#you're supposed to not wash the linen on normal

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

Me: Hey, I finished that dress I've been planning to make since last May.

My mother, silently grateful my first summer dress of the year is not covered in manic cartoon animals: Oh that looks lovely... Though don't you think you put a bit much fabric into your skirt? You could have used half and had enough left for a second dress.

Me: It's more comfortable this way. Not as clingy. And it's cut to be low waste, so you get a lot of bang for your buck.

Mom: ... How much is in there?

Me: Only like 4 meters.

Mom: Of a low waste pattern.

Me: Yup.

Mom: Give me one reason you need that much "bang for your buck".

Me:

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Request from @lives-in-midgard: Bucky and reader just watched a movie and then cuddled up to sleep. After a few minutes a thunderstorm begins and reader can feel that Bucky holds her more tighter because the thunder and the lightning triggers something in him. Reader comforts Bucky and then has the idea to build a blanket fort with Bucky.

Word Count: 1,872

Warnings: Thunderstorms, Bucky's mental health

Sometimes you enjoyed a good session of Netflix and chill with Bucky but more often than not you'd end up with Hulu and hang, especially when he came home worn out from his day job of being a hero. Tonight was one of those nights. Bucky had come home completely and utterly shattered. You had been worried that he wouldn't make it home before the forecasted storm that was supposed to be rolling in. But he had come home safe and sound, if not a little worse for wear.

“Hey Buck,” you greeted him at the door with a soft tone and small peck on the cheek. 

He responded with a deep sigh, shrugging off his jacket and toeing off his dirty boots. Normally you'd chastise him for getting mud on the floor, but something told you to hold your tongue.

But it was as though he could read your mind. Bucky looked down at the mud on the floor and sighed. “I'm sorry, I'll clean it up.”

“Don't worry, baby. I'll sort it out later.”

“It's not fair on you.”

He picked up his boots and deposited them outside the front door. Bucky shut the door behind him turning back to you. He looked so lost and exhausted. You wondered what on Earth had happened to him during his last mission. As tempting it was to probe further, you sensed that it might not be the right time. Instead you opted for another question.

“What do you need?”

“I don't know,” he answered miserably.

“How does a shower sound? And I'll order your favorite take out and we can have a TV dinner. Okay?”

Bucky nodded mutely, trudging off to the bathroom. You sighed and picked up your phone to place your order. The food should arrive quickly, but you felt guilty for dragging the poor delivery man out in such terrible weather but your boyfriend needed pampering.

You answered the door to a pimply teenager who you tipped heavily for his troubles. It took you a moment to notice why he hadn't moved from his position of accepting your tip. Bucky had emerged dripping wet with a low hung towel draped over his waist. He was the epitome of a Greek God, water droplets tracing the outlines of his clearly defined abs.

“Get going, kid. Don't want to get caught in the storm.” You ushered the teen out of your doorway before closing the door behind him. You turned to Bucky with a grin. “Dressing to impress, are we?”

He blushed slightly. “Sorry. I was just looking for that towel.”

Immediately you realized that he was after the large fluffy white towel you had bought him a few months ago. It had been a self care gift. You had advised him that he needed to take care of himself better, that he deserved to have comfort. He had pretended to scorn the gift, but when your back was turned, you saw him rubbing his fingers between the soft fibers. It warmed your heart to know that he had heeded your words.

“Yeah, here it is.”

You fetched the requested item from the linen closet where you had put it after its last wash. He took the towel in his vibranium hand, his flesh one wrapped around your outstretched one, not letting you go.

You looked up into his eyes, searchingly. “Everything okay?”

“Only when you're here.”

He smiled, retreating to the bedroom to dry off and get dressed. You couldn't help but smile back at him, giving his ass a little pat as he left. Bucky returned promptly as you finished dishing out all the food onto one plate. He was definitely hungry, his insatiable supersoldier diet meant he always had room for a meal. Usually his mood was the only thing that would suppress his appetite, so it was a good sign to see him licking his lips with anticipation.

“Just one plate?” he frowned. “Is it all for you or me?”

“I thought we could share. Did you know that in Ethiopian culture, eating from the same plate is a symbol of love?”

“But you ordered Korean food,” Bucky replied, frowning in confusion. 

“You speak like six different languages and you’re so smart, but sometimes Bucky, you can be really dense.”

Bucky smirked at your teasing. He grabbed the plate from your hands and headed to the couch, beckoning for you to follow. He pulled the coffee table up to the couch and sat down on the floor leaning against it. You joined him in time to hear him heave a sigh of relief.

“Feel good to get off your feet?” you asked.

“You have no idea, Doll,” Bucky sighed.

“Did something happen out here?” you asked tentatively, helping yourself to a gimbap of the plate.

Bucky grabbed his chopsticks and stuffed a piece of sweet and sour chicken into his mouth as a way to avoid answering your question. You sighed, rubbing his thigh as an apology for your intrusion. He was definitely not in the mood to talk and you were happy to eat and watch your movie in silence.

Once you had both finished your food, you paused the movie to grab a few cushions and pushed the coffee table away to make room. You and Bucky made yourselves comfortable on the floor under a large blanket, turning down the lights and restarting the movie. You felt relaxed in his arms, in the dimmed light with the sound of rain pattering against the window.

The raindrops turned from the gentle tapping into a hammering against the glass panes of the apartment. It was accompanied by a duo of distant rumbling and bright flashes. The wind howled through the rickety apartment and you snuggled deeper under the blanket and against Bucky's side.

It was only when Bucky's fingers dug into your side sharply did you notice how tight his grip on your waist had become. This was what prompted you to cast your senses out and you noticed how rigid your boyfriend had become. His body was stiff and his breath was shallow and faster than normal. Your head was resting against his chest and you heard his heart pounding. This demeanor could almost have been mistaken for arousal, but you knew your boyfriend well enough to know when he was being triggered.

The trauma Bucky had suffered was unimaginable. He rarely spoke about his time at HYDRA, and what he did tell you was evasive at best. There would be times where he would stare off into space with a haunted look or wake up drenched in sweat after a nightmare. When you had first met, he had been reluctant to sleep over and you had felt anxious about his dedication to your relationship. But he had been surprisingly forthcoming when you'd expressed your concerns. Since then, you'd progressed in your commitment to each other and now you were a great source of comfort to him and sleeping beside you had significantly reduced the incidence of his bad dreams. And here he was again, showing all the signs of being lost in a haze of his past.

“Buck?” you whispered. “Bucky?”

He was mumbling repeatedly under his breath. “I'm not the Winter Soldier. I'm James Bucky Barnes.”

It broke your heart to hear the desperation in his voice. You had missed it at first because his voice was so soft and went unnoticed, masked by the sound of the television.

“That's right, baby. You're James Bucky Barnes, my handsome sweet boyfriend. You're kind, smart and brave. I'm so proud of how you fight every single day. How much good you do. That's the man I fell in love with. That's my Bucky.”

Bucky turned to you, not once releasing his grip on you. “I had a bad day,” he sighed.

“I know, baby.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“That's alright. You don't have to. But I'm here for you if you do. You know that, right?”

“I appreciate that. But I don't want you to see that part of me.”

His words made you feel a little disappointed. Of course it was his choice, but you wanted him to let you in.

“I love every part of you, Buck.”

“I don't know that I deserve that.”

“Well I'm here to tell you that you do, everyday until you believe it. Now, how can I help you now?”

“I should have listened to you and put up curtains. The lightning, it's-” Bucky didn't know how to put into words the source of his distress.

You bit your lip, pondering the problem for a moment. “Oh! I have an idea! Be back in a minute, need to grab a few things. Is that okay?” You checked if he didn't mind you leaving his side for a bit.

Bucky nodded and you jumped up and into his bedroom. You had insisted he bought a bed and with it came pillows, pillow cases and bedsheets. You ran into his room to grab the biggest one you could find.

"Got it!”

You proceeded to pull the chairs from the dining room table and place them parallel to the couch, facing outwards. You shook out the sheet and in one swift motion draped it across the backs of all the chairs, effectively creating a blanket fort. You dropped a few of the decorative ornaments that you had bought Bucky onto the chair, weighing the sheets down to keep tension in the roof. Last of all, you grabbed the little galaxy projector and flicked it on. 

The bedsheet was thick enough to block out the light coming from the windows. And the cave you'd created emanated a soft purple glow that Bucky found soothing.

He put his arm back around you as you dropped to the floor and crawled against his side.

“Want to carry on with the movie? Or I can put some music on? Or anything else you want.”

“Umm,” Bucky took a minute to think what he wanted.

You waited patiently for him to process his thoughts. Bucky struggled to give an immediate answer when he was exhausted and often got frustrated if people rushed him. You tried hard to respect his needs.

“You know that soundtrack you were listening to last week?”

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. You listened to a lot of music.

“The music from that show you like… the one with the Duke.”

“Wait, are you talking about Bridgerton?” A grin spread across your face, impressed that Bucky had noticed.

“Yeah, that one,” Bucky mumbled.

“Sure,” you answered, smiling and pulling out your phone and opening your Spotify app. You typed out Bucky's choice in the search box and hit play. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Bucky answered, sarcastically and rolled his eyes.

You laid your head on the pillow beside his, looking up at the lights in the sheeted ceiling you'd created. The storm outside couldn't penetrate the haven you'd made. Bucky took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the storm that raged inside him. Your arm around his waist and your hand on his heart helped tame the tempestuous beast that gnawed upon his soul.

“Thank you,” he whispered in your ear. 

[jafndaegur]

Blue and Grey [where's my angel?]

Jumin x MC

a/n: Reverse Isekai. If you know the song; then you know the song.

Where is my angel?

The end of a tiring day.

"Someone come and save me, please"

Is overshadowed by a sigh...

MC stared up at the ceiling, her phone held limply in her grasp. The Mystic Messenger app blinked sporadically with the "Normal Route" logo. Her lips wobbled and she hadn't realized the sob that wobbled in her chest. 

Everything had felt so real. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had spent eleven days with the most amazing people that she would know in her lifetime.

She fell in love with the most amazing man she would know in her lifetime.

Her breath quivered and a small squeak came out with her exhale. 

Living and in the flesh, Jumin had been real—every word, every touch, every bit. Same for the others. So why was it now that she suddenly woke up from the dream? Now the real world heaved a sigh and existed all around her as it had before the game. She didn't think miracles were real, but being transported into the world of the game had been a blessing. It saved her and in turn she was able to save someone she loved.

Except now.

MC turned off her phone, unable to bear the sound of the upbeat music or the warm yellow glow of the videogame.

Little time had passed since she'd been brought in and out from the videogame world, less than eleven days (probably less than eleven hours even). No one had worried about her, no one cared. She bit her lip and forced herself to not think about the near-empty contacts list on her phone.

She was forced back into reality and she would live. As she always had.

The color that had been so suddenly and vibrantly splashed into her life was striped away with the harsh scent of acetone and paint remover. 

She walked to work. Her manager greeted her with a practice smile and gave her the laundering list for the day. MC nodded mutely, pulled on her apron and went to the back of the dry cleaning facility. The party recipients were gone, and the lavish ballroom the RFA held their party in also dissipated. Only the sound of chirring machinery and the rustle of clothes, either in bags or not, now existed. MC stared at the rows of slowly shifting suits on the conveyor racks and wondered how often Jumin took his suits to a dry-cleaner. She momentarily fancied the idea of him just purchasing a new suit everytime he dirtied and old one—and she giggled. It was the first time laughing since she came back home. But the immediate pang in her heart at the idea of Jumin's bemused grin and his narrowed grey eyes caused her to swallow back a cry. Because he totally would find her notion silly, before saying something like "I only have the finest launderers in all of Korea dry-clean my suits. And I do leave a mean tip, if I say so myself, darling."

MC hated this.

She found that the world existed in faded hues of blue and grey. The sky glimmered in a dull linen blue, brushing up against the greyed horizon while the sun faded from view. Walks were the only thing MC found she could stomach after long twelve hour shifts. She hadn't the heart to delete the Mystic Messenger game, but she couldn't look at the sprites or the characters knowing she'd interacted with them as real breathing people. So it was a little comfort, but the cool breeze and the nighttime air in the city made her feel closer to her RFA friends even though they weren't there.

City nights in general made her feel closer to Jumin.

MC wondered if in some other universe, or world, or timeline, Jumin lived...missing her the way she missed him. He was far too expressive to be a simple videogame character after all.

She wondered if she was just a game to them too, a little person all coded up nice and neatly for them to choose their preferred routes.

A park between her work place and her apartment sat quaintly in the city. It was safe and hardly used at this time of night. For the past few months since returning, MC had made it a habit to eat dinner here, enjoy the night, and pretend she could see the stars. Tonight was no different. Pulling her thermos from her backpack and a bottle of water, she found a comfy spot on a children's jungle gym and sat down to eat.

Cars honked and neon signs buzzed. People walked on the streets. People talked loudly. She could hear it all from her little spot, and it felt almost nostalgic. For all the secrecy, Rika's apartment had sat in a fairly occupied part of Seoul, and from the little one bedroom MC had always been able to hear the city life.

She could hear it too, from Jumin's penthouse.

Closing her eyes, she tried to picture her friends. 

Zen was probably at rehearsals now. He worked late into the night, practicing, doing his best for whatever upcoming role he may be participating in. Jaehee was probably still at work too—although MC had thoroughly chewed Jumin out for working his poor secretary too hard—since she'd been allowed a revision of her schedule, late nights turned into noontime sign-ins for work instead of the usual eight o'clock.

Yoosung and Seven probably weren't doing too differently. Yoosung was probably causing another bout of sleep deprivation by playing a LOLOL tournament. Seven was also probably sleep deprived, but from doing secret spy stuff rather than having fun. She hoped regardless, that they were doing well.

And Jumin?

"And Jumin," MC sighed, sinking her head onto her knees and squeezing her eyes shut.

A deep and familiar baritone followed. "And me?"

She'd done this frequently, in her return. Imagine him there next to her, hear his voice, feel the ghost of his touch.

A warm hand gently rested on the top of her head, slowly smoothing out her hair.

She wrapped her arms around her legs. "You're probably at home, staring out at those stupid French doors in the living room watching the nightlife live on. Elizabeth the Third is probably at your feet, being the cute thing that she is before going off and finding something shiny that catches her eye."

There's an answering chuckle and her breath shatters in her chest.

Please, she begged. This isn't funny, this is just cruel.

There's quiet and the presence of the hand on her head gone. MC knew she was alone again. She won't go home yet, she needed a minute to collect herself. 

But then there's a shuddering breath and the most gentle murmur. "And if I were to say I'm beside you again?"

MC reeled back so terribly that she fell off the jungle gym. A sharp yelp escaped her as she landed on her tailbone and stars circled in front of her eyes. Hurried footsteps and the panicked shout of her name met her ears—she stared in a daze as Jumin hurried and crouched before her, worrying over her.

She gazed dumbly.

"My love, are you hurt?" Jumin's voice is urgent, and he gently lifted her arms, her ankles, twisting her shoulders, checking for injuries.

MC stares and stares and stares until she's squinting.

To his credit, Jumin bears her scrutiny without flinching. Just that same urgent and worried look.

"You're here." She finally breathed.

Relief visibly washed over Jumin and he relaxed. His hand, it's warm—so, so warm—gently cupped her cheek and MC leaned into the touch without question.

Jumin's nose brushed against hers. "I'm sorry it took so long."

"That's what you're apologizing for?" MC whispered, not knowing if she was supposed to laugh or cry or both.

A velvety laugh rumbled in his chest and he rested his forehead against hers. "Darling, I can't apologize for you being clumsy."

MC choked, shaking her head. Her hands tenderly cupped his face, thumbs sweeping along his jaw. Jumin closed his eyes and pressed a little closer to her, his breath feathering along her cheek with every heave of his chest.

[catb-fics]

Playing Hard To Get Part 3

Words: 3.7k

PHTG Masterlist Main Masterlist

You can tell that Van's in a temper as soon as you enter the kitchen the following day when you turn up for work. He doesn't even notice that you've walked in, he's over the far side, turned away from you and talking on his mobile.

"You're joking aren't you?" He almost growls down the phone.

You busy yourself with making the teas and coffees for the guests, listening in with interest to what's riled up Van. He finally turns to see you there when he hears the cups clattering, but his attention is firmly on the argument he's having. He's pacing up and down now, running his hand through his hair as he speaks.

"Well you know where you can stick your fucking contract don't you? I didn't even sign anything!"

More harsh words and expletives are exchanged before Van ends the call, muttering something about his manager, then he stalks off into the garden.

You wander outside later during your break. There's still no respite from the punishing heatwave that's been relentless for days now. Despite the midday heat Van's out there in his skinny black jeans and a black t-shirt, but somehow still managing to look cool. He's strumming idly on an acoustic guitar, cigarette hanging from his lips, stopping every now and again to scribble something in a notebook on the table in front of him.

You can tell he's still moody as you take the seat beside him. He barely looks up, huffing and puffing as he scribbles out something that he's written in the notebook and scrawls something else in its place. He's messing around with lyrics, singing lines, strumming a few chords. He's actually got a beautiful voice but you wouldn't tell him that. You prefer to rub him up the wrong way, provoke a reaction. Part of you knows it would be wrong to wind him up today when he's obviously already in a foul mood but you just can't help yourself. It excites you when he has that edge to him.

"If you ask me, I'd change those lyrics."

"Didn't fucking ask you did I?" He finally looks up, eyes flashing with anger.

You don't take heed, further needling him. "I mean who sings about being a test tube baby?  Sounds a bit shit."

You actually think it's pretty original. He's definitely got a talent. That's what you should tell him, give him a compliment for a change.

"That mouth of yours is gonna get you into trouble one of these days," he says, his voice sharp, and the tone he says it in ignites a little spark in you.

You shrug, trying to act unfazed. "That supposed to be a threat?"

He looks you square in the eye, his mouth a hard line. "It's a warning."

You wonder whether you're pushing it too far this time. He actually looks pretty furious. You quickly get up and mumble something about getting back to work before scurrying off down the garden.

There's a large brick-built building at the end of the garden where all the laundry's done. You open up the tumble drier and bend down to take out the bed linen. The washing machine's on a spin, squealing loudly. So loud that you don't notice that you're no longer alone. In fact you don't notice until you feel a pair of large hands grip your hips, causing you to straighten up instantly and whirl around. You come face to face with Van, he's so close he's invading your personal space, his eyes glinting with something dark.

"What the hell? What do you want?" You snap.

"You know what I want..."

His hands go to your waist, pushing you back until you're pressed right up against the drier, his eyes never leaving yours. You're never normally lost for words but your mind scrambles for a response, some kind of disparaging remark to hide the fact that you're having a hard time controlling your urges.

"I know you want it too Y/N. You can't keep on playing these games with me forever," he says.

You know he's right. Something's got to give eventually. The tension between the two of you is verging on unbearable, and resisting him just makes you want him all the more. You wonder what would happen if you just leaned in and kissed him now. It would be so easy...

But you don't want it to be easy. You don't want to give in. There's a dark part of you that doesn't want to willingly surrender. That's why you're pushing him. Seeing how far you can take this.

"I don't know where you get off presuming this shit about me," you say, aiming for an offended tone. "You must really think you're something special, huh?"

Van's face cracks into a grin, obviously amused. He's still got his hands on your hips, fingers splayed wide and gripping you firmly as he starts to speak.

"I've been watching you, you know. Trying to work you out..."

You give a little snort at this, shaking your head as if you're anticipating him saying something ridiculous. He ignores you, carrying on.

"At first I thought you were just messing me around, but then it carried on and I thought okay... maybe you do want me... you're just playing hard to get..."

You raise your eyebrows at him, trying not to give anything away.

"And now..." he pauses, his own eyebrows raising to mirror yours. "Now I think maybe there's more to it. Maybe it's a bit more than that. Maybe there's some kinda kinky shit going on in that head of yours..."

He trails off, watching for your reaction. Try as you might not to let it show you can't stop the deep flush spreading on your cheeks, and you can't hide it from him.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about..." you mumble, trying not to come across as flustered but it's impossible.

Van's beginning to work you out now and you can see the cogs whirring in his head.

"Don't play dumb..." he says, then hesitates, licking his lips, slightly cautious, considering his next move.

You try to stand up straight, challenging him. "So if you're such an expert, why don't you tell me what I want then?"

One of his hands leaves your waist, travels up to your shoulder. You're wearing a little sundress with thin straps and he hooks his fingers under a strap.

"Maybe you don't want me to ask. Maybe deep down you just want me to take whatever I want..."

He slowly pulls the strap over your shoulder so it hangs loosely down your arm, then he drags a finger lightly across your chest, just inside the neckline of your dress. His touch is light, barely grazing your skin, but it feels like electricity. Your breath hitches, and when you exhale it comes out shaky. Van's lips pull into a  little smirk, he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You try to compose yourself, get some control back. "You're welcome to try. Maybe you'll get a slap!"

He chuckles at this. "Maybe..."

"Or maybe you'll get a kick in the balls!"

"Fucking 'ell!" He grins, eyes widening. "So you're gonna put up a fight then?"

An image flashes through your mind, Van pinning you down, having his way with you. It turns you on more than you'd like to admit. It's almost as if he's reading your mind as he speaks again.

"What's going in that head of yours, eh?"

You smirk back at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I really do think you've got a dark side Y/N..." he says, and the smile slips away now, replaced with a serious look, a certain intensity. "I just wanna know how dark..."

Your heart's hammering in your chest and you daren't even speak. You know exactly where this is going now from the look he's giving you. It feels almost like he's looking into your darkest fantasies and it feels uncomfortable. You drop your gaze down and to your surprise his hand shoots up to your jaw, tilting your head up firmly, forcing you to look at him.

"I suggest you look at me when I'm speaking to you."

You're shocked by the dominance of this action and the edge in his voice as he addresses you, but it thrills you. Nevertheless, you bat his hand away, looking at him defiantly. "Or else?"

"Maybe I'll have to teach you some manners."

The air is thick between you as he watches you closely. It's stifling.

The shrill tone of Van's phone ringing suddenly fills the air and he steps back, cursing, annoyance on his face as he digs it out of his pocket, checking the display.

You step away, feeling shaky. "I... I need to get back to work," you say.

As you go to push past Van you wonder if he'll let you go. He does, distracted by the call which you see him answering as you glance back before stepping through the door.

You work the rest of your shift almost in a daze, your head full of Van and what might transpire between you two, and when it's time to leave you realise you've not seen him since your earlier encounter. Maybe you're reading too much into it, maybe he's just having a laugh, teasing you.

When you leave that afternoon you feel strangely unsatisfied, like you have unfinished business. You start the walk home to your flat, digging in your bag for your phone as you hear a notification. It's just one of your friends texting. But you find a piece of folded paper in your bag with your name handwritten across the front. You recognise the scrawl instantly, and your excitement is piqued as you open the note.

I think we both know what's going to happen so let's just stop fucking about.

Room 20

Tomorrow 4pm

See you there

V x

You barely sleep that night, and it's not just the stifling heat that's keeping you awake. Your head is full of what happened with Van. You've spent many nights letting your mind run wild with all kinds of fantasies and now all of a sudden those fantasies could become a reality.

When your alarm clock sounds you jump out of bed with a little more than your usual enthusiasm. You step into the shower and lather up, closing your eyes as you run your hands over your frame. You imagine that it's Van's hands on you instead, his long fingers caressing you as you trail your own down between your thighs. You stop yourself. What the hell's wrong with you? You've never let a guy get into your head like this before. It's like he's taken over all your senses.

You get out and dry yourself off, feeling a flurry of excitement as you choose a sexy lace underwear set. Not that you've decided whether you're going to actually go through with Van's request of course. I mean, who does he think he is? He's so sure you're just going to give into him. Well, you're not going to give him the satisfaction.

When you arrive at work you feel a strange kind of anticipation, and you're on edge all morning. You're helping Mary and Bernie prepare the breakfasts and every time you hear someone step into the kitchen your heart almost stops.

"Y/N love are you okay this morning?" Mary asks you eventually. "You're ever so jumpy today!"

"Oh I'm okay Mary thanks, it's just..." you trail off as you turn around and see that Van has entered the kitchen. He's standing leaning against the far wall, eyes fixed right on you, a sly little smile pulling the edges of his mouth up.

"It's... nothing..." you finish.

"Good," Mary replies, starting to head out of the kitchen, then she stops as she sees Van standing there.

"Oh there you are. I hope you're not busy later this afternoon as your dad needs a hand with something. About 4pm?"

"Sorry, no can do. I'm busy." Van states.

"For heavens sake Ryan, you put that bloody band of yours before everything. I assume it's that?" Mary asks, sounding exasperated.

"Nah, it's not actually," he replies, then his eyes flick up to you. "I've just got something very important to do."

Mary leaves the kitchen, mumbling something under her breath, leaving you and Van in the kitchen alone. He steps over and you stand there, leaning against the kitchen counter. He comes to a stop just in front of you.

"So... did you get my note?" He asks.

You fold your arms across your chest in a defensive pose. "Yeah I did... but don't think you're just gonna click your fingers and I'll come running."

He steps forward then, so close that his hips are actually touching yours. What the hell is he doing right in the kitchen when Mary or Bernie could walk in at any time? He reaches up, opening a cupboard above your head, reaching for a glass. As he does so he presses right into you, and bends his head so his lips are hovering just next to your ear. You can feel his warm breath tickling your neck and it sends a shiver right through you. Then he whispers in your ear.

"Oh, you'll come."

That's when you realise that despite all you've been telling yourself and your show of defiance to Van, you're not really still considering. You've already made your mind up. You watch him pour a glass of orange juice from the fridge and down it in one gulp, then he leaves the kitchen, not looking back.

The rest of your shift drags achingly slowly and by the time 3.30pm rolls around you've managed to keep your head straight, keeping busy, but you've not seen Van at all. He might have even gone out. You're beginning to think that maybe this is all a big joke to him. Maybe he's paying you back for being such a bitch to him all the time. You wouldn't blame him really. Nevertheless you find yourself wandering up to the second floor just before 4pm, and creeping down the corridor like you're some sort of trespasser.

As you look along the corridor, you note that the door to Van's room is firmly shut, but room 20 next door has the door flung wide open. Your heart's pounding as you peer through the doorway, but the room is empty. Now what? You consider your next move. You could turn round and leave, write this off as just another move in this frustrating game you've been playing. Or you could go in and wait, see if he turns up...

You slowly walk into the room, not quite knowing what to do with yourself. Lie down on the bed? You giggle to yourself at the thought, feeling ridiculous, but you're suddenly aware of a presence behind you and you quickly spin around to see Van standing there. He's looking at you with cold eyes like shards of ice and he's not smiling. You watch, an unsettling feeling descending on you as he steps into the room, turns around and locks the door. He has a key? What the hell have you got yourself into?

You find your voice. "Is that absolutely necessary?" You say, nodding towards the door.

"That depends..."

"On what?" You realise you're backing up again and you stop, not wanting to show your uneasiness.

"Whether you're gonna behave yourself..." he says, and he slips the key into the back pocket of his jeans.

This action raises your anxiety even more. But it's not an unpleasant feeling. It's that kind of fear you experience when you're about to take a step into the unknown. The thrill of risk and danger, but ultimately something exhilarating.

"Oh I'm a regular angel, just like you said."

He takes another step closer. "You gonna be a good girl for me then?"

"What if I'm not?" You say, maintaining his gaze. You're sure his pupils have dilated. His eyes definitely look darker.

Suddenly he's closed the gap between you and he's looming over you. "Bad girls get punished of course."

Why does every little thing he says turn you on even more? You can practically feel your body pulsing with desire.

For a moment you're both locked in a kind of stand-off, neither of you making a move. Your heart's beating so strong you wonder if maybe Van can hear it. He raises his hands which go to your waist and advances another step, then another which forces you to step back and pretty soon you feel your back come to rest against the wall.

Van's eyes leave yours and trail down your body before coming back to rest on yours, his gaze is so penetrating it feels like he's looking into the depths of you. If he was then maybe he could see the dark thoughts that cloud your mind.

One of his hands leaves your waist and goes to your jaw and he grips it firmly, pushing your head back against the wall. A slow smile spreads on his lips and he shakes his head slowly.

"You've been so very, very bad Y/N. I'm gonna have to discipline you."

Fucking hell! He's barely even touched you yet and you feel like you're about to come undone. He carries on, his voice low.

"You think you can carry on teasing me the way you do huh? Walking round in those skimpy little dresses... looking at me the way you do... do you have any idea what that does to me?"

That much is pretty obvious, he's so closely pressed up against you that you can't ignore the effect this is having on him. With jeans that tight his arousal is apparent.

"I asked you a question," he says.

It's not often that you're lost for words, but this is one of those times. Your lack of response prompts him to speak again.

"Want me to show you then?"

Your body is screaming YES but your throat is dry and you don't trust yourself to speak. He frowns, displeased, his voice sharp. "Y/N, speak when you're spoken to. Use your words."

"Yes," you utter, barely a whisper.

Van releases his hold on you but just for a second. Before you know what's happening he reaches for your wrists and firmly raises them up above your head, pinning you to the wall. You're completely helpless but the feeling thrills you, desire pooling down deep in your body.

Van lowers his head, his lips brushing your ear. "I can't hear you, you're gonna have to speak up."

"YES!" You say quickly, aware your voice sounds desperate but you don't care. You are.

You hear a small laugh come from Van. He's enjoying this, teasing you, and it's intolerable, but there's nothing you can do about it. You're completely at his mercy. His lips skim up and down your neck, and just this light sensation causes your breathing to deepen and your whole body to twitch.

You feel his grip shift, and he grasps both of your wrists easily now in just one of his large hands, and the other trails down to the hem of your dress, skimming the top of your thighs, dipping underneath. When his fingertips connect with the sensitive skin on your inner thighs you realise your legs are trembling.

"Now... you're gonna tell me what you want... I want to hear you say it..."

This is too much, you're caught up in the moment but you're not sure if you can completely let yourself go. But you so desperately want to feel his hands on you...

"Touch me..." you whisper, feeling a deep flush spreading over your cheeks.

His fingers trail higher still, brushing over the thin lace of your underwear. You're so turned on you want to break free of his grip and grab him, tear at his clothes, but there's no way he's letting you go. He's enjoying having this power over you, your vulnerability, your obvious need for him.

"Please Van..."

The words just slip out and you're shocked at how needy you sound. You're fucking begging now?

He leans his head back to look at you again, his eyes filled with lust. "Good girl," he says, his voice low.

He roughly tugs at the waistband of your panties, causing them to fall to the floor. You push your hips forward, needing to feel something to soothe the ache between your legs, and then a moment later your wish is granted when he slides a fingertip over your clit and you feel your whole body practically convulse. Your breath starts immediately coming in ragged gasps.

"Oh Y/N," he says slowly, teasingly. "What am I gonna do with you huh?"

You're aware you're completely losing control but there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. His fingers explore between your legs, alternating between dipping inside you and then circling your most sensitive spot.

He's so close, you can feel his warm breath on your face. He's watching you intently as he pleasures you, working out which motions make you squirm and moan. You feel completely vulnerable, there's nowhere to hide as waves of pressure start to build in your core. You close your eyes, trying to escape the intensity of his gaze, when suddenly he stops.

Your eyes flick open. How the hell can he stop? You're on the precipice and he knows it. He's waiting.

"Don't stop..." you plead.

"Don't you dare close your eyes," he says, his voice quiet but commanding. "I want you to look me right in the eye when I make you come."

He starts to caress you again, and you're caught there, suspended under his piercing gaze, your body starting to buck and shudder with the exquisite sensation as the orgasm tears through your body like a hurricane. You're still trembling with the aftershocks moments later, your legs weak, when Van finally releases you.

Your eyes are still locked, but only for a second, before his lips crash against yours, his tongue hungrily probing your mouth. You reach for the buttons on his jeans, but he grabs your wrists again, stopping you. You pull away, shocked at his resistance.

"Not yet," he breathes. "Not this time."

"But..." you begin, but he shoots a hand up to your mouth, placing a finger over your lips to silence you.

"I want you. I want all of you. Are you gonna let me make you mine?"

You're not quite sure what he means but you would agree to anything at that moment. "Yes," you whisper, watching as he reaches into his pocket and takes out the key, his eyes never leaving yours.

Then he slowly turns, unlocks the door and leaves, and you watch him go.