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myfandomprompts · 1 year

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𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟒

Summary: Council is in session.

Warnings: angst, fluff. Masterlist (Part 33 - Epilogue)

A/N: I mingled with the canon age of some characters, especially the younger ones. For scenario purposes. Hope you understand/don’t mind.

The sooted and melted black walls of Harrenhal were suffocating as you entered the Great Hall where the peace council will be held. Many lords and most important nobles or the realm were already there, seated or walking around, talking in hushed tones as you looked around for anyone familiar, Aemond close behind you.

The first thing you noticed was Addam’s absence. Your friend had come to visit you after your awakening the day before to announce his departure. His demand, with the support of your father, had been granted by the Blacks regarding the restitution of his brother, and Addam was to be instituted Lord of Atranta in lieu of his late father, the Wayfarers ordered to leave the stronghold vacant as an act of good faith for the upcoming peace treaty. You have been glad to see him but the conversation has been shortened by Aemond’s immediate request to talk to him in private, away from your ears.

Upon their return, you noticed that you had never seen them so calm, an odd occurrence for them as they often did not see eye to eye when in each other's presence. Only a slight tension could be felt when Addam kissed your hand goodbye. When you tentatively asked your husband what they had talked about, he only dismissed you and proceeded to take you in his arms, a gesture he seemed to do more often than before. So you did not insist, thinking that it was maybe for the best, as much had happened during your involuntary absence.

The second thing you immediately noticed as you entered the hall beside Aemond, was the whispers his presence elicited. Most of the lords present were not aware of your husband’s recovery, and had not expected him to be present for this council, both scared of what he might say and of him. Most of them considered the Kinslayer unworthy to have a voice in the upcoming parlays, and the dark looks they sent him were very well returned by the man in question as all lowered their gaze when he stared back.

You knew Aemond was only here to protect his family’s interests, very well aware that nothing he would say would please his great cousin or his mother as it would jeopardise the peace, but it did not prevent him from thinking that this whole debacle was some enormous sham.

“I’ll be right behind you,” you whispered to him as you spotted the withdrawn benches meant for the audience to witness the session against the wall, where your place would be, behind your husband and father. Aemond did not let go of your hand.

"You shouldn't even be here," he whispered back, making you stop in your tracks so he could look at you. “You should be resting.”

“You should as well. And I would never miss this. Not when there is so much at stake.”

"Mh,” he voiced, glancing around the room with a dark eye, his shoulders tensed from his repressed loathing of the people seated across the room.

The Blacks were for the most part, already seated at one side of the stone table. Rhaenys was looking regal next to her husband, Corlys Velaryon, himself seated next to Cregan Stark who was talking to a black-haired woman you knew to be named Alysanne Blackwood, known as “Black Aly”.

You recognised a few others, namely Lord Tully, Manderly, and a few Rivermen lords whose name you did not know, next to envoys from Jeyne Arryn, Royce, Tarly and a few other sent to attend in stead of their liege. Behind them you recognised Ser Lorent, standing tall in his armour, and you wondered what your mother would have said, seeing her cousin still loyaly defending the honour of the Black.

But it was the man he was standing so close to that drew your eyes, for Jacaerys Velaryon, macabre looking due to his only recent release a week ago, as part of the prior terms for the treaty, was seated next to his grandmother, hard gaze looking around. Your father had been keen to release him as early as possible, assuring that it would show their dedication in ensuring peace at all cost to the Blacks. You knew Alicent had vaguely protested, but the rest of the Green lords had agreed to it, eager to not see their armies reduced to dust before peace could even be addressed.

You stared at him, hoping that he would look back and see the faint smile you were giving him, for he had been your friend once, and even though you had been on opposite sides, you still held him in your heart, as Lucerys was. Joffrey was not present, but you wish you had been able to see him as well, memories of your time in King’s Landing and Dragonstone with them not easily forgotten.

But he did not meet your eyes as you felt Aemond follow your gaze next to you and still. He was then quick to press his hand to the small of your back to push you forward, dark jealousy emanating from him even though you were completely and utterly his.

From your seat behind the row of Greens were Lords that included your father, Jason Lannister, Adrian Tarbeck, Ormund, some Greyjoy and Redwyne envoy, as well as Alicent flanked by Ser Cole, mirroring the stance of Ser Lorrent at the other side of the table, and you realised how high the tension was. You were doomed to stare at the nape of your husband, seated next to his mother with threatening calm, while the maester that had been chosen to state the terms of the treaty officially began the session.

For the most part, it was boring, the terms agreed upon preliminary to the sessions stated one after the other, mostly regarding the restitution of lands or castles to some of the defeated party, and reparation for the damage caused. You sat through it in silence, witnessing the occasional interjection from Corlys or Jason Lannister. But it all went rather smoothly despite the palpable tension until the topic of the ruling of the Seven Kingdoms came.

“...and as agreed with prior debate, both sides have recognised Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targryen and Laenor Velaryon, as heir to the Iron Throne and King of the Seven Kingdoms…”

You saw Alicent scratch the skin of her fingers in frustration and Aemond's neck tense, although his hand was still leisurely drumming the stone of the table. Some Green partisans next to you whispered in indignation.

“May I ask what becomes of Daemon and Rhaenyra’s spawns? Aegon and Viserys Targaryen ?” asked one of the Greyjoys, earning a few nods of approval from some Greens who would consider the two more legitimate to the throne than Jacaerys, the name “Strong” resonating within the walls of Harrenhal with strength.

“They are away and well cared for. They shall inherit Dragonstone as soon as they become of age, and assist their family in royal matters,” answered Lord Tully calmly.

“Dragonstone should be given to Viserys’ direct descendants, Targaryens with dragons, not dragonless children,” spoke Jason Lannister, earning a dark look from both Lord Ormund and your father at his side.

“I’m afraid that will not be possible, my Lord,” replied Corlys with icy calmness, although his tone indicated that your side was in no position to make any demands.

The mention of Aemond and Daeron’s inheritance had turned some curious heads towards the former. Still, your husband said nothing, the ghost of a dangerous smile dancing on his lips as the tension heightened around the hall.

“I understand how precarious the predicament is, and for that peace to endure, we must make concessions, in order to avoid future bloodshed, to not reproduce the mistakes that had been made,” Cregan Stark strongly stated, silencing the whispers around him and making Alicent inhale sharply. “The bond among the House of the Dragon must be reforged, and thus alliances shall be made.”

Rhaenys nodded before speaking in her turn. “I have two granddaughters. One is already married and meant to be Queen, however, Rhaena Targaryen shall be a great match for one of the Dowager Queen’s sons.”

It was Ormud who spoke first.

“I can envision Daeron Targaryen’s betrothal to Rhaena Targaryen, and for this, we are grateful. However, we have come with another proposition that we could agree on.”

All looked at him with interest as he glanced at your father and Alicent, but the latter had her gaze lowered on the table, eyes in the void. Ormund cleared his throat as Aemond finally turned his head toward his great-cousin.

“I suggest that Jacaerys Velaryon’s first born shall marry one of Aegon’s twins, Jaeaherys or Jaehaera. This way, the bonds of the two families shall forever be intertwined.”

There was a short silence, then whispers filled the room again as a frowning Lord Manderly addressed Ormund.

“We were not aware that the usurper’s children lived. They have been lost and unheard of since the sack of the capital. Why have you not come with this information in the preliminary council?”

“I assure you my Lords that the information had been retained only with the better of intents, for we did not wish to jeopardise the peace in any way, bringing forward facts that you would consider as a threat before the appropriate time,” your father replied, the way he spoke with dexterity making every Black settle down.

“Ha!” laughed an angry-looking Riverman, looking between your father and Aemond. “I see that Hightowers and their tricks never end. The twins live much older than the unborn heir they are to marry, and already their claim to the Throne seems assured. I have almost expected the Kinslayer to marry his daughter off instead. Very convenient indeed.”

“Settle down my Lord, or I will have you removed from the session,” demanded Rhaenys, whose eyes had not left Ormund. “This is an alluring proposition, one I see nothing against. It shall be discussed further among us.”

She glanced at her husband who only gave her a look of approval, as did Cregan, who had always been the first to throw agreements that could prevent Targaryens to put the realm to the torch, and could only express his blessing. All from the side of the Green relaxed, with a few exceptions.

Then ensued several betrothal propositions, among which, Joffrey Velaryon, who had hereby been stated as the next heir to Driftmark by his grandfather, would be married to one of Lannister’s four daughters, the Lord most happy to finally marry his blood into royalty.

“Our only demand is for the twins to reside at King’s Landing, over our supervision, until we know of the gender of the heir. After which the other shall be sent as a stewart to one of the great houses,” Corlys’ demand was most vehemently opposed by Alicent, but after a few points made at each other, it was agreed that the other twin shall be sent to Oldtown, where their family resided.

“This is not enough,” spoke the angry looking Riverman again. “One child shall not repair all of the damage that had been done by the fires of dragon riders during the conflict. The Riverlands were torched, hundreds died. What stops them from reiterating their actions with only one child in King’s Landing under the Crown’s care?”

Several lords nodded with force, and you felt your heart quicken in your chest.

“He is right. The two princes are a liability, and their crimes are great,” added the envoy from the Eyrie. “They ride dragons, one of them being the largest alive, the other as big as Syrax. We cannot let this be tolerated if peace is to be enforced.”

Aemond hadn’t moved, but you could feel his eye digging into the skull of the envoy. All the room seemed to grow uneasy at the same time, the burning subject of what should be done with the Kinslayer finally put forward.

“Nothing of the sort will happen,” assured Ormund, aware of the many scolding eyes directed at him. “What happened in the Riverlands had already been assessed, and reparation shall be applied. It was war, my Lords, and war causes awful acts. In that, we are all guilty around this table, as I am sure you will concede.”

“It still does not suffice,” replied the lord at once, scathing. “Unless he is put in a cell or executed, we cannot predict what the Kinslayer might do. He is known for his rash actions, had put ablaze the Riverlands and yet he sits at this table.”

Silence followed, as all held their breath for Ormund to speak, or something to happen. The atmosphere shifted inexplicably as silence lingered, and it was when you glanced at your husband that you understood why. Aemond had stopped drumming on the table, instead straightening up in his chair, as if ready to stand up.

When he spoke, his tone was sharp, taunting. “Very well observed, I am here, aren’t I? Listening quietly to your pitiful attempts to avoid the realm to tear itself apart, bargaining my family and taking titles. Still, I did not argue, so I advise that you hold your tongue before suggesting my demise or interpret my intentions. I would not want my rash actions to emerge.”

His words had an instant effect, some lords turning slightly pale and others seething in their seats, not comfortable with the idea that none could stop Aemond Targaryen and Vhagar if they wanted to, his current collected demeanour held by a thread that this Lord kept tugging at.

“That is most right, you had said nothing,” the Lord pointed out, unphased. “We have not seen you take part in this council nor do you seem to believe that your crimes shall go unpunished.”

“Let us not be sidetracked here,” chimed in Ormund before Alicent could. “There is nothing from our part that would endanger the very essence of what this council is trying to accomplish.”

But Aemond was smirking.

“You speak of my crimes, but I don’t see you taking any actions regarding the murder of my brother and grandfather in cold blood,” he said, anger nagging at the surface.

“The assassins were employed by Daemon Targaryen and him alone,” interjected Corlys with a dark eye directed to the envoy of the Eyrie, urging him to calm. “And he had already paid the price for this choice, as you well know.”

“That might be the case, but the Qorgyles didn’t,” retorted Aemond, his resentment towards Sandstone still burning strong. “We all here know the truth about their involvement.”

“The Qorgyles are a Dornish house, thus falling under the jurisdiction of the Martells, who had chosen to remain neutral throughout the conflict, and wish to remain so. No measure shall be taken in their stead, they will deal with their bannermen on their own terms. This is not our place.”

Aemond had lost his smile, replaced by a clenched jaw and a cold rage he was struggling to maintain. “Then I suggest that they be quick about it, otherwise I might fly there and render justice myself,” he threatened, but proceeded to only stare at the opposite side as faint gasps travelled the room at his words.

“Here! This is what I am talking about,” exclaimed the Riverman before turning to address the entirety of the room. “Tell me, my Lords, what prevents him, a hot-blooded Kinslayer by none but two occurrences, from riding the most dangerous dragon in existence and 'render justice himself' as soon as this council is over?”

As words of approval erupted around the room, Alicent had opened her mouth to retort, mirrored by Rhaenys who intended to reiterate her threat to have him removed from the hall. But a powerful roar echoed from the outside and everybody stiffened, listening to the sound reverberating through the walls. Aemond had found his seething demeanour again, no longer leaned in his chair but instead ready to stand up, his dark eye solely directed at the Lord who had spoken. When the roar died in the air, a cruel smile had appeared on his lips.

“Frankly, my Lord, nothing.”

Gasps and horrified comments erupted around the room, the menacing tone with which Aemond had spoken making Alicent feel the need to put a soothing hand on her son’s forearm. But your husband only laughed and looked around the chaos as if it was the most amusing thing he could witness.

“This is outrageous!” came the voice of a noble from the Blacks side as well as several others that shouted similar statements.

“He has a daughter, does he not?” exclaimed one of them. “It might be a fair bargain to have her in King’s Landing, with the royal family. Put her in fosterage, make her a companion, have her under the Crown’s watch.”

Aemond instantly stiffened while you fought the urge to stand up as well.

“Leave my daughter out of your machinations,” snarled Aemond, clearly fuming as panic overtook you. “She will be the servant of no one, and certainly not for my nephews and their offspring.”

“Perhaps you would have her marry the next heir instead?" retorted one of them in laughing disbelief. "Was that your plan all along, to put your lineage on the throne?”

“That is enough,” came your father’s strong voice, making most of the head turn to him and preventing Aemond heaving in fury next to him to reply. “My granddaughter shall take no part in the negotiation as she had already suffered at the hands of the Rogue Prince. I do not take you, my Lords, accountable for it, for I am aware that it was his actions and his alone. In return, I only ask of you to settle to the terms we agreed upon,” he said, glancing at Aemond who was ready to cut the next one who would speak of his blood, hand at his belt.

You almost expected for the lords or your husband to resume the fight, their feud far from completed, but a frustrated sigh travelled the room and Cregan took on speaking.

“We do have to assess the fate of the late King’s progeny, my Lords, as well as his widow’s, as I am sure you realise,” he said, taking care in ignoring Aemond and looking between Lannister and Ormund. “Due to the outcome of this conflict, we cannot let the Higtowers and two dragon riders anywhere near the Crownlands. We must act accordingly.”

Jason Lannister as well as his bannermen and your father nodded in defeat, while Alicent and Ormund fell into silence. But as talks of exile, being sent to the wall, army requisition or even imprisonment was discussed, you only half-listened as you found your gaze transfixed on the silver-haired man a few feet away from you.

You knew Aemond to be resilient, never yielding, and you wondered what his current cool demeanour meant for you. He had assured you that he would rather live than die fighting, but you had never envisioned what it meant for his legacy, for your daughter. It felt like nothing would ever be enough, not for her.

“Is that is to be the case,” replied Rhaenys to the argument you had not followed. “If this council only settles to confine the Hightowers within the borders of the Reach, alienating the previous terms of the negotiation, then we must make another demand.”

Lannister, who bore a sinister expression, addressed her. “And what do you propose, Princess?”

“For one of you my Lords, to be granted a place at the council.”

Lannister made a faint strangled sound. “I believe that my brother’s place in the small council as master of coins is still assured? Or has it changed?”

“No it hasn’t, my Lords, however, Lord Lydden would be a fine addition to the King’s council, wouldn’t you agree?”

You straightened up in your chair at once, noticing how Aemond had done the same and was now glancing at your father who cleared his throat before talking.

“I am flattered, Princess, but my duties and the health of my wife concerns me greatly. I am afraid that I will have to-”

“Your family are most welcome in the Red Keep, my Lord, as will you. Your wife shall have the best care there is. I see no issue on the matter here,” Rhaenys stated, and when she made the most fleeting glance at Aemond, you, as all those on your side, understood.

The presence of your father at King’s Landing was the only solution they had come up with to keep Aemond Targaryen from acting against them if he ever wanted to. Vhagar was untouchable, as were you and his family, and having any Hightowers in the capital would not benefit them in any way. So instead, they would have Daeron and your father at court, hoping that would be enough.

As you glanced at Aemond, you could see how his shoulders moved with each breath he took, but still said nothing as your father stared back at Rhaenys before nodding in defeat. “Very well, Princess. I thank you for your proposition.”

You thought about your brother, who was once again abandoned as Lord of Deep Den, and about Daeron, once again separated from his family for the sake of peace, mostly a way for the Black to have both Vhagar and Tessarion apart.

The session dragged on for an hour more without any skirmishes and when it ended, you directly came to your father.

“Do not worry for me. All will be well,” he assured as he took you in an embrace while you felt Aemond approach at a respectful distance. “What matters is that your mother, brother and you are left in peace, as well as our House.”

“Still, I cannot help the feeling that all of it is my fault,” you replied, glancing up at him from your position against his chest. “I am sorry.”

“Oh but you are wrong, Y/N.” he said before bringing his mouth to your ear so that no one would hear you. “All is as it should be, the true heir sits on the Iron Throne and the fighting has stopped. I, for my part, cannot help the feeling that my role with the Greens has accelerated this outcome, and all thanks to you, my darling.”

You smiled at him, realising that when your father had abandoned his allegiance to the Blacks for your sake once, he had not forsaken his honour, and his duty towards the realm.

He would be a fine addition to the council indeed.

When he departed, passing next to Jacaerys with whom he had a rapid word with, you felt Aemond’s hand snake up around your waist to drag you out of the hall.

“Your father finally gained what he wanted, it seems,” he stated as you reached a less crowded area within the castle.

“You know it to be untrue. He only did what he had to, for the continuation of what he has worked so hard for to endure,” you replied, glancing at some Blacks who were eyeing Aemond with indignation. But he had no care for it.

“Mh. I guess I should be grateful. He was much more efficient in defending my own daughter than I was,” he said bitterly, and you glanced back at him, eyes widening slightly.

“She won’t be taken away from us, will she, Aemond?” you asked, searching for reassurance.

“Of course not,” he replied, taking hold of you so he could kiss your forehead, and you melted into his touch. “I won’t have you, her or my mother out of my sight anymore, they cannot reach you while I am here.”

You closed your eyes, enjoying the warm feeling his words were giving you, his strength radiating through your very being.

You slightly parted from him. “What happens now?”

Aemond only smiled at you.

-0- Epilogue

I am forever grateful to @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan for beta reading (even though I apparently manage to be alright this time)

@let-love-bleeds-red@crazylokonugget@jeyramarie@ephemeralninon@mrswhitethornbelikov@dudfahsn@missusnora@queenofterrasen418@honeytrapsblogp-graham@heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88@ivartheblessed@xceafh@bubbletae7@omgkatherine01@tzipora-art@signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs@bietchz@samnblack@mariaelizabeth21-blog1@projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal@polireader@zillahvathek@moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749@claudie-080102@ebaylee422@hydrationqueensworld@crumblychunksofheaven@officiallyunofficialperson@grungegrrrl@stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99 @notanenthucutlet @saeselkie

#aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond x oc #aemond x you #smut #angst #prompt #fanfiction #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x original character #aemond x female original character #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #ywawm

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effortandmore · 1 year

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latest work: caught looking

networks: k-vanity

subscribe on ao3

requests are open, send an ask!

upcoming fic on deck: idk yet!

to know: member x member fics are listed under the member whose pov they're from

🌿 the sleeping hours

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit

genre: fluff, smut, angst

wc: 12k

summary: namjoon thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

🌿 tuesday moon

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit

genre: fluff, smut

wc: 7.7k

summary: being “just friends” with kim namjoon sucks

🌿 you, after all

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit

genre: fluff, smut, exes to lovers

wc: 6.9k

summary: your break up hadn't been angry or contentious. he wanted to go, you never asked him to stay. it was simple, really. but when namjoon shows back up after three years, things don't seem so simple anymore

🌿 the lucky ones

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit

genre: angst, fluff, smut, unhappy ending

wc: 17.4k

summary: you fall in love with the right person at the wrong time

🌿 just like riding a bike

pairing: namjoon x reader

rating: general audience

genre: fluff

wc: 1k

summary: it's been a long time since you've been back home, a longer time since you've seen namjoon

🌿 a match made in heaven

pairing: namjoon x jimin

rating: teen

genre: coffee shop!au, fluff, humor

wc: 2.8k

summary: It’s well past dark on a frigid December evening, and Kim Namjoon is over it. He’s been a good sport, he’s played along, and now he’s just… done. If he hadn’t been getting terrifying death-stares from Yoongi each time he even thinks about getting up from the café table, he would have already been long gone.

🌿 worth all your while (masterlist)

pairing: namjoon x reader

rating: explicit (minors dni, 18+ please)

genre: smut, fluff, light angst, au: famous, but not an idol

wc: ~36k

summary: you know kim namjoon from your work, but running into him outside of seoul tips your relationship into new territory and your world upside down. eventually, you wonder how there can be a million ways to say "i love you," and namjoon, a literal genius, can't manage a single one when it comes to you. or: 5 times namjoon can't make himself say "i love you" but thinks you understand him anyway (you do not), and then the one time he gets it right

read it on ao3

🌿 the restitution coefficient

pairing: seokjin x namjoon

rating: mature (18+)

genre: office au, fluff, smut, light angst, bad puns

wc: 15.6k

summary: seokjin has everything going for him. he was one of the youngest people to make VP at his company, at the top of his class in college, is a bit of a racquet sport savant, an excellent cook, and good-looking. like, really good looking. according to people other than his mother, thank you very much. so, when things around him start to crumble because of one stubborn and annoyingly attractive client, he finds himself looking for vindication in a place he's sure he can’t be beat—the annual office ping pong tournament.

caught looking

pairing: seokjin x namjoon

rating: mature (18+)

genre: baseball (kbo) au, etl, fluff, eventual smut

wc: 4.5k (in progress)

summary: of course Seokjin has heard the rumors. most of them boil down to this: kim namjoon will get fired from the kiwoom heroes after this season is over. he’s the kbo’s youngest manager in history, one of korea’s darlings, always on every 30 under 30 list, and everyone is sure he’s about to tumble from the tower he’s built. or, namjoon is probably going to lose his job and seokjin is probably never going to make his dad proud, but they have a better shot at overcoming those two things together than they ever have alone.

🌿 all that we wouldn't say

pairing: yoongi x namjoon

rating: explicit (18+)

genre: angst, smut, angst with an ambiguous (happy/hopeful) ending

wc: 20k (oops)

summary: if yoongi told someone that letting go of BTS and namjoon at the same time was hard, it would be a gross understatement. it was, in fact, the worst year or so of his life, but he’s managed to somehow move on. he’s had time, therapy, and lots of friends, family, and work to distract him. things are good now—the best they’ve ever been, maybe. but yoongi knows better than anyone that good things don’t always last, and that point is proven when namjoon shows back up in his life out of nowhere with an album that needs producing and questions yoongi doesn’t have the answers to.

#putting the effort in #masterlist #bts masterlist

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stcverogers · 2 years

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SEPTEMBER FIC RECS!

fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over the month of september

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

CHRIS EVANS + CHARACTERS

F + A: beautifully unfinished by @kayteewritessteve 𖥻 you are hopelessly in love with your best friend, steve

A: highschool reunion by @sarahrogersevans you see chris again, six years after he broke your heart

F + A: baby mine by @cevansgoatee you and chris find out your daughter isn't excited about the baby

F: home is where the love is by @elrw24 chris comes back home after a long press tour

A: right where you love me by @sleepisaturn steve asks you out on a date but he doesn't show

F + A: muse by @moonlight-prose 𖥻 steve rogers didn't really believe in love. that was till he saw you.

A: only love can hurt like this by @chuckbass-love 𖥻 you and ransom had been doing seemingly well. however, an overheard conversation with his friends causes you to question everything about your relationship.

F + A: rawhide by @wiypt-writes 𖥻 the country is split into two different parties, hydra and shield. with your alpha dead and the leader of hydra on your tail, you flee to montana. it is there that you find your soulmate.

F + A: the highest bidder by @pagesoflauren 𖥻 desperate for money to bide your graduate college life by, you decide to auction off your virginity to the highest bidder.

F + A: restitution by @universitypenguin 𖥻 helping to make sure your ex boyfriend pays his rightful dues, you spend the night with two eligible bachelors. the next morning you find out that their brother is someone from your past.

F: her second favourite guy by @secretswiftymarvelfan steve is thoroughly disappointed that he is your second favourite guy, that is, until he meets your favourite guy.

F: seperation anxiety by @no-not-without-you-blog three weeks after you daughter's birth, chris has to leave for work. while away, the only thing on his mind is his girls.

F + A: no strings attached by @viperbarnes even if you've broken up, steve will always be there for you

SEBASTIAN STAN + CHARACTERS

F + A: the sergeant's heart by @foreverindreamlandd 𖥻 losing your brother to the war broke you. this leaves his replacement to the the one to put you back together.

F + A: crazy little thing called love by @barnesjamcs 𖥻 you try to set bucky up with different girls but all he wants is you

F + A: an old friend by @carryonmywaywardbucky when you get frozen along with steve, you wake up decades in the future trying to find yourself again

F + A: saving grace by @barnesandrogersfanfics 𖥻 steve choses to stay in the past and live the life he wishes he could have with peggy. this is where bucky comes in and becomes your only saving grace.

F: that time of year by @edelweiss-and-maple-trees you and bucky spend your anniversary by the fire

F + A: taste of whiskey by @thesoftestpunk you and bucky cross the treshold of being just friends

S: sweet dreams by @buckyalpine you find out bucky's very sweet dreams

F: just the way you are by @mellowsaturns after watching top gun: maverick and thirsting over the naval aviators, you notice a shift in bucky's behaviour

F: good men and tea parties by @writingcroissant bucky can't remember much about his time as the winter soldier, this meant that he doesn't remember you

F + A: in every lifetime by @wkemeup stark industries discovered a fleet of HYDRA ships from the 1940s. a specific cargo on said ships send bucky in a tailspin.

F + A: hang loose by @imtryingmyfuckingbest 𖥻 hangman. day time server and night time vigilante. the vipers, an underground weapons ring has surfaced and the avengers need the assistance of hangman to help take them down.

F: operation get mr bucky and momma together by @golden-barnes amaya hears her mother speaking sweetly of her nice teacher. she comes up with a plan to get the two of them together.

F + A: two kingdoms by @softlybarnes 𖥻 on the day of her wedding day, the future queen is taken by james, the king of a nearby kingdom

F + A: marry for power by @duuhrayliegh though you may be a servant while bucky is a royal, to him, you will always be his equal

F: there is no other love, it’s only yours by @mellowsaturns bucky dreams about a life he is determined to pursue with you

HENRY CAVILL + CHARACTERS

F + A: duke!sy x reader by @cruelfvkingsummer 𖥻 the events that place after finding out that the duke hadn't been faithful

F: his whole world by @shellbilee how baby harper was brought into the world

#chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #henry cavill x reader #claire’s fic recs

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the-chipped-cup-awards · 3 months

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Fluff Family

Sweet, light hearted, even sensual, fics in the FLUFF category raise our spirits, and provide a little restitution for all of the hard knocks Rumbelle suffered through the seven years of the show.

One of those areas so often denied to our favorite characters was the chance to be part of a loving family. Whether as the Dark One in the Enchanted Forest, or even /before/ Rumplestiltskin became the Dark One, creators have been gifting us with a glimpse of what life may have been like in a family with Belle and Rumple. In the category of Fluff: Family, the winner of the 2024 Chipped Cup Award is…

Tea and Roses by @thatravenclawbitch

#cca 2024 #the chipped cup awards #award ceremony

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triskhellion · 6 months

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15 Shades of Red

Rated: Explicit (3.5k | WIP 1/18)

Relationships: Derek/Stiles, Stiles & Isaac, Derek & Malia, Derek & Isaac, The Family, background Boyd/Erica, Lydia/Jackson/Danny, Heather/Kira

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Malia Tate, Talia Hale, Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Kira Yukimura, Heather, Cora Hale, Laura Hale, Matt Daehler, Braeden, etc.

Tags: POV Stiles, POV Derek, Graphic Violence, Mob AU, Spark Stiles, Omega Derek, Mob Boss Stiles, Mob Boss/Pack Alpha Talia, Creeper Stiles, Power Imbalance, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved Derek, Getting Together, Angst & Fluff & Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Blood, Kidnapping, Torture, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Minor Character Deaths, Explicit Sexual Content, (Mostly) Bottom Derek/Top Stiles, Virgin Derek, Light BDSM, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Knotting, First Time Bottoming, Murder Husbands, Mpreg (in epilogue,) Happy Ending.

Summary: Derek is the 23 year old omega son of Alpha Boss Talia Hale, the only non-alpha born to the Hales in at least four generations. Restricted by his overprotective mother after a past kidnapping and misunderstood by the alphas and betas of the Pack, he longs for more than the boring life he's been consigned to and the suitors only interested in him for his name or body.

Stiles became the head of the Stilinski branch of the Gajoš Family at 19 after both of his parents were gunned down six years apart. With the help of a talented group of friends, the secret Spark with a newly powerful and disturbing Gift took down a slew of rivals to keep control of his territory in Beacon City. Now 21, the infamous Boss with a love for the color red is suddenly given an opportunity to bring the object of his affection, a completely oblivious Derek, into his Family as restitution for an unintended, but significant offense by the Hale Pack. He takes it.

Equiknots: Harvest & Hunter's Moon prompts: 18, Between, Corn Equal, Hunter, Knot, Sanguine, Spice, Super & Travel

Stiles

His cool, calm, and collected demeanor was at odds with the anxiety and anticipation roiling inside. Stiles learned years ago to school his facial expressions, to quiet the fingers that itched to drum on any surface, the feet to tap, or a leg to bounce. At least in public. There were the odd lapses, yes, but he couldn’t afford that today. He had to be the Boss, play the unbothered Blade of infamy.

Of course, the facade alone wouldn’t be worth a damn while in the company of werewolves, but he had other tricks up his sleeve. Or more accurately, hanging from a simple black cord around his neck; the thin, metallic, rune-marked disc the size of an old silver dollar resting flush against his sternum and tucked beneath layers of clothing. A white sleeveless v-neck under a long-sleeved red dress shirt, the shade of which he often used to signal his mood or the tone of the day’s business. (But not always, it wouldn’t do to be completely predictable, not to mention that circumstances often turned on a dime.)

Today he wore a vibrant scarlet, including a matching tie, with his signature charcoal gray 3-piece suit. Bold and triumphant for this was a momentous occasion. Stiles doubted he could’ve engineered a better opportunity himself than the one poised to fall into his lap. Hopefully literally in the not-too-distant future if he played his cards right.

And to think this had all been set into motion by sheer happenstance after more time than he cared to admit spent daydreaming trying to scheme up some kind of proper introduction over the past few years. But there was always some reason why it wasn’t a good time or likely to backfire if not cause a capital I Incident. There was also the part of him that would rather be able to keep his fantasy alive than risk the possibility of being shot down (and not only figuratively.)

But then eleven days ago his childhood best friend, Scott McCall, had been Bitten by Peter Hale.

The werewolf had been out of his mind at the time, drugged by a pretty face working for a rogue Calavera with some specialized strain of wolfsbane and made to go temporarily feral. An excuse for Hunters to “justifiably” attack the powerful Pack no doubt. Without his human side in charge to temper his ambitions — he was strong enough to become a Pack Alpha himself if he’d wanted to — the Left Hand of the Hales went looking for someone to Bite. His first Beta.

For some baffling reason he’d ended up going for Scott when he came across the veterinary student, who was entirely unsuitable for “the life,” walking with a date in the park. The terrified 21 year old managed to call Stiles just before he was actually attacked and when he was found by Isaac in some bushes soon after, bloody but healing, the Boss and Enforcer both knew exactly what was happening.

Isaac had been turned without consent himself several months before, but that Alpha had meant it as punishment for some slight, thinking either Stiles would turn on the new wolf or be killed by him. Instead he restrained Isaac with his power, threw him in a basement room, and slapped a silence rune on it. Then he made a concealment token to keep the change in status under wraps. They quietly figured it out with help from Alpha Satomi Ito, an old friend of Stiles’ mother, and once the blue-eyed wolf had learned enough control they took care of that asshole themselves.

It didn’t escape his notice that despite all of Scott’s issues with him following in his parents footsteps that it had been Stiles that he had called when his life was on the line. So it goes. They’d started growing apart after his mother was killed and the rift between them widened as they continued going through very different experiences. No matter how many times he tried to explain the concept of a power vacuum — that even if he, or previously his father, had wanted to run away from it all that more people would actually be hurt if they did so — Scott just couldn’t understand.

And so Stiles never even considered trying to bring him into to fold or tell him about Isaac being a wolf too. That he could find a pack here or that there were even ways to stick around without one. He called up Satomi and she had him on the way to some sleepy college town in Virginia within a handful of days.

Honestly, the whole situation was for the best for both of them. Scott could go be uncomplicated and enjoy his new lack of asthma with a laid back pack on the other side of the country and Stiles wouldn’t have to worry about him not being part of the Family, but possibly being targeted as an associate. There’d be no more sending anyone to babysit him from afar as he ambled about sketchy parts of Beacon City blissfully unaware of not being mugged either.

And so here he was. The Hales had contacted him apologetically once they realized what had happened and to whom and he’d let them stew for a few days before responding.

The barest smirk tugged at his lips as he observed the Alpha Heir, Laura Hale, attempt to discreetly scent his emotions, her nostrils flaring slightly as she feigned engrossment with the large painting taking up much of the wall behind his side of the table. The imagery of the Crooked Forest in Nowe Czarnowo on a misty morning was both deeply meaningful for him and an interesting conversation piece for the relatively few guests allowed within these walls. It would likely be quite some time before those gathered here returned again, if ever.

His amusement increased at the wrinkle deepening between her brows when she picked up nothing at all, huffing and turning to side-eye the short red-headed woman speaking with her younger sister, Cora, at the other end of the room. As far as those outside the Inner Circle of the Family knew (or Great Eight as Erica insisted,) Lydia Martin was the Stilinski emissary and responsible for any of their mage craft.

Dearest Lydia was indeed their emissary, his representative in matters both supernatural and mundane. She did also possess magic, though the exact nature of her abilities — that she was a banshee — was yet another closely guarded secret. But it was Stiles himself that created their magical implements, set their wards and, when need be, used his significant abilities to eliminate their threats.

The only people who’d witnessed him in action, enraged and eyes shining the rich burgundy of venous blood, were his most trusted Family and the soon to be dispatched recipients of said power. (The occasional innocent bystander didn’t count because their memories of the event would be wiped clean. He wasn’t entirely amonster.)

Aware of how requesting attendance by the entire Hale family, lowercase f, would seem an insultingly blatant trap he had sent a blood-spelled letter witnessed and effected by a Notary Mage. He, Isaac, and Lydia — the Head, the Hand, and the Voice of the Stilinski Family — had pricked their thumbs with the small ceremonial dagger and bled beside their signatures on the thick parchment, swearing that there'd be no violence against the Hales by them or those in their service, or with their foreknowledge, on pain of death.

For a span of 7 hours, equally before and after the meeting’s start time of noon, they could not strike. Unless the Hales attacked first, of course. They weren’t idiots.

Stiles still hadn’t been sure that they would come though, perhaps insisting on meeting in neutral territory instead. He would’ve agreed to that if he had to, but this made things so much simpler. More contained and less prone to erupt in violence or involve outside parties.

The Stilinskis and Hales weren’t formal allies, but they weren’t enemies either. Some minor altercations between underlings aside they had no quarrel with each other, even cooperating when their interests aligned from time to time or giving a heads up about some mutual rival.

The officiated blood-spell must’ve been enough for the Hale’s own emissary, Druid Alan Deaton to proclaim them safe enough even within another organization’s stronghold. The placid Black man in a forest green suit was currently observing everything from the sidelines and also keeping tabs on Lydia in particular. If he only knew.

In addition, they were allowed to bring a dozen soldiers with then; three were currently posted inside the room, two outside the door, and the other seven were split between the front and back entrances and on standby with their vehicles. He also knew, courtesy of his tech wizard, Danny, and head of security, Boyd, that the Steiner twins (jokingly referred to as Arts & Entertainment) were waiting with a small arsenal just beyond the property line about half a mile away in case things went south.

The heirloom oak and bronze grandfather clock chimed out the hour and the gathered werewolves turned to him expectingly, but he only looked toward the door and went back to reading the papers spread before him. With every minute after noon the tension grew and at 12:07pm Peter Hale finally broke the silence.

“Apologies,” he said, tone making clear that he wasn’t the one who should offer them. “But if we could start…”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Everyone hasn’t arrived yet.”

The four Hales looked at each other with surprise and discomfort. The druid’s gaze sharpened.

“You mean Derek and Malia? But wh—“ Peter began.

“Was the invitation not clear?”

“Yes, but they’re not really involved in this level of business,” said Laura, looking towards her mother as the Hale Alpha merely stared at him in silence.

Oh, I’m aware he thought disapprovingly, eyes intentionally flickering to the not-yet-18 year old Cora.

“Nevertheless, this matter affects them as well,” Stiles said, wearing what he hoped was a small, pleasant smile. “So if you could have them come per our agreement—”

“We would greatly appreciate it,” added Lydia, trying to soften the sharpness of his tone and keep things from devolving already.

The dark haired sisters shared an annoyed look as Peter sat tight-lipped in his seat. After several moments Talia broke eye contact and nodded to Laura. The Heir pulled out her phone and sent a few texts, snorting a minute later at the response.

“They said they could get here in about 25 minutes, but only by coming straight from the gym.”

Isaac looked over to him and chuckled.

“We promise not to take offense,” Stiles said, quickly banishing the thought of a flexing, sweat drenched Derek before it could fully form. “Refreshments will be served shortly in the meantime.”

He stood and nodded to Liam who’d been waiting near the entrance for any requests and the young soldier hurried to the kitchen.

“Excuse me while I attend to a few things in my office. Feel free to explore the library in the drawing room,” he said, gesturing to go through the archway on the right side and across the hall.

He walked over to Isaac on his way out. “Come get me when they arrive.”

Derek

He was at the power rack about to attempt a new single max low back squat when his and Malia’s phones chimed simultaneously. Always a good sign, Derek thought sarcastically as he let out a long sigh. What now?

His cousin, who had been racing on an elliptical nearby like an angry T1000 with John Connor in its sights, hopped off and grabbed her phone and water bottle as he continued to fume about the interruption, sure that his workout would be cut short.

Coming to the gym, like running beta shifted or blasting his music, was how he took the edge off the unmet needs and burned through the negative emotions that he lived with as a matter of course. The regular focus, control, and clearing of his mind also made it that much easier to mute the “outgoing” of his bonds and hide his interior world from the Pack’s scrutiny. Their well meaning, but frequently misapplied concern, especially his mother’s.

“They need us at the Stilinski meeting as soon as possible,” she said after reading the message.

Derek groaned and made a point of completing his lift, though his form was shaky in his annoyance. He’d heard of the letter “requesting” they all attend, but last night when he asked what time he should be ready to go he’d been assured that their presence wasn’t necessary. His presence, really. If she weren’t his usual bodyguard he bet they’d have taken Malia along. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to go, but he resented being summarily excluded. Again.

Growing up, Derek had never felt like a stereotypical alpha and being months past his 16th birthday he’d been worried about presenting as a beta, who tended to take longer to reveal their secondary sex than alphas did. Not because he thought there was anything was wrong with betas, but because he knew what it would mean in his family. He didn’t want to be different. Othered.

Not once though did he imagine that he could be an omega. Between Hale genetics being what they were and the rarity of omegas in general (and male ones in particular) it was so beyond the realm of possibility that that particular fear hadn’t even crossed his mind. Then came that first humiliating heat.

Derek had been playing video games in the den downstairs when it started, not recognizing the first symptoms. Feeling just a bit off he’d taken a nap on the couch only to wake up a few hours later confused and burning up. Simultaneously very uncomfortable and extremely horny, not to mention damp where he’d never been before. It was frightening.

Ten year old Cora had wandered in to play with her action figures and been alarmed to see him sweaty and groaning and yelled that he looked really sick. Peter had been the first to investigate and after several moments of shock had started laughing and offered to find him a “knotty boy” in front of his now present and scandalized mother.

He’d ended up locked inside an interrogation room with an inflatable mattress and some sheets and a blanket. Laura ran out to hastily purchase some random toys for him and then put them inside with snacks and water, but no one came around to make sure he ate or drank for longer than was healthy. They hadn’t known better.

Every wolf born in the past four generations of the main Hale family, all 30 of the 37 descendants of his great-grandfather Desmond Hale who had presented before him, had been alphas. (So had the three since.) The only non-alphas in their bloodline had been the mates of those born Hales, mostly betas and a handful of alpha-alpha pairs. There were just two omegas over that time frame: the wife of one of his second cousins and a deceased great uncle-in-law.

His beta father, Aaron, had been “blamed” for the anomaly having had an omega grandfather as well as a baby brother and two female cousins in his family. He’d died from smoke inhalation saving a handful of strangers from a house fire several years before Derek presented and had been cut off from his family when he mated the infamous Talia Hale, so they’d had no close and trusted source of advice and firsthand information. Oh, they’d read articles and browsed web forums and asked Deaton (who was not at all well versed in the subject) about it, but his family simply hadn’t really known what to do with any omega, much less a male one.

They’d muddled through, but not without plenty of scars to show for it, mostly on Derek’s end. All of the times when they treated him differently and shouldn’t have, especially after he was kidnapped at 17 by a gang led by a supernatural-hating fanatic.

His mother had been overprotective before then, but when they got him back — bruised and traumatized, but before the worst had happened — he could barely take a piss without someone hovering nearby.

Derek was steered away from or outright denied any position that might put him “at special risk” as an omega, which was practicality everything of rank or actually interesting. He would not be trained to be Laura’s Second as was customary for the next born nor sent on missions or even errands. If he were more technologically inclined he could’ve worked his way up in Intelligence, but torrenting foreign tv shows and troubleshooting the wifi were about the extent of his abilities. Anything related to their less-than-legal operations were off-limits as well. Unsafe.

No, Derek’s contribution to the Pack was in “Procurement and Supply Management,” i.e. making sure that the Manor and their other private or commercial properties never ran out of pasta or printer ink or toilet paper and that the lights stayed on. He also sometimes floated around filling in for members in Document Control or Internal Mail or did grunt work for the accountants. Sterile and boring.

Conversely, the one area where they should’ve taken his omega status into account they regularly failed to do so. Acted as if the same level of physical bonding and affection they normally engaged in would be enough for him. At least some of the pack had learned that omegas required more, knew that intellectually, but habits being as they were it generally hadn’t been the case in practice.

After getting met with annoyed glances or told that someone would come by later and have them never show he simply stopped asking after a while. Cuddling with his sisters once or twice a week while watching movies or tv shows and the occasional touches from his mother had kept him going, but he’d been low to mid-level touch starved much of the time and occasionally worse.

Since presenting Derek always felt at least somewhat apart from the pack as whole. He’d been teased by Peter and the beta soldiers, Aidan and Ethan, who often accompanied him before Malia was of age. He’d overheard certain comments from several others and withdrew even further inside himself, becoming more and more skilled at locking himself away.

What was the point of letting on exactly how dissatisfied and disconnected he felt? Things wouldn’t actually change, there’d just be some grumbling and there-theres and attempts to fix him instead of the situation.

Things had definitely improved when Malia arrived and had been amenable to random cuddling, but he still held himself back from doing it as often as he wanted to in fear of being a burden.

No one had been more surprised that Peter had a child than the playboy wolf himself, an alpha coyote-wolf hybrid that had long since been abandoned by her mother. She’d been a hellion of a street kid, causing all sorts of mischief and lashing out while trying to survive, until one day she’d ended up hauled in before the crew leader in charge of protection.

There was something about her, perhaps certain notes in her scent or something vaguely familiar in her appearance or manner, that gave Finstock pause before delivering the standard beating — non-life threatening or severely damaging — for a shifter her age. The wild-haired Bitten wolf was eccentric and prone to randomly bringing up his lost testicle, but had an uncanny sense about things and kept order in the streets, neither too soft nor overly cruel. Inquires were made, fingerprints and DNA ran, and surprise, congratulations, it was a bouncing baby snarling 16 year old Hale!

It didn’t take long for her and the then 19 year old Derek to gravitate towards each other, coming from two very different upbringings, but both outsiders in their own way. Malia was trained up and when she turned 18 became his primary bodyguard and the rest was history.

“C’mon, lets’s bounce,” she said, poking him in the shoulder. “ASAP means ASAP.”

“ASAP also means no shower or change of clothes,” Derek growled, lamenting that Hale Manor was in the opposite direction. He could’ve been there as presentable and on time as everyone else, but nooo. The most he could do was towel off some and slather on the deodorant he had in his bag.

“They’ll just have to deal,” she replied, shrugging. Her lack of concern for propriety was one of the many things he loved about her, but the rules were different for him. Oh well, the only wolves there would be family so perhaps he wouldn’t get that kind of shit for it. Hopefully the Stilinskis had been informed in advance and wouldn’t take their appearance as a slight.

“I guess so,” he muttered, wiping the barbell down quickly before tossing the towel in the used bin. They headed outside and he unlocked the black Camaro in the spot upfront reserved for him. Sliding behind the wheel, he strapped in and started it up as Malia pulled up the directions on her phone. Here we go.

#sterek #sterek fanfic #equiknots #trisk #equiknots trisk

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pankowperfection · 2 years

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Need Your Love (JJ Maybank x reader)

Summary: JJ needs comforting after a fight with his dad, so you cheer him up the only way you know how. Sort of requested by @pankowforlife

Warnings: smut, drug use, angst, hints at previous physical violence

A/N: This is my first time writing angst type fluff/smut, hopefully its okay!

After getting into a fight with his father, JJ had blown his restitution money on a hot tub, as well as crazy lights to go around it. You, Kiara, and Pope had found him in it, clearly emotional and bruised from his beating as he says he just wants to do nice things for his family. Kiara and Pope leave you to console him, so you do the only thing you know will help. Heading inside to get changed into your bikini, you also grabbed your vape pen, knowing getting high together will calm him down.

You climb into the hot tub and immediately wrap your arms around him, letting him cry into your hair as he rests his face on your head. You leaned up to kiss him sweetly, stroking his face and telling him how much you love him and will always be there for him. After a few minutes he calms down, pulling you to sit on his lap. 'Here J, brought you something to cheer you up." A soft smile fills his face as you hand him the pen, eager to feel the effects of the weed to help ease his pain. His spirits lifted quickly as his high set in, and all he really wanted was for you to show him how much you loved and appreciated them. "Can you do something for me babe?" he had turned you to face him, your thighs on either side of his legs as you gazed into his stormy blue eyes. "Anything J, just tell me what you need." "Can you make love to me? Please?" His need for love honestly made your heart break, causing you to fight back tears at the overwhelming sadness filling you.

Rather than respond with words, you pulled his face down to yours, kissing him softly and sweetly at first, trying to convey with your lips how you felt. He deepened the kiss, tongue sliding gently against yours as he moaned into your mouth. You started rocking your hips against his cock, already hardening beneath you. The friction you were creating had your clit throbbing, moans falling freely from your lips. "Need you y/n," he groans out, mouth falling to your neck to begin kissing and sucking on your sensitive skin. You rise up on your knees, giving him room to free his cock from his swim trunks. He undid the ties on your bottoms, letting them float away as he lined up with your entrance. He let you take him as you wanted, so you slid down slowly, wanting to enjoy the feeling of him stretching you out, not wanting to cause his bruises ribs any more pain.

When he was fully buried inside you, you just sat still for a moment, letting your body adjust to him. Your hands went to his hair, forcing him to look up at you. "I love you JJ Maybank, forever and always." Your words earned you a show stopping smile, clearly turning his rainy day around. "I love you too baby girl, with my whole heart." You started to move, rocking your hips back and forth against him, every once in a while grinding in slow circles letting his cock rub against your walls. His hands slid under your ass, supporting your weight in the water and starting to slide you up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. "You feel so good wrapped around me, could stay like this forever." He starts thrusting up into you, water sloshing out of the edges of the tub. His left hand trails down your body to your clit, rubbing figure 8s over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You moaned out his name, watching the pleasure take over his features. "Cum together, yeah?" his motions speed up slightly, wanting to take you over the edge with him. Him tensing up below you sets you off and you cum quietly, breathing out praises and words of love to him as he spills inside of you.

You stay together in the hot tub a little bit longer before heading inside to shower. You wash his wounds as best as you can, cleaning out the split in his lip. You curl up in bed together with his head laying on your chest, arm and leg slung over your body as your softly stroke his back. "You make everything better y/n, truly." His breathing evens out shortly as he falls asleep in your arms. You vow to make sure he knows he is loved every day from then on.

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @hoebx @ailee-celeste @pankowforlife

#jj maybank #obx smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank imagine

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universitypenguin · 1 year

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I was re-reading "Restitution" and remembered how much I love this story. One of my favorite things, is Ari's growth. It was so sweet seeing him turn into such a good father and how settled he became. Have you ever thought about doing a oneshot about him after the new baby is born? He's already been a great support for the other babies, I'd love to see him when he gets his own.

Word Count: 490

A/N: Here you go! 🥰 Thank you for the ask! This came out so cute, I love it.

The light in the nursery came from the mobile over the crib and a plug in light beside the door.

Ari sat in the dim room cradling the newborn baby in his arms. The little one stirred, reaching his tiny fingers out and grasping Ari’s thumb with surprising strength. His mouth curled into a grin as the little fingers tightened and relaxed in a steady rhythm around his thumb.

How could watching a baby squeeze your thumb inspire such a sense of awe? How could it fill him with such joy, and at the same time send a jolt of fear down his spine?

He’d never been one to dwell on his more serious emotions. Sitting here in the near dark, there was no avoiding the profound responsibility that had been bestowed upon him. Ari never would have thought profound responsibility could be so thrilling. He knew there would be sleepless nights, diaper changes, and so many things to do for his son. But instead of feeling mundane and tired at the prospect, he felt energized, as if he had the power to scale a mountain or sprout wings and fly.

Ari traced the curve of the baby’s chin and marveled at his perfect Cupid’s bow lips. He was so tiny. There were thoughts to disturb his sleep and no emotions that weren’t related to his own comfort. Everything was insignificant except food and sleep at this stage of life.

Ari's heart swelled with love. He’d never been so happy to be right where he was, doing what he was doing, before. Tranquility - that was the word he was searching for, what described this emotion. He wanted to stay in this room with his baby forever.

A soft creak in the hall alerted him to another presence. He raised his head and locked eyes with you. You leaned against the door frame, watching them with a smile.

The baby wiggled in his arms, so he rocked the chair to settle him. Ari gazed down at him with a mixture of wonder and love.

“Look at him,” he murmured. “Already showing off that incredible grip.”

“I see he’s already got Daddy wrapped around his finger,” you said.

“Literally… Can you believe how tiny his hands are?! But they’re so strong.”

You moved into the room, softening as you took in the sleeping features of your son. He’d passed out with his cheek pressed to Ari’s chest and his hand gripping his thumb for dear life.

“He must have gotten your sense of resolve with a grip like that,” you said.

Ari chuckled, shifting the baby's weight in his arms.

“I believe that came from his Mama.”

“Stop trying to butter me up. We know he’s your spitting image. He looks so much like you, I can hardly believe he even came out of me.”

His lips curved into a devious smile. “Well, we definitely won’t need a DNA test this time.”

#ari levinson fluff #ari levinson drabble #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson fic #ari levinson #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #restitution

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sterek-ao3feed-archive · 6 months

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15 Shades of Red

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51540067 by TriskHellion Derek Hale is the 23 year old omega son of Alpha Boss Talia Hale, the only non-alpha born to the Hales in at least four generations. Restricted by his overprotective mother after a past kidnapping and misunderstood by the alphas and betas of the Pack, he longs for more than the boring life he's been consigned to and the suitors only interested in him for his name or body. Stiles Stilinski became the head of the Stilinski branch of the Gajos Family at 19 after both of his parents were gunned down six years apart. With the help of a talented group of friends, the secret Spark with a newly powerful and disturbing Gift took down a slew of rivals to keep control of his territory in Beacon City. Now 21, the infamous Boss with a love for the color red is suddenly given an opportunity to bring the object of his affection, a completely oblivious Derek, into his Family as restitution for an unintended, but significant offense by the Hale Pack. He takes it. Words: 3536, Chapters: 1/18, Language: English Series: Part 4 of Equiknots: Harvest & Hunter's Moon Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Erica Reyes, Malia Tate, Vernon Boyd, Kira Yukimura, Heather (Teen Wolf), Jackson Whittemore, Danny Māhealani, Talia Hale, Peter Hale, Cora Hale, Laura Hale, Matt Daehler, Braeden (Teen Wolf), Others referenced or showing up in minor roles Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Malia Tate, Derek Hale & Isaac Lahey, The Family - Relationship, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore/Danny Mahealani, Heather/Kira Yukimura, Pre-Cora Hale/Isaac Lahey Additional Tags: Graphic Violence, Alternate Universe - Mob, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Omegaverse Omega Derek Hale, Pack Beta Derek Hale, Mob Boss Stiles Stilinski, Mob Boss Talia Hale, Pack Alpha Talia Hale, Creeper Stiles Stilinski, Power Imbalance, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Kidnapping, Torture, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Minor Character Death, Human Stiles Stilinski is a Pack Alpha, Explicit Sexual Content, Mostly Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Light BDSM, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, First Time, Virgin Derek Hale, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Knotting, no beta we die like Stiles' bloodbending victims lol, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/51540067

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #IFTTT #ao3feed #ao3feed Sterek #fanfic

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wangxianficfinder · 9 months

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SOS help emergency im going on a 19-hr flight soon and im going to need some reading materials. so if y'all could drop your fave long fics so i could download them to read, that would be most awesome 🙏🙏🙏 thank you so much for everything you do your blog has introduced me to so many wonderful fics <3

You know what to do everyone! We need to help Anon not be bored on their very long flight ~ send in some long fics for them to read ^^

- Mod C

Jumping in to rec 💖 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

~Mod L

Many trigger warnings! Take them seriously. But this is a good one: burning camellias by AvoOwO (M, 284k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sunshot Campaign, Prisoner of War, WWX is a Mess, Genius WWX, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, BAMF WQ, BAMF WWX, BAMF WN, POV WWX, Hurt WWX, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sentient Burial Mounds, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Has No Golden Core, Poisoning, Smart WWX, Protective WQ, WWX & WQ Friendship, Medical Torture, Cannibalism, WWX & WN Friendship, PTSD, Dubious Consent, Consent Issues, Heavy Angst)

on restitution by glitteringmoonlight (M, 98k, LSZ & WWX, WWX & JL, wangxian, dark JC, not JC friendly, captivity, non-graphic torture, angst w/ happy ending)

Ok ok. So it’s not a loooing fic. But it’s worth downloading for a plane trip: a thousand hills, no birds in flight | 千山鳥飛絕 by defractum (nyargles) (E, 26k, WangXian, Mythology, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon adjacent setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

Death of a Ghost by Gotcocomilk (E, 107k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Canon Divergence, Ghost WWX, Hurt/comfort, Family bonding, Fluff, Angst)

Amazing world building through the sun shot campaign - lots of sex heads up: Better Things to Do with a Flute in Wartime by Anonymous (E, 365k, MingXian, WangXianJue, Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, Magical Healing Cock, Dual Cultivation, mild Dom/Sub, Undernegotiated Kink, Golden Core Reveal, Breathplay, Choking, Painplay, Subdrop, Topdrop, Major Character Injury, Canon Divergence, What-If, Temperature Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fisting, Spanking, PTSD, Trauma, Self-Harm, (in the pursuit of cultivational badassery) )

Have a safe flight! Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 118k, WangXian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of wei wuxian’s canonical abusive childhood)

Over the Rotted Bridge by vailkagami (T, 314k, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ dies, Wei Wuxian doesn’t die, neither do (most of) the wens, JYL also lives, Original Character(s), outside pov, YLLZ WWX, Canon Divergence, CQL Verse, Illustrated, Grief/Mourning, Non-Consensual Resurrection, mute LWJ, Hurt LWJ, Slow Burn, canonical death of a child (mentioned), Survivor Guilt, PTSD)

❤️ The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen by KouriArashi

T, 139k, wangxian, canon divergence, romance, angst w happy ending, Wen WWX, hurt/comfort, politics, families of choice, revenge, sibling bonding, pining, everyone lives au, Mojo's post)

Ten miles of Lotus Flowers by Yukirin_Snow (M, 273k, wangxian, JC/LXC, ABO, Romance, Slow Burn, Pain, Hurt/Comfort, True Love, Pregnancy, Humor, No one dies that doesn’t deserve to die, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending)

to pierce your heart; to fill it full by stiricide (E, 210k, wangxian, NHS/Other(s), WQ/Other(s), royalty au, magic, bottom LWJ, angst w happy ending, smut, dark gusu lan sect, implied future LWJ/concubine because heirs, blood & gore, sharing a bed, under-negotiated kink, light bondage, minor character death, slow burn, power imbalance, sexual role play, consensual non-con)

With No Particular Affection by Chrononautical (E, 92k, WangXian, Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Kid Fic, Miscommunication, Family Drama, JFM and YZY’s A+ Parenting, Good Uncle JC, Wedding Fluff, Genius WWX, Street Kid WWX, Homelessness, Rich LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Cinnamon Roll WN, Implied/Referenced Suicide, WWX Has a Pregnancy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst)

Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not rated, 59k, wangxian, JC & WWX, nightmares, sentient burial mounds, possession, panic attacks, night terrors, hurt/comfort, fluff, good sibling JC, hurt WWX, angst w happy ending, blood & injury, hallucinations, insomnia, good sibling WWX, sleepwalking, sleeptalking, protective JC, WWX sees dead people, LWJ pov, PTSD, implied/referenced self-harm, yunmeng siblings feels)

Wei Wuxian Makes a Wish series by natcat5 (M, 119k, wangxian, major character death, underage, madoka magica au, modern w/ magic, time travel, high school au, body horror, self-harm, angst w/ bittersweet ending, time loop, mental instability, suicidal thoughts)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

Mad about the Boy by TriviasFolly (M, 62k, wangxian, 1950s America au, greaser WWX, historical smoking, historical viewpoints, angst, internal struggle, pre-relationship, homophobia, sexual awakening, sexual experimentation, self-discovery journey, slef-love journey, gay academia, teenage dramatics)

The Fifth Type of Non-Contact Force by Caixx (Not Rated, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, Actually Somewhat Canon, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Smut)

I know what my heart wants by yakuso5u (Not Rated, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Father LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Accidental Child Acquisition, Domestic, Slice of Life, Christmas references)

In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, wangxian, modern cultivation, scifi au, android WWX, tone: neon seedy, rich people are bored and terrible, post-apocalyptoc landscape, happy ending, smut, severe major characger injury, time loss)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) the ultimate fix-everything in my opinion

Twin Demons of Mòby XiaoFeiFei (M, 358k, MXY & WWX, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Abuse, Twin Demons of Mo, MXY Lives, Major Character Injury, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Angst, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Minor Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Torture, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Canon Divergence, Self-Harm, Found Family, Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, POV Alternating)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 663k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons series by starandrea (M, 1M, wangxian, ongoing, animal transformations, weddings)

WWX relives the story - I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the trope - it’s early for me: we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)

Madam Yu comes to cloud recesses instead of JFM when WWX punches Zixuan: 🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending)

WQ time travels back to the core removal: 🧡 Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WWX & WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Angst, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX)

Second Summer by Anonymous (M, 152k, wangxian, canon divergence, post-sunshot, mystery, amnesia, memory loss, curses, not everyone dies au, golden core reveal)

Linger by the Door (I’ve Always Been Yours) by piecrust (T, 78k, wangxian, canon compliant, slow burn)

actually super fuffy and funny despite tags: Like a Water-Worn Stone by meyari (T, 41k, wangxian, major character death, hurt/comfort, cchronic illness, serious injuries, self-medication, disability, PTSD, depression, self-worth issues, implied/referenced child abuse, aftermath of war, aftermath of violence, prisoner of war, idenity issues, warning: JGS, discussion of enslavement, discussion of abuse)

LWJ saves WWX from falling at nightless city: Unbreakable Heaven, Luminous Earth by carolyncaves (M, 96k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, canon divergence, secret identity, sharing a bed, literal sleeping together, pining, getting together, suicidal thoughts, bloog & injury, caretaking, sexual content, fluff, angst w happy ending, power imbalance, JYL lives, not everyone dies au)

🧡 Song of Suibian and Bichen: Or, the Greatest (And Only) Furby Master of Demonic Cultivation by moonwaif (T, 64k, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, canon adjacent, The spiritual weapons are furbies, Angst with a Happy Ending, The parent trap but make it WangXian with furbies, Mutual Pining, Taking my favorite parts of every adaptation and smashing them together)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX)

🧡 like speaking to my heart by SnowshadowAO3 (T, 613k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Daemons, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Some people live!, additional warnings in specific chapters, if you don’t know what daemons are that’s ok because I explain it in the author’s note, also by slow burn I VERY much mean slow burn)

The Same Moon Shines series by sami (Various, 799k, check individual tags from the works!)

Crossover between MDZS and Scum Villain, where Jiang Cheng and Liu Qingge meet, pretend to date, get married, and eventually fall in love. You don't even need to know that much about SVSSS, is so beautiful written that you can just read it: What married people do by Shamelesscooper (E, 216k, JC/LQG, crossover, SVSSS, marriage of convenience, slow burn, pining, demisexual JC, sharing a bed, masturbation, jealousy, slow burn WWX & JC reconciliation, chapter-specific tags in the notes, bathing/washing, enthusiastic consent, relationship negotiaitions)

Nearly 400,000 words, WIP gorgeous AU transmigration: The Tamed by Escheria (T, 366k, wangxian, LWJ/XZ, WWX/WYB, RPF, YLLZ WWX, combination of MDZS & Untamed, OP WWX, XZ is WWX, transmigration, isekai, WIP)

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed (E, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Suicide of a Parent, References to Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, References to Anti-Depressant Medications, Escort Service, Loneliness, Everybody’s Abandonment Issues, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Hopeful Ending, Recovery, References to Escorting/Sex Work but No Actual Escorting/Sex Work)

live from new york by varnes (E, 87k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, This is a SNL AU, however the juniors are featured and there are lots of shenanigans!, slow burn, friends to lovers, pining, getting together, happy ending)

Cure by Yukirin_Snow (M, 100k, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Cancer, Medical Procedures, Medical Jargon, Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, possible trigger warnings) i’ll keep reccing this time and time again until more ppl see how good this fic is!!!!!

#mod c #answers #long fics #long post #wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder

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leogichidaa · 1 year

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Self rec time! Rec one of your fluff fics, one angst, one multichaptered, one AU and send this to your favourite writers 💖

Fluff fics? My fluff fics? My fl--oh wait, I have got one of those now:

Hoping for a Miracle - Set in my Regulus lives AU, Regulus goes to his boyfriend's family for Christmas and it's not as terrible as he was certain it would be! Cheers!

2. Angst

Restitution - Regulus visits Sirius in Azkaban, lots of brotherly angst and existential dread

3. Multi-chaptered

Soul Powered - Regulus steals the Horcrux but instead of attempting to destroy it, he delivers it to his estranged mother.

4. AU (everything I write is AU; I have not written anything canon compliant since the early aughts and canon has changed since then)

Mistaken for Strangers - Regulus survives the cave and rebuilds his life in the muggle world. He's doing a halfway decent job of it, maybe, sort of, when Voldemort returns and throws everything into chaos.

#self rec #ask #anemicc-royalty

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our-flag-means-death-ao3feed · 1 year

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Restitution

by Living_City

“What if you don’t need you to be pissed at me anymore, but I… do? Need you to be. Or I can’t deserve to get used to this.”

Stede receives all that, and comes out still gazing at Ed with painful sincerity. “I think I understand needing some sort of… closure. But, you know I’d do practically anything for you Ed, but I’m just not angry with you anymore. When I first found out you’d marooned most of the crew, I could’ve worked up at least a sharp slap, but now…”

Stede trails off, which is good, because Ed can’t focus anymore. The phrase “sharp slap” has just run through him like lightning, sharp and resonant.

Speaking from pure animal longing, he blurts out, “Well, could you pretend?”

.....

Ed struggles with his guilt and trauma post-reunion, and asks Stede to play out a scene where the Gentleman Pirate captures Blackbeard and makes him pay. This centers around carefully negotiated CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT. On a wider scale, it's about learning to process trauma within a safe relationship.

....

FINISHED except final proofread. I'll post the rest within the next week.

Words: 4891, Chapters: 2/4, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, (As of Season 1), post-reunion, Established Relationship, Trauma, Humor, Banter, Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Talking It Through As a Crew (Our Flag Means Death), Kink Negotiation, BDSM, Kink Discovery, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Safewords, Dom Stede Bonnet, Sub Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Demisexual Stede Bonnet, Consensual Non-Consent, Rape Roleplay, Bondage, Held Down, Knifeplay, Verbal Humiliation, Humiliation, Paddling, pinch of emasculation kink, dash of small penis humiliation, can you still call it that if the dick is actually average?, Wrestling, Choking, Wetting, Watersports, (not graphic or a huge focus), Aftercare, So Much Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Gentle Sex, Masturbation, Intergluteal Sex, Rimming, Post-Coital Cuddling, Crying, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, ed's kraken trauma, Working through your issues with BDSM, They're both cis in this one

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44776828

#Our flag means death #ofmd

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effortandmore · 1 year

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the restitution coefficient | ksj x knj (18+)

pairing: seokjin x namjoon

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: office/co-worker au, enemies (seokjin thinks so, anyway) to lovers, smut, fluff, minor angst

warnings: smut, swearing, mentions of alcohol, seokjin is bad at communicating, bad puns (at least i make myself laugh). here are the specific smut tags: kissing, oral sex, they're soft and annoying and seokjin talks too much

word count: 15.6k

a/n: hello! if you know anything about me, you know i love namjin v much, so here is my first namjin fic. it's my contribution to the Catch of the Century collab to celebrate jin's birthday. i had fun writing it, i hope you have fun reading it. thank you so much to @ugh-yoongi and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me—and to @hot-soop for the banner! you're all so lovely and i am grateful. you can read this on ao3 if like me, you prefer it for reading

There is a Kim Seokjin who still feels, most days, like a nervous kid. This Seokjin wears his coziest hoodies on the weekends and plays video games until his eyes burn and sometimes forgets to eat and shower. He is an introvert, he is insecure sometimes, he is just trying his best.

But there is also a Kim Seokjin who thinks, “never let them see you sweat,” who is quick to a one-liner, and who has, for his whole life, been faking it until he makes it. And, he supposes, by most accounts, he has made it (for better or worse).

For this version of him, there’s no question that Seokjin is the best. It's an indisputable fact, on par with universally known truths like gravity and… Well, he can’t think of too many more right this moment, but suffice it to say that his (put-on) superiority is well-known within his circle of friends, around the office, probably to passers by on the street, even.

He was the youngest person to make VP at his company (except for his boss, Min Yoongi), at the top of his class in college, is a bit of a racquet sport savant, an excellent cook, and good-looking. Like, really good looking. According to people other than his mother, thank you very much.

But her, too. Obviously.

And this is true for all the different versions of him: it’s all come relatively easy. Sure, he works hard sometimes—he studied in school, he has a diligent skincare routine, he devotes weekends to the gym and to his gaming hobby, he takes tennis lessons and plays table tennis nearly every day. So, it’s not like things have just been handed to him. Maybe they’ve been made easier because of his looks, a little natural aptitude, a lot of charisma… (And the ability to convince himself and everyone around him that he’s doing great). It’s just that even when he’s had to try, he hasn’t had to try that hard. He’s never struggled, not really. This persona he puts on, it works for him. It’s helped him get more than he ever thought he deserved.

And as anyone would, he likes it this way.

And he really doesn’t like it when things don’t come as easily as he’s used to.

Because that makes him feel like the other Seokjin, the one he doesn’t really want anyone else to see and who he doesn’t want to see reflected at him when he looks in the mirror.

It’s the feeling of things not clicking for him that has him down in the basement of the tall, gray office building he works in, grunting and sweating, frustration coming out of him by way of a series of steady thwacking sounds.

“You’re scaring me a little today,” Jungkook pants, face flushed. They’ve been at it for over thirty minutes and Seokjin’s usually done by now, ready to flash a brilliant grin, straighten his tie, and ride the elevator back up to his office to close another deal.

“Just—thwack… so—thwack… annoying—thwack…” Seokjin isn’t in the same shape as Jungkook. He’s leaner, less muscle, but has a little more stamina for cardio like this. He wouldn’t dare challenge the other man to a lifting contest, but at this, he’s sure he can win.

He always wins.

Jungkook sighs when he misses his next shot just wide of the blue table. Seokjin can’t help the satisfied smile spreading across his face when he wins again, just like he does every day. He makes sure to wait until Jungkook’s paying attention before he throws his arms up in victory and shouts something unintelligible about being the greatest of all time. This win is exactly what he needed today.

“Congratulations,” Jungkook says, softly as always, which is a little funny because Seokjin knows he’s a confident kid; good at his work, strong, attractive, smart (reminds Seokjin a little of himself, if he’s being honest). “Another ping pong victory must feel good.”

Coming from anyone else, it might have come across as sarcastic, but not from Jungkook. He’s almost always earnest. Seokjin can’t relate; he moves through the world by keeping anything too honest tucked deep down inside. But he envies his coworker for it a little (and will never, ever admit that out loud).

“It does,” he says, unrolling the sleeves of his button-down. “Even though it’s called table tennis. How many times do we have to go over this?” And then more to himself than his companion, “I needed that.” It’s as transparent as he cares to be.

“Do you want to talk about the deal?”

Seokjin scoffs. “No. It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure it gets sorted out.”

And he means it. He will. He’s Kim Seokjin—he always wins. Maybe this one will just take a bit longer than it should have.

The deal is big. It’s really big; that’s why he’s involved in the first place. Usually he’s overseeing things these days; it’s a perk of being the VP of sales. He assigns his team to deals; doesn’t take the lead on them anymore. Jungkook, with his wide eyes and easy smile, is one of his best sales directors and gets most of the large contracts assigned to him. But this one was too important, so Seokjin took the client on himself, confident he could close in the first quarter.

Except it’s about four in the afternoon on 31 March, and he hasn’t closed the deal. He won’t today. For the first time in recent memory, Kim Seokjin needs to admit defeat. Which is why he really needed to at least win that fucking table tennis game.

When the elevator doors open on the top floor of the office tower, he’s sure he’s got everything under control. He’ll march into Yoongi’s office with all the quarterly sales numbers and explain that while yes, this deal was Very Important, certainly closing it in the second quarter won’t be a problem—his team has met their goals for the first quarter. In fact, it’s possible that Seokjin is really doing the company a favor by postponing this deal… It will help to pad April’s figures, which is usually a slow time for new contracts.

Yes, he thinks, this is all plausible, reasonable. Foolproof.

The smug smile on his face withers, however, when he passes Yoongi’s office on the way to his own and sees the CEO of the company already has a visitor. His assistant clears his throat, just loud enough to get Seokjin’s attention. “Yoongi-ssi asked to see you in his office when your meeting with Jungkook was done.” And then he adds in a hushed tone, “I think you’re in trouble.”

Taehyung smirks when he says it and it’s enough to sap all of the remaining joy out of Seokjin’s body. Why does he keep such a shithead assistant around, anyway? He’s the Kim Seokjin—he doesn’t deserve to be mocked by someone who works for him.

“You’re in trouble,” he retorts, immediately regretting it. It’s weak and he knows it. He’s too distracted to come up with anything better, though, so before Taehyung can give him another smartass comment in return, he continues. “Who’s in there with him?”

Taehyung just shrugs. “Some client, I think. You could ask Jimin if you really want to know. But they’re waiting for you.”

“You know,” Jin says as he straightens his tie and starts walking toward his boss’ office, “he’d hate knowing you called him Yoongi-ssi.” Yoongi tends to be casual with them in the office, which always throws Seokjin off a little—he prefers to draw boundaries between work and his personal life.

“Ooh…” And Jin can almost hear the smirk on Taehyung’s lips. “What do you think he does to bad boys?”

“You’re disgusting,” Jin calls over his shoulder.

His assistant lets out a giggle and Jin rolls his eyes even though he’s trying not to laugh, too. He’ll never let Yoongi’s assistant, Jimin, see him smiling as he passes toward Yoongi’s office. He’d have to admit how much he loves Taehyung. Not going to happen.

Observing through Yoongi’s floor-to-ceiling glass walls, Seokjin is sure that his assistant is wrong about the man in there with his boss. Because Seokjin would remember this client. He can only see the back of the man’s body, but it’s enough of a look to know that it’s a figure Seokjin would have committed to memory if he’d ever been fortunate enough to encounter it in person. The man is broad across the shoulders (but not as broad as Jin) and his honey brown hair skims across his neck in a manner that’s meant to look haphazard, but probably cost as much as one’s of Jin’s own haircuts. Or more.

Maybe it’s that the man is less gifted when it comes to his facial features and that’s why Jin doesn’t remember.

He knocks on Yoongi’s door with a couple quick raps and then pushes it open and steps in. He should bow, probably, he should say something, but he sees the client’s face and he is… uncharacteristically speechless. There is nothing wrong with the client’s face. Except that it’s pretty close to fucking perfect. The man stands, and oh… he’s tall. Big. Big everywhere, Jin thinks.

The perfect man, which is what he is now known as in Jin’s mind, reaches his hands out and gives a wide, dimpled grin.

It takes all of Jin’s years of practice in presenting a careful image for him to smile back professionally—although he’s pretty sure he’s the color of a tomato, and about to just say “dimples” instead of anything coherent.

“Seokjin-ssi, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Kim Namjoon!”

And, oh… That is… a problem.

“Kim Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

And god, he’s being rude, he realizes. He shoves his hands forward mechanically and shakes the actually-not-perfect man’s hands and bows his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Namjoon-ssi.” Because Namjoon is a client. He is the client; the one who won’t close this fucking deal with Seokjin—the one who is causing him to lose beauty sleep and eat hotteok outside of his cheat days and has possibly caused not one, but two stress pimples to appear on Jin’s face in the last month. The client he’s only ever spoken to exclusively on the phone because he doesn’t know how to use his webcam. He’s the single most infuriating person Jin has never met. Until now. When they are meeting. And Kim Namjoon is unfortunately gorgeous and tall and apparently nice even though Jin wants to shake him by the shoulders and start begging for him to sign the contract already.

“Have a seat, Jin,” Yoongi says in a calm voice that Jin very much wishes did not have the undercurrent of amusement in it that it most definitely does.

So, he sits next to Namjoon and gathers himself for whatever it is that’s happening here. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Namjoon is still smiling, and Jin can’t decide if that means he’s not about to be fired in front of their most important potential client or that Namjoon is taking pleasure in the fact that Jin is about to be fired in front of him.

“You’re not in trouble,” Yoongi says, mercifully.

Seokjin lets out a high-pitched, nervous cackle, snaps his mouth shut immediately after, regrets most of his life choices, and then swallows any dignity he has remaining and nods. It’s a long three seconds. “Of course not. Thank you for the reassurance.”

A few more mildly torturous seconds pass where no one speaks, and Seokjin starts to sweat like he’s in the middle of another table tennis game with Jungkook. It’s not quite his worst nightmare, but having his most difficult client sitting less than a meter away from him on the day he failed to close the biggest deal his company’s had in the pipeline in a long time comes… pretty close to the top of the list.

“So…” he starts, hoping he sounds slightly more composed than he feels inside, “What brings you here Namjoon-ssi?”

Kim Namjoon straightens up in his chair before leaning unfortunately closer to Seokjin. He looks positively pleased to be in Yoongi’s office, dimples more prominent than when Seokjin walked into the office and eyes bright. “Well, first, I should apologize.”

It isn’t at all what Seokjin expected to hear and he doesn’t hate it, but it certainly seems like it’s going to be followed by a second thing that he strongly suspects he may not like quite as much.

“Not at all,” Seokjin replies, although there’s a small (large) part of him that does think his client should apologize for being so difficult to work with (and a little bit for not knowing how to use a webcam).

“I know working with my company hasn’t been the easiest for you,” Namjoon continues. And fuck, he’s got this bashful sort of grin he gives like he’s embarrassed and contrite and so fucking handsome Seokjin might forget to breathe a little bit. And forget to respond. When he stops staring at his client, he sees Yoongi watching him expectantly with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Seokjin finally says. It comes out in a bit of a rush as he waves a hand in polite dismissal. “You’ve been a pleasure to work with.” He hates the words as they come out of his mouth, because he’s a lot of things, but he’s not really a liar. Not like this. Kim Namjoon has been a complete pain in his ass to work with. To reiterate: he can’t use a webcam. And that’s not all! He asks for the most minute changes to every single document Seokjin and his team provide. He takes forever to make the smallest of decisions and then proceeds to change his mind about them quite literally hundreds of times before he finally settles.

“I’m glad you think so,” Yoongi chimes in, “because you and Namjoon-ssi are going to be working together much more closely for a while.”

Seokjin looks between Yoongi and Namjoon waiting for more explanation. He’s not sure how he could possibly work more closely with Namjoon. This project has been his entire life for months. He has been eating, sleeping, and breathing this deal and the only thing that takes up more of his time than closing the deal lately is wondering why a grown adult who is the Vice President of Operations for a fairly large company can’t use Zoom.

He chokes down every pained, sarcastic comment couched in a joke he might want to make and gives his most winning smile to his boss. “That sounds great,” he says. He’s almost sure it doesn’t sound like he wants to cry.

But he does want to cry. Especially when Namjoon beams in his direction and nods, excited like a retriever. “I think so, too, Seokjin-ssi! I’m looking forward to this so much.”

Swallowing the large lump that’s forming in his throat, he smiles back. “So, so great…” he mutters. “So… exciting.”

***

Over the weekend, he sort of has time to process the drastic turn his work life is about to take. Kim Namjoon, Vice President of Operations for one of the country’s most prominent seed and soil companies, is coming to work out of his office. Not the building, mind you, but Seokjin’s very own perfectly-curated-to-his-own-tastes-and-not-big-enough-to-share office.

It’s enough to make his face break out with a third pimple.

Yoongi and Namjoon had dreamt up some ridiculous theory that Namjoon’s boss, the CEO of the seed and soil company, might be willing to sign the deal with just a few more adjustments to the contract and a well-constructed pitch video. Namjoon says he wants the software that Seokjin has to offer, says he knows it will streamline work for his front-line employees, but his boss is apparently… particular. Hard to please.

Theoretically, it should make him feel better that Namjoon claims to have not actually been the blocker to getting this deal signed. He says he’s nothing more than a middle-man; trying to convince his boss that Seokjin’s software will be a win for them. Theoretically, he should have laughed when Namjoon said he’d been spending the last few months “planting the seed” about how helpful the software would be with his boss. Seokjin loves puns. But loves them most when he’s the one making them; loves them a little bit less when they’re delivered by his nemesis and then immediately followed with a bashful grin and two impossible to ignore dimples.

As he gets ready for work on Monday morning, he still can’t laugh at Namjoon’s bad joke, and he doesn’t feel better about having to share his space. He feels inadequate and annoyed (and he knows at least Yoongi will be able to read it on his face—probably Jungkook and Taehyung, too. This makes him vulnerable, like a gazelle in a Richard Attenborough narration. He can’t think of anything worse) and he hates those feelings almost as much as he hates the circumstances.

It doesn’t help that it’s one of those mornings where nothing is going his way. He did get that third pimple over the weekend (and a fourth if anyone’s counting—Jimin will be), and he accidentally squirted concealer all over his bathroom mirror when he was trying to cover up said pimples. He must’ve made his coffee in too much of a rush because there are grounds in it, and he missed his first alarm so he’s now forced to drink the sludgy coffee because he would have had to sacrifice his skincare routine in order to make a new pot, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that with the rough state of his chin.

After missing his usual train, he dashes through the wet, gray morning streets to the office from the later train. He spends the jog hoping he beats Taehyung there, because the last thing he’s in the mood for is taking shit from his own assistant for being late. It’s far more entertaining to be the shit-giver, and Taehyung and Jimin are easy targets—both usually late on Mondays, conspicuously arriving together with one of them in the same clothes they wore on Friday.

It’s not his lucky day.

“Hyung is late!” he hears a sing-song voice call as he emerges from the elevator. So many things are wrong with this scenario, the first being that Tae knows he’s not supposed to call Seokjin his hyung when their other coworkers can hear, and the second that Tae and Jimin are sitting atop Taehyung’s desk, pointedly not working and looking a little too pleased for a Monday morning in their bleak office building.

“What’s got you two so enthused?” he asks, setting his bag down by Tae’s desk, ignoring the use of the informal honorific, and adjusting his running-tousled necktie.

“It’s moving day!” Jimin replies cheerily, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of Seokjin and Yoongi’s offices.

“I don’t see what there is to be excited about,” Seokjin mutters. Namjoon is in Yoongi’s office, gesturing enthusiastically as Yoongi watches him with that familiar half-amused grin on his face.

Taehyung reaches up and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Now, hyung, maybe this will be good for you. Help you loosen up.” He’s giving Seokjin a shit-eating grin when he adds, “I hear he’s really good at ping pong, too.”

Seokjin definitely should have scolded him for the hyung thing the first time.

Instead, he grabs his bag and takes a step back from the two assistants. “Table tennis. And don’t you have work to do?” he tells more than asks as he heads past them to his office.

“Try and have an open mind, hyung!” Jimin calls as Seokjin shuts the door.

Kids these days are so disrespectful.

In his office, another desk has been added. It’s not yet full with paperwork and photographs like Seokjin’s desk is, and he wonders for a moment if Namjoon will even bother. It’s not like he’s here permanently; there’s really no reason for him to get attached to the space. To Seokjin’s space.

There’s not much time to think about it before the door swings open. No one just comes in without knocking except Taehyung, so Seokjin doesn’t even look up from his screen before saying, “You need to knock it off with the hyung stuff when we’re in the office, you know?”

And Taehyung is generally unpredictable in his replies, but silence is never an option he indulges in, so when there’s no response, Seokjin knows something is wrong.

“Tae?”

He hears a throat clearing in response and just from the tone of the sound, he knows it’s not his assistant.

“Seokjin-ssi?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

“If by ‘you,’ you mean Namjoon, then yeah. It’s me. Do you think you could give me a hand?”

Namjoon is in the doorway to the office with a large box in his arms. Seokjin knows the box is large because Namjoon is large, one of the facts he’d managed to retain from their first in-person encounter, and the box conceals most of the upper-half of Namjoon’s body. All Seokjin can see above the box are his behind his glasses, and the stupid, stupid dimples on display.

He realizes that he hasn’t actually responded to Namjoon yet, a moment past when it turns awkward. Oops.

“Sure, what can I do?” he asks, standing from his desk.

“If you could just grab Ponyo, that would be great. Thanks Seokjin-ssi.”

“Ponyo?”

Namjoon gestures with his chin to the glass bowl stacked carefully atop the box he’s holding. “Ponyo. My fish.”

“Clever,” Jin says as he grabs the fishbowl.

“Ah, not really. But thank you. She’s a good companion, doesn’t talk back. And I’ve had her for a long time.”

“So you like the strong, silent type?”

When Seokjin looks up, Namjoon is staring back at him, wide-eyed, and he could swear there’s the hint of a flush on his cheeks. “Not exactly,” Namjoon mutters as he turns and sets the box down on his new desk.

“It was a joke, Namjoon-ssi.”

“Right. Of course.” Namjoon straightens his tie and won’t make eye contact. “Well, thank you for your help. I’ll leave you alone now. Well… not really alone. But…”

It’s going to be a long few weeks, Seokjin decides. He may not be Namjoon’s biggest fan, but it would be better for both of them if it wasn’t this awkward the whole time they’re sharing an office. So he extends an olive branch. “I’m going down to get some coffee. Would you like anything?”

Namjoon brightens immediately. “Thank you, Seokjin-ssi. Iced americano, please,” he says as he starts to pull his wallet out.

“My treat,” Seokjin replies, waving him off. “A ‘welcome’ gift, I guess.”

Namjoon smiles again—wide and really very pretty, Seokjin admits to himself reluctantly—as he gives a quick, shallow bow.

He’s so polite. Infuriating.

Seokjin can’t explain why getting out of his own office feels so much like a relief. This is the first time he’s found so much solace in an elevator ride. So far, Namjoon’s really not at all what Seokjin had made him out to be after months of tedious back and forth. But it’s best to exercise caution in these situations, he thinks. You never know when people are waiting for you to show your vulnerable side. And it’s only been five minutes of Namjoon being polite compared to months of him being the most difficult client Seokjin had ever had.

“Good morning, Seokjinnie!”

Seokjin assesses the lobby of the building quickly, making sure no one he knows heard the nickname. What’s with people not just using his name today, anyway?

“Morning, Hobi.”

“The usual, hyung?”

Hobi is a saint in a man’s body, this is something Seokjin knows for sure. He used to work in the office on the software development team, and about a year ago decided that the money wasn’t worth it. Seokjin envies him if he’s being honest, walking away from security in exchange for a chance at happiness isn’t a risk he’s ever been willing to take. But it worked for Hobi; he owns the small cafe in the lobby of the office building, and he does well for himself without working the grueling hours that he used to—the hours that Seokjin still works. Supplying all the office lackeys their daily caffeine dose suits Hobi, too, even if he does get flustered when the line is longer than one person.

If Seokjin was really interested in the highest quality drinks, he’d go a block down the street to the hipster shop where all the baristas are hot, but dicks. What Hobi provides is a different kind of comfort. He’s everyone’s friend—even someone sort of closed off like Seokjin can’t help but open up a bit to him. They’ve known each other for a few years now, and while he’s not sure he can call anyone his best friend, Hobi is pretty close. Countless movie nights and talks over chicken and beer have sort of cemented that.

Seokjin nods. “The usual and a large iced americano, too.”

Hobi pauses and lifts an eyebrow over his ridiculous glasses with yellow lenses.

“For the new guy,” Seokjin explains. “Just this once.”

“Oh! For Namjoonie! I should have known.” Hobi gives Seokjin a smirk and sets about making the drinks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

As soon as the question comes out of his mouth, he knows it shouldn’t have. It’s inevitable that he’ll regret asking.

“Nothing,” Hobi says, “he’s just… you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” Seokjin replies automatically, then realizes he sounds a little dreamy. “I mean… he’s fine. It’s polite to do something nice for the new guy. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything, obviously.” He’s definitely rambling now, and he can feel the tips of his ears turning pink. “It’s just coffee. And he’s a client,” he adds in spite of himself.

How the fuck does Hobi always do this? It’s a waste that he owns this coffee shop. He should be a fucking Interpol agent or something.

“Mmhmm.” It’s obvious Hobi sees right through him. Of course he does.

“He’s mostly insufferable,” Seokjin continues, trying to act nonchalant. “How do you know him, anyway?”

“Oh, Jinnie… I know all the cute boys in the building.” Hobi sets two drinks down on the counter next to the espresso machine. “Anything else on your mind?”

“I have to share my office with him.” This comes out of his mouth as a full-blown whine, far more plaintive than he’d meant to be out loud.

Hobi just laughs. “I heard. Well, should be interesting, at least.”

Grabbing the drinks, Seokjin pouts. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Movie night this week?”

“Yeah, but I get to pick this time.”

Hobi grins as Seokjin turns to head back to the elevator and his office. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

***

It is very bad.

The first day is fine. Namjoon is quiet (mostly), he puts his things away and organizes his desk while Seokjin works. They make polite conversation at appropriate intervals and Namjoon leaves promptly at five in the evening. Probably a husband or wife to get home to, Seokjin decides.

On the second day, Namjoon arrives at the office first, and there’s a steaming flat white waiting on Seokjin’s desk for him. It’s a little surprising, but appreciated, and Namjoon gives a trademark shy smile when Seokjin thanks him. It’s infuriatingly cute.

Then Wednesday happens. Wednesday is table tennis day. Everyone in the office knows that. It’s when he and Jungkook head down to the basement before lunch for their “Wednesday sales meeting” and Seokjin proceeds to destroy him for an hour before buying him lunch.

So, on the third day, Seokjin heads to the elevator just before eleven in the morning. Namjoon’s been gone for a while, said he had a meeting earlier, so he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone when he heads out. But Jungkook isn’t by the elevator waiting like he usually is. Maybe he’s taking some initiative, Seokjin thinks as he steps into the lift. When he gets to the basement, he loosens his tie as the elevator door opens and stops dead in his tracks after he turns the corner. Because Jungkook has taken some initiative. He’s in the middle of what looks to be a contentious match already.

With Kim Namjoon.

“What’s going on down here?” He means to keep his cool, for it to come out as a question. But it’s more of a squawk. Mortifying.

“Oh!” Namjoon is breathing heavily and his eyes widen when he notices Seokjin. This, in turn, makes Seokjin finally notice that instead of just rolling up the sleeves of his shirt like a civilized person, Namjoon has removed his shirt, leaving him in only a white undershirt. A tight, white undershirt that moves with his arms and his chest when he moves and is unfortunately quite devastating. Seokjin is definitely staring, which he only realizes when Namjoon begins to speak again. “Seokjin-ssi! Jungkook was just showing me the ropes. He mentioned you two play and that there’s an office tournament in a few weeks.” He pauses and breaks out his stupid, dimpled smile, because of course he does. “I just love ping pong,” he says brightly.

“Yeah, hyung. Namjoon-ssi loves ping pong. Just like you!”

Seokjin turns to face Jungkook, who seems to have forgotten that he is Seokjin’s employee.

“I think it’s so nice everyone here is so close,” Namjoon says earnestly before Seokjin can remind Jungkook that they’re in the office and that he is Jungkook’s boss. “You can call me hyung, too, Jungkook-ah. If you want. I feel like we’re becoming friends already.”

This draws a snort of disbelief out of Seokjin, and a starry-eyed, nervous smile from Jungkook. “Hyung…” Jungkook whispers, seemingly to himself, trying out the word. Then he nods enthusiastically. “I’d like that, thanks, hyung!”

“It’s called table tennis,” Seokjin interrupts. “Table tennis, not ping pong. And on Wednesdays, Jungkook and I play.” The words come out in a rush as he rolls his sleeves up and moves to stand next to Namjoon. It’s not that he means to be challenging, but this is his day.

“Don’t tell me you wear pink, too.”

Seokjin just glares (even though under normal circumstances, he would probably laugh). This is his table, his basement, his office, his Jungkook.

Namjoon backs down quickly. “I didn’t mean to overstep,” he says politely, handing his paddle over.

“You didn’t!” Jungkook chimes in. “I had fun playing with you, hyung.”

“Me too, Jungkook-ah, thank you!” Namjoon starts to put his shirt back on and Seokjin hates that he feels conflicted about it.

“You can stay, if you want,” Seokjin offers in a moment of pectoral-induced weakness. “You know, to get some pointers.”

“Namjoon hyung doesn’t need pointers! He beat me twice already. But I was about to come back, I swear.” There isn’t even an attempt on Jungkook’s part to disguise his adoration.

It’s disgusting.

“I can always improve,” Namjoon chimes in as he sits on the old folding chair they’d dragged down from a supply closet. “Plus, it would be nice to get to know you both better.”

Jungkook flushes and Seokjin rolls his eyes. This guy just cannot be for real.

When they play, Namjoon calls out encouragement to both of them in between scrolling his phone. Something on there must be interesting because his thumbs are flying pretty frequently. It’s unfortunate that Seokjin notices this, because it means that he’s not paying as much attention to the game as he should be.

The unthinkable happens.

Jungkook lets out a loud whoop and Namjoon claps enthusiastically from his chair. “Good job, Jungkook-ah!”

Seokjin loses table tennis that day. As he stands on his side, motionless in disbelief, he can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of sign.

“I have to go,” he mutters under his breath, not even bothering to roll his sleeves back down or straighten his tie before he gets on the elevator.

Wednesday makes one thing clear: Kim Namjoon is going to be a problem.

Over the following weeks, things continue to get worse.

First, Namjoon buys their lunch. On the surface, this is fine. Nice, even. A gesture that most people would appreciate. Especially considering that Seokjin has… maintained a professional distance between them to say the least. They barely talk after the table tennis incident, and when they do, it’s entirely about work. Namjoon, to his credit, tries, but Seokjin isn’t really sure why. It’s obvious he was trying to prove something in that basement.

Things go downhill when, after lunch, Seokjin begins to feel itchy. Really itchy. Itchy all over like poison ivy or nettle stings. The sort of itchy that’s also warm and makes you feel like your skin is just some sort of scratchy wool sweater that your grandmother won’t let you take off because you look “cute.” He tries splashing water on his face and hands, but it just keeps getting worse. It’s almost like… it’s almost like an allergy.

“Kim Namjoon!”

Namjoon whips his head up from his computer when his name is shrieked into the office.

“Is everything okay, Seokjin-ssi? You look flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

“Garlic!”

His officemate just stares at him blankly, clearly unwilling to admit to his sabotage.

“You put garlic in my lunch!”

“Uh… I mean… I didn’t make the lunch, but there could have been garlic in there, yes?” He phrases it as a question. Still playing dumb, apparently.

“I can’t believe this,” Seokjin complains. “Look at me!” He sticks his arms out, pink from the scratching and probably also from the rash that’s taking over his entire body as he speaks. “I can’t work like this.”

“I think I’m missing something…” Namjoon says softly.

“Sure,” Seokjin says. “You didn’t know I was allergic to garlic.” He rolls his eyes. “Did Taehyung put you up to this? Jungkook? Is this some sort of joke you’re all in on? You think this is funny, Namjoon-ssi?”

Namjoon’s brow lifts. “You’re allergic to garlic?”

Seokjin scoffs as he snatches up his suit jacket, and his laptop. He types out a quick message to Yoongi on his phone letting him know he’ll need the rest of the day off to recover from the horrible prank that’s been played on him.

“First table tennis, now this,” he says on his way out. “I hope you’re happy!”

Before he shuts the door—definitely not a slam, even though he really, really wants to for the dramatic effect—he thinks he hears Namjoon mutter, “I’m mostly just confused…”

Needless to say, their progress on the pitch video for Namjoon’s boss is slow. Seokjin miraculously recovers from the garlic incident, which everyone swears was not a prank, but Taehyung and Jimin do nothing to ease his suspicion when they snicker while he interrogates them. It wasn’t even a good prank, because all it does is set them behind schedule. Well, it does, and the arguing.

For the pitch, they’re supposed to be working together on supplemental materials, but they just can’t seem to seem to see eye to eye. Namjoon wants everything spelled out—so much detail, so many… words. It’s not Seokjin’s style. He’s better with visuals—charts and interactive videos and talking his clients through them. It’s proven. It’s gotten him this far. Namjoon’s not a marketer, not a salesperson. He’s a… Well, Seokjin isn’t quite sure what Namjoon is. But Seokjin is definitely a sales guy. The best sales guy. So to have this seed-man arguing with him (politely, of course, and it’s maddening) about how to properly make a pitch video is absurd.

In the end, they agree to make two separate videos and let Yoongi choose which one to hand over to Namjoon’s Board of Directors.

Namjoon looks a little confused when Seokjin offers Jungkook’s assistance. “Are you sure?” he asks, “Jungkook-ah is your best, you don’t have to do that.”

“Well, you need someone who knows how to operate a video camera, don’t you?”

Namjoon nods dumbly, like he’s still confused, but accepts the help. Good, Seokjin thinks. He wants this to be a fair fight. It’ll be more satisfying that way when he wipes the floor with them.

One day a week or so later, Seokjin shows up to the office, and he’s optimistic. He and Taehyung have been making good progress on his work for the seed company and Namjoon’s been gone with Jungkook a lot working on his own. They haven’t had to interact much, and it’s been good for Seokjin’s focus. It’s curious, though, that Namjoon remains friendly when they do see each other. It has Seokjin on edge, like the other shoe will drop any moment.

When he walks into his office, it’s clear that the shoe has indeed dropped.

“What in the…”

Plants. Plants everywhere. This was supposed to be a good day.

Namjoon’s head pops up from behind his desk, which is covered in small pots. So are the windowsills, all the empty spaces on the bookshelves, parts of the floor, and Seokjin’s own desk.

“Good morning, Seokjin-ssi!”

“Plants,” he says. He’s having a hard time wrapping his head around what he’s seeing.

“Seed starts,” Namjoon agrees. He sounds… proud. “They’re from my personal collection, but I thought they would work for the video Jungkook and I are making.”

“Your personal collection?” Seokjin finally stops scanning the room to look at the other man. “These are yours?”

Namjoon lets out a soft laugh. “Yep. Well, they’re only part of my collection. I was worried there wouldn’t be enough… Actually, do you think I should bring more? Jimin and Taehyung said more might be better. This is only a third of what I have on my balcony… Hobi seemed to think it would be enough, though, when I asked him…”

Seokjin isn’t sure if Namjoon is speaking to him anymore, or to himself.

There are a hundred questions floating through his head about what exactly is happening in his office, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask because the door opens and Yoongi peeks his head in.

“Looks like you two are getting along,” he notes, scanning the room.

Namjoon looks to Seokjin, and it’s clear he doesn’t know how to answer, that he’s waiting for Seokjin to respond.

It’s not like he can tell his boss that their client is actively trying to sabotage him. Not in front of Namjoon, anyway. There’s no other option than to lie through his teeth. “We’re doing great,” he says, and plasters on a giant (fake) smile. He feels a little off-kilter because when he says it, Namjoon positively beams. But he has to know it’s not true—he’s the one causing all these problems, anyway.

“Good, good…” Yoongi murmurs. “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Just wanted to check in on your progress. Only about a week until we need to deliver the pitch. We’re on track, I’m assuming?”

They both nod in agreement, but neither of them makes eye contact with Yoongi. Namjoon’s staring at Seokjin and Seokjin is staring at the dozens of five centimeter paper pots covering his desk. On track is one way to put it, he thinks.

Yoongi hums his approval and backs out of the doorframe, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“I have to go,” Seokjin says curtly.

“Oh… Is something wrong?”

Seokjin thinks if he lifts his eyebrows any higher, they’ll take flight. And he’ll get wrinkles. Which is unacceptable. “Is something wrong?” he repeats back to Namjoon.

“You sound upset.”

“Oh. Of course not. Of course I’m not upset that my whole office is being taken over by a table tennis prodigy who spreads manure pots everywhere and steals my friends and gives me garlic poisoning and thinks he can do my job better than me!” His voice rises higher and higher as he goes on and he knows his whole face is flushing down to his chest. Namjoon starts to protest, but Seokjin cuts him off. “No. I’m leaving. You can have the office—Taehyung and I can work from the conference room. Congratulations, Namjoon-ssi. You win today.”

He tries to ignore the fact that Namjoon looks thoroughly confused and, if he’s not mistaken, more than a little bit hurt.

On top of everything, he’s a good actor, Seokjin thinks.

Of course.

This point is proven when later that day, Seokjin begrudgingly realizes he needs some paperwork out of his office. He really doesn’t want to give Namjoon the satisfaction of… well, of anything, but he needs those papers, so he heads back to his office. When he opens the door, Namjoon is at his desk, surrounded by his annoying plants, talking to someone. It’s weird, because Seokjin doesn’t see a phone in his hand or earbuds in… Maybe Namjoon is talking to himself.

Then he hears another voice. Tinny, like it’s coming through… a computer speaker?

Namjoon notices Seokjin and freezes. Caught. Caught on a video call. Which he told Seokjin he “never did.” Told Seokjin he thought his “webcam must be broken.”

Kim Namjoon is a snake and a liar and Seokjin doesn’t even care anymore that he’s got pecs and dimples and really nice thighs—his slacks look stupid anyway hugging his thighs like that—it’s inappropriate. No one this shady is attractive. Not even people who look like Namjoon.

Seokjin storms out of his own office and straight to the elevator.

“Seokkkkkkjinnnnie!”

All he can muster in response is a grumble. Even for Hobi.

“I hate him.”

Hobi, infuriatingly, just laughs. “The usual?”

“Yes, please.” Seokjin paces in front of the counter while Hobi makes his drink. “He’s a liar,” he whines, “and he filled our office with plants.”

“Not plants!” Hobi gasps, showing the appropriate amount of shock at the distressing news, but then when Seokjin looks over at him, he’s laughing again.

So much for friendship.

“It’s the last straw,” he says as he takes his drink from the counter. A large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. One of his favorites. “First there was having to share an office, then the fact that he took over my Wednesdays with Jungkook. Then the garlic, and the terrible ideas he kept pitching, and now the plants…” He pauses to lick whipped cream off of his top lip. “And he lied about the webcam, Hobi. He knows how to use the webcam!”

Hobi looks at him above the rim of his glasses. The look is more stern than the ones he usually gives. It’s the same one Seokjin gets when he’s being obnoxious about a video game or when he doesn’t let Jungkook have the last piece of chicken.

“What?” Seokjin asks flatly.

“Nothing.” Hobi raises his hands defensively and shakes his head.

“Just say it, Hobi.”

His friend pauses his work wiping down the milk steamer and tilts his head before he speaks. “I know you see things one way, but have you considered that there might be another side to all this?”

“No.” He’s sure he’s pouting now, but is it so much to ask for Hobi just to agree with him?

“He’s a nice guy, Jinnie. He thinks you hate him.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I think you should give him a chance. Maybe there’s an explanation for all of this, you know. You could just… try.”

“Hmmph.”

“We’re going out on Sunday. He’s coming. You should come, too.”

Seokjin’s eyes fly open in disbelief. “You’re hanging out with my archenemy? On a school night?”

“Don’t be dramatic. And yeah, we all are. Jungkookie, Taehyung, Jiminie, and me. We’re taking him out. It’s hard to be the new guy, Jinnie.”

Seokjin scoffs. “Yah, especially when you’re a saboteur.”

“Stop that.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll switch you to decaf.”

“This is hot chocolate, Hobi.”

“That’s what you think!”

Seokjin can’t help but smile. “Fine. I’ll give him one chance. But I don’t like it.”

Hobi smiles broadly. “Good. I knew you’d come around.”

Seokjin waves him off and crosses the lobby back to the elevator. “Just make a note for the history books that I’m being the bigger person here!”

“Sure will.” He can hear Hobi laughing at him even when the elevator door closes.

***

They make it through the rest of the work week with no “Namjoonings” as Seokjin has started calling them in his head. Namjoon rearranges the office to get almost all of the seedlings out, apologizing for causing Seokjin any inconvenience and bringing him an “I’m sorry” bonsai. When Seokjin says he barely remembers to give himself water, Namjoon just grins and promises to help care for the delicate tree himself. It’s kind of sweet.

On Wednesday, he even gets Jungkook to himself for the first time in weeks. Without Namjoon watching them play, it’s much easier to focus, and Seokjin wins table tennis that day. All three times they play.

He and Taehyung wrap up their pitch video on Friday, final edits made, adjustments inked in the contract, and he delivers everything to Yoongi for review feeling good. Of course, he’s curious about what Jungkook and Namjoon have delivered, but he feels good enough about his own pitch that he’s not letting it bother him. He’s the expert, and he taught Jungkook almost everything he knows, so he feels confident that even if Jungkook and Namjoon did a good job, Seokjin did better.

It’s the best couple of days he’s had at work in weeks.

Sunday night, he finds himself still in a good mood, crowded into a karaoke room with his best friends, a beer in hand and one Kim Namjoon sitting next to him, fidgeting with his sleeve nervously.

He’s different outside of the office, and Seokjin notices it right away. Namjoon is clearly uncomfortable with him, and it’s strange, even to Seokjin, that if Namjoon had been trying to ruin his career this whole time, that he would feel nervous around his victim. So that, combined with the apology plant and the daily drinks he’s found on his desk with cute doodles drawn on them make Seokjin think that it’s possible Hobi has a point with his whole “two sides to every story” thing.

Maybe.

Taehyung and Jimin are in the middle of a passionate duet of “I Got You, Babe,” when Seokjin decides he could, under the influence of two beers, be bothered to at least try and clear the air.

“Namjoon-ssi?”

Namjoon practically chokes on his beer. “Oh! Uh… me? Yeah?” He looks surprised that Seokjin is even speaking to him. It’s pretty cute. It’s the first time Seokjin has seen him outside of the office, and he looks like a different person. Even more attractive, which Seokjin resents. He’s got shorts on, (no one should have legs like his—it’s rude) paired with expensive sneakers and a soft-looking, oversized hoodie. His hair is apparently freshly washed, and it’s fluffy under the hood he’s had pulled up most of the night. He looks cozy. As someone who’s practically always cold, Seokjin likes it when people look cozy, when they look like they could wrap him up and keep him warm… Even his enemies. Or, alleged enemies.

“I thought… Well, Hobi thinks we should talk things out.” As cute as Namjoon is, and maybe because he looks so cute, Seokjin can’t bring himself to look the other man in the eye.

Namjoon smiles. “Hobi thinks?”

“Maybeiagreeitwouldntbesobadforustotalk.” God, he’s a mess. The words just tumble out. Why is he nervous about this?

“Yeah, I think that would be good, too.” Namjoon removes his hood and leans in closer to Seokjin—it’s loud and so it makes sense that if they’re going to talk he wants to hear a little better, but the proximity is making Seokjin a little woozy. He even smells good. It’s devastating.

He clears his throat. “Well, it’s come to my attention that I may have made some assumptions… And that it’s possible that you didn’t actually try to give me garlic poisoning on purpose.”

At that, Namjoon comes very close to spitting beer out in laughter, a hoodie-covered hand flying up to contain it.

“Yah, it’s not funny, Namjoon-ssi!”

“Sorry!” Namjoon wipes his mouth and then gives Seokjin a very serious look. “I would never, ever try to intentionally give you garlic poisoning. I had no idea you were allergic. I swear.”

“You promise?”

“I swear,” he repeats. He doesn’t look like he’s lying, but Seokjin’s been fooled by him before. Probably been fooled.

“Okay… What about Jungkook? Why are you turning him against me?”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide. Wider than wide. “I really… I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

“What does that mean?”

“Jungkook is crazy about you! When we play ping pong, he’s always talking about ‘sunbaenim’ this and ‘Seokjin hyung’ that. It’s overwhelming sometimes.” Namjoon looks across the room to where Jungkook and Hobi are laughing with each other. “When we made our video, he kept saying things like, ‘Seokjin sunbaenim would want it like this.’ He never shuts up about you. I could never replace you, Seokjin-ssi.”

“Oh…”

“I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea about me or my intentions here.” Namjoon’s looking at him earnestly, tilting his own head down to try and meet Seokjin’s gaze, which has settled somewhere on the floor. “I respect you, I’ve always liked working with you, and I’d like it if someday, we could be friends, too.”

“Friends,” Seokjin mumbles, trying to think about what Namjoon’s been saying.

“You know, friends. Like where one of us doesn’t hate the other?”

And that’s it for Seokjin, because Namjoon looks hesitant and cautious and soft and cozy and not at all like the villain Seokjin’s made him up to be in his head. “That could be arranged, I think.”

Namjoon’s dimples make their first real appearance of the night. “Yeah?”

“But you need to teach Ponyo some manners.”

“Huh?”

“She’s always chewing with her mouth open.” Seokjin hollows his cheeks and does his best fish impression, which results in Namjoon doubling over in laughter, his hand flying out to Seokjin’s knee to steady himself. Because Namjoon is his client, technically, he tries really hard to ignore the immediate flush he feels at the contact.

“You’re funny, Seokjin-ssi,” he says as he catches his breath.

“Hyung. Seokjin hyung. Outside of the office, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

Seokjin nods and gives his attention to the singing, trying not to show how pleased he is that Namjoon is pleased, but when he glances back out of the corner of his eye, he can’t help but feel something funny in his stomach at the sight of the dopey grin Namjoon is giving him from behind his beer bottle.

Even he can admit that, this one time, Hobi was right.

He probably drinks too many beers that night. He’s not drunk drunk, but he’s warm and flushed and even giggling when they stumble out of the noraebang a couple hours after his newly forged friendship with Namjoon takes root. They divide into taxis, everyone calling it a night fairly early so they can show up to work in the morning without having to be on the receiving end of Yoongi’s “what the fuck were you thinking?” face.

Somehow, as he watches Jimin and Taehyung pile into a taxi, then Hobi and Jungkook, it doesn’t occur to him that he’s left with Namjoon until he feels a hand on his shoulder and hears, “Hyung, want to share?”

He thinks his brain must leave his body for a moment, because without even thinking about it, he replies, “Want to come over? One more beer?”

There’s almost immediate regret when Namjoon doesn’t answer. Seokjin can’t even bring himself to turn his head to look at the man standing next to him. He’s sure he’s crossed some sort of line—a line he’d probably been the one to draw in the first place.

He barely hears Namjoon’s answer. “Yeah, okay. One more drink.”

It’s a surprise to say the least. But a good one. Seokjin takes a couple of deep breaths and lets himself sneak a glance at Namjoon. Those damn dimples are back. But instead of being annoying, Seokjin thinks they’re beautiful. Something about how happy Namjoon looks tilts Seokjin’s world on his axis. Just momentarily, anyway. Then he remembers that they’re barely friends and he’s been objectively horrible to this man for weeks—this man who is technically his client. As they get into the taxi to go back to his apartment together, he takes more deep breaths and tells himself to get it together—this is just what friends do.

Seokjin keeps a tidy apartment, so there’s no apologizing for the mess or explaining himself. If anything, it’s sparse, because he spends so much time at work and rarely entertains at his own place, except for movie nights with Hobi.

It should be weird to have Namjoon there, but what’s weird is that it’s not at all. Namjoon slides his shoes off, settles in the living room and doesn’t waste any time asking Seokjin to talk more about himself, to tell him about the friends and family members in the photos around his apartment. He’s a good conversationalist—he asks interesting questions and laughs at Seokjin’s bad jokes and really listens when Seokjin speaks, making a lot of eye contact and nodding along at all the right places.

And he’s funny, too. Self-deprecating a little, but it makes Seokjin more comfortable around him, like he doesn’t take himself too seriously. Seokjin learns a lot about Namjoon while they both drink another beer—he has a younger sister, he loves plants in a way that wasn’t already apparent (sings to them and names them and it’s just about the most endearing thing Seokjin has ever heard in his life), he “dabbles in poetry,” likes to go to museums, and claims to only make friends with people who can cook, because he’s a self-proclaimed disaster in the kitchen. More than one of his stories of near-catastrophe has Seokjin in a riot of laughter, and it’s not long before Seokjin is wondering how he’d let himself miss out on this person for so long.

They talk until neither of them is doing a good job of keeping their eyes open, and he doesn’t think twice about offering his spare bedroom when Namjoon says he should probably get home. It’s late, they’re both tipsy, he reasons. Tells Namjoon to just set his alarm a little early to go home and change before work. They have their pitch meeting with Yoongi at 9am, so it’s not like either of them needs to be there early, anyway. “Unless you have someone waiting for you at home,” he tacks on.

Namjoon ducks his head and grins. “No, no one at home. Just the plants and me. But are you sure, hyung?”

He shouldn’t feel the small bit of giddiness he does upon hearing that Namjoon is single. “Yah, it’s nothing. Bathroom’s on the right, guest room is just past it. Sheets are clean and there’s a spare toothbrush for you. Let me find you something to wear.”

He shuffles to his own room and digs around for something that will fit Namjoon. He’s taller and bigger, but Seokjin has broad shoulders and wears baggy clothes around the house most of the time, anyway. He finds an old black t-shirt and some joggers and gives them to Namjoon, who is impossibly even cuter when he’s sleepy. Seokjin needs to get to bed before he says something he shouldn’t like, “can I touch your hair?” or “want to cuddle? Your chest looks comfy,” (It does) or “can I please kiss you?”

It’s confusing, the way he feels. His whole idea of this man has been flipped upside-down in the course of a day.

“Hyung?” Namjoon’s eyeing him curiously, one side of his mouth turned up in a soft smile.

“Sorry… Spaced out. Need anything else?” He swallows down the weird sensation he feels in his chest and smiles at Namjoon.

“No, I’m all good. See you tomorrow. Thanks again. I had a lot of fun talking with you.”

“Goodnight, Namjoon-ah.”

“Goodnight, hyung.”

Sleep. He’ll feel better once he gets some sleep, he tells himself.

***

In reality, what ends up happening is that Seokjin feels much, much worse.

It’s possible he had more to drink than he thought. He wakes up in the morning to sunlight, and this is the first bad omen. Bad because he should have been up before the sun came up if he wanted to be to work on time, and Namjoon should have been up even earlier.

Namjoon. Shit.

Seokjin rolls out of bed, his headache hitting him almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, as he pulls a shirt on and grabs his phone. Things go from bad to worse almost immediately. It’s 8:45 am and he is late. Late, late. Completely screwed late. Late for the most important meeting he’s had at work in months. The only solace is that if he’s late, then Namjoon is late, too. He scurries down the hall to the guest room, only hesitating for a second before throwing the door open. There’s no time for modesty, he thinks, they have to get moving.

“Namjoon-ah!”

But his call is into an empty room. Namjoon is gone, and the clothes he borrowed the night before are folded up neatly on the end of Seokjin’s guest bed.

Fuck.

By the time he’s on the subway (still so, so late), he finally has time to think about the situation. And he’s mad. Really, underneath that, he thinks he might be hurt that this man who he wanted to kiss so badly the night before is really trying to screw him over. And for no reason that he can think of. He let his guard down with Namjoon for one night, and this is what happens. It was probably Namjoon’s plan all along: get Seokjin drunk, decide not to wake him up, let him show up late to the meeting so that Yoongi will have no choice but to choose Namjoon’s ideas.

He’s so stupid for letting this happen. He knew Namjoon was bad news. He should have never listened to Hobi. All the good-looking ones are evil. Except him, of course.

“Morning, Jinnie!” Hobi calls brightly as Seokjin dashes through the lobby.

“No time, Hobi. I have a seed-man to take down.”

It’s probably the fastest he’s ever made it from his bed to the office. Of course, he knows he’s made some sacrifices in order to get there sooner—he hasn’t moisturized, his tie is crooked, and he’s sure his socks don’t match—but it’s all going to be worth it when he gets there and can plead his case to Yoongi.

When he gets off the elevator on his floor, he sees Yoongi alone in his office, no Namjoon. This is good. Maybe they rescheduled the meeting. It’s only 9:20, there’s no way they’re already done. He sprints across the floor, pausing briefly at Yoongi’s door to catch his breath, and then he knocks and pushes the door open a crack.

“Yoongi-ssi?”

“Oh, you decided to show up.”

He’s about to launch into an apology-slash-explanation when Yoongi speaks again, holding his hand up to gesture for Seokjin to be quiet. “I don’t want to know. I know you all went out last night, Namjoon told me.”

Kim Namjoon, Seokjin is now one hundred percent sure, is a rat.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin says, bowing slightly. “It won’t happen again.”

Yoongi laughs. “It probably will, just don’t make it a habit.”

“Of course.” There’s a pause where neither of them speak after that. Seokjin decides to just go for it. “So, about the meeting…”

“We had the meeting.”

“You had the meeting?”

“Namjoon and I met at nine.”

He wants to be mad, and he is with Namjoon. Not with Yoongi for having the meeting at the scheduled time.

“Oh, I see.”

“I’ve made a decision, and I’ll submit everything to the Board today for their Wednesday meeting.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” He wants to cry. Seokjin closes the door to Yoongi’s office and makes his way to the bathroom as quickly as he can. There’s no way he’s going to cry out in the open where anyone could see.

Years and years of hard work down the toilet because of one night of karaoke. Because of Kim Namjoon being a rat who didn’t wake him up. He can feel the pressure building in his head, worse than the hangover headache he woke up with. There’s nothing he can think of worse than failure, and now he’s failed in the biggest way. His dongsaeng and his client beating him at the one thing he’s always been the best at. It’s the worst feeling. Like he’s let Yoongi down… Like he’s let himself down.

He leans against the counter and fights the tears back. He’s Kim Seokjin. He doesn’t cry at work. The door to the bathroom swings open while he’s splashing cold water on his face. He didn’t bother with concealer that morning, so there’s nothing to mess up with the water.

“Seokjin-ssi?”

Of fucking course.

“Namjoon, I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh. I uh… Just wanted to see if you were alright. I was worried when you didn’t come to the meeting this morning.”

Seokjin laughs, loud and bitter. “Sure you were.”

Namjoon stands in the doorway, a surprised look on his face. “I was, yeah.”

“You don’t have to lie anymore, Namjoon. You win. Yoongi told me everything was decided. Congratulations. I don’t know why it was so important to you to do this to me, but I hope you’re happy.”

Namjoon’s voice is soft when he speaks, and he takes a cautious step closer to Seokjin. “You have to believe me when I tell you I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t have to believe anything you say, actually.”

“I’m not sure why you’re upset with me, hyung.”

Seokjin stands up straight. “Hyung rights revoked, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to laugh. Insulting. Seokjin pushes past him out the bathroom door. “Seokjin-ssi, wait, please.”

Seokjin does not wait. He strides to Yoongi’s office (Namjoon two steps behind), tells him he needs a personal day, and gets on the elevator to go back down. He’s done with Namjoon, done with this office, and done with being a fool.

He makes it home without any fanfare and sleeps most of the day. When he wakes up to make himself some food that evening, he sees chat messages from Hobi and Taehyung, asking if he’s okay. They offer to bring soup in case he’s not feeling well and both ask for him to let them know if he’s alright. He ignores them. Instead, he leaves Yoongi a voicemail, telling him he’s taking the next day off as well, stomach bug.

It’s not far off from the truth—he feels awful. Prickly and queasy and bad all over. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Namjoon standing in his living room, looking soft and innocent and kissable and happy and he hates it. It’s the feeling of insecurity he’s tried to battle his whole life, now creeping back in. He shouldn’t have let himself think a pretty boy with nice dimples and a couple of good jokes really wanted to be his friend—maybe even wanted something more.

There were a couple moments, like when Namjoon shuffled closer in the karaoke room, or when he laughed at every single one of Seokjin’s worst jokes, that Seokjin thought there might be a spark there. That maybe Namjoon’s chest felt like it was full of firecrackers when they made eye contact, too.

He feels like a fool.

He ignores his friends that night and all the next day, plays video games until his thumbs hurt, and calls his mother. By the time Tuesday night comes, he’s feeling a little better, a little more capable of putting his protective shell back on and showing up at the office. Plus, the next day is the annual table tennis tournament, and Seokjin never misses that. It was his idea to begin with, and he wins every year.

Kim Namjoon may have won the pitch competition, but he’ll never beat Seokjin on the blue table.

That night, he tells himself reaffirming statements in bed: he’s smart, he’s talented, he’s attractive, he’s Kim Seokjin and he can do anything. He only believes approximately half of it, but figures the more he repeats it, the closer it gets to true.

He sets no fewer than eight alarms for Wednesday morning. In the interest of showing everyone that he is, in fact, not to be fucked with, he wakes up extra early and makes sure his hair and face are both perfect. He puts on his nicest suit and packs his lucky table tennis clothes—a navy blue and white Fila outfit that he’s never lost tennis, squash, or table tennis in. He makes himself an Ediya latte and adds a little extra sugar. He deserves it.

Because it’s a big day, he packs a lunch instead of relying on cafeteria food or a pastry from Hobi’s shop. He needs the nutrition. He hasn’t seen the tournament bracket yet, but he’s sure he’ll be playing Jungkook, who will keep him on his toes.

At the office, everyone regards him carefully. He expects to have to ignore Namjoon in their shared office, but when he enters, Namjoon is nowhere to be found. Ponyo mouths at him from Namjoon’s desk—she’s always watching. When he asks Taehyung about it, casually of course, Tae just points to one of the conference rooms. There’s a “do not disturb — call in progress” sign tacked to the door.

So the first half of the day is quiet. He doesn’t see Namjoon, but he does notice his name listed in the tournament bracket that’s been posted in the lunchroom. He’s on the opposite side from Seokjin, which means they wouldn’t play until the final, and Seokjin’s pretty confident Namjoon won’t make it that far, anyway.

Part of him wonders if he’s going to hear back from Yoongi about the deal with Namjoon’s company today. Their board meeting is happening, and they should be making a decision about whether to give Yoongi and Seokjin their business. It would obviously be a huge relief, even if Jungkook is now entitled to a large chunk of the commission. Money doesn’t really matter, because being done with the deal means Namjoon will go back to his own office, and Seokjin will be rid of him. It should be a weight off of his shoulders, and he shrugs off the small voice in his head that doesn’t want to go back to not seeing Namjoon every day.

Well, he thinks sarcastically, maybe he will see Namjoon now that he’s miraculously discovered how to use a webcam. Asshole.

After he eats lunch, he changes into his workout clothes and heads down to the basement. It’s finally his time to shine.

The elevator is crowded, and he has to ignore the looks he gets from workers who get on at other floors. No one looks better than him in a track jacket, anyway, they’re probably just jealous.

Or, that’s what he thinks until he makes it to the basement and sees Namjoon. Dressed in a familiar outfit. Familiar because it looks exactly like Seokjin’s.

The universe is a cruel place.

Once again, his stomach is a muddled mess of horny rage. No one should look that good with a sweatband on. No one that terrible should look that good, period.

He falls into conversation with Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook, who collectively look like they should be on the cover of some high-fashion sports magazine. He’s not sure he’s ever seen so much lycra in one place. Jimin gives him a wry smile when he notices that Seokjin is looking. “Like what you see?” he teases.

“Just surprised you think you can play in that,” he retorts.

“Oh, we can play,” Taehuyng chimes in with a greasy wink. It’s made worse by the fact that he can’t see where Taehyung’s hands are. No doubt attached to Jimin’s body somewhere. They’re disgusting.

“You don’t have to be that gross,” Seokjin whines.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I really think they do.”

Hobi, their official tournament referee, blows an obnoxious whistle, getting everyone’s attention. Well, almost everyone. Out of the corner of his eye, Seokjin sees Namjoon staring at him. He can’t tell what kind of look is on the other man’s face. Probably smug. Which is fine, for now. Seokjin will have fun wiping any smugness right off his pretty face later.

The first match is easy, some guy in IT who looks like he’s never stepped out from behind his computer in his life. Then he beats Jimin in the second round and observes that Namjoon seems to make it easily through his first two rounds, as well.

In the quarterfinals, Seokjin has to fight a little harder to beat Taehyung, usually an easy win made more challenging when he notices Namjoon watching from the other side of the room. If he’s not wrong, it even looks like Namjoon is cheering for him?

Probably another one of his tricks.

Seokjin has to face Jungkook in the semifinals, and on the other side, it’s Namjoon and Yoongi. Yoongi is objectively bad at this, but he’s competitive, and he’s also the boss of most of the people currently in the basement, so no one ever wants to play him. Seems like Namjoon is this year’s sacrificial lamb, on the receiving end of Yoongi’s shouts and cheating accusations when he loses point after point. Good.

Jungkook has learned a lot since he started at the office. He’s gotten better at sales and a hell of a lot better at table tennis. He’s beat Seokjin before, and they both know he can do it again. But sometime in the second match of three, it’s almost like he gives up.

“Yah, put up a fight, will you?”

“I have a cramp, hyung.” Jungkook bends down to rub at his calf dramatically, and if Seokjin is suspicious, he pushes it out of his mind and takes the “cramp” as a gift. He easily beats Jungkook to take the best two of three and make it to the final.

The final against Namjoon.

He takes some time to adjust his wristbands and drink some water before the match starts. Namjoon seems to be keeping his distance, but every time Seokjin looks over at him, he’s looking right back. He looks sad, almost. Finally, with a minute or so left until their match time, Namjoon approaches him.

“Seokjin-ssi… hi.”

Seokjin looks him up and down with his best competitive glare. He absolutely does not let his gaze pause on the muscles in Namjoon’s thighs. “Well, maybe we can settle some things today, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon furrows his brow. “I still don’t think I understand why you’re mad at me.” Then he whispers, “I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Does it really matter?” Seokjin adjusts his own sweatband and rolls his shoulders back. He steps past Namjoon and toward the table before Namjoon can reply. Faintly, Seokjin hears him say something. It sounds an awful lot like, “It matters to me.”

But he won’t let his guard down this time.

Except he does.

The first game goes fine; he cruises to an 11 to 6 victory easily. Something happens in the second game, though. Jungkook is talking to Namjoon between points, and it starts out fine, and then he asks if Namjoon really has to leave the office to go back to his actual job, to which Namjoon replies, “I’ll never leaf you, Jungkook-ah.”

It’s stupid. And it’s hilarious. Plant puns from the seed-man.

Seokjin misses his shot as he tries not to laugh. Namjoon notices that he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, and this causes a triumphant, deeply-dimpled smile to appear on his face.

“You like plant puns, Seokjin-ssi?” he asks as he serves the ball.

“No,” Seokjin lies.

“What did the cactus say to the other cactus?”

“No idea,” he grunts out as he returns a surprisingly good shot from Namjoon.

“You’re looking sharp.” Namjoon delivers the punchline with a killer backhand, and Seokjin misses the ball again.

“I hate you and your stupid jokes,” Seokjin announces. Even if he doesn’t hate them at all. In fact, he’s struggling to hate Namjoon, too. It’s actually the worst.

“But I’m just pollen your leg,” Namjoon riffs.

Seokjin misses another shot as Taehyung and Jimin fall into a pile of laughter on the floor next to the table. Even Yoongi is giving a snort.

“You’re all the worst!” Seokjin shouts as he sets his paddle down. He’s lost the game to Namjoon. 9 to 11. So embarrassing. “Hobi, can we institute a ‘no puns at the table’ rule for the final game?”

“No,” Hobi says, his tone light. “This is way too entertaining.”

“Fine.”

He’s so annoyed, he’s practically shaking. Kim Namjoon with his dumb jokes winning everyone over while Seokjin just suffers. It’s unfair, it’s enraging, it’s… well, it’s actually really cute, too, which just makes him more angry. Why does his nemesis have to be funny and attractive?

What’s apparent, as the third game begins, is that being mad is not helping his game. Neither is having to look at Namjoon’s face across the table. He could swear Namjoon’s mocking him every time he smiles.

How dare he.

Thinking about it just gets Seokjin more worked up, and he misses more shots. Then thinking about missing shots causes him to miss even more shots. He’s barely hanging on until he’s not actually hanging on at all, and shouts from Jungkook announce Namjoon’s victory.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Kim Seokjin is officially a loser.

It doesn’t sink in right away. Not until Namjoon says, with convincing sincerity, “Wow! I can’t believe I won the ping pong tournament…”

“You did it, hyung!” Jungkook is clearly excited. Traitor. “You won ping pong!”

And something in Seokjin snaps.

“It’s called table tennis, you assholes!”

He shouts it, and everyone in the room freezes.

He would be embarrassed if he thought about it, but instead, all he can think about are all the things that have gone wrong for him over the past few weeks, all tied back to Kim Namjoon.

Before anyone can move, he stomps to the elevator and slams his fingers into the buttons repeatedly until the car finally makes it to the basement and the doors slide open. It’s overwhelmingly silent in the room as he leaves—and if Taehyung and Jimin are quiet, he knows he’s probably crossed a line. He just doesn’t care. When he steps onto the elevator, he keeps his back to everyone until the door closes. When he’s finally alone, he slumps against the wall and sighs.

He’s probably going to need to find a new job.

Back in his office, he’s packing some things into his bag, hoping to avoid the rest of them. He figures if he can sneak out in the next few minutes, maybe take the stairs down, he’ll miss them all making their way back up to the office.

Of course, he figures wrong.

The door to his office opens carefully, and he can see a flop of brown hair appear in the crack.

Against his better judgment, he says, “You can come in, Namjoon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No is what he means, though. But he’s tired. It’s exhausting to fight all the time. He doesn’t have it in him anymore, he’s pretty sure.

Namjoon slips into the office and pulls the door closed, leaning back against it. “Can we talk?” he asks.

“Talk if you want.” Seokjin crosses his arms and waits.

“The board approved the deal today,” Namjoon says. He looks happy. His eyes are bright and hopeful. “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

To rub it in, no doubt. Namjoon is such a jerk.

“Congratulations to you and Jungkook, then.” It comes out pretty harsh, but he figures it won’t really matter anyway.

“Huh?”

“Your pitch, it worked. Congrats.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I think you’ve got some things wrong, Seokjin-ssi.”

At that, Seokjin huffs. “I’ve got some things wrong? Me?” He steps closer to Namjoon. “I think you’ve got some things wrong thinking you can some in here and lie about not knowing how to use a webcam,” he sticks a crooked finger out and points at Namjoon’s chest, “and fill my office with plants to drive me out and almost kill me with garlic and purposely make me late to that pitch meeting and think you can get away with it because you’re funny and smart and hot!”

Seokjin is practically in his face now, but instead of backing down, Namjoon grabs his finger. “You think I’m funny and smart and hot?”

“Not the point!”

“You want to know why I lied about video calls?”

“No.”

“Because I looked you up on Naver and saw your picture when we first started emailing. Because I couldn’t even talk to you on the phone without blushing. Because you are the most attractive person I’ve ever seen and I was nervous, hyung. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it together if I had to look at you while we talked.” Namjoon gives Seokjin’s finger a squeeze. “I know it’s not appropriate, and I’m your client… So I never said anything.”

Seokjin squeaks. Honest to god squeaks. It’s such a far departure from what he expected Namjoon to say, he doesn’t even have a good response.

“And as for the garlic, I think we’ve already covered that. And the meeting? Hyung, I tried to wake you up when I left, but you yelled at me to stop being ungrateful and then you rolled over and started snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” Seokjin says weakly.

“Okay, sure.” Namjoon gives him an affectionate smile. “I thought you must have had your alarm set. I didn’t know that you didn’t.”

“Oh…”

“And the pitch we sent the board was yours.”

Seokjin finally snaps to attention at that. “What?”

“It was the best one. I watched them with Yoongi and told him to send yours. So you got the deal done, hyung. It was all you.”

“You really did that?”

Namjoon nods. This is all… a lot to process.

Maybe Seokjin was… not exactly right about Namjoon’s intentions.

“And you think I’m the most attractive person you’ve ever seen?”

The almost giggle Namjoon lets out is the cutest thing Seokjin has ever seen, so maybe they’re even. “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re the worst,” Seokjin says, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

“Mmhmm. I’m the worst, but I’m technically officially your client, so you have to be nice to me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.”

And it occurs to Seokjin that instead of wiping the smug grin off Namjoon’s face, he wants to kiss it off. So with very little consideration to what that might mean for his career, he leans in to do just that.

Except Namjoon beats him to it.

And thank god, he is way better at kissing than he is at sales pitches. He’s careful with Seokjin, lips moving cautiously. It’s sweet and soft and Seokjin hears himself sigh into the kiss as it deepens, as Namjoon drops Seokjin’s finger, and moves to hold his jaw instead. He takes the lead, tilting Seokjin’s head just so to deepen the kiss, and then smiling when he pulls away to catch his breath and sees Seokjin chasing his lips.

“Was that nice enough?” Seokjin teases when he finally gets a hold of the thoughts spinning around his head.

“Mmhmm… Very nice. Wanted to kiss you since the first time we met…” Namjoon barely finishes his dreamy, murmured response before he’s pulling Seokjin back in, connecting their lips again. It’s possible that Seokjin has wanted this more than he’d been admitting to himself, because he’s almost sure he’s too eager, licking along Namjoon’s plush and perfect bottom lip in hopes he’ll find space to change the kiss from sweet to heated. It’s probably only been seconds, but he’s already impatient, wanting more, more, more.

They kiss and kiss and kiss with Namjoon pressed up against the office door… The office door. Seokjin pulls away abruptly. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Namjoon looks like almost every possible emotion passes over his breathless face as he registers what Seokjin’s just said. He lands on something like disappointment. “Oh… I must have…”

“No, no! You didn’t. But…” Seokjin leans over to his side to peer out of the glass, “We shouldn’t do this here. Everyone will be back any minute.”

A strong arm wraps around his waist, and he’s tugged into Namjoon’s chest before he knows what’s happening. (And he was right, for what it’s worth. It’s very comfy, even though it’s shaking with Namjoon’s gentle laughter).

“What’s funny? I’m going to get fired,” Seokjin whispers into Namjoon’s shirt.

“I think if you were going to get fired, it would have been when you called everyone in the office ‘assholes’,” Namjoon says gently.

“Hmm… Points are being made.”

“Plus, Yoongi sent everyone home.”

Seokjin looks up. “He did?”

“Yeah… He thought it might be best after… You know.”

“Me.”

“More or less,” Namjoon agrees.

Seokjin groans into Namjoon’s collarbones. “That was embarrassing,” he whines.

Namjoon hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his head up. He’s giving Seokjin a completely enamored smile, and Seokjin’s almost sure he’s been on the receiving end of that look before, but he’s just now recognizing it for what it is. “I thought it was cute,” Namjoon whispers.

“Cute? Hah! You’re a liar, Kim Namjoon.”

“I’m not,” Namjoon says, still grinning when he leans down to place another delicate kiss on Seokjin’s lips.

“I don’t deserve this…”

“No, you really don’t,” Namjoon readily agrees. “You’re lucky I like you a little mean.”

“Oh?” Seokjin feels his ears turn red at the insinuation.

Namjoon kisses him again and then nods. “I just really like you, hyung. You’re passionate, funny, and really good at table tennis.” He’s smiling now, teasing a little, but it feels really nice to hear someone say those things, especially someone who seems like he really means them.

“Of course you do,” Seokjin teases. It’s one of his nervous tics, joking to take the pressure off, to turn the attention to something else. But when he does it this time, he realizes he doesn’t want to brush this off or make a joke out of it. “I really like you too, Namjoon-ah.”

“Good.” And Namjoon’s breath is warm against the shell of his ear when the word is whispered into his skin. It makes Seokjin’s whole body tingle. It’s not helping that Namjoon’s hands are wandering, fingertips pressing into his waist, sliding along the bottom of his shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Seokjin nods, and he’s immediately manhandled so that he’s the one backed up into the door, Namjoon looking him up and down, then leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses up over his jaw and down his neck.

“So pretty, hyung,” he whispers between kisses. “Want to see more of you.” Namjoon slips his hands beneath his jacket, playing at the sensitive skin above his waistband.

“Here?” Seokjin is a little breathless, a little surprised. The Kim Seokjin who likes to be the best (and who works very hard every day to make sure that’s always the case) would never do this in the office, never take the risk… “Yeah, okay,” he agrees.

Maybe it’s time to be a new version of himself.

He’s quickly shed of his jacket and shirt by Namjoon, who whispers praises into the skin of his collarbones and chest. He’s getting hard with little assistance, and normally it would be somewhat embarrassing, but worse things have happened in the last hour—he might as well lean into it. So, when Namjoon asks if it’s okay to touch, he nods immediately and is rewarded with a single, teasing finger dragged over his shorts along his length and sending a shudder down his spine.

His head falls forward onto Namjoon’s shoulder as the other man softly bites and kisses across his skin. At this point, he’s prickly with anticipation and getting painfully hard, but when he looks up, all he sees is…

“Ponyo,” he says quietly.

Namjoon lifts his head from Seokjin’s pulse point, where his lips have started to become a semi-permanent fixture. His eyes are dark, cheeks flushed, and his lips are kiss-swollen when he answers, “You want to talk about my fish right now?”

Seokjin points to where she sits on the desk. “She’s watching…”

“She’s a fish.”

He can’t tell if Namjoon is endeared or exasperated.

“Both,” Namjoon says.

“I said that out loud?”

“You say a lot of things, hyung.”

That earns him a slap on the shoulder. “Can we turn her around?” Seokjin asks.

Namjoon lets out a deep laugh and smiles fondly. “You know she could just swim in any direction, right? It wouldn’t matter.”

“I would feel better.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow and mumbles, “Can’t believe I still want to suck you off after all this.” At least he’s still smiling.

“Fair,” Seokjin replies as Namjoon goes to move the fishtank. “Me either if we’re being honest.”

With Ponyo’s innocence maintained, Namjoon comes back to a shirtless Seokjin and resumes landing soft kisses across Seokjin’s jaw. It’s so nice, and Seokjin really can’t believe that this is happening—he meant it when he said he didn’t deserve this, but he’s so glad it’s finally real. The moan he lets out when Namjoon drops to his knees probably says enough, but he wants to make sure it’s really clear. “This is like a dream,” he says.

Namjoon looks up at him from where he’s untying the knot holding up Seokjin’s shorts. “Hmm… You have interesting dreams.”

“They’re usually not this good,” Seokjin says, his eyes falling closed as Namjoon slides his shorts and briefs down.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Stop talking.” Namjoon emphasizes his words by finally taking Seokjin’s cock in his hand, squeezing a little too carefully before licking along the shaft.

“Okay, I’m stopping,” he agrees, voice pitched higher as Namjoon wraps his lips around his cock. He can feel when Namjoon chokes back a laugh. “For real now,” he adds on in a whisper.

And he keeps his promise. It would be hard to formulate words even if he wanted to with the way Namjoon is working him over with his tongue and lips. His cheeks are hollowed as he takes Seokjin deeper, eyes watering, and he looks devastatingly good like this. If he didn’t want to see how far this could go, he’d be worried that the next thing Namjoon chokes on won’t be laughter.

When Namjoon reaches to squeeze his balls, Seokjin groans and his head thuds against the door behind him. It’s so overwhelming. Moreso when he brings himself to open his eyes and looks down to see Namjoon’s lips spread wide around his cock and one of his hands down his shorts stroking himself.

“You like this, Namjoon-ah? Like it so much you’re touching yourself for hyung?”

Namjoon just moans around him in response before he pushes further down Seokjin’s cock and swallows around the head.

“I’m close…” Seokjin whispers, and there’s no hesitance—he’s met with more encouraging hums as Namjoon moves faster.

He tries to reach down to pull Namjoon off of him before he comes, sure that it’s too much for a first time, but Namjoon just squeezes his thigh and then holds Seokjin in place, not letting him pull back.

When he comes, he thinks his legs might give out, it’s the best orgasm he’s had in ages—the only one he’s had with someone else in longer than he’d like to admit—but Namjoon keeps a steadying hand on his leg and holds him tight while he swallows and slowly pulls off, licking Seokjin clean.

“Okay, hyung?” he says, voice a little gravelly. It’s incredibly sexy, makes Seokjin wonder what he sounds like in the morning, wonder what he’d sound like when someone was taking him apart instead of the other way around.

“So good, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon stands and lets Seokjin pull him in for another long kiss. He tastes like Seokjin and it’s one more thing added to the list of surprisingly hot experiences that have happened to him today. They hold each other for what feels like an hour, but really can’t be more than a few seconds before Namjoon pulls away and looks down between them. “I should.. Uh…”

“Can I help?” Seokjin asks.

“Oh, uh… No, thank you. This is… Well, it’s my turn to be embarrassed, I guess.”

When Seokjin looks down, he sees a dark patch on the front of Namjoon’s shorts. “Oh, you really did like that?”

Namjoon’s cheeks turn even more pink. “Stop, hyung… I swear this isn’t a thing that happens to me usually.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to be reassuring. “It’s fine, Namjoon-ah, I think it’s kinda hot.”

“Now who’s the liar?” They both laugh into each other's shoulders until Seokjin shivers. “Cold?” Namjoon asks.

Seokjin nods, and Namjoon grabs his clothes for him from their pile on the office floor. Since Namjoon needs to get out of his dirty shorts, he puts his suit back on while Seokjin gets dressed. They look like quite the pair with Seokjin in a tracksuit and Namjoon in an actual suit—it’s even more of a relief that Yoongi sent everyone home, now.

The longer they’re quiet, the more he worries that things between them are going to be awkward. They probably should be given what just happened.

“So, uh…” Namjoon looks as nervous as Seokjin feels. “We did that.”

“We did. Yep. And you’re still my client, so…” He really hopes Namjoon isn’t about to tell him that this was a mistake, something they should pretend never happened.

“So, I think you should give my account to Jungkook. If you want.”

“Okay… That can be arranged.” It’s hard to control the grin that’s blooming on his face. “What do you want, Namjoon-ah?”

Namjoon smiles and grabs both of their bags, handing Seokjin’s to him. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

***

They do go out to dinner, and after, Namjoon comes over. Seokjin gets to confirm that the sounds Namjoon makes when he’s at someone else’s mercy are just about as perfect as any he’s ever heard. In the morning, Namjoon wakes him up carefully with warm kisses even though now that the project is done, he can go back to working from home or his actual office, and Seokjin is the one who actually has to get out of bed.

After a shower and breakfast, Namjoon rides the subway with him to his office, holding his hand the whole way. They barely let go when they enter the building, just in time for Hobi not to catch them. He thinks, anyway.

“Ah, Jinnie! And Namjoon! Good morning.”

“Hi, Hobi,” they say in unison.

“The usual?” he asks.

They nod in unison, and then Namjoon whispers, “Hyung, I’ve never told him my “usual,” but I can’t tell him no. He just makes me something different every time.”

“Oh, same for me,” Seokjin agrees. “That’s what he does to everyone.”

“How does he stay in business?” Namjoon asks, wide-eyed.

“Never underestimate the power of a smile,” Hobi chimes in as he sets their drinks on the counter.

“Or the fact that he’s the closest coffee shop for the hundreds of people in the building,” Seokjin counters.

When they get to the elevator bank, Seokjin knows it’s time to say goodbye, at least for the day. They’ve already made plans to meet after work to play table tennis together—Namjoon says that couples who have hobbies together are happier. Seokjin’s just happy that Namjoon wants to be in a couple after everything that happened, so he promises to be on his best behavior during any competitive scenarios. He’ll try, at least.

While they wait for the next elevator, clearly dragging out their temporary good-bye for as long as possible, Seokjin says, “I had an idea.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Maybe next year’s tournament could be doubles.”

Even though Namjoon won’t be working from their office, won’t have the opportunity to beat him next year, nothing really sounds better to Seokjin than to win with Namjoon by his side, as dumb as it sounds when he’s tried to say it out loud. Fortunately, Namjoon doesn’t make him.

“Sure, that’s a good idea, hyung. Who’s gonna be your partner?”

“Well, even though you won’t really be around the office much, I was thinking you would.”

Namjoon just gives him that same bright, dimpled grin as he did the first time they met. “Of course I will. We’ll be unbeatable.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin says, returning his smile. “I think we will.”

#seokjin fic #namjoon fic #catch of the century #btswritingcafe #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x seokjin #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines

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