gate 28

Assist Him | MY ~ FINALE

Pairing: CEO! Yoongi X Assistant! Reader

Summary: Min Yoongi, a CEO billionaire who has a massive crush on his assistant y/n. It’s hard for him to be able to control himself some days, he would just love to tangle his fingers in her hair and shove his tongue down her throat. But he knew too well she probably didn’t feel that way about him. So, he took it out on those who did.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: SORRY NO SMUT FOR THIS LAST PART (I MIGHT MAKE AN ADDED PART WITH SMUT IF YALL WANT THAT. JUST LMK)

Word Count: 1300+

Note: This is the final part of this series, it’s been fun. I hate myself for this shitty ending but I hope you like it.

Part 1 >> Part 2 >> Part 3 

 Yoongi walked into the building, walking past y/n’s desk but his eyes still fixed on the document he was holding. “I need those sales on my desk in five.” He said walking into his office and closing his door, walking over to his desk and taking a seat. Sighing, he was trying to get over last night and the events that took place. He wasn’t sure if y/n meant what she said or if she was just angry and trying to find a way to tell him he was a man whore. After looking over documents Yoongi looked at his watch and realised that it had been 20 minutes and y/n still hadn’t walked in with his usual coffee like always.  “Y/n?” He called out but got no answer, he reached for the phone and tried calling her desk but got no answer. He stood up and walked out, looking at the desk and saw how empty it was. He noticed her name wasn’t on her desk anymore along with the cute annoying little things that took up space or photos of her and her family that had been placed on it. “Oh shit.” He realised that y/n was gone. She left. He went back into his office and grabbed his coat, Namjoon walking in and seeing Yoongi look uneasy. “Hey, what’s up?” He said but Yoongi just grabbed his keys and walked past the taller man and into the elevator. Trying to be as quick as he could to get to her, before things were too late. Meanwhile y/n was at home, packing her bags and looking over the plane ticket that read ‘New York’ and her stomach churned. She got a job offer there and decided to take it so she didn’t have to sit there at that desk and have her heart broken anymore. She finished packing and walked out of the building, saying goodbye to her neighbour and getting into the taxi. Just as it drove off Yoongi’s car pulled up and he got out, looking up at the building before the friendly neighbour spoke up. “If you’re looking for y/n you just missed her.” She said and she ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the locks trying to think of what to do while pacing back and forth. “Do you know where she went?” He asked trying not to snap or sound rude but he was so frustrated. “The airport. I don’t know what flight though.” She said and he nodded, thanking her before getting back into his car and driving the route he usually takes to the airport. He pulled out his phone and clicked on her contact, praying she hadn’t blocked his number. He held the phone up to his ear, listening to the ringing sounds as he drove as fast as he could. Y/n looked down at her lap to see the all too familiar name show up, from the man she loves. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she clicked ‘ignore’ and looked up and out her window. “Shit.” Yoongi muttered putting his phone back in his pocket and focusing on the road and traffic. “So where you headed? Paris? The city of love?” The driver asked looking at the girl in the back seat. “New York, I have a job offer there.” She answered and he nodded, pulling up at the drop-off and she got out. She grabbed her suitcase and walked inside the big building, going through security quickly and getting everything sorted. Yoongi parked and didn’t care how much he got charged, after all he can always just pay it. He ran into the airport, annoyed that he had to go through security. “Have you seen this girl at all?” He asked holding his phone up to the woman who was currently putting his stuff through to be scanned. “Yeah, New York.” She said, handing his stuff back to him which she quickly shoved into his pockets and ran. Looking at the screens to see which gate she would be at.

Departure: New York 8:30AM  Gate 28

He checked his watch and saw how close it was to leaving; 8:27AM. “Shit.” He muttered once again, running up the escalators and trying to find her. “21…22…23…” he would mumble the gate numbers as he sped walk past them. And when he got to Gate 28, he saw out the window the plane take off. Through the crowd of people though he heard a voice call out that was all too familiar. “I love you.” His eyes were fixed on her standing there, tear stained cheeks and her luggage still with her. She then began running towards him, she jumped into his arms and he held her close to him. Holding her as if he was scared she would slip away if he didn’t. “I love you.” She mumbled into his shoulder, tearing up again and hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Taking in his cologne that filled her nostrils, god how she missed it. How she missed being close to him, he could feel her wet and warm tears against the skin of his neck. His face buried into her neck and her hair tickling the skin on his cheeks. He couldn’t stop the smile forming. “I love you too.” He finally said back, his voice cracking slightly as he pulled back. Finally crashing her lips with his, taking in everything while he could. He pulled back and met her eyes, he didn’t even realise she still had her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands holding her thighs and keeping her up. “Don’t leave…please.” He begged, his voice cracking and tears welling up in his eyes. She brought her hands up to caress his face and hold his cheeks. The feeling of her hands touching his face was too good to be true. “I won’t.” She said before smiling slightly, before placing her lips on his softly once again and this time just enjoying the moment. Of being in his arms, being this close to him before the moment comes to an end.

3 YEARS LATER

“Mr. Min do you want me to go get your lunch like always?” He stood looking out his window, turning around at the familiar face he had been seeing for the past three years. “Thank you Jisoo but could you clear my schedule instead? And call y/n and book lunch at the top restaurant. And tell y/n I will pick her up soon?” Jisoo, his assistant for the past three. After y/n came back Yoongi begged y/n to work for him but she wanted to take time off and write a book. She also managed to get the treatment her mother needed, and she survived. Y/n visits as much as she can and tells her mother how she’s been going. There y/n stood outside in her white cocktail dress, white heels and a white fitted jacket on top. Her h/c curled slightly and hung at h/l length on her. Her make up done to look natural and light. Yoongi pulled up in his black SUV and smiled once he got out, walking around to the other side and picking y/n up to twirl her around in his arms. She giggled and begged for him to put her down which he did and quickly pecked her lips. “I love you…Mr. Min.” She said smiling looking into his deep and crystal like eyes.

“I love you too…Mrs. Min.”

Dear Ashy Bastards

On June 23, 2016 Jessica Hampton was killed because she said no.

According to preliminary reports, she was riding a CTA train home around noon in Chicago. There she told a man who made an inappropriate pass at her, no.

The man, in a fit of rage from her rejection, proceeded to stab her multiple times, and finished the attack by slitting her throat before her body collapsed on the ground. The assailant then calmly exited the train stepping over her body to do so.

Jessica was pronounced dead on the scene. She was 25 and leaves behind a 6 year old daughter.

Not even 6 full months earlier, Janese Talton-Jackson was killed because she said no.

According to the police report, Janese was at a bar in Pittsburgh. As the bar neared closing, she was approached by an ashy bastard named Charles Anthony McKinney, who was interested in her.

Janese wasn’t feeling him. She curved him and left. The ashy bastard followed her outside, where his advances where yet again turned down. What’s an ashy bastard to do? He shot Janese in the chest. She was declared dead at the scene. She was 29.

This is especially scary.

During heartbreak-gate (the 28 day phase of ain’t shit-bitchery I went through after ex- bae and I stopped talking) I was a curve queen. To quote one of my literary foremothers Ntozake Shange, “I wanted to be a wound to any man arrogant enough to want me.”

I would go out to any bar or club in KC, post up with my small frame, my swiveling hips, my cute face and my sharp ass tongue ready to cut against the grain of a fuckboy’s pride because… I could. Because I wanted to. Because that other nigga hurt my feelings and bih, do you NOT know who the fuck MVP is?! I was nothing nice. Nor did I make any excuses for not being that way.

I was a drunk assed, slick talking, eye rolling, nostril flaring, lips twisted, tongue poppin’, 5’3 assault on the male ego… and it is only by luck that I survived.

It’s not that I haven’t ran across men who weren’t crazy (I had a whole stalker. A real “bitch Imma find you” stalker) I’ve had men be too aggressive, or touchy only to find out my hands move mean like my mouth does. I’ve had men follow me from clubs, try a bit too hard to take me home etc. but I am still alive.

It is terrifying what men will do over bruised egos and disinterest. It is equally terrifying that “my little mean ass” can be both a shield and a target. One day this mouth, the same one that has given so many life, could end mine… and the reason is hasn’t yet— is just pure luck.
Scary.

It is with this sentiment that I compose an open letter to all fuck boys who can’t handle rejection.

An Open Letter to Ashy Bastards
Dear ashy bastards,

No is a complete sentence.
No is a complete sentiment.

I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t owe you a conversation. I don’t owe you correction or commiseration. I don’t owe you my time. I don’t owe you a smile. I don’t owe you shit, period.

I didn’t pick my outfit with you in mind. I didn’t do my hair and makeup with you in mind. I didn’t leave my home with you in mind. Not today or at any other time.

Don’t ask me “where yo man at?”
He ain’t here.
Maybe he ain’t a he at all.
Maybe the only thing you really need to know is he aint YOU… and that’s all that really matters.

I don’t have to feel flattered that you think bothering me is acceptable because you find me attractive. My attractiveness has never been for you or your kind, specifically. My life is not for yall, either—
To take part in or to take away.
-M'Vyonne Payne

DAY 2480

Palace by the Gate, London       Jan 28,  2015      Thu 7:15 pm

Pierced by the arrow of uncertainty .. stretched by the bow before its release .. a host of scabbards weighing on shoulders that deflate almost through the extensive faces and modes of communication which follow .. it is the ultimate time of departure ..

To fresh territory, fresher modes and different asks for the indifferent same .. and today we think of why it was not done by another … another more capable of handling the fort better and with better mind .. perhaps the next time ..

Till then we subject ourselves to what we have and ponder and wonder for the moment of the next ..

Love

Amitabh Bachchan

I really wish I could perform our ballad one last time..

I need that 20 count “HI MOM!”-toes move.
I need that 8 count move, closing with our right foot on 7, and going into our 10 count ripple flutter effect.
I need that 6 count move where I’m marching bigger than a 5 to 5 backwards at a left oblique, and hitting the 50.
I need that 28 count gate swing move where I use every single muscle in my core to control my momentum from the previous move and complete the move, being the only mellophone in the second arc.
I need those staggered 18 counts that has us form the delta and playing a High C at the close, not wanting to ever end that chord.
I need that cut-off. I need that horns down. And I need that ripple to the tree with our upper bodies and arms reaching out to the highest magnolia flower on Treesus and ending the show.

Spirit of Atlanta.
2014.
I need thee every hour.
Thank you.