steven, doesn’t it? Only one letter out.”

You bite your lip as you look at him desperately.

He leans up ever so slightly on his elbows and cocks his head to the side. “Do you want to cum, love?” 

With a whine you nod, anguish leaking out of your every pour. It hurt. That deep, low need. Sparked along your nerves with every heartbeat. 

“All you had to do is ask.” He grins and slides up your body, pressing his warm skin against yours. He places kisses along your ribs, scraping his teeth over your nipples and neck before he gets to your mouth and settles his hips between your legs. His cock aches as it presses against your core, the tip smearing precum along your lower stomach. 

He groans softly, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss for a moment as his carefully mandated facade cracks just a little.

Steven tries to kiss you softly, but you’re too hungry for him. He moans happily as you slide your tongue into his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips. You urge him closer, not wanting even a fraction of space between your bodies. 

Without breaking the kiss, Steven reaches down and guides himself to your aching pussy. For a moment he goes to rub his head through your folds to spread your slick and ease inside, but you buck up against him as he notches his fat tip at your entrance. And he just sliiiides in. 

You cry out into his mouth, you’re so worked up and wet that he sinks deeper. Your walls gripping him tightly and pulling him into you. 

Steven groans against you, his resolve breaking completely. “Hmm, love, fuck,” he can’t help himself and thrusts harshly completely sheathing himself inside. His right-hand grabs hold of your thigh, his fingers pressing against the love bites as he pushes your legs apart wider, gazing down as he spits you open. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he punctuates each word with a powerful buck, hitting dizzily deep and making your head spin. “Love,” he whines, his voice low, his eyes closed in concentration as sweat beads in his hair. “I’m- I’m not gonna last, I-”

You arch up against him, meeting every thrust of his hips with your own. His pubic bone brushed against your clit with every grind, the stretch of him electrified every cell and pushed you to the very edge.

“Gonna cum!” You manage to stammer out, your voice rising to what would have been an embarrassing pitch if you cared as pleasure takes over every thought. Stars explode behind your eyes, run down your veins and all you can do is bask in it and let it overwhelm you. 

Steven moans, following you close behind as his hips stutter when you clench down on him and milk his cock for everything he’s worth. He cums deep, fucking his spend further inside before he collapses on top of you. 

Softly he nuzzles into your neck, moving to make sure you’re not taking his full body weight. But you moan out a grumble and pull him back, wanting to feel him on top of you. 

With a smile he kisses your cheek. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! I'm not doing my normal tag list for kinktober as to not overwhelm anyone, please let me know if you'd like to be added/taken off.

@flightlessangelwings @steven-grants-world @lonelyisamyw-0love @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[thedensworld]

Doesn't Mind At All | Hong Joshua

Pairing: Secretary!Joshua x Baker!Reader (Ft. Boss!Junhui and Brother!Mingyu)

Genre: Romance, fluff, longtime crushing

Summary: Hong Joshua willingly agrees to pick up his boss's daughter from school, not realizing that this simple task would lead to an unexpected encounter with his longtime crush.

In the bustling halls of the company, Joshua was a familiar face. His presence was like a ray of sunshine, brightening up the office with his infectious smile and angelic personality. It was no secret that he held a special place in the hearts of many, having won the coveted title of "Best Office Crush" the previous year, even surpassing the CEO, Moon Junhui.

Joshua wore this badge with a quiet pride, knowing full well that his boss's concerns mainly revolved around the company's products and reputation. As he marked his sixth year as Junhui's faithful secretary and personal assistant, he couldn't help but marvel at the milestone. It was a record that stood unchallenged, a testament to Joshua's unwavering dedication.

Nobody understood Junhui quite like Joshua did, save for perhaps Junhui's own wife. When it came to the intricacies of Junhui's professional mindset, it was said that only Hong Joshua had the finesse to meet and exceed the exacting expectations. This was precisely why Joshua was regarded as the company's most precious gem.

Behind every successful CEO, there was an exceptional secretary, and for Moon Junhui, that shining star was none other than Joshua. Their dynamic was like a well-choreographed dance, a seamless blend of professionalism and camaraderie. They were the dynamic duo, the unsung heroes of the corporate world.

Joshua was renowned for his quick wit, tireless work ethic, and a personality that could charm even the most hardened hearts. His reputation had earned him a multitude of labels, particularly among the female officers, who couldn't help but marvel at the creation of such a seemingly perfect human being. Despite his friendly demeanor, Joshua was adept at setting clear boundaries, creating a distinct line and an almost impermeable wall when it came to romantic interests – a trait that some of the women officers considered to be his only flaw.

Approaching a group of women engrossed in a discussion (or rather, gossiping) about him, Joshua balanced a pack of coffee cups in his hands. With a gracious smile, he handed them out, congratulating them on the success of their recent event two days prior. "You're an angel, Mr. Hong," one of them swooned, to which Joshua graciously thanked her.

Another voice chimed in, "Mr. Hong, may we ask you a few questions? We've been discussing something about you, and it would be wonderful if you could satisfy our curiosity." Joshua settled into a seat, joining their circle. "And here I thought you guys were deep into discussions about our ramyeon drama project," he teased, eliciting chuckles from the others.

"We're actually really-really-really eager to know if you're single or taken," one of them blurted out, while another followed up with, "we've been speculating, and we have absolutely no idea!" Joshua's face reddened in response to the question, and he couldn't help but cover his face in playful embarrassment. What had he done to warrant such a query? Was he unintentionally giving off some sort of signal? The thought left him chuckling and slightly flustered, a rare sight for the usually unflappable secretary.

"Yeah! Absolutely. You gave us this. Yesterday you sent an email of appreciation to our rookie without her knowing that everyone received that as well and has been thinking that you like her. You've been committing a crime, Mr. Hong."

Joshua's brow furrowed as he listened to the explanation. "I can't do that?" he asked them, and they all simultaneously nodded in agreement. "Why?" he inquired once more, prompting a collective groan of exasperation from the women.

"You've been lavishing affection on the women in our company, the kind they haven't received from anyone else, all while displaying a sign that you have zero interest in dating any of them. That's just not right, Mr. Hong."

Joshua nodded, absorbing their words. "I'm sorry?" he offered, glancing down at the cups of coffee he had just handed out. "Should I take these back?" he gestured towards the beverages.

"Just stop sending affectionate emails and notes like this. At the very least, delete the heart emoticon," one of them instructed, holding up a note that Joshua had written, no doubt adorned with an affectionate flourish.

'Good job for the event guys! So proud of you🤍.'

"That's just a habit of mine! I'm sorry, I'll definitely work on that," Joshua offered, his voice carrying a hint of remorse as he mumbled his apologies.

"So, Mr. Hong. Are you single or taken?" inquired one of them. Joshua's smile widened as he answered, "I'm single."

To his surprise, this response was met with another collective groan from the group, leaving Joshua thoroughly perplexed. "Why? Did I answer it wrong? I'm not quite getting it," he admitted, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You should never answer that kind of question with that kind of smile," one of them advised. Joshua nodded and hummed in understanding, contemplating whether he should spend more time observing and learning from this group of women. It seemed they held the key to deciphering the intricacies of office dynamics.

"Why are you single? I can't imagine it would be hard for someone with such an amazing face and personality to find a significant other," one of them remarked, their words laden with genuine admiration.

Joshua closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by the shower of compliments. He joked that if they continued, he might just consider joining their group.

"I work really hard for the company, and I find it hard to make time for dating," Joshua explained, giving voice to their curiosity. "While I do find some women attractive, it's just that I struggle to strike a balance between my professional and personal life."

"Is there anyone you have in mind, perhaps?" another one queried.

As the seconds ticked by, a portrait of someone from his past suddenly emerged in Joshua's mind. He nodded slowly, acknowledging that there was indeed someone he had in mind. "Ah, my university crush," he quipped, breaking into laughter.

*

Joshua's gaze never wavered from his computer screen, immersed in the tasks that lay before him. The soft tap of approaching footsteps disrupted his concentration, and he turned to see his boss, Moon Junhui, standing beside him. Without hesitation, Joshua rose from his chair, a show of respect for the man who held a significant place in his professional life.

"I'm so sorry, but can you do me a favor?" Junhui's tone held a touch of urgency, a request layered with a sense of trust that Joshua had earned over the years.

"What time is my meeting next?" Junhui inquired, his focus on the packed schedule that dictated his day.

"At 2 PM, sir," Joshua replied promptly, the words rolling off his tongue with a practiced ease. He prided himself on his meticulous attention to detail, especially when it came to Junhui's demanding schedule.

Junhui nodded in acknowledgment, his mind already processing the logistics of the day ahead. Then, his expression softened, and he confided in Joshua, "My daughter, her school is off at 3 PM. I promised my wife to take her with me since her nanny is having her days off. I worry if I'm still in the middle of a meeting at that time." said Junhui about his 5 years old daughter.

Joshua's bond with Hara had grown into a heartwarming routine. It was a familiar sight for the office staff to see Joshua and Hara immersed in various activities. The young girl's intellect and remarkable patience made her a delightful companion, a rare gem in her tender years. Whenever Junhui found himself entangled in meetings, Joshua gladly stepped in to keep Hara company. They'd sit together at Joshua's desk, engrossed in creating art, crafting intricate bracelets, or simply sharing stories of Hara's adventures.

"I can pick her up, sir," Joshua proposed, eager to assist his boss and provide a helping hand.

Junhui's eyes reflected gratitude, a sigh of relief escaping him. "Thank you so much," he expressed, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily eased by Joshua's kind gesture.

"My wife is not feeling very well this morning, that's why I didn't want to trouble her. Thank you so much, Mr. Hong," Junhui reiterated, his appreciation genuine and heartfelt.

As the day approached for Joshua to pick up Hara from school, a mixture of excitement and nerves fluttered within him. This was uncharted territory for him, the first time he'd take on the responsibility of fetching a child from school. Determined to ensure everything went smoothly, he turned to the internet for guidance. His search yielded a concise list of tips, each one etching itself into his mind:

1. Make sure the school knows who you are and that the child is aware and comfortable with your presence.

2. Prioritize the child's comfort and well-being throughout the process.

3. While not obligatory, a snack can often be a reassuring gesture.

4. Engage the child in conversation about their day on the journey home.

With this newfound knowledge, Joshua prepared himself meticulously. He reached out to the teacher, providing them with his contact details and informing them of the situation. He wanted every precaution in place to ensure a smooth transition.

As the hour approached, he found himself behind the wheel, heading towards the school with a sense of determination. The address provided by Junhui led him to the school's gates, where he joined the gathering of parents. Amongst the mothers, Joshua stood.

Time seemed to stretch as he waited, the anticipation building with each passing minute. Finally, the school bell rang, heralding the end of the day. Joshua's gaze fixed on the entrance, heart pounding in anticipation.

Then, there she was—Hara, with her bright eyes and eager smile. Recognition sparked between them, a silent affirmation of the trust they had built. As Hara approached, Joshua's apprehensions melted away, replaced by a newfound confidence.

As Hara's small voice called out, "Uncle!" with uncontainable excitement, Joshua's face lit up with a wide smile. He knelt down, arms ready to receive the approaching bundle of joy. The little girl rushed into his embrace, her tiny arms outstretched in pure delight.

"Hi Hara!" Joshua greeted her warmly, the affection in his voice mirroring the twinkle in his eyes.

Hara, her eyes sparkling like stars, peered up at Joshua with a curious glint. "Is daddy busy?" she inquired, her innocence adding a touch of sweetness to the question. Joshua nodded gently, his expression tender. "Yes, sweetie. That's why I'm the lucky one picking you up today. Are you excited?"

Hara's response was a burst of unrestrained enthusiasm. Her head bobbed up and down like an animated doll, her voice a melodious chorus of, "Yes, yes, yes!" Her anticipation radiated from her like a beacon of pure childhood joy, painting the air around them with an infectious excitement.

As they strolled towards the car, Hara, her small hand nestled in Joshua's, turned to him with a curious look. She inquired about her father, Junhui, if he had his lunch this afternoon. Joshua pondered for a moment, recalling whether Junhui had managed to grab lunch before diving into the meeting. He was certain Junhui hadn't.

"Can we stop at the bakery near my school? I want to buy him and you my favorite cupcake," Hara proposed, her eyes wide with hope. Joshua couldn't resist her earnest request. After all, who could say no to cupcakes? It was a harmless indulgence.

Upon arriving at the bakery, Hara's eyes widened, a sudden gasp escaping her lips. Instantly, Joshua's protective instincts kicked in, a rush of concern washing over him. He swiftly turned to Hara, asking with a gentle urgency, "Are you okay?"

Hara's confession, delivered with the innocence only a five-year-old could muster, both touched and amused Joshua. She looked up at him, her big eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and honesty. "I don't have any money."

Suppressing a chuckle, Joshua crouched down to her level, his tone reassuring. "It's okay, sweetie. I'll take care of it." As his words washed over her, a radiant smile lit up Hara's face, the worry dissipating as swiftly as it had come.

As they stepped into the bakery, a hush settled over the empty space, the only sound being the faint hum of refrigeration units. They ambled through the inviting displays, each dessert a potential treasure trove for Hara. She nestled in Joshua's arms, torn between the allure of a cupcake and the temptation of a cookie.

"Why not both?" Joshua's voice, tender and reassuring, broke the internal struggle Hara was facing. Her eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Is that okay?"

With an eager nod, Hara's decision was made, and Joshua promptly collected both the coveted cupcake and the enticing cookie. The radiant smile that bloomed on her face was Joshua's reward, but it was the soft, whispered "thank you..." that danced in his ears that truly warmed his heart.

Just as they were immersed in this sweet exchange, a sudden, welcoming voice enveloped the bakery, pulling Joshua's attention away from the confections. "Welcome to Sweeties..."

Joshua's breath hitched, his gaze swiftly shifting from the colorful array of treats to the source of the voice. Standing a mere two meters away was a familiar face, one that sent a jolt of surprise and recognition through him. It was Y/n, his dear friend from college.

"Wait just a minute, Hara," Joshua gently set her down and took a step toward the woman, a sense of pleasant shock mirrored in both their expressions at this unexpected reunion.

"Y/n, it's been such a long time!" Joshua's voice bubbled with genuine joy, his smile growing wider as he caught sight of Y/n's matching grin.

"I thought I was imagining things. I had no idea you were in Seoul," Y/n admitted, her surprise blending with a palpable delight.

"Yeah, it's been 7 years since I moved here. How have you been?" Joshua inquired, his tone filled with a mixture of curiosity and genuine care. The air around them seemed to buzz with the energy of reconnection, weaving a bridge between their shared past and this unexpected present encounter.

"I'm doing great, and you? I've spotted her around a few times," Y/n mentioned, her gaze shifting towards Hara who was now engrossed in examining the colorful macarons displayed on the stall.

Joshua's eyes twinkled with fondness as he observed Hara's fascination. He turned back to Y/n, a warm chuckle escaping him. "I'm good too. Her school is just a few blocks from here. Can you believe it? It's like a dream come true," he remarked, a subtle nod towards the array of delectable pastries that surrounded them. He knew of Y/n's long-standing dream from their university days to own her own bakery.

Y/n offered a nonchalant shrug, but there was a glint of contentment in her eyes. "I know, right? It's been two years, and it's become my favorite job."

Joshua's gaze wandered to Y/n's hands, and there, he spotted a delicate ring adorning her middle finger. He couldn't help but ask, curiosity laced with a touch of surprise, "Are you engaged?" Their eyes met, and Y/n hesitated for a moment, her gaze flitting towards Hara before she softly affirmed, "Yeah," with a slow, affirmative nod.

The next question carried a weight of intensity, as Joshua inquired, "Are you happy?" His concern for Y/n radiated through his gaze. She met his eyes steadily, her response deliberate and sincere, another nod indicating her contentment.

As their conversation flowed, Hara made her selection of treats. Just as Joshua was about to pay, Y/n interjected, her voice carrying a note of generosity. "It's on the house."

Joshua's immediate response was to decline, insisting they were purchasing quite a bit and it wouldn't be fair to receive them for free. Y/n countered with a tempting offer, "Alright then, how about coffee? Still a fan of your Americano with two shots?"

A laugh bubbled from Joshua, the sound warm and genuine. It seemed Y/n knew just how to strike a deal that left everyone feeling content and connected in this unexpected reunion at the sweet haven of her bakery.

As they settled into the car, Hara's voice, laced with curiosity, broke the brief silence. "Do you know her, uncle?" she inquired. Joshua, his focus on the road, let out a thoughtful hum. The engine purred to life, carrying them away towards the office.

Then, unexpectedly, Joshua's voice filled the car, carrying a note of nostalgia. "She was my first love in college."

Hara's wide eyes sparkled with intrigue. "Really? Were you two dating?" she asked, her young mind eager for the details. Joshua, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, shook his head with a soft smile. "We were friends from the first day of college, but I never mustered the courage to confess. Seeing her again after all these years was quite a surprise."

Hara's curiosity continued to swell, her innocence driving her to probe further. "Why didn't you confess?" she wondered aloud.

A tender sincerity colored Joshua's voice as he explained, "I didn't want to risk losing our friendship."

Hara pondered this for a moment before pressing on. "But did you ever try to confess?" she inquired, her young eyes studying Joshua's face for any hint of what might lie beneath his words.

Joshua, his gaze softening, shook his head gently, the weight of the past mingling with the present. It was a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that had lingered.

Hara's little face contorted into a playful pout, her dad's wisdom echoing in her mind. "My dad says that trying might hurt but it'll be worth it," she mused, her voice tinged with a mix of contemplation and innocence. Joshua couldn't help but be touched by the profound simplicity in her words, a wisdom that belied her tender years.

Listening to Hara's musings, a soft smile played on Joshua's lips. He decided to seize the moment to seek her opinion on the matter. "Honestly, I have no idea what that means," Hara replied nonchalantly, the weight of her father's advice not yet entirely comprehensible to her young mind. Meanwhile, she nibbled contentedly on her macaroon, the pastel hues of the sweet treat contrasting with her contemplative expression.

Joshua, amused by her response, seized the opportunity to ask about the taste of the macaroon. "Is that good?" he inquired, his tone filled with genuine interest. Hara's enthusiastic nod affirmed her satisfaction, her eyes bright with the pleasure of the delightful treat.

"Thanks for buying me, Uncle. I'll pay you back once I grow up!" Hara declared, her gratitude expressed with a sincerity that warmed Joshua's heart. He nodded, deciding to play along with her lighthearted promise.

One time, two times, and then countless more, Joshua found himself in the routine of picking up Hara from school. What started as a simple request from his boss had evolved into a regular volunteer role for him. The smile on Junhui's face whenever he saw them together spoke volumes. It was clear that Hara cherished these moments with Joshua, and the journey from school to her father's office was transformed into an exciting adventure.

Reason number one for Joshua's eagerness was crystal clear. It wasn't just about being a reliable presence for Hara. It was the genuine joy he felt in her company. They laughed, shared stories, and sometimes even indulged in small escapades that turned ordinary errands into memorable episodes.

And then there was reason number two, which Joshua didn't mind admitting. It was the perfect excuse to visit Y/n's enchanting bakery. The aroma of freshly baked goodies, the vibrant display of pastries, and the warm ambiance—it was a slice of paradise in his day. As he'd open the door, he'd already know Hara's inevitable request, "Can I have my favorite macaroon from Sweeties, please?" It was almost a ritual. Her preferences would shift from cupcakes to macaroons, but Joshua didn't mind. For him, it was the smile on her face that truly mattered.

However, amid all these routines, there was another habit that had stealthily crept up on Joshua. It wasn't until the third visit that he became aware of it. Staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror, he'd question himself. "Is his hair styled just right? Is the suit impeccably ironed? Does his shirt complement his skin tone? And can she catch a whiff of his carefully chosen perfume?" These were the thoughts that occupied his mind.

He couldn't help but chuckle at his own introspection. "Who are you trying to impress, Hong? A stack of macaroons? An almond croissant sitting on the stall?" he'd jest with himself. But deep down, he knew the answer. His thoughts always circled back to Y/n, his college crush, who seemed to occupy a special corner in his heart.

With every encounter, every conversation, his feelings for her only grew stronger. It was a realization that struck him with a mixture of nostalgia and newfound hope. The crush he thought he'd buried long ago was very much alive, and in fact, thriving. Each interaction with Y/n was like a brushstroke, painting a vivid picture of affection that Joshua couldn't deny any longer.

*

"As expected, Y/n," Joshua chirped, his voice a friendly melody in the air. Y/n made her way from the kitchen, a tray laden with warm, freshly baked bread cradled in her hands. A gentle smile danced on her lips, brought to life by the sight of Hara's bright, shimmering eyes.

Setting the tray on the stool, Y/n felt a warmth spread through her. Hara mumbled something, a secret shared only for Y/n to catch. Sensing Hara's shyness, Joshua leaned in, his words a gentle encouragement, assuring her that she needn't be timid in Y/n's presence. "Speak up, Hara, she's as friendly as they come!" he added with a chuckle, infusing the moment with a touch of humor.

"Can I get that too, uncle?" Hara's voice was sweet and eager, breaking the air with innocence and curiosity.

Y/n's brows shot up in surprise. "Uncle?" she echoed, her curiosity piqued. It was the first time she'd heard Hara's voice, and the term caught her off guard.

Y/n struggled to find her words, the question hanging on the tip of her tongue, but not quite making its way out. This revelation left her momentarily speechless.

Joshua, noticing Y/n's bewilderment, turned to her with a questioning look. "She's calling you... isn't she your daughter?" She inquired, a touch of confusion in her eyes.

Joshua glanced at Y/n, his expression a mixture of surprise and realization. "Oh, I never told you?" he began, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "She's my boss's daughter. I haven't tied the knot yet, Y/n." His tone was gentle, as though sharing a cherished secret.

A sudden chill raced down Y/n's spine, propelling her into swift action. She deftly gathered all the sweets that Hara had chosen. Joshua, startled by her abrupt shift in demeanor, watched in quiet curiosity, sensing that now wasn't the time to inquire.

A soft chime announced a newcomer. The door swung open, revealing a tall, sun-kissed man, his smile lighting up the room. Clutched in his hand was a bundle of meals, a simple offering of warmth and sustenance. What didn't escape Joshua's notice was the glint of an engagement ring gracing the man's finger.

"Ah, I should get going," Joshua murmured, a touch of awkwardness dancing in his smile. He gently informed Hara that they needed to head to the office. With a wave, Hara bid Y/n goodbye, her departure leaving a faint sense of longing in the air.

The newcomer, attuned to the change in atmosphere, turned to Y/n with concern etched across his face. He couldn't help but ask, "Who is he?" The question hung in the air, tinged with a hint of curiosity and a touch of wariness.

Y/n was willing to bet that Joshua overheard Mingyu's inquisitive words. With their departure, a weight seemed to settle in the air. She released a heavy sigh, her body finding solace against the worn counter.

This subtle motion didn't escape the notice of her concerned brother. "What's wrong? Who is he? Is he bothering you?" Mingyu's voice dripped with a blend of worry and slight irritation. He couldn't bear the thought of Y/n being bothered.

Y/n mumbled something, her words lost in the quiet ambiance of the shop. Mingyu leaned in, his gentle touch a balm to her unsettled soul. "What is it?" he coaxed, his voice laced with a mixture of affection and protective concern. With a tender gesture, he placed her meal on the counter.

"He's Josh."

Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise. "Joshua hyung? How could he not recognize me?" His disbelief was evident, eyebrows shooting up.

With a hint of annoyance, Y/n lifted her face to meet Mingyu's gaze. "How could anyone recognize you? Even your old self wouldn't," she quipped, a playful tease aimed at her brother's considerable transformation.

Mingyu let out a scoff, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "Then why are you like this? Aren't you happy to see him again?" he inquired, his concern tinged with a touch of gentle reproach. Y/n nodded, acknowledging the mix of emotions swirling within her.

"He's been around a few times. With that kid," Y/n murmured, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Mingyu's eyes widened in realization. "He's married?! Poor you, holding onto a long-term crush," he sympathized, his heart going out to his sister. "Come here, let me give you a hug." Mingyu's arms enveloped Y/n, offering comfort and understanding in this unexpected moment of emotional complexity.

However, Y/n didn't respond to Mingyu's attempt at comfort in the way he anticipated. Instead, a sharp slap landed on his arm, prompting a surprised whine to escape from him. "Why?!"

"He's not married," Y/n muttered, her voice tinged with frustration as she tried to untangle the complex web of emotions.

Mingyu's brow furrowed in confusion. "Then what? Is he divorced?" Another slap followed, this time landing on his other arm.

"Stop hitting me! It hurts," Mingyu protested, determined to put an end to the arm-slapping.

Y/n let out an exasperated groan, realizing how convoluted the situation had become. "Just listen!" she implored, her tone a blend of exasperation and urgency. "And don't you dare laugh." Her words earned a stifled chuckle from her younger brother. In a swift move, Y/n attempted another slap, but Mingyu managed to catch her hand, his grip firm yet gentle.

"I think I made a mistake," Y/n began, her voice tinged with regret.

"He started visiting the shop two months ago, and it's become a regular thing," she explained, a touch of frustration in her tone. "I assumed the child he always brought along was his daughter. I mean, who wouldn't? But it turns out, she's his boss's daughter."

Mingyu's brow arched in curiosity. "So, where's the twist?"

Y/n hesitated, her gaze dropping to the glimmering ring on her finger. "He saw this," she confessed, her voice a mixture of embarrassment and resignation. "And he thought I was engaged. He asked me if I was... and, you know what I said? Yes. I said yes because I thought he was married, and I was just protecting myself. I'm so messed up, Kim Mingyu." Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her impulsive decision.

Mingyu let out a sigh, absorbing Y/n's explanation. "Why did you even lie?" he inquired, a touch of perplexity in his voice.

Y/n's eyes darted around, her frustration evident. "Because— I don't know! He saw my ring and I couldn't just blurt out, 'The ring has the flower you gave me and your name engraved on it.' Especially when he was here with a child who could very well be his daughter."

Mingyu couldn't help but be impressed. He let out a low whistle and applauded. "You're so witty and clumsy all at once. We really are siblings," he remarked with a grin.

Y/n shot him a sidelong glance, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. She reached for the meal Mingyu had brought, a sense of familiarity and comfort settling over them.

The atmosphere softened as Mingyu unwrapped the meal, confirming it was from their mother. He explained how she had hastily prepared it upon his request to visit the shop, and then suggested that Y/n pay their mother a visit soon. It served as a gentle reminder of the last time Y/n had seen their mother, at their father's funeral. Their relationship had been strained since the divorce.

Shifting gears, Y/n inquired about Mingyu's upcoming wedding preparations. He let out a sigh, expressing some of the inevitable stress that comes with such occasions. "You shouldn't get married!" he joked, sharing the minor hurdles in planning with a wry smile. "Nari changed her mind three times about the decorations. And now she wants me to ask you about changing the dessert menu."

Y/n chuckled softly, a warm affection in her gaze. "It's okay. These things happen for big events," she assured him, playfully ruffling his hair. Mingyu leaned in for an embrace, expressing a touch of nostalgia. "I wish I were still a high schooler," he mumbled, resting his head on Y/n's shoulder. Her hand instinctively rose to pat his back. "You're doing a fantastic job, Mingyu. I'm proud that you took such a brave step at your age. I'm genuinely happy for you."

Pulling back, Mingyu looked at Y/n with a sincere smile. "I'm happy too, just a bit nervous and exhausted maybe," he admitted, and Y/n nodded understandingly.

"Since Mom and Dad divorced, you've been the one raising me. I may not say it often, but I hope you know that I've always been thankful for your presence, noona. And I hope you're happy too."

Y/n closed her eyes, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. "Stop it! I have to face customers after this!" she protested, a hint of tears glistening in her eyes.

Mingyu's smile softened, his gaze filled with affection for his older sister. "Invite him to my wedding. I hope you find the confidence to express your feelings to him. Don't worry about his answer. Men can be trash, unless me." he teased, bringing a lightness to the moment.

*

As closing time approached, Y/n began the task of tidying up the stall. Her baker had headed home promptly at 5 pm, while she was committed to staying until 10. A handful of croissants remained, their golden flakiness begging for a home. Who could resist a few bites of almond cream at night? Certainly not her customers. And that bottle of wine, a thoughtful gift from Mingyu two years back, had been patiently waiting for an occasion. Tonight seemed just right. After the whirlwind of a day, a glass of wine was exactly what Y/n needed to unwind and savor the quiet moments.

As she finished adjusting the croissant and set the table, a chime echoed through her shop. "I'm sorry, but we're clos— Josh?"

Y/n's voice caught in her throat as she recognized the unexpected visitor. There stood Joshua, tall and commanding, without his usual suit. Instead, he wore a sharp blue shirt that effortlessly complemented his appearance. The sleeves were casually rolled up to his elbows, a style that defied the odds and only added to his allure.

"It's night, what are you doing?" Y/n questioned, her surprise evident. She quickly shook her head, a warm smile playing on her lips. "I mean, it's really nice to see you. But isn't it a bit late for something sweet?" Her words held a hint of confusion.

Joshua's laughter danced through the air, a familiar and soothing melody in the quiet of the evening.

"Not for an almond croissant," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation as he gestured towards the delectable pastries adorning the table. "May I join?" he asked, a polite request for permission.

Y/n hesitated for a brief moment before offering a hesitant nod. She swiftly fetched another croissant and a wine glass, setting them in front of Joshua. Settling herself across from him, she couldn't help but express her concern.

Y/n's care and curiosity were palpable in her inquiry. "How have you been?"

Joshua let out a heavy sigh, his response tinged with a sense of relief. "Yeah... Big work hit, but it's finally done. Had a team dinner around here. You know the Soba restaurant near the three section? It was good," he explained, a hint of contentment in his voice. Y/n nodded in understanding.

He continued, delving into nostalgia. "You used to like that soba from a shop near our university," he reminisced, a fond smile gracing his features.

"The one with the wooden chairs? We went there a lot," Y/n admitted, her own smile growing as she recalled those cherished moments. "I remember you ordered hot soba in the summer and I was like, 'What is wrong with her?' I remember laughing a lot that day," he recounted, a hint of playfulness in his tone. Joshua's words evoked vivid memories from their college years.

Y/n stifled a smile before adding, "It was when you just failed your exam."

Joshua's brows shot up in surprise. "Ah, really? I couldn't remember that. Yeah... I failed a lot of tests back in university," he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. His gaze softened as he looked at Y/n, a sense of gratitude and warmth filling the air between them.

Joshua couldn't help but let out an impressed coo. "You haven't changed much, Y/n. Talking to you like this feels like we've stepped back a decade," he mused, tilting his head as his eyes traced the familiar features before him.

Y/n responded with a soft chuckle. "Meanwhile, you've changed quite a bit, Josh. I would never have expected to see you in a dress shirt and suit like today. You always favored crewnecks and that one t-shirt with the rock band print," she pointed out, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Joshua joined in her laughter, acknowledging the transformation. "You're absolutely right! I've gone through quite the evolution. I ran into one of our friends from college a few days back, and he didn't even recognize me," he recalled, a touch of amusement in his tone.

"Even Mingyu couldn't recognize you," Y/n chimed in, and Joshua's brow furrowed in surprise.

"Mingyu? He met me? When?" Joshua was genuinely taken aback. He remembered Y/n's younger brother as a tall kid who matched his height back when he was still in junior high school, a decade ago.

Y/n's eyes widened, a chuckle escaping her. "The last time you visited. Mingyu was here," she reminded him. Joshua let out a small gasp. "It was Mingyu?! I thought he was your fiance!" he exclaimed, covering his face with his palm in embarrassment.

"It was Mingyu. He's grown a lot, hasn't he? It's not surprising that you two didn't recognize each other," Y/n reassured, a fondness in her voice.

Joshua let out a sigh, his fingers gently massaging his temple. "So, it was Kim Mingyu, that little rascal who used to pester you back in the early semesters," he recalled with a laugh, the memory now tinted with amusement and affection.

"How's your parent?" Joshua inquired, his tone gentle and concerned.

Y/n's lips pressed into a tight line, her expression revealing the weight of her words. "Not long after you moved to The States, they got divorced. We lived with our father for four years before he passed away," she explained, a somber note in her voice. She chose not to mention the years of estrangement from her mother.

Joshua's gaze softened, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, I... I had no idea," he murmured, his heart heavy with the news.

"That's why you went out of reach," he concluded, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. The sudden loss of contact with Y/n had always puzzled him, but now it made sense.

Y/n nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the memories that played in her mind. "My father's company faced bankruptcy, and my mother..." she hesitated, "she was cheating. They got divorced, and I had to work at the bakery near our university because my father couldn't afford to support both of us. And here I am, now. Running my own shop," she said, her smile holding a mixture of pride and reflection on how the challenges of the past had shaped her present.

Joshua looked at Y/n, his heart heavy with unspoken words. Guilt washed over him, rendering him momentarily speechless. He vividly recalled the day he had to break the news to Y/n about his impending move to the States, just two weeks before his flight. His mother, a single parent, had raised him alone from a young age. After his graduation, she informed him about their relocation due to her work, leaving behind everything in Seoul. Leaving Y/n was an agonizing decision, as she was the only thing that made Joshua contemplate staying. But he knew he had to join his mother after her earnest plea.

"Do you remember when I wanted to become a jeweler?" Y/n's voice pierced through the heavy air, drawing Joshua's attention. He nodded in response. She rose from her seat and went to the counter. When she returned, a small box nestled in her hand, Joshua's gaze shifted to her ringless finger.

Without hesitation, he gently took her hand in his own, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and tenderness.

"Your ring—" Joshua began, his voice catching in his throat as he beheld the contents of the velvety box. Inside lay a ring and bracelet, delicate and gleaming.

"I made these," Y/n revealed, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability. She settled back into her chair, carefully placing the silver jewelry on the table.

Joshua's gaze remained fixed on the pieces, his heart pounding in his chest. He noticed that his name was engraved on both the ring and bracelet. Y/n's words tugged at his emotions, each syllable laced with the weight of untold feelings. "I was going to give these to you before your flight. But I couldn't make it; my parents were fighting that morning," she confessed, her voice carrying a mixture of regret and longing.

As he looked at Y/n, then back to the jewelry, his breath seemed to catch in his throat. The significance of the moment weighed heavily on him.

Y/n produced a necklace, its centerpiece a ring that had adorned her middle finger for all these years. "Mine has your name on it too. I meant to engrave my own, but for some reason, I etched yours," she shared, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

"It's crazy, isn't it? That I cared for you so much, Josh," Y/n finally confessed, her eyes meeting his, a blend of hope and apprehension in their depths.

"I liked you a lot, and i might still."

The weight of Y/n's confession hung in the air, her words barely more than a mumble. Yet, they carried a profound weight, echoing through the space between them.

In that moment, Joshua finally comprehended that his feelings were not one-sided. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth he hadn't dared to believe. He stood there, looking at Y/n, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time, the enormity of the situation washed over him, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. He had been carrying this sentiment for so long, never imagining that it might be returned. A sense of humility settled upon him, a realization that he had underestimated the depth of Y/n's emotions. He felt like a fool, sitting there in front of her, unable to find the right words to express the tumultuous storm of feelings coursing through him.

Under the tranquil embrace of the night, with the park as their silent witness, Joshua's voice carried a weight that only a decade of silent longing could hold.

"Y/n," he spoke, his words deliberate and infused with a vulnerability that had been buried deep for far too long. "Tonight, hearing your words... it's like a floodgate has burst open within me."

Turning to face her, he held her gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes. "For more than decade, I've carried this in my heart. From the very beginning, you captured my soul in a way I never thought possible. You've been my sanctuary, the person I've turned to in my darkest hours, even from across the ocean."

The sincerity in his voice was palpable, each word a testament to the depth of his emotions. "I was so afraid of losing you that I couldn't find the courage to say anything. But now, knowing that you feel... something for me too, it's like a dream come true."

"I like you a lot. No, i've been in love with you, Y/n."

The air hung heavy with anticipation, the moment pregnant with significance. Joshua's heart raced, every beat a testament to the years of yearning he had endured. With bated breath, he waited for Y/n's response, hoping beyond hope that the feelings he had nurtured in secret for a decade would find their rightful place in the open.

*

On the day of Mingyu's wedding, the venue was bathed in a warm, golden light, casting a radiant glow on the beaming couple. Mingyu, standing tall in his tuxedo, took the mic with a mixture of excitement and nervousness in his eyes. The room fell into a hushed anticipation as he cleared his throat, preparing to address the gathered guests.

"Thank you all for being here today," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Today is a day of celebration, not only for me and Nari, but for the bonds that tie families together."

Mingyu continued his speech. As he spoke, Mingyu's gaze drifted to Y/n, his older sister, seated among the guests. Her eyes shimmered with unspoken pride and affection, a silent affirmation of their shared journey.

He continued, his voice carrying a note of gratitude, "Today, I stand here as a man about to embark on a new chapter of my life. And I owe so much of who I am to the incredible woman who has always been there for me, through thick and thin."

Turning towards Y/n, Mingyu's voice softened with sincerity. "To my sister, Y/n, you've been my rock, my confidante, and my source of endless support. You've guided me, protected me, and loved me unconditionally. Today, I want to take a moment to thank you, not only for being an amazing sister, but for being an incredible friend."

A swell of applause and affectionate murmurs filled the room, a testament to the love that emanated from this tight-knit family. Mingyu's words had touched the hearts of everyone present, leaving an indelible mark on this special day.

The wedding ceremony unfolded like a dream, an atmosphere of pure happiness enveloping the guests. Mingyu, the groom, approached his sister, Y/n, a vision in her lace gown, diligently overseeing the desserts from her bakery. He enveloped her in a warm embrace, their connection palpable even in the midst of the celebration. He pulled back, Y/n teasingly echoing Mingyu's earlier words, "Your confidante, huh?" A playful eye-roll followed, a testament to their easy camaraderie.

Y/n couldn't help but let out a joyful laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, I had to make a good impression on my new in-laws, didn't I? Let them know they're getting a true family man," he quipped in a conspiratorial whisper. Joshua, standing alongside them, couldn't contain his own chuckle at their banter.

"Thanks for coming, hyung," Mingyu expressed his gratitude, pulling Joshua into a heartfelt hug. Joshua extending his warmest congratulations.

A mischievous gleam danced in Joshua's eyes as he added, "For someone who's kept my girlfriend busy all month, you sure seem appreciative." His words were laced with playful sarcasm, a nod to the last-minute dessert changes that had kept Y/n on her toes.

Mingyu's expression softened, a touch of remorse etching his features. "I'm sorry, hyung. I forgot how much this meant to you. I promise, after this, I won't meddle anymore," he vowed, signing to the new relationship between his sister and Joshua that had been silent for over a decade.

As the joyous celebration continued, a voice calling Joshua's name interrupted their lively conversation. Turning, their attention was drawn to a woman standing behind them. Joshua recognized her as one of his colleagues from the company, and he extended his hand in greeting.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Joshua remarked, a pleasant surprise lacing his voice.

The woman nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "Nari is my junior from college," she explained, her eyes keenly observing the dynamic between Joshua and Y/n.

It wasn't lost on Joshua that his hand lingered at Y/n's waist. Suddenly, the realization struck him, and he made the introduction with a touch of pride, "Oh, please meet my girlfriend, Y/n. Those croquembouche were made by her." The swell of pride in his voice resonated with a warmth that emanated from him.

Mingyu, standing beside them, nodded appreciatively and offered a warm smile, extending his gratitude to the woman for joining them in the celebration.

The woman's words hung in the air, a statement that stirred a shift in the atmosphere. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend, Mr. Hong," she reiterated, her tone carrying a hint of surprise. Before Joshua could respond, Mingyu swooped in, feigning hurt over Joshua's apparent secrecy.

"Hyung, really? You've been keeping your relationship with my sister under wraps from everyone? Noona, you deserve someone who'll shout your worth from the rooftops!" Mingyu playfully chided, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Y/n simply smiled, recognizing her brother's penchant for theatrics.

Joshua let out a sigh, a mixture of exasperation and amusement tingeing his voice. "I kept everything hidden," he confessed, a touch of irritation coloring his words. Yet, his smile only grew, his hold on Y/n's waist tightening. It was a silent declaration, an unspoken testament to the depth of his feelings for her, a sentiment that had been quietly growing within him. The unspoken connection between them, now brought to light, added a layer of intimacy to the moment, making it all the more special.

*

A fresh morning light bathed the room, infusing it with a sense of energy and possibility. Joshua entered, a warm smile gracing his features, bearing a circle of coffee and delectable desserts for the ladies gathered at the tables. Their eyes lit up with gratitude as they received the treats, a tangible token of appreciation for their successful drama project.

"Morning, ladies. I heard the drama project was a hit. Here's my treat," Joshua announced, his voice carrying a touch of genuine warmth.

As they settled into their seats, one of them couldn't help but voice the rumor swirling in the office. "Is it true, Mr. Hong?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

Joshua's smile remained steadfast, a hint of intrigue twinkling in his eyes. "What rumor?" he playfully deflected, his tone light.

"That you're in a relationship? There's a screenshot of your Instagram Story with a woman on the company community web," another woman eagerly elaborated, her excitement palpable.

Joshua let out a chuckle at their enthusiasm. With an air of showmanship, he unveiled the box of delectable desserts, their intricate designs and inviting aromas captivating their attention. "They look amazing, right?" he asked, a note of pride coloring his voice.

"These are from Seongsu-dong, just a block away from a kindergarten. The shop's called Sweeties. If you ever want to meet my girlfriend, that's the place to go. Please enjoy," Joshua shared, his words imbued with a touch of playfulness and sincerity. With a final warm goodbye, he left the group of women officers, their smiles and laughter lingering in the air. The morning continued, infused with a sense of camaraderie and shared enjoyment.

The end.

[its-time-to-write]

hiya there love

i was wondering, if i could request a lovely jamie tartt fic from you? it would basically revolve around r being increadibly stressed and overworked and, of ypu are comfortable, r gets a panic attack (maybe she works at the dogtrack and then people are confused about what is happening) and then jamie swoops in and saves the day

absolutely love your writing and stories and senig lots of love and creativity your way <3 <3 <3

guys I have like five WIPS and usually I have zero, but here we are. Most of them only need their closing paragraph but I have been BUSY and also very tired. thank you @dark-academia-slut for this request and your recent comments on my posts🩵🩵

for you, there’ll be no more crying

There’s too much to do and only one you, and yet everything needs to be done today and no one seems to realize that they’re assigning you more work on top of what other people have already given you. You didn’t realize everything was so pressing, but here you are with a to do list as long as your arm filled with tasks to be completed ASAP. 

You think that taking a break for lunch is a bad idea, honestly you’d rather sit at your desk and check some more things off your list, but HR insists that you have a thirty-minute break. It’s also shitty because your boyfriend works here too, but you’re not sitting with him today because by the time he got to the cafe, the only available space was all the way across the room. So here you are, tapping your foot as you force down a salad. 

Chewing feels mechanical, each bite heavy in your mouth. You choke down a piece as your index finger taps on your thumb, counting down the minutes until you can rush back to your office. You can feel Helen from HR keeping an eye on you, and you don’t need to add a visit from her to you list. 

“Oi, can you compile that list I emailed you about last week?” Stephanie from the front desk asks from across the table. 

You give her a confused look. “What list?”

She returns your look. “The one I sent last Tuesday?”

You shake your head and say, “I never got that email.”

Stephanie frowns and pulls out her phone. “Oh, whoops, it’s in my drafts still.” She presses a button and says, “There, it’s sent!” with a cheerful grin, like that changes anything. 

Your whole leg is shaking now, not just your foot. “When do you need it?” you ask carefully, willing her to say literally an other day but today. 

“Oh, I need it by the end of the day,” she replies so you nod, all slow and mechanical. 

You ask, “Can I get it to you tomorrow?” and she shakes her head. 

“No, I really needed it done by today. You should have checked with me when you didn’t get my email on Tuesday.”

You don’t point out that it’s impossible to ask about an email you didn’t even know existed, mainly because Stephanie is best friends with Helen and you literally cannot deal with both of them today. 

So instead you nod, fake a smile, and take another bite of salad as Stephanie gets up to leave. 

The moment she’s gone, everything goes slow. And not in a good way. 

You think, oh shit as the food in your mouth becomes tasteless and your gaze becomes fixated on a spot on the table. 

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.��

Liam notices and asks, “Are you alright?” in his too-loud voice, so now everyone in the cafe is looking at you as you take stuttered breaths around the salad in your mouth. 

You’re confident that this couldn’t get any worse, but you can’t even answer Liam so he shakes your arm, causing you to jolt. 

You press one hand to your heart as you try to catch a breath with all eyes still on you. 

A hand presses a napkin to your mouth and says, “Spit,” but you don’t look up to see who it is. You’re stuck on that one spot on the table, unable to move anything except your leg. But you don’t need to look up to know who it is. 

“Fuck off, Liam,” says Jamie and Liam does. 

You’re told later that Jamie flips off anyone who’s still staring, but you miss it in the moment because it’s over your head. 

“You alright, babe?” he asks gently, but you don’t respond. He slides into the seat Liam has vacated and grabs your hand. “Oi, look at me.”

His hands are warm in contrast to your cold ones, and the uses his one free hand to tilt your face toward his. You’re having a hard time making eye contact so he bends his head just enough so he’s in your line of sight. 

“There you are,” he smiles, “You want to tell me what’s wrong or do you want me to guess?”

You just look, chest rising and falling way too fast. 

“Right,” he says. “Let’s get your breathing under control. Breathe with me, yeah?”

You see the staff and team at Nelson Road filtering out of the cafe, so you focus on Jamie’s face and follow his breaths. 

“Okay, keep going like that. What else can we talk about? Oi, did you hear what fucking Roy did this morning? The lad’s fucking insane, he is. Strings around dicks? Can’t believe I almost lost mine, and on date night no less.” He winks. “You’d‘ve had his head for sure, love.”

You crack a smile at that. 

“Ey!” he says, “She lives!”

“I love you,” you tell him and he squeezes your hand. 

“She fuckin’ talks, too. What a woman.”

You think of a few snide replies, but you’re not too sold on talking just yet so you settle for silence. 

“Was it fucking Helen?” Jamie asks, “Bird’s more insane than Coach.”

You wiggle your head. Technically, it wasn’t just Helen, but she’s the one who’s been handing you the most assignments while also insisting on the stupidest breaks. 

“Bet it were Stephanie too,” he continues. “Babe, you’ve gotta fucking talk to Higgins or Ms. Welton or some shit. They’re using you like some personal servant and it ain’t right.”

You shrug and Jamie squeezes your hand again. “None of that,” he says. 

He’s not wrong. 

It’s just you two, alone, so he allows himself a moment to cup your face in one hand. “You’re good, yeah?” he asks. 

You take a deep breath and nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He grins and leans forward to kiss your forehead. 

“D’you want to ditch the rest of the day?” he asks and you give him a Look. 

You say, “I can’t ditch. I have too much to do and you can’t ditch because you have training.”

Jamie’s still grinning as he says, “Bet I could get out of it ‘cause of me injury and you could get out of it if you talked to Ms. Welton.”

“Absolutely not,” you reply, but he’s already standing up.

“Gonna talk to her about fucking Helen,” he says. “I’d bet my entire house that none of your shit is that big of an emergency.”

“No you won’t,” you call after him, “And anyway, she wouldn’t listen to you about any of it.”

Jamie’s basically already gone so he just shouts, “Ta,” as you sigh and get up to go back to your office. 

An hour later, you’re in the car with Jamie as he laments your lack of faith in him. “Told you Helen’s full of shit,” he says. “You’re going to be way better at her job than she ever was.”

“The fuck, Jamie,” you reply. “I still can’t believe you made me talk to Rebecca.”

He shrugs, one hand on the wheel. “I’m a dead good boyfriend, is what I am.”

You laugh. He certainly is that. 

[xhdream]

on zoom

pairing: ceo jooyeon x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 1.3k

cw: sub!reader, masturbation (m/f), spanking, dirty talk

you’re in the middle of a zoom meeting with ceo!jooyeon

you did not expect it at all. you just got out of the shower when you received a message that there’s something urgent to talk about. there was nothing you could’ve done except put on the first nice blouse you pull out from your wardrobe, brush your hair and open your laptop in a rush.

because of jooyeon, your boss, you quickly got used to work from home outside of your work schedule. he constantly finds you little unexpected tasks to do or edits to make on something you sent in hours ago, causing you to work even from the grocery store.

ceo!jooyeon is feared by most of your colleagues. he’s demanding, with high expectations, and some may say - high ego too; but you don’t find him scary. you find him tedious. infuriating. maddening to look at, because of how attractive he is.

even now, as you watch him sit back against the headboard of his bed with his blond hair messy and falling into his eyes every time he shifts over to grab a sheet of paper in just a plain black t-shirt… even now he’s unbelievably mesmerising. he has his glasses on, the ones you’ve seen him wear a couple of times during meetings, but everything else from the casual clothes to the view of his clean nightstand and multiple pillows is new and very… intimate.

you try to shove away the thoughts, and focus on his words coming from your laptop without staring too much at his lips, which has always been a challenge.

“will you go get it, please?” he asks, but please from jooyeon’s mouth doesn’t mean he’s asking if you can do something, it means that you have to do it. now. “i want to see something and we’re done here.”

your voice trembles while you look for the right way to word your answer. “i will send you an email with everything from the report so you have everything that may come in handy. right after we—“

“why can’t you just show me the report now?”

his gaze pierces through the screen, making your palms sweat against your bare thighs.

“i don’t… remember where i put it,” you mumble, looking around your room awkwardly, as cold shivers shoot through your half naked body that’s still warm from the long bath.

ceo!jooyeon knows that’s a lie, cause you’re the least neglectful employee he’s ever had. he sighs before tilting his head up to skim your silhouette. he’s an observing person, so the way you sit stiffly barely even moving your arms is not that unnoticeable to him as you think.

he asks when did you become so unmindful of your work, and you apologise, saying that you’re sure you’re going to find it, and if not - it’s probably in your office.

you run your finger on the keyboard nervously, praying the fact you’re naked from the waist down won’t risk your job. your eyes don’t leave jooyeon out of sight as he licks his lips with a contemplative look on his face. the lamp on his nightstand lights up his sharp features nicely, and they only get you more and more distracted. his jawline, his neck, his adam apple, his collarbone that’s peeking from his shirt…

“you should be more careful, y/n. i’m not keeping you here only because you’re hot.”

you nod, as his words echo in your head.

“do i make you uncomfortable?”

“not at all,” you reply on the instant although this was the last question you expected to hear. your high pitched tone eventually turns into a hollow chuckle. “why would you think that?”

“do i turn you on then?”

you breathe in trying to grasp where this is going.

“i think i do,” jooyeon smirks from finding the answer on his own. he fixes the position of his laptop that’s sitting on top of his stomach before placing one arm behind his head, and turning his attention back to you. “you turn me on too, but you probably already know that since the day i hired you. right, sweetheart?”

“actually no,” you admit, “i didn’t know that.”

jooyeon lets out an airy chuckle and glances at you surprised. “i thought i was obvious. i think about kissing you all the time.”

your hand crawls between your inner thighs, and you shamelessly allow your fingers to brush against your exposed clit. it’s all happening under the table; the camera doesn’t catch anything that’s below your stomach, but it’s enough for jooyeon to notice your uneasy breaths and the way you gulp.

“you’re so freaking hot,” he continues in a more relaxed voice, “especially when you wear those tight skirts at work… i can only imagine how pretty your ass looks without them.”

at this point he’s turning you on so much that your index finger easily slips through your folds without you even spreading your legs properly.

“i can show you if you want,” you say softly through a heavy sigh.

those few words bring out a new type of smile on jooyeon’s face - a greedy one; like he just won something, but it’s clear he will still want more.

“go ahead.”

as you stand on your feet, moving your chair back, you observe the way his lips part and his gaze turns more dazed, but also focused at the same time.

“so your pussy has been naked this whole time? were you planning on telling me at all? turn around.”

you hear shuffling noises from the speaker, as you make a step back. when you peek behind your shoulder to make sure what jooyeon wants to see is all caught from the camera, you see his face a lot closer which means that he pulled his laptop forward in order to reach his dick more comfortably.

“gorgeous from head to toe… fuck,” he groans, and the sound of it is so arousing it makes you clench desperately around nothing. “wanna spank that ass so bad.. do it for me, doll, spank yourself.”

your hand rises in the air and quickly lands on your right cheek; a few more slaps follow by jooyeon’s command mixing with his moans. a few for lying about the report, and a few more for attending a meeting with your cunt naked.

“now suck on your fingers and touch yourself,” he mutters, changing the speed of his fist. “slowly.”

as you stay bent over your chair like he said, you move your fingers from your reddish butt cheek towards your heat. two of them glide with ease through your dripping hole, and the feeling is so satisfying, an immediate whine escapes your lips.

“jooyeon—“ you moan from the pleasure of going deeper. despite the building rush, you crave to feel more than just that. you need his presence, his touch all over you.

“yeah, sweetheart?”

“i need more…”

“i know, i know…” his voice comes out heavier than usual, because he needs the same just as much as you do. the sound of his fist starts to become clearer. “keep touching yourself, pretty girl. look how wet you are for me.”

hearing those things from his mouth turn you so lightheaded and impatient, you don’t realise your fingers start moving in and out with their own pace that’s not to jooyeon’s liking. first, you hear the frustrated scoff; the remark that breaks off your pleasure - second.

“you’re disappointing me today, doll, can’t you follow simple instructions anymore?” he listens to your panting while his own arousal begins to overwhelm him too, but he controls his emotions pretty well, even after he keeps switching the speed of his hand depending on your body language. “no?”

you start to disagree, but too late.

“sit down.” his demand rings in the silence of your room, building up your desire. “you should know better, doll. now that pretty pussy is gonna get punished because you refuse to listen.”

after you spread your legs wide for the camera, your hand rises again and drops for a new slap.

“be glad i’m not there to do it myself. i’m not that gentle.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

[the-final-sif]

A thing a lot of people need to learn, is when you have a specific task or action that causes you an undue amount of anxiety and/or mental effort; take a moment and consider how often you interact with that thing in a positive light.

Like, phone calls and emails. Stop for a moment and ask yourself; when was the last time you just called a friend to talk? Not on discord, on your actual phone? Or just made a phone call for something that wasn't at least moderately stressful? If the only time you're making phone calls is doing something that requires a lot or mental effort or stress, of course your brain is going to associate phone calls with mental effort and stress! That's just your brain accurately understanding the situation.

Similarly, when was the last time you wrote an email to a friend in a semi-formal style? When was the last time you sent an email for something that wasn't stressful? When was the last time you wrote an email in a moderately professional fashion for something that wasn't either work or school? If you experience a lot of anxiety or high mental effort for emails, odds are the answer is it's been awhile. No wonder you hate writing emails, what reason have you given your brain to not hate it?

Obviously, every case is different, but if you find yourself constantly dreading or getting really anxious about tasks like phone calls or emails, or anything of the sort, try to give yourself some positive, easy experiences alongside the stressful ones.

For phone calls, call a friend! Talk for a couple of minutes about pets or a project and then be done with it! Make it fun and light!

For emails, swap emails with a few friends and try to keep up exchanging normal, semi-formal emails with them. It doesn't have to be super long or serious, just general little life updates will do. But try to keep the writing style to something near what you'd use in professional emails.

It won't magically fix everything, but I do think a lot of people seriously under estimate the amount of good that a bit of positive reinforcement can do for your brain. And underestimate how much more mentally taxing stuff gets when you only have negative associations for it. Your brain is trying very hard, but it is only meat soup, and it can only do so much with the ingredients it's given.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Gain Motivation & Get Out of A Rut

Spontaneous motivation is possible but rare. However, learning how to jumpstart this valuable energy to gain the initial momentum you need to create consistent habits and routines necessary to help you achieve your goals. Here are some tips and tricks to get out of a rut and jumpstart motivation.

Create specific goals: Use qualifying and quantifying details (e.g. I intend to stay at the Ritz Paris hotel; I will save $50K by the end of this year, etc.; I'm cultivating a Scandinavian aesthetic; I will eat 3 healthy meals daily during the workweek, etc.)

Organize your goals into different areas of life: Try not to have more than 1-2 goals per life arena at a time (career, finances, health, relationships, self-development, etc.)

Write a short list of 3-5 things you can do to get closer to each of your goals: These can be habits or one-time tasks (e.g. take a walk every day, automate "X" amount of my paycheck into my investment accounts, etc.). Consider this bullet-point list as your high-level action plan. It gives you a roadmap that's simple enough to help you get started without overwhelming your mind with details or complexities. Success is born from simple, consistent habits.

Create a vision board for each goal: Envisioning yourself achieving the goal can spark some initial excitement and motivation. Everything gets clearer when you can see the end in sight.

Write out a "pros" and "cons" list for each goal: Consider the benefits of working towards each goal vs. the downsides. A little fear-based motivation can be healthy as a catalyst to gain some inspiration and momentum.

Get mapping & mathing: Create a mockup of your ideal wardrobe, healthy meals you want to eat, design a mockup of your dream project live on a billboard, all of the places you want to visit in a foreign country, every aspect of your dream date night, etc. Do some quick projections on how much you could be saving with your budgeting goals, and entrepreneurial pursuits, or run the numbers regarding health goals you can work towards (whether it's weight or strength related)

Create a weekly self-accountability goal: Choose one task per goal that you want to accomplish each day (or a few times a week) to get you moving in the direction you desire. Keeping promises to yourself is the simplest way to stay on track.

Track your progress: Make a log of your hours spent reading, working out, check off the days you've had a healthy meal, how many pitch emails you've sent out, any additions or removals from your current wardrobe and environment, etc.

Give yourself a rewarding incentive: Be enough of an adult to use your childlike tendencies to your advantage. Create "if-then" compromises with yourself to ensure you stay on track. E.g: If I make a healthy meal at home for dinner during the week then, I can eat it while watching an episode of my favorite show. If I order-in an unhealthy meal, then I cannot watch my favorite show that night. Savage, I know!

Join supportive online communities & spaces: Find communities on Tumblr, TikTok, Instagram, Reddit, Facebook groups, etc. to find people with similar goals and life outlooks. Read books by authors who have achieved your desired goal, and listen to podcasts on your same wavelength. Find digital ways to cultivate a tribe.

Keep a "Winning" Journal: A notebook that you can write in daily, a few times a week, or weekly to share all of your accomplishments. This method allows you to feel like you can brag and show off a bit, so you get the social validation (even if done in private) while still moving in silence and refraining from appearing arrogant.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my Professor I dislike what my group members did for our final project?

I (20F) was in a group with four guys of unknown ages. All around my age or older. For my degree I had to take this management class. Our final project was to analyze this case study, give our opinion on what their new strategy could be, etc...

First day of the project (a month into semester) we get in our groups I sit around for a few minutes waiting for one of them to take charge or just say something (I figure they're all business majors of some kind). No one does so I do. I start to ask who wants to do what and say how I think we should break down the tasks. Two of them laugh.

For reference, I'm short, fem but visibly queer, and the school I go to is in the south. I don't know why they laughed. At the time and still I attribute misogyny but IDK I'm not in their minds.

For all of the following meetings I did the same thing: I would wait then take charge. They started to ask me all of their questions. Flash forward to the week it is due. I set a due date a day before the actual one (we do not meet that and finish an hour before the actual due date) and they ask me a bunch of easily answerable questions (on the syllabus or in class material). I did my part on time and read through their stuff. And in my opinion it just wasn't good. It was a lot of repeating the same information over and over again and didn't really follow the prompts of what we were supposed to do. Between that and how much they had yet to do I had a panic attack. My roommate urged me to email the professor. She replied to write up a thing explaining my issues w/ sections of the paper and include it when I uploaded my individual components.

I care about the grade so much because it is a large component and I receive funding for school from wealthy relatives based on how I do. It's not paying for my college but $200 here or there is a lot to me.

We got everything done on time and edited. I still gave my paper my all and helped with other sections and edited. I think it improved but still wasn't where I'd want it to be. So I did the thing she told me to and created the document. When I sent it to her I included that I don't want anyone to get a lower grade and I don't think anyone did a bad job (I don't think anyone was lazy).

I still feel like I might be an asshole because what I did could result in her lowing their grades.

[toji-girl]

for hire | s. hanma

synopsis: Being a model was harder than you expected, trying to get an agency to hire you seemed to be the main issue that is until you meet the infamous Shuji Hanma.

wc: 2k

tag: dark content + 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + repost from my old blog + your model name is vixen + blow job + consensual picture taking + noncon video recording + I think that's all + reblogs & comments are appreciated + for kinktober '23 | I've posted this before but it's one of my favorites I've ever done so I'm reposting it!

Everything inside you was exhausted, worn down to the bone really, no matter how many modeling gigs you applied for every single one rejected you for one reason or another after you finally got your career up and running only for it to come crashing back down it felt like. 

However, things really never seemed to go the way you thought because as soon as you were about to click the ‘apply here’ on the screen your manager called to deliver more bad news that you knew was about to be said, you almost didn’t answer. 

“Shuji Hanma wants you to model for him! Jewelry of the sort and maybe some lingerie if you’re comfortable with that!” Her voice crackled from her high-pitched squeal, no hi or hello like usual. 

Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion, was this a joke? It has to be because there is no way she was serious, the Hanma wanting to photograph you? There has to be some sort of condition or something to this whole thing. 

“It’s not April Fools.” 

She tutted and shook her head clicking the video chat button and leaning back watching your face pop up with a look of uncertainty. “I know that, I’m serious. I guess he saw you in a file.” 

You stared back at her and stood from your couch heading straight to your bedroom unable to wrap your head around it still. “I haven’t been able to get any job for months and now Hanma wants to photograph me?” 

“Yes, how many times do I need to tell you this? I sent you everything over via email and it was signed off by him, not his assistant.” 

If you had to count how many times you’ve read the email you wouldn’t be able to give anyone a correct number, by now you memorized it and were able to recite it when you did your daily tasks. 

Dear, Vixen. 

That’s the name I was given by your manager and after seeing the pictures she sent over I knew I had to have you in front of my camera, everything you need will be delivered to your house Thursday evening. Please show up at my studio the following night at seven p.m. sharp, and a car will be there to pick you up. Wear one of the outfits and sets when you arrive. 

Thursday night you sat on your couch bouncing your leg up and down waiting for the knock to come on your front door, the thought of wearing only jewelry while Shuji took photos of you made your stomach curl into itself, not to mention your nipples tightening against your shirt. 

You’ve seen plenty of pictures of him plastered all around, and he’s very sexy, but you also know he was part of a gang growing up, something he was sure to boast about, and the thrill of being with a bad boy was enough for you to send him an email back stating you’d be there. 

A knock pulled you from your thoughts, quickly you got up and made it to your front door in record time to grab the box from the delivery person with a grin as you scribbled your name and took the package inside, once the door was shut you stared down at feeling warmth flush through you. 

Just as quick as you stood up and you sat back down leaning into the cushions and tearing into it, the thin paper that kept the clothes and jewelry intact you were careful about taking them each out and laying them on your couch wondering if you should call your manager but didn’t want her to ruin the moment so you decided against it. 

“Oh, my.” Your mouth dropped open seeing the diamonds shining under the harsh light of your living room, your fingers stroked them watching them glitter as you moved to the other set, most were earrings, necklaces, and a few bracelets but it mostly seemed to be sets of them. 

You moved from the jewelry to the clothes carefully to unfold them to get a better view. “No way in hell.” You muttered to yourself looking at the crotchless panties paired with a see-through bralette, soon enough more fabric joined the pile and it was a bunch of lacy and silky and frilly outfits, one skimpier than the last until you were wondering what the point of the last outfit was. 

The different colored fabrics along with the jewelry boxes sat on your couch overnight and all day until six pm the night until you were quick to pick the one that didn’t show everything you had to offer, with your trench coat on and shoes you stepped outside looking for the car Shuji sent. 

Shuji was demanding even in his email. You noted he only used please once, and you knew he was a man who was used to getting what he wanted whenever he wanted, your blood fizzled in your veins as the car pulled away from the curb driving into the heart of the city. 

You watched out the window growing excited at the prospect of this launching your career, it could either make or break it so you were down to do whatever Shuji told you to do at this point, and it didn’t help you find him extremely attractive and with his tattoos, you wanted to know if he could punish you. 

Thoughts of his open palm striking your bare ass melted away when the car stopped in front of a highrise building, it looked modern and sleek with dark tinted windows and a bright sign on the side but from here you couldn’t make out whatever it said. 

Soon you were shuffled into a small room by yourself which screamed expensive, everything was bathed in a maroon and gold aesthetic and the couches you were sure cost more than the whole building you lived in, so you opted to walk around the room instead while ooking at the million pictures on the wall until you you heard a door click and heels on the floor. 

“Vixen?” 

You turned to come in direct contact with Shuji, his strong cologne overwhelming you as he peered at you through his glasses sizing you up as you almost swallowed your tongue nodding at him. “Yes, and you’re Shuji Hanma?” 

“The one and only, let’s get started. What are you wearing under the trench coat?” 

He turned on his heel and walked through the double heavy doors guiding you into his studio which was different than his waiting room, the room was modern and sleek with hints of gray and white peaking out from the dark colors. “One of the outfits you sent.” 

“Good girl, now let’s get started, are you wearing any of the necklaces?” 

His use of ‘good girl’ made your cheeks pool with heat as you looked over at the couch he was referring to, you made your way over on slightly wobbly knees and sat down taking your coat off. “I am, yes.” 

Shuji turned around from his desk to look at you with his camera in his hand, his shirt now unbuttoned midway as he listened to you. With long quick strides, he stood in front of you, towering really as he bent at the waist hovering above you. 

You could smell the whiskey on his breath that fanned over your face, he grinned as his fingers touched the jewelry lifting it up off your neck, Shuji was sure to touch you but barely. “I’ve seen your other shoots, and those poor bastards didn’t know how to capture your beauty.” 

“Oh?” You squeaked unsure what else to say, the proximity of him being this close and his smell all you could think about what he looked like under his clothes. He nodded and stood up again to help put you into position. 

He crouched down in front of you snapping a few pictures before another change, this time you were bent over with your ass on full view. “They make these heart-shaped plugs for that cute hole of yours, would you be interested in that?” 

With the choice of underwear he could see everything you had to offer and it made him twitch with wanton desire, did he stalk you a bit before this after seeing your file show up on his desk a few months ago? Maybe. Something about you called to him and he was a greedy bastard who wanted what he did and he always got it. 

You’re so cute and fell into his trap letting him lift your hips up so he could graze his hard-on against you, or when he needed you in a different outfit you let him dress you like his own personal doll. “This is the one, and after I’ll give you payment for your time.” 

Shuji set you on his desk this time, showing off the bracelet you wore, your hand resting on your breasts as he stared at them. “Can I give you something as a thank you?” You asked once he put everything away except for one small video recorder but you didn’t know that. 

“Thank me?” He asked with a chuckle as he sank down on the couch watching you meekly walk over to him, his presence made you want to submit and do whatever he said it was to do, not only did he make you feel like the only girl in the world but the touches left you wanting more. 

You dropped to your knees still clad in his favorite outfit rubbing his thighs with a shy nod. “Yeah, you know for helping me with this? You’re so big and everyone knows you, you helped me a lot.” 

Shuji chuckled darkly as he patted your head like a dog with a smirk. “Then get to it, you were very obedient and listened well.” He watched you unzip his pants before glancing at the camera making sure it was angled to get the whole thing, it wasn’t for anyone else to see but himself. 

He would use the video later to jerk himself off in his bed before calling you to see if you were busy, but for now, he was going to let you blow him or whatever it was you were going to do, you pulled his cock out after taking his belt off. Shuji’s cock matched him, pretty as hell. 

It was on the slender side but still had enough girth to make you feel full and the length to bully your g-spot, your eyes went into the shapes of hearts you were sure as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft giving him a few experimental jerks before lifting yourself up more off the floor to suck on his head. 

Shuji watched you fully now, his eyes trained on your lips wrapped around him and the pretty diamonds glittering as you hollowed your cheeks out letting your spit dribble down making a mess, he groaned when you took him to the back of your throat gagging. He wanted more and fast, so with his hand on your head you let him control everything. 

His studio was filled with wet sucking sounds and you moaning around him like you were getting pleasure from this, your hands cupped his balls making it messy and sloppy, the sloppiest you’ve ever done for any guy in your life, your drool covered your chin and tits now making them shine under the light. 

He was quick to move his hand to cup the back of your head thrusting his hips up further gagging you lewdly, the way you sputtered around him made him grin. “You can handle it, you’re doing so well for me.” 

With his praise you amped up your performance making out with his flushed head and tapping it against your tongue while looking up at him, the shy reserved woman he first met was nothing like the woman you are now sucking his cock like there was no tomorrow. 

His balls tightened when you used your spit to jerk him off while bobbing your head up and down sitting on the balls of your feet to suck him in deeper until you heard him groan deep in his chest. “Such a good little cock sucker, might make you my professional one.” 

Little did you know when you pulled away swallowing it all he got it on video, he leaned in capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Need a new job?” 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 3

Your first few weeks on set go by in a blur of learning the ropes. You follow Briony around a lot and listen to her use words you’ve never heard, like striking and dolly grip. You learn the difference between a first assistant camera and second, though it doesn’t seem to make much sense when Maggie points around nonchalantly and gets interrupted by a joke coming from the walkie-talkie on her hip. 

It was going well! Aside from whatever whirring now thumps in your chest when Brett comes up beside you. You’re still in good impression mode for another, like, 3 weeks.

“Hi,” he says, a smile and nod when you look up to see him. “Hopefully you’re liking this lot so far?”

“So far,” you nod, appreciative of his inquiry. “But I also heard it takes a few weeks for you all to turn into divas.”

He pulls a hand to his chest in mock offense. The jacket he’s wearing belongs to his character, but the color suits him well. “I usually wait until at least halfway through!”

“Hellooo,” Maggie sidles up and smiles at both of you. Jason’s right behind her and when the four of you stand in a make-shift circle, you’re acutely aware of the way Jason angles himself toward you. 

“We’ve got a lot to get through today--wanted to have you hear all of this as well,” Jason says this to you in particular before Maggie launches into some sort of schedule. She’s listing numbers and tasks and referencing scenes by shorthand lingo that only makes half sense. 

It’s weird, you realize, that while you’re here on set and working alongside them, your job is different in almost every way: it’s focused entirely on him. Which is maybe a bad thing, seeing as your stomach still does this little flip when you notice the dimple on his cheek that you remember from Day 1. 

Lucky for you, though, most of your time on set is spent in Jason’s office. Scheduling his travel and handling his emails and pulling the strings behind the scenes so his actual job here was easier. You’re in constant contact with his manager, his nanny, even sometimes seeing messages from his ex or his friends come through before you pass them right up the ladder.

Briony pops in and out, often passing messages from Jason to you and then in return. She was the coffee kid, still young enough to be excited by that type of task and good enough to never mess up an order.

Poppy hurries by and after you commit the entire shooting schedule of the day to memory, you return to Jason’s office to actually get your work done. Today, primarily, was to be spent going through emails and calendars, plugging in meetings and finalizing his schedule for the next two weeks before filming really picked up.

But there’s a knock on the door that grabs your attention before your inbox is even open. Brendan’s there, a binder in hand and a hesitant smile when you both realize you’ve never been alone in a room together. 

“Hi,” he says a bit awkwardly. “Y’know where Jason is?”

“He was with Paul and Jenna near Rebecca’s office,” you hoped you were getting the names right, blending real people with characters in the same way that didn’t trip up the rest of them. “Anything I can help with?”

He holds your gaze for a second, almost skeptical, but then decides he’ll at least give it a shot. 

“I’m looking for a list of scenes we’re shooting today. Not the actual schedule that got sent out but the list of ones Jason wants to do if we can move more quickly than everyone thinks we can.” 

You stand from your spot on the couch and nod thoughtfully, walking towards his desk as your eyes start to scan the piles of paper. You’ve learned his system bit by bit: the pile on the left is Lasso-related but not urgent. The pile on the right is more personal, with a higher level of urgency. Work-related urgent things get put on top of his laptop, or, if he seems to think it’s really important, sometimes he takes a picture of it and emails it to himself. 

As of now you find it mostly adorable that a guy in his mid-forties is sending himself emails with picture attachments so he doesn’t forget stuff. You’ll have to give him a crash course in the reminders app at some point.

You locate the piece of paper you saw him scribbling on yesterday, the red ink of the pen he clips into his pocket smudged in the corner. Today’s scenes are listed out in the same shorthand code you’ve heard Maggie use, Jason’s chicken scratch is in the margins in red ink.

You hold it up before you look back towards Brendan. His brows are arched when you take a step over and deliver, what you assume, is exactly what he was looking for. 

He scans it. Nods. 

“Three extra scenes sounds ambitious to me,” you try to crack a joke, feeling weird about the fact that you’ve yet to bond with Brendan. 

“You can read his handwriting?” He looks up at you again, more quickly this time, surprise on his face when you nod. 

“Yes--yeah,” you stammer like this is an embarrassing admission. “Should I not be able to?”

“Jessie always complained,” he shrugs, eyes back down to the piece of paper you’d handed over. 

“It’s messy as shit but I figured if I can’t read his handwriting then we’re all fucked.”

The corner of Brendan’s mouth flicks into a smile, a tiny laugh before he salutes you in farewell and his footsteps fade down the hallway.

**

April 2022

The end of March sputtered more rain onto the London streets than you’d ever seen in Los Angeles. Maggie promised it wouldn’t be like this the whole time, but now, on the third rainy Friday in a row, you were beginning to think your friend was a liar. 

“It’s bad luck,” Jason comments as he looks out the window into his backyard, “not bad weather.”

Thunder booms overhead and the British Airways website logo keeps flickering on the page, please be patient while we locate your booking!

“You’re beginning to sound like a London apologist,” you look up at him from your laptop screen, eyebrows arched to challenge his statement. The backyard gets lit up again, the line of trees overhead is visible in the flash of lightning that cracks open the sky.

He smirks at your retort, “forgive me for not wanting you to hate the place you agreed to move.”

His hands are in his pockets but he moves to sit on the couch across from you. You showed up 20-minutes ago, laptop in tow after he heard you mention something on set about your travel plans to Amsterdam. 

“London could have been on fire and I would still have come,” you think aloud as the page blinks back to life. “Okay, here,” you sit up. “Booking 1430-3925-098, business class to Schiphol.”

“Cancel it.”

“You’re sure?” You look up at him now, finger hovering over the trackpad. 

“Positive,” he stands and nods. “Red or white?”

“Hmm?”

You click the button, Yes, I’m Sure!, but then notice he’s waiting for you to reply. 

“Wine,” he laughs. “Red or white?”

You pause, is this a test? Is having a glass of wine with him on a Friday night in his living room crossing a line? No, you decide when he holds your gaze for a moment. If it wasn’t crossing a line with Kyle or Reese or any other boss you’ve had, it’s not crossing a line with him. 

And besides, he’s not your boss, technically. 

“Red.”

He smiles at your answer and makes his way towards the kitchen. “So why would a fiery London not be a deterrent?” 

You set your laptop on the coffee table, a few steps over to stand in the doorway as he pursues his wine rack.

“Sorry?” You’re confused now, still watching when he scans the label of a bottle before he sets it on the Island. 

It was a long week. You’d been on set every morning at 6:30am. Most days you left work around 4 or 5, and Jason was good about making sure you took lunch breaks and had enough coffee and knew all the good places to hide for five minutes of quiet when the set got too crowded. 

“You said London could have been on fire and you would have moved here still,” he reminds you, his eyes watching for your reaction as you lean against the door frame. 

You nod slowly and let your eyes flutter shut in embarrassment. What’s the most professional way to say: I got dumped and fired in the span of two weeks and my life felt like a living hell, so surely London ablaze would be manageable?

You decide there isn’t one, so you bend the truth as he searches for a wine opener. “I was in desperate need of a change of scenery.”

“Christmas in LA does suck,” he nods. 

“Luckily I didn’t have to withstand that torture,” you walk over to the drawer on his right, the one that Jessie’s binder said had miscellaneous kitchen tools and utensils. You open it and pull out an opener and hand it over. “I was in New York for the holidays, left LA right after Thanksgiving.”

He opens the bottle and nods sympathetically. “Something about December in LA always feels…depressing.”

“Yeah,” you let out a breath at that word, one that circled and swirled in your brain for days and weeks before you figured out what the fuck you were going to do. Your parents were worried and your sister was three-seconds and a text message away from booking a flight out there to beat the shit of your ex, as she so kindly offered.

He pours the first glass, stealing a peek in your direction when he thinks you aren’t looking. You are. 

“So--yeah, Los Angeles, change of scenery, back to New York. Now London.” He pours his own and then brings them both over, clinks his wine glass against yours before you both take a quiet sip in the kitchen. “What on earth made you take this job?”

You smirk, sure you can’t say what pops into your mind: a new city, a penchant for spontaneity after a crisis, the chance to work for your friend’s hot boss…

“Oh god,” he laughs, taking in your expression when your cheeks flush. “Did someone make you come here? Have you been kidnapped? Forced against your will?”

“No,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and laugh. “I just--I really needed a job and a fresh start, I guess.”

He nods in understanding, takes another sip in the quiet. “Yeah, I get that.”

You’re not sure why it suddenly comes out, honest, blunt, a thud on the fancy tile of his kitchen. 

“My boyfriend and I broke up--we lived together--then my job kind of exploded, well, Kyle’s life did too, so, Maggie took pity, I guess, when she realized my life was a shit show.”

He’s a little caught off guard by your confession, his eyebrows are slightly lifted and you can’t read: is it curiosity or concern? Like, did I hire a psychopath concern. 

But that must not be it, because when you take a loud slurp of wine to drown out the awkward silence, he swallows and nods. 

“Just because it feels like a shit show doesn’t mean it is,” he offers, a small smile before he continues. “My fiancé of a decade left me for someone 15 years younger a few years ago and then decided to give a fuck ton of interviews about it,” he smirks. “So--I get the whole shit show feeling.”

Your lips pull into a smile at his show of humanity, but then he gestures for you to follow him back to the living room. You’d known about his failed relationship, saw headlines and heard murmurs but didn’t pay much mind. You didn’t think in a few years time you’d be drinking wine on his couch on a rainy Friday.

“And now you’re single?” He asks over his shoulder, more of a follow up on your recent disclosure than the flirtation you wish it was. He sits down and you watch the way his knees knock together in khakis. 

“First time in 6 years,” you say over the rim of your glass, returning to your spot on the sofa. 

He’s watching you, like you’re throwing him off somehow or he’s intrigued. You realize you like it.

And then you remember why you’re here, tonight, in the first place: Amsterdam. The location shoot for the temp gig. Your temp gig job. Your job, him sitting across the room from you as not the man who writes your checks but still the one who generates them. Your laptop on the coffee table pulls you back to reality. You should probably not flirt with him.

“It’s canceled,” you nod towards the computer and then lift your Apple Watch as proof. “Confirmation email came through a few minutes ago.”

He shakes his head but smiles. “I can’t believe you thought I’d make you fly business class if I’m on a jet!”

You remember Maggie’s words from January, facetime a thousand miles away. Something along the lines of he’s amazing, Y/N, he’s so chill!

“You’d be really disappointed to hear what it’s like to work for Tom Cruise, then.”

He laughs, shifts on the couch and takes another sip. “I think it’s really shitty when people treat their EAs like regular assistants,” he shrugs. “Here’s this person who manages your whole life…arguably that means you’re more competent than I am,” he thinks aloud, a playful glance in your direction. A compliment? Maybe. Flirting? You hope.

Is that shitty? Is that weird and inappropriate or—worst of all—are you fully delusional? 

“I’m going to pocket that for future reference,” you admit with a smirk. 

He sips his wine and smiles, eyes you seriously from behind the glasses he puts on at the end of the day. “Just…know from here on out that you can book yourself as nice of a hotel room as you want, you know, within reason.”

You let your eyes bug out of your head. “Reason, like, the Presidential Suite at a Ritz Carlton, or?”

“Jesus,” a short laugh escapes, a comedic hint of suspicion is his eyes after he checks a text on his phone. “Maggie wasn’t kidding when she said you’ve been primarily A-list.”

“I would never,” you call back, a quick confession to make sure he knows you’re not that type of…employee? Temp? Whatever.

“Great, but still--we’re there for work, but you deserve to enjoy Amsterdam,” he gestures toward your laptop, like the British Airways website itself was a symbol of the upcoming business trip. 

Maggie’s been excited for weeks. She babbled about it in the car on the way from Heathrow and Poppy’s been shouting out nightclubs and restaurants and places she wants to go most mornings in the makeup trailer. 

You’ve never been to Amsterdam, but you’re excited nonetheless for a chance to see a new city in a new country. The last time you and Maggie were in Europe together was on your study abroad trip when you were both 21. Now it’s ten years later.

She bounces in one April morning to Poppy’s trailer while you’re sipping a hot coffee. One from the catering table because the one you sipped on your way here wasn’t enough. 

“You’re exactly who I wanted to see,” her face lights up when she spots you in a chair beside Juno. 

“Good morning,” you coo, grateful that Poppy’s trailer has become a bit of reprieve for you. You were right, a few weeks ago when you went out for your first Friday in London: Maggie and Poppy are tight, Juno and Briony and Hannah and the rest of the make up crew seem to be their own little friend group within the larger cast and crew. Ladies who stuck together.

Luckily, you were beginning to feel like a part of it. 

“I’m thinking pubs and clubs,” she dumps a tote bag on the counter, contents spill out but Poppy doesn’t seem to mind. 

“What?”

“We need to start planning for Amsterdam, babe.”

“It’s a work trip, babe,” you remind her with narrowed eyes, a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else was aware of Maggie’s scheming. 

“Work trip, hah!” Juno pipes up from her chair. She’s got curlers in, eyes still sleepy since the sun’s just made it above the horizon. “Someone tell Y/N about Lasso work trips.”

“Work trips,” Poppy turns to see you--she’s getting a palette ready for Juno, all of her brushes and tubes of lip gloss are organized sociopathically by color, size, and brand. “Are only half work.”

A woman after your own heart, though the results of your organizing episodes usually only last a few weeks. 

“Half work? How does that…work?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to get mascara swiped on your lashes before your eyes are fully open. 

“We shoot long days and we’re busy,” Maggie nods honestly, she’s strapping her walkie-talkie onto her waist, snaking the wire of her headset up and behind her ear. “But when work is over, it’s playtime.”

You watch your oldest friend closely. “Sounds oddly sexual,” you comment around another slurp of coffee. 

“It can be sexual if you want it to be,” Maggie wiggles her eyebrows now. “If you’re feeling up for getting down and dirty!”

Oh boy. You blink at her a few times, memories of your last trip to Europe come flooding back. Maggie writing your number on the bathroom stall of a club in Rome, encouragement at every hour of the day to get loose and get laid. Unfortunately for you, this trip might be oddly reminiscent. 

“Yeah?” This pique’s Juno’s interest. “Someone in need of a little hanky-panky?”

They all giggle, you choke down more coffee but wipe your mouth when there’s a knock on the door. It opens, the whole trailer goes quiet when Jason’s on the other side.

“Morning,” he nods, a few steps in before he slinks down to the chair next to Poppy with an amused smile. “You know the gossip’s good when it goes completely silent.”

“Not gossip,” Maggie locks eyes with you in the mirror and smirks. “Just some chatter about Y/N’s lack of a love life,” she smiles, an apologetic but excited one.

“I work more than I sleep,” you defend loud enough for the whole trailer to hear—-all six of you in there.

True. Until, about, six months ago.

“Lack?” Jason’s eyebrows are arched in the mirror.

You hope Maggie doesn’t see the way your cheeks flush, a moment where his eyes find yours in the reflection above Poppy’s drawers and drawers of makeup. You wish you could vanish into thin air.

How—in only a few weeks—does it feel like you and Jason are in on your own little secret? 

“This is only my second cup of coffee so why don’t we talk about Maggie’s childhood obsession with webkinz?” You propose, a loud slurp and a ghoulish look in her direction to show her you mean business.

You had just as many years of ammunition as she did. If embarrassing each other was the goal, you could at least play the game. 

“Weren’t you a bit old for that, babe?” Poppy asks with a teasing smile, fingers focused on the curlers in Juno’s hair. 

“I didn’t give a shit that I was 16 and still into it,” Maggie defends, a dismissive eye roll when she picks up her phone from the counter. “The heart wants what it wants.”

A dodged bullet, for sure. You’re able to excuse yourself shortly thereafter to make sure Jason’s got what he needs for the day. Briony did the check of his office, grabbed breakfast and delivered a bagel to the makeup trailer. Which means you’re free to move about in search of the people you need today.

Joan from the location department, Tom from Post-Production—Maggie said he’d be easy to find because he always wears hats but is impeccably bald. 

You get the write-up you need from Joan and that’s when Briony falls into step beside you. She shows you the way down the maze of halls and through the lot to an office where Tom sits at a desk. Once you’ve got what you need from him (a firm answer to a question of Jason’s he’s been dodging all week), Briony sits with you on the sidelines of a scene in the locker room. 

Jason, Phil, Brendan, and Brett are shooting, the set’s loud before someone calls for quiet. 

Briony silently breaks her granola bar in half and offers you some, Greg--who works in sound--offers you both a warning glare: I better not hear rubbish. 

So you munch quietly side by side, feeling somewhat mesmerized by the way that when the camera’s rolling, Jason and his scene partners feel like the only people in the room. The scripted jokes they’re cracking are so good, it makes you regret never finishing season 1. 

You don’t remember finding him nearly as attractive back then as you do now, sitting behind the cameras and the boom, a walkie-talkie on your own hip and a pit in your stomach when you realize this isn’t even a thought you should be having.

But you can’t help that warmth pools in your belly when he rolls up his sleeves or laughs from across the room. Okay, so, maybe this isn’t just jet lag. 

CUT!--the room buzzes back into motion, Maggie’s zipping around the set and shouts to Greg, can we start again at line 47? Poppy goes to powder Brendan’s forehead, Briony’s on her feet and then the whole thing starts again. 

That happens another three times before there’s actually a break. Props weren’t delivered on time and so a different scene is getting staged but it doesn’t mean much to you. You’ve checked your own inbox eight times today and Jason’s twelve. 

But today was quiet. Showing up and making a stellar impression in the first few weeks was definitely a good thing, but had you been…too productive? Had you accidentally fucked yourself over because now you’re sitting here looking like a moron because you didn’t have something to do?

You booked a zoo tour for him and his kids next month, finalized the rest of his schedule for this week, arranged his travel to see friends in Spain later this summer. You’d organized his home office last week, updated his business accounts spreadsheet and even managed to book him an appointment with an eye doctor after he told you it’d been three years (ridiculous). 

Jason walks up and says something to Greg, who’s pretending to give Briony shit about the granola bar. Briony’s smiling up at him like he’s just told her Christmas is coming early.

“Hey,” you greet Jason with a smile, hand him his cell phone that’s been tucked into the bum bag around your shoulders. 

“I saw the tickets to the zoo at Battersea Park--thanks for putting that together.”

You nod, glad you were able to come up with something he could do with his kids next weekend when they’d be in town. An advertisement on the tube is what led you to buying three tickets on a whim, just in case.

You smile and look to your left, for some reason nervous that someone will see how awkward you’re being and misread it. It doesn’t matter, though, because he reaches forward and his hand’s on your elbow in a way that makes your face feel warm. 

“I mean it,” he says, a nod to himself and to you, one that lets you know he’s touched by the gesture. 

“Yes, yeah, sure,” you nod like an idiot, immediately embarrassed by the way his touch leaves your mouth unable to form consonants or vowels.

“Jason, go talk to Mark about camera angles,” Maggie appears and slaps him on the shoulder, a smile on her face when she playfully barks the order. 

Phil’s hand is outstretched suddenly, a reminder that time on set moved faster than anywhere else. “Y/N, could you take a picture of me in this for my mum?” 

You accept the phone and snap a photo, Maggie’s answering a text and then gets tugged away by a PA.

You turn to face Jason when Phil walks away, you’re ready for a request or a task or anything. But he just holds your gaze for a second, a pleased smirk spreads across his face. 

“Anything I can get you?”

He shrugs, “I’m good.”

It dawns on you, right then, that he walked over here to talk to you. Well, maybe not you. Maybe you were just in his way. Maybe he was looking for someone else but he saw you and it reminded him to say thanks. 

But either way, right now it’s just you and Jason standing here and it feels good to think that maybe he just likes being around you. Maybe the smirk on his face is because he sees the way your brain is short-circuiting. Luckily, he pulls you out of your crisis. 

“Can you come to my trailer later, around 3? Before I have to help them shoot at Keeley’s office later? I can text you.”

You’re nodding and agreeing to it as you visualize your own calendar in your head. You’re supposed to get off at 4pm today, an evening to yourself and the idea of a glass of wine on the couch sounds especially nice now that you’ve realized your social skills are such shit. 

“Perfect, great,” he says. “Apparently I have to go talk to Mark.”

You nod, he nods, and then he turns to leave you by the huddle of sound guys handling wires and knobs. You meet him in his trailer and handle the emails and errands he needs, grab a tea on the way home and you’re in the door at 4:49pm--and that’s with afternoon traffic. 

London’s been sunny this week, you had wine with Maggie and Brett and Phil one night and you didn’t feel new. You felt normal.

Winter was fading into spring over the last ten days, it was starting to feel like you were your own little piece in the big puzzle you got thrown into. Brendan knew he could always count on you to laugh at his jokes--especially and specifically when they were aimed at Jason. Brett knows your childhood nickname and threatens to tell Phil every time you get dangerously close to calling him out for flirting with Maggie. 

You don’t always feel like a transplant anymore, you feel like someone who’s starting to have a place. A tiny one, maybe off in the corner, but still, a place.

And when you left Jason’s trailer that afternoon, you thought it’d be the last time you saw him. 

So, naturally, your eyes go wide when you find him beneath the light of your front door this evening. You’re in a sweatshirt and bike shorts, completely unprepared for company. 

“Hi!” he says quickly, almost like he’s startled by the opening of the door, like he didn’t know if you’d be home or expected someone else on the other side of the knob. There’s a smile on his face that mirrors yours almost immediately. “Hey, sorry—to just show up here, like this.”

“How do you know where I live?” You narrow your eyes, a teasing but confident tone. All that does is give him a cheerful smugness that you regret immediately, one that makes his eyes scan your face before he shrugs.

“I know I’m not your boss, but I’m, like, not not your boss at the same time.”

You hold back a laugh and watch him, “what a blurred and confusing boundary…”

He smiles, “Which, all I mean by that is that Maggie sent the listing to me when she found it, I’ve actually known where you live since before you lived here,” he admits casually.

“Got it,” you step aside and he comes in, shuts the door behind himself before he meets your eyes again. 

“How are you?” You ask, intrigued by his surprise visit but also not wanting to scare him off. You like the way he’s looking at you, your heart does a flip at the thought that he wants to be around you. Just like earlier today. Fuck.

“I’m good,” he says, you walk towards the kitchen and wave a bottle of wine in the air and he nods. “I got stuck late at work, I was walking and it started to rain.”

“You live like, two minutes from here…” you’re smiling despite the challenging statement, you grab a glass from an overhead cabinet.

He shrugs when he slinks into a barstool at your counter, apparently unfazed by your accusation when he comes off it easily: “yeah, I just wanted to say hi.”

You reach for a glass in the cupboard overhead and tease him over your shoulder. “Curious to see how Maggie allocated the living stipend?”

He sits up straighter now and plays into the bit, pushing his lips out in thought when he looks around your open concept kitchen and living room. “That and…”

He looks around the room again, his words hang in the air as he buys time. But his hair’s a mess and his watch isn’t on--so you know something’s up.

It clicks. He’s got something on his mind or something and he’s…trying to talk about it? To you? 

Men! Sheesh. You try to relax your forehead as you pour him a glass so your confusion and shock isn’t misread as displeasure. Realistically, you’re touched he feels comfortable enough and the thumping in your chest is a dead giveaway if he can hear it when you deliver the wine.

“Shit day?” You ask, watching as his fingers wrap around the step. He takes a sip and shrugs. 

“Yeah, shit day…shit month, shit year.”

You giggle into your own glass, take your first sip before nodding. “I know the feeling.”

“No, I shouldn’t--” he pauses and stumbles for a second, “I don’t mean to complain or sound like a dick.”

You shrug and offer a smirk. “You’re not a dick if you have a human emotion.”

He nods, watches the wine in his glass as a smirk crawls onto his face. He looks up at you. “My ex could argue that statement for two hours.”

“Could she?” You smile, nodding when you tell him: “I’m a pretty patient person.”

“Are you?” 

“I am,” you laugh, “I like to think so.”

He lets out a tiny laugh at your comment, quiet for a second before he lets out an exhale. “I’m just stressed, really. Being showrunner this season is harder than I thought and it’s not even hard, it’s just more than I’m used to.”

You nod immediately. That makes sense and you see the fatigue on his face. You’d heard Maggie talk about it before: long hours, late nights, location shoots, freezing days, rewrites and props changes. TV wasn’t easy and you were already aware of that, only a few weeks in.

“I get that—but I think it’s normal to notice the learning curve when you’re doing something new.” 

He nods, accepts it and holds his breath for a second. “Yeah, that’s…a good way to say it.”

He smiles at you softly, eyes coming up to meet yours quickly before he shrugs. “I know I’ll survive, it’s just—been a rough go of it, lately.” 

“So what’s your release?” You ask.

His brows furrow together and the crease in his forehead lights something up inside you.

He says it like this hasn’t occurred to him at all. “My release?”

“How are you dealing with your stress?” 

The confusion on his face turns into amusement when the corner of his mouth twitches toward your ceiling. 

“So, nothing?”

He laughs. “I hadn’t thought about—doing anything, really.”

“Men,” you roll your eyes, moving towards the couch with your wine in hand. “The wine’s a nice place to start, but certainly not enough.”

He makes a face for a second, like he’s judging himself or imagining the terrible things you must think about him now that you’ve heard his feelings, but he stands to follow and listens intently when you almost open up.

“When my boyfriend dumped me and Kyle let me go, I stayed in bed for a good…two weeks,” you admit, a grimace on your face because you know it makes you sound like a loser. “But then my sister suggested I go to a rage room and it was amazing.”

“A rage room?” He laughs. “One of those places where you just break shit?”

“Smashing a TV to pieces is surprisingly therapeutic,” you tell him seriously.

He thinks on it for a second, nodding like he’s giving it real thought when he plucks at his lower lip. You can see the smirk he’s fighting, a sip of wine when your eyes dare him to say whatever he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to tell me--”

“But,” you say at the same time as he says it. A flash of embarrassment on his face when you raise your brows, reading him like a book,  just spit it out. 

“Why’d you get fired?”

Right. You knew it would come up at some point and even if Jason wasn’t really your boss, he definitely had the right to be curious. 

“I only ask because I read her reference letter--she loves you.”

“She does love me,” you nod. “But she was having family issues and I wanted a raise and then I found out that her daughter was sleeping with my boyfriend.”

His lips form an ‘o’ involuntarily, the response you got from most people when they hear how the dominoes all fell at the same time.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Fired might be a strong word, but, certainly how it felt.”

“Well, her loss,” he nods confidently. “I’ve seen the way you organized my desk drawers and it’s either witchcraft or psychoticism and I’m okay with either if it’s always this easy to find shit.”

“I’ll keep it up then,” you smile and take another sip. 

“Sorry to just…show up, by the way,” he looks down at his own glass in hand, “and drink your wine.”

You had been looking forward to a shower and a night of watching trashy reality TV (though now you’d sworn off all of the Real Housewives). Other than that, your night was likely to consist of facetiming your mom and plucking your eyebrows. 

Jason sitting at your counter with a smirk on his face didn’t bother you at all, but you certainly couldn’t tell him you were flattered that he came here.

You nodded to let him know it was no nuisance. “I’m always up for a glass of wine and talking you off the ledge.”

“That shouldn’t be part of your job description, though.”

“Do you know how many times I listened to Kyle complain about her friends or had to send gift baskets to them after fights?”

“I’m guessing a lot?”

“You venting about work stress is a walk in the park,” you reassure.

“Well, I’m glad,” he says solemnly, a moment when he holds your eyes and you feel your cheeks get warm. 

You clear your throat, don’t be stupid, and force out a joke to act like whatever moment this was wasn’t problematic or weird or worse, enticing.

“So unless you have a daughter that will sleep with my boyfriend, we’re probably good.”

“My daughter’s seven,” a beat when he shrugs a single shoulder. “And you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You take a loud slurp from your wine--partly for comedic effect and party out of your own awkwardness--and smirk over the rim to match his. “Right.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: WOW! HI! It's been a hot minute. I'm so glad to be posting this chappie and so appreciative of everyone's patience as my life evolves and writing has taken up a smaller portion of my time. I would love love love to hear what you think of this chapter and the story so far, I've been writing a lot the last few days as feb turns into march and I'm excited to share more!!!!

taglist: @babysugar02 @daydreamgoddess14 @endlessblasphemy @hart-kinsella @shanefilan @bookoffracturedghosts @cavillsim @the-fanfic-fangirl @tegan8314

[elf-punk]

A Moment of Sympathy (Simm!Master x Reader)

Pairing: Simm!Master x Fem!Reader

Summary: Work sucks and your relationship is falling apart. As you’re walking home from a rough day, you come across a disheveled, blonde man in a black hoodie. His words are erratic and his mannerisms give you the chills, but you’re drawn to him. He is unambiguously and criminally insane, but you can’t help but stop and listen to his tales.

Tales of red pastures, orange skies, and travels through time and space.

Chapter List Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter Word Count: 2.3k

You’d never considered yourself a workaholic, but the last few weeks had seen you holed up in your office, tapping away at a keyboard with coffee cups stacked up to your eyes virtually every evening.

It won’t be like this for long, you naively promised yourself as you texted yet another apologetic “No can do, way too busy tonight” to your partner’s dinner invitation.

You loved them, but life just kept getting in the way.

Dreading the look of resigned frustration that would fill their eyes at your next meeting (and God knew when that would be), you re-oriented yourself onto the final task of the evening: a string of emails which ran away from you during the day. Your fingers blazed across your workspace as you opened, composed, and sent one reply after another, far past the point of checking for politeness. After clicking Send on one final, mind-numbingly dull reimbursement request for your latest conference, you breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion.

Done for now.

Forcing yourself not to think about the prospect of going home only to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow, you shuffled on your coat and slipped your phone in your pocket, relegating the several texts and missed calls from your partner to the bottom of your parka. You also grabbed the still-packaged fruit and nut bar which lay untouched on your desk, balking at the realisation that seven hours had passed since your last meal or snack. Stepping out of the door, you adjusted to the darkness which now coated your city.

You set a heavy, fast-paced stride away from your building, allowing brief flashes of the day to drift through your mind like waves against a river bank. The endless meetings, reviews, and reports, the idle chatter with your co-workers over a drab sandwich in the staff kitchen appeared as a hazy smudge in your mind’s eye. It was as though you were already asleep, already dreaming. You picked up the pace, descending into a near-jog as your mind focused razor sharp on the prospect of sleep.

That was, until you heard a rustle in the blackness.

You froze dead in your tracks and whipped your head over your shoulder. Your eyes scanned precisely for the source of the sound, but you couldn't see a thing. All that lay in front of you was endless dark stretching out along the path, broken up only by a few flickering streetlights dotted across the horizon.

Probably just a fox, you told yourself, desperately trying to ignore the part of your brain that was screaming danger in big, bright, red letters. You continued to walk down the path, this time with your key wedged firmly between your index and middle finger.

On you walked, relief building the longer you went without being clobbered to your death. Just as you were about to turn a corner towards a busier strip of road and put your key back in your pocket, you heard another sound. Scuttling footsteps to your right—wait no, your left! No, there they were to your right again! Your heart raced as you flicked your eyes between the shadowy garages either side of you, cursing your inability to see a thing in the blackness of the night.

There was definitely someone or something there, but it was impossible to tell what. If it was a person, they would need to be moving inhumanly fast to cross the path so quickly. You scrunched your eyes shut, pinched your arm, and prayed that it would be moments before the world dissolved and you woke up in your bed. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. Your veins turned to ice as you were denied the relief of this being a simple nightmare from which you could jolt awake.

The scuttling stopped, and was replaced with the unmistakable sound of heavy, ragged breathing squarely behind you. The source of the breathing moved closer, and closer still, until it stopped about two meters away from your shivering frame. It was close enough to ascertain that whoever was behind you was male, slim, and about a head taller than you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you fumbled around for your key and wedged it between your fingers once again. The figure’s breaths began to take on a rasping, wheezing quality, and in one swift motion, you turned.

A thin, hooded figure stood before you, a man so wraith-like in physique and disposition that you wondered if you'd walked onto the set of Ghostbusters. He was clothed in rugged, black clothes and you squinted in the dark as you tried to discern where the blackness of your surroundings ended, and he began. The only fragment of colour you could see was a deep, burgundy t-shirt poking out from underneath his sweatshirt and a sharp jawline dotted with blond stubble which bobbed underneath his hood as he spoke.

“Can you help me?” The figure rasped. “I am so hungry.”

The voice was ravenous, possessing a desperate and carnal quality that curdled your blood. A distinct lack of humanity emanated from the figure. He possessed a human-like stature, yes, two legs, two arms, and a head, but he inspired a cosmic dread that surpassed any horrors the Earth could possibly concoct.

You shook from head to toe, barely registering his words.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whispered.

The figure grinned, hungrily, mirthlessly and took a step towards you.

“Oh not yet, primate.” A ghostly hand slipped out from under his sleeve and scratched his stubble. “The hurting is yet to come. But for now, I am so very hungry.” The grin split across his face as he advanced towards you.

You felt as though every organ in your body was being stretched, squeezed, and turned inside out all at once. Your stomach tensed and sweat began to bead on your forehead as your baser instincts sprang forth. You were ready to run. The images flashed in your head; you would bolt past the figure, key-in-hand, and hurtle towards the high street, screaming so loud that the Prime Minister would hear. You balled up your fists, took a laboured breath and readied yourself. But then-

“Oh don’t even think about running, my dear,” the figure chuckled darkly. “I see your mind, and you will obey me.”

And in an instant, you sank.

All thoughts of clawing out the man’s eyes with your key and sprinting to the nearest bus stop dissolved into a soft, hazy glow as your thoughts ran quiet. There was no fear, no anticipation, just calm and contentment wrapped around the idle realisation that you would likely die tonight.

“That’s a girl,” he crooned, taking a gentle step forwards.

The “man” who had mere seconds ago, struck deathly fear into every fibre of your very vulnerable and exposed being, now inspired a sense of calm and adoration. You weren’t sure what he had done, but his machinations were such that you no longer feared him—not in the way you previously had.

He was your master, and you would obey him.

Satisfied with the success of his hypnotism, he flicked his hand over his head and his hood came tumbling down, revealing a patch of dirty blond hair and a youthful face—less horrifying than you had anticipated, but unsettling nonetheless. The eyes were sharp and bottomless, the lips perpetually curved into a deranged, lopsided grin.

Mild surprise crept upon you as you realised that the face was familiar.

It couldn’t be!

The man sensed your recognition, and an irritated glare passed over his round face.

“Yes, alright. Get it out of the way! It’s me, your old Prime Minister!” He spat, throwing his arms out theatrically. “Now get me something to eat, ape!”

Finally, at the third time of asking, you realised what he had been saying to you.

Food.

Your hand slammed against your pocket and you produced one untouched Eat Natural bar.

Saxon’s eyebrows raised curiously, and a playful smile tugged at his mouth as he took the bar from your hands and turned it around in his own, as if inspecting a new gadget.

“I would rather something more… substantial,” he quipped, narrow-eyed. “But this will do.”

His nimble fingers tore at the wrapping, shredding and ripping. He shoved the bar against his open mouth and devoured it obnoxiously, barely stopping to chew as if it could be snatched from him at any moment. He spent only a few moments eating—if you could even call it that, before practically licking his hands clean and picking at his nails as if to surrender any last residue of food into his ever-wanting mouth. The sight was monstrous, and bore more resemblance to a ghoul savaging its prey rather than the actions of a sentient being, but in your subdued haze, you merely stood and watched with a soft frown on your face.

“I hope you aren’t allergic to peanuts,” you muttered. You suddenly wondered how you could be calm enough to crack jokes with this abomination, who as it turned out, was the former Prime Minister—the very one who had decimated the President of the United States live on television.

“Mmmph. I hippohhye choo,” he mumbled between licks of his fingers. “Ijjot.”

“What?”

The stranger rolled his eyes in agitation.

“I hypnotised you, idiot,” he said flatly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s why you’re so calm. Think of it as charity,” he said, scowling darkly and swallowing the final morsels of the bar. “your primitive human minds are a disgrace, always darting back and forth between the past, present, and future, like a dog chasing its tail. I’ve—how can I put this—refined it.”

So he could read your thoughts?

“As if it’s that simple,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The mind isn’t a book that one can simply read at will. I can, however, extract and interpret neural signals from one as primitive as yourself. Think of it like catching stones as they flow along the universe’s dullest river.” he continued boredly.

“That sounds a lot like mind-reading to me.”

The next few moments flashed by in an instant. One second you were standing in the middle of the alley, the next you were backed up against a garage door, held with inhuman strength. Stars exploded behind your eyes and a splitting pain coursed through your head. The calm was gone and you were once again, shaking and crying in fear as your assailant closed in on you, blocking any possibility of escape.

“Look at me,” he growled.

You could barely hear him, but you felt a vague tugging in your mind; a soft force which compelled your eyes upwards.

You opened your mouth to scream.

In the place of the once sharp, but youthful face was a ghoulish and skeletal head from which a harsh, white light radiated. Insanity was chiselled across his features: it had always been there, bubbling and simmering under the surface, but it now stood bare in the unfathomable depths of his sunken eyes.

This was not a rugged trickster who you could talk circles around. It wasn't the dashing and amicable politician who had visited cat shelters, shook hands with the Royal Family, and so smoothly woven his way through the journalists' questions on prime time television.

This was a being who had shed the blood of billions.

You tried to force your eyes away from the mind-bending sight, but to no avail. He kept you fixed upon him, seemingly intent on driving you to the brink of madness.

“You think this is a joke?” The creature spat in a roaring, distorted growl. “Were you under the impression that this was a conversation of equals?”

Finally managing to squeeze your eyes shut, you babbled incoherently, and pleaded for your life through ragged sobs and gasps.

“N-No, please!” You wailed, dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t kill me!”

Silence.

Seconds ticked by as the killing blow failed to land.

Minutes.

A wild thought rushed through your head: maybe he was gone?

It could have been hours since you’d heard that infernal voice, seen that grotesque face. Moment by moment, you relaxed your eyes, which had been squeezed shut so tightly that the dull throb of a migrane was beginning to set into your left temple. You fluttered your eyes open, and the pit in your stomach opened up again, at the sight of Saxon—no longer an eldritch monstrosity, but still very much there—boredly, and perhaps concernedly gazing down at you.

You choked out a barely intelligible “What are you?” before descending into a babbling fit of trembles and tears.

Saxon pouted.

“Don’t be like that,” he said flatly. “Thought I’d have a bit of fun: this body is burning off my life force faster than I can replenish it. Will probably expire in a few hours, why not scare a few apes to death in my final moments?” He finished, sighing dramatically.

His hypnotism returned in full force, and you sank back into the soft, woolly haze that had characterised your previous encounter. A thin, but strong hand grabbed the fabric of your parka and gracefully lifted you to your feet. You were now standing eye-to-eye, and you didn’t skip a beat before gazing into his eyes, desperate to channel more and more of the calm serenity that his hypnotism brought about. You clawed at it with your mind as though it could disappear at any moment. He noticed, and grinned slyly.

“It is nice, isn’t it? To relinquish your mind to another.” he said softly.

You nodded in response.

“Now, why don’t we get something more substantial to eat?”

[dreambunnynotes]

daily reflection: nov. 16th ❤︎

good morning lovely friends! here is what i accomplished and what i could have improved today, to hold myself accountable. it was really effective for me to know that i had posted my goals list on tumblr yesterday where others could see it; whenever i felt like giving in to my adhd brain that tells me that tasks are to be feared, i would simply remember that i had kind folks online who were interested in seeing me succeed hehe, it helped me so much! here is my first day ❤︎

accomplishments:

i completed all of my cleaning goals and more! it turned into a deeper clean than i thought it would be which felt really nice (and is usually how it goes once i get cleaning). it's so lovely to be able to start fresh with a clean working and sleeping space; it's so much easier to feel inspired, be productive, and take care of yourself when your environment is as ready for you as you are for it!

i wasn't going to complete all of my texting and calling tasks, BUT I DID! these types of tasks are the hardest for me to get done because i have pretty intense social anxiety and rejection sensitive dysphoria, and communicating with others both online and offline takes a lot of mental preparation and energy for me. but i did it, and i am so, so proud of myself! in fact...

self-compassion:

not only did i accomplish my original communication goals, i also ended up replying to two friends i hadn't seen in a long time, even though i was anxious! both of them were at my sister's show last night and i was so surprised to see them and a couple of other friends that i had to go have a bathroom cry from the anxiety lol. i had so many emotions coming up; the first was sadness and shame seeing that they had all come in a group together and that i wasn't with them. i joined them two seconds after i saw everyone, but the sadness was still there because i was positive they would have invited me into the group earlier if i had been less isolated this last year, which is where the guilt came in. i realized i had been isolating from my friends for so long out of fear that i wasn't wanted, didn't provide anything to them, and that maybe i didn't have people i liked being around after all, but that is so, so far from the truth; i do have friends who love me and who i love, and all of them were so loving, so kind, and actually sent me messages after the show telling me how much they loved me and how happy they were to see me! it made me cryyyy and feel so many feelings. i have plans to see them next week, and i actually feel like i'm overcoming my isolation era at long last; i'm really proud of myself for having self-compassion and using tools i've learned in therapy to better my life! :')

my next step is to learn more about and overcome this shame i have around letting my friends love me for who i am; the only way to learn more about it is to actually make plans to see friends and be vulnerable; wish me luck 😭💗

improvements to make:

as for my other tasks; i cleaned out one of my emails, but i have so many email accounts that it felt a little bit lacklustre to call that an accomplishment. today i'd like to break down how big the task of consolidating my digital life will actually be so that i can take measurable and consistent steps towards completing my goal (writing that sentence is baffling me right now - bunny from a few days ago never would have realized how much writing out her goals could help her in being less afraid of them! this feels like a huge accomplishment for my adhd brain!)

today felt like a really successful day, and i'm super proud of myself! this was only the beginning of what i actually want to accomplish in a day, but it was such a great way to try it out. i'm excited to see where this journey takes me and how these daily checklists and reflections will affect my productivity; they already have helped so much! if you've made it to the end of this, thank you for taking the time to read about my day, it means so much to me! lets try our best to have another successful day! ❤︎