#and it's all so silly but god i feel like nothing ever reaches this country let alone this small city but

[lesbianlotties]

going to war to watch the Barbie movie was SO WORTH IT ACTUALLY 🩷🩷🩷🩷

#I HAD SO MUCH FUN I'M LITERALLY SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW!!!!!!! #i seriously had to fight for my life. i waited a week for my cousins. we couldn't get tickts. i waited another week. none of them wanted to #try again. i went with cousins i never hang out with. they were so nice and they paid for my ticket and we bought the barbie promo thing!! #big popcorn! this cool chocolate i love that comes with a pink wrapper!!! and a barbie cup thing that i got to keep!!!!!! #and it's all so silly but god i feel like nothing ever reaches this country let alone this small city but #i get to feel part of a fun silly trend for once!!!! i wore a pink tshirt and i've been wearing this pink nail polish for three weeks hsgjd #BUT ANYWAY THOUGHTS #idk if it's as groundbreaking and judging by the critics i thought it would be more... more and it was definitely too much ken for my likin #but you know i always prefer to focus on the things i loved! it is what it is and I LOVED WHAT IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!! #IT SO MUCH FUN AND I LOVE WOMEN SO MUCH AND MARGOT ROBBIE IS PERFECT AND GLORIA IS SO SPECIAL TO ME AND IT'S JUST SOOOOOO <33333 #I TEARED UP THREE TIMES WHEN SHE CALLED THE OLD LADY BEAUTIFUL WHEN SHE HAD THE GLORIA VISION AND BEFORE TURNING HUMAN WITH THE OLD LADY #THE SONGS ARE FUN I LOVED THE CHASE SCENE SO MUCH?????? #i'll never stop laughing at the fascist joke and the margot robbie joke and and and #gloria's husband doesn't exist. i love happy endings <3

[styleslistic]

How it Turned Out - Harry Styles Fic Part 8

Y/N and Harry have their first date and define their relationship.

Masterlist

Taglist: @theekyliepage @sleutherclaw @b-reads-things @mxltifxnd0m @lovurryy golden-hoax @spinningoutwaiting4ya @gothmingguk (just reply or send an ask to be added)

Y/N and Harry hadn't managed to get another moment to themselves for the rest of rehearsal day one. When, late in the evening, they were shipped off to their respective hotels, on opposite sides of the city, they parted with a tight hug and a promise from Harry that he'd call her later.

At her hotel, Y/N ordered room service, and tried not to think of when she and Harry had eaten room service together after the Grammys.

Her phone buzzed and Harry's name popped up.

"Hi love," he said.

"Hey you," Y/N replied.

"This feels so silly, you literally flew to see me and we can't even be together because people might guess we're doing a stupid project together."

"Yeah, it's pretty shit, isn't it. They're right though, people would probably figure it out," Y/N admitted.

"Just 'cause they're right doesn't mean I have to like it. It was ok talking on the phone when we were in separate countries, but we've spent all day together. It's like you're just out of reach."

"And now I have to sit and play over that fucking phenomenal kiss all alone in my hotel room," Y/N sighed, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Well now you're just being a tease, aren't you," Harry said. "Tell you what, I'll send my assistant out to grab us some pizza and a bottle of wine after rehearsals tomorrow, and we can have a picnic in the studio after everyone's left. We'll tell them we're staying back to keep practicing the dance."

"That sounds nice," Y/N said.

***

So, here they were 6pm the next day, alone in the rehearsal building.

They found a pile of yoga mats hidden behind a curtain in the rehearsal room, and pulled a few out to work as a makeshift picnic blanket. Harry fiddled with the lights, until he figured out how to dim them.

"Sorry this is like, the least exciting date ever," Harry said.

"Oh this is a date, is it?" Y/N said with a cheeky smile.

Harry whipped around, wide eyed. "Oh thank God you're joking," he said when he saw her face. "Nearly gave me a heart attack." He turned back to the panel of light switches and flicked one with bravado.

"Mood lighting," he said, giving some jazz hands for effect. "For our date."

"Kind of wild the lengths weve gone to just to eat pizza in a smelly dance studio, isn't it?" Y/N said.

"Yeah I think it kind of fucks with your sense of scale living like we do. The little things become ten times harder than the big things. Like, whycis it easier to get hired for a movie than make it home for my mums birthday? Doesn't make any sense."

"I feel that, everythings all or nothing you know?"

"God ain't that the truth ,it's exhausting."

Harry's phone rang. "That'll be the pizza," he said, and moved towards the door.

Y/N caught him by the hand. "Wait," she said. She pulled him to her and planted her lips on him, stopping herself before she could get too lost in the kiss.

"What was that for?" Harry grinned.

Y/N shrugged. 'Does there need to be a reason? I just wanted to."

Harry nodded, and pulled her back for another short kiss then, finally answered the phone.

"Hi, yeah sorry. I was a bit preoccupied, I'm coming to the back door now." This time he really did leave the room.

He was gone less than a minute, but it gave Y/N plenty of time to mull on everything she wanted to do to Harry now that they were, for the first time since they'd met, properly alone.

"Put the pizzas down," said Y/N, when he re-entered the room.

"Um, ok,' Harry said. Doing as she'd asked. 'Why, is everything ok?"

Y/N slid a hand onto Harry's waist, the other finding its way to cup his jaw. "I figured maybe the pizza could wait a minute?" she breathed, her forehead coming to meet his. Their lips were just inches from each other. Harry stared searchingly into her eyes, then gave a shy nod. He closed the gap between them, snaking an arm behind her to pull her closer. Y/N's hands clutched at his chest, as she lost herself in the deep kiss. Control of the kiss seemed to swing to and fro between them like a pendulum. Harry would push closer to her, then she would pull him her way. Soon enough, hands found their way under shirts, creeping onto bare skin.

Y/N broke away, leaving both of them panting, and Harry looking a little bewildered. "What are we doing standing up when there's a perfectly good bed of yoga mats right next to us?"

Harry let out a huff of laughter, sat down and dragged her onto his lap by the hand. "Better?" he rasped.

It was all Y/N could do to nod, achingly conscious of how much closer to one another they were now. She draped her arms over his shoulders and leaned into him, just as his lips connected with her jaw, kissing along it. Almost without thinking, Y/N found her hips grinding on top of Harry's, eliciting a shaking breath from him. Harry's hands came to rest on her hips, guiding her motions. The slow friction was delicious. They lost themselves in it for a little while, before Y/N's fingers started to itch with the need to feel Harry's skin.

"Take your shirt off," she panted, pushing the hem up even as she spoke. He obeyed, and reached to take hers off too. He paused, giving her a moment to stop him if she wanted. But Y/N just lifted her arms to ease the process.

"Are you sure you want to..?" prompted Harry, as Y/N made a motion to take her sports bra off too. He left the question hanging in the air, before adding "I just thought you might not want our first time together to be in a smelly dance studio, you deserve something much nicer."

"I'm sure if you are," Y/N said. "I don't really want to wait."

Harry grinned. "OK then."

"Plus, I didn't put a pack on condoms in my bag just to not use them," Y/N added with a wink.

***

Later, sated and now very hungry, Y/N and Harry finally got their hands on the pizza. They were still half tangled together, and while they had half-heartedly thrown t shirts and pants back on, you could hardly say they were dressed. They ate their first and second slices in comfortable silence, still basking a little in the pleasure they'd just given one another.

"So I'd say that confirmed that we're pretty compatible?" Harry said hopefully.

"Oh for sure," Y/N confirmed. "It's actually quite inconvenient for me, I was hoping you'd be terrible. My life would be a lot less complicated then," she continued with a chuckle.

"Hey!" said Harry in a joking burst of outrage.

"This is gonna be hard though to make work though, right? I mean the only reason we're seeing each other now is because we've made it a work thing."

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "But I don't wanna not give this a shot, just because it's gonna be hard," he said pleadingly.

"Me neither," Y/N said with a small smile.

"You said earlier that this life was all or nothing," said Harry. "But there has to be a third option, yeah? Not all or nothing but... something. And we'll see how it turns out. I just have such a good feeling about this thing between us, you know."

"Something," repeated Y/N. "I can work with 'something'. Because I dont think either of us has the time or freedom to give a relationship priority over work at the moment. Or the will, we both love what we do and I don't want to not give it my all. So we find a way to make it work between us that takes that into account."

"Like something that works with how busy we are, rather than in spite of it," Harry clarified. "Man that sounds good, haha."

"Okay," Y/N agreed. "What does 'something' look like then?"

Harry's brows furrowed as he considered the question.

"Well, we keep texting like we have, I know it's not ideal because we're often busy at different times but it still works, yeah?"

"Yeah and scheduling calls in probably wouldn't work, but I don't mind a spontaneous phone call."

"Me neither," nodded Harry. "It's just gotta be no hard feelings if the other person doesn't pick up, because we're both busy."

"This is why most couples only have one workaholic, two is just asking for trouble," Y/N laughed.

"I think in our case, it might work in our favour, though. Usually people don't get that work is always gonna come first. At least we have like next-level amounts of understanding for that."

"Maybe its appropriate that our first date is work-related then," Y/N laughed.

"There's definitely some unwritten rule that says you're not supposed to do this, but I wouldn't be opposed to working together more. We could, I don't know, write a song or something?"

"You'd wanna write a song together?" Y/N said, sounding a little shocked.

"Yeah of course," Harry said. "I think it'd be fun, and I reckon it'd end up sounding pretty great."

"I'd love that," Y/N said. "Well, that's our second date sorted, then."

"And I guess if we keep track of when we each have a few days off we can try and meet for that time, and be like, properly together then."

"Properly together, huh?" Y/N said.

"Yeah, we can't see each other much, but when we do I'd like to go all in, you know. Act like a couple."

"Is that what we are then, a couple?"

"Um, I don't know."

"I don't think I've ever been exclusive with anyone after one date," Y/N laughs awkwardly. "Well, actually usually it's not exclusive at all."

"Oh," said Harry. "You're polyamorous?"

"I don't if I am like, innately or whatever, but I don't know, being monogamous has always made things more complicated when things are long distance, which they nearly always are."

"How so?" Harry asked curiously. "I've never really gotten the chance to explore that stuff, its always been 'single and hooking up with people' or 'monogamous relationship' for me."

"Have you ever felt like your past partners have just been like, waiting for you to fuck it up and cheat on them? Like they're eyeing up the tabloids and wondering when they're gonna see you with someone else. And you're just left there waiting for the other shoe to drop, when the things that's gonna make them feel like they can't trust you anymore is gonna happen?"

Harry stared at her. "I feel like that all the time, you've just described every single relationship I've ever been in."

Y/N lets out a gentle huff, angry for him that he's had such a shit show of a time. "Yeah, well I say fuck that."

"Fuck that?"

"Yeah it's like we said, it doesn't have to be all or nothing, we can make up our own rules. Who the hell says that me kissing someone at a bar when you're half a world away says anything about the way I feel for you. And who says that if you slept with someone else that has to say anything about what we do when we're together?"

"You're right, that makes so much sense," Harry said. "Those things wouldn't effect how I feel about you. Usually I get kind of jealous-"

"Haha, I know, I've listened to your songs," Y/N interrupts.

Harry rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "But I think that's more a case of being scared someone's gonna leave, rather than actually minding the thought that they may be with someone else."

"So we're a couple, then but we'll make up our own rules about what that means?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed.

"Ok then, I mean we probably need to talk more about like, boundaries and everything at some point right, but I think that's enough serious chat for now. We can talk relationship logistics any time we fancy, but there's a few other things I can think of that are a bit trickier when we're not together..."

***

Round two had been softer than their first time. Gentle kisses, hips rolling together and fingers trailing over every inch of skin they could find.

It left them both in that warm sleepy state, where they just wanted to stay near each other. Y/N pushed aside the nagging knowledge that she ought to be making her way back to the hotel, and instead let herself lie with Harry a little longer. Against their better judgement, the pair of them found themselves drifting off to sleep on their makeshift bed.

Next thing she knew, Y/N was being gently shaken awake. She groaned as she opened her eyes.

"What's going on?" she murmured through her sleepiness.

"We fell asleep," explained Harry, who was crouched in front of her. "Its 6.30 in the morning now, everyone's gonna be here in an hour."

"Shit," muttered Y/N. "How'd we manage that?"

"Guess we were both pretty relaxed," Harry smirked. "C'mon, I think there are showers here, and I'll get someone to pick up some breakfast on their way here."

"What's our excuse this time? They're not gonna believe that we got here before everyone else to practice even more, are they?"

"We'll think of something."

#harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #how it turned out #musician!y/n

[jungshookz]

smitten: y/n's note is in jungkook's bag and she needs to get it back like, right now

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook & smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boo hoo angsty wattpad-energy fic of your dreams!! unrequited love!! it hurts so bad but that's what makes it so good!!

➺ wordcount; 7.1k

➺ summary; y/n realizes her meticulously written i love you note is burning a hole at the bottom of jungkook's bag and the mere thought of him finding it is enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

➺ what to expect; "well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that."

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

[previously, on smitten...]

what?

where the hell is it?

you reach into the side pockets and you're disappointed when you end up pulling out old tissues and empty gum wrappers

it's not in the front pocket either — just your keys, a pack of bubblegum, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer

your brows knit together in deep thought as you settle back against your seat, your eyes flickering to the side as you-

you immediately pale

oh my god.

you're positive that your heart stops beating for three whole seconds the moment you realize where exactly the note is — because no, you idiot, you didn't shove it into your own bag earlier-

the note is in jungkook's bag.

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

the next thirty or so minutes of class seem to drag on at a snail's pace and you find yourself checking the time on your phone every five seconds to see when you can finally dart out those doors

your first instinct was to immediately get up and leave because of course you wanted to immediately get up and leave, but with only twenty-ish people in the class and the fact that you're seated near the front... well, it would be a little awkward to just pack up your things and trek up towards the doors without a legitimate excuse (you were tempted to tell your professor that your stomach wasn't feeling very good but the thought of your peers associating you with explosive diarrhea quickly changed your mind)

so, you decided to be a good student and wait it out — but, being perfectly honest, you haven't really been paying much attention to the professor since the thought of you shoving your hi bestie, i'm head-over-heels in love with you note into jungkook's bag instead of yours contaminated your mind five minutes ago

...

you let out a little huff before shaking your head to yourself

how could you be so careless?!

you don't even know how it happened

your bag was sitting on your right thigh, jungkook's bag was sitting on your left thigh... so how the hell did you manage to shove it into his bag??

on the bright side, at least you know where it is, right?

it's in the right side pocket of the bag, so all you have to do is unzip it and stick your hand in and out really quickly without jungkook noticing you rummaging around in his belongings

...but what if he's already read the note?

your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted ground and you reach up and start tugging at your earlobe anxiously, your eyes flickering up towards the dusty analog clock hanging on the wall

c'mon... c'mon...

your grip tightens around your pencil as you continue to trace circles aimlessly on the page, the paper crinkling slightly from the amount of pressure you're putting on it

the stress that's currently eating away at you is probably going to take ten years off your life

"-so, that's pretty much it from me for the day!"

you don't think you've ever been so happy for a class to end as soon as the screen goes black at the front and you waste absolutely no time in packing up

you probably look insane trying to shove your laptop and your notebook into your bag at the same time but you couldn't care less at this point because you need to get the hell out of here

"-please remember to contribute to the discussion threads online... at least four responses, please, and none of those bullshit 'yes, i agree!' responses. i'm definitely not going to count those as participation marks-"

you close your bag with a sharp ziiiip! and you hurry to fold the squeaky desk back into place, a couple of people turning to glance at you for the sudden abundance of clattering and knocking coming from your direction

"excuse me, pardon me-" you pull your backpack on as you step over multiple sets of legs, trying your best not to trample on any feet or knock anyone's tooth out with your bag, "sorry! excuse me-"

you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you jog up the steps two at a time, your brain immediately mapping out the route to the library jungkook said he'd be at

best case scenario: he hasn't found the note and your friendship with him is still very much in tact

worst case scenario: he found the note and is currently reading it at this point in time and your friendship with him is starting to crumble but you still have a chance to swoop in and pick up the pieces

the absolutely worst case ever in the entire world scenario: he's found the note, he's read the note, he's processed the note, and your friendship with him has been completely annihilated and now he's planning to change his name and leave the country so that he doesn't have to confront you about it

you use your shoulder to shove the doors open before bursting out into the open air, ignoring the concerned glances you're starting to receive from your obviously frazzled state

"oh god, oh god, oh god-!" your backpack flops wildly against your back as you rush down the narrow brick steps leading towards the main boulevard

realistically, jungkook's probably found and read the note, so all you have to do is come up with a short monologue about how all of it was fake and that the note was just a sick, twisted prank of some kind

i know that the note makes it seem like i'm telling you that i'm in love with you, but that's not the truth at all!

"woah, watch it-!"

you accidentally knock into someone's shoulder while sprinting down the lane and you turn around for a second just to hold a hand out while flashing the stranger a sheepish smile

"sorry! so sorry-" you turn back around, reaching up to keep your glasses secured on the top of your head as you continue to sprint, your sneakers slapping down against the pavement

as you read in the note, i made a point about how since we're friends, we should be honest with each other... and honestly, there are nothing but lies in the note! and there's a lesson in that, you know? words can be full of lies but we, as human beings, should be full of truths-

"nope, hate that-" you shake your head and immediately scrunch up that mental piece of paper before tossing it into your brain's garbage bin

you'd sound like an obnoxious philosophy student if you hit him with that explanation

it was a prank! i want to start a prank war with you and this is how i'm kicking things off!

that... that could work, right?

that's not bad!

just tell him that you wanted to start a prank war with him so you decided to go big or go home with an i love you, best friend note to see how he would react!

"so stupid-" you mutter to yourself, slowing down to a jog as you approach the doors to the library, "so, so stupid-"

the Super Epic Prank War ROFL XD™ explanation isn't the greatest excuse but it's the best you can do on such short notice

thankfully, it doesn't take you very long to track down jungkook considering the fact he always sits in the same area every time the two of you come here

your feet come to a screeching halt the moment you spot him and you quickly step to the side to hide behind the wall

you slowly lean over a little to peek at him

he has his headphones on and he's busy typing away at his laptop and you can tell he's concentrating really hard because he has that cute frown on his face and occasionally he'll mutter something to himself

jungkook in intense focus mode is something you find to be very endearing :-)

...

you quickly shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze before focusing on jungkook's face again

he certainly doesn't look like he just read an explosive love letter...

hm

you could still be safe!

...for now, that is.

"okay, y/n-" you stand up straight and let out a breath, giving yourself a mental pat on the head in an effort to calm your nerves, "better sooner than later, right? just- you just have to rip it off like a bandaid-"

your anxiety seems to build with every step that brings you closer to jungkook and you can almost hear the jaws theme song playing all around you

da-dum

jungkook, i swear i have a perfectly logical explanation for this...

da-dum

i know the note does a very convincing job of making it seem like i'm in love with you, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

da-dum, da-dum

consider this your initiation into our very serious prank war, my friend!

dadumdadumdumdumbdumbdumbthisissuchadumbdumbidea-

"hi!" you greet a little too enthusiastically, trying your best not to make it seem like you just sprinted across campus to get to him even though you very clearly did

"sorry, seat's reserv- y/n?" jungkook looks up from his laptop before frowning, quickly glancing back down at his screen to check the time as he pulls his headphones off to hang around his neck, "aren't you- didn't your class end, like, literally a minute ago? why are you so- did you run here??" he asks incredulously, getting up from his seat as his brows knit together in concern

"no, no! of course i didn't run here, silly- oh, god, give me a sec-" you wheeze, bending down and gripping onto the back of the wooden chair in front of you as you try to catch your breath, your chest still falling and rising at a concerning pace from the physical stress of sprinting and the mental stress of the current situation, "it was more of a- of a brisk walk, if you think about it- jesus, i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"okay, you need to drink some water- come and sit next to me-" jungkook reaches out to help lead you around the table towards him, "god, i don't know why you thought you had to run over, it's not like i was planning on going anywhere-"

"i'm fine, kook, it's fine-"

"you're, like, literally radiating heat," jungkook turns you around and pulls your bag off your back before pulling out a chair and helping you into it, "and your face is all red!" he frowns, setting your bag down on the table and unzipping it to pull out your water bottle

"my face is always this red!" you force out a casual laugh, waving your hand to dismiss him as you lean back against the seat, "i'm fine, it's fine-"

"shut up and take a sip-" jungkook untwists the cap of your water bottle before shoving it into your hands and gently lifting it up towards your mouth, his head tilting up a little so he can check and see if you're actually drinking anything, "c'mon, hydrate yourself-"

you swallow a couple gulps of water before pulling the bottle away and reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "god, i love water-"

"yeah, i bet." jungkook chuckles, visibly more relieved now that he knows you won't be passing out from exhaustion anytime soon

as you put your water bottle away, your eyes lower towards jungkook's backpack slouching against the leg of his chair and almost immediately the anxiety that you thought you'd just swallowed down bubbles right back up

"so, are you going to tell me why you're acting like the cops are after you?" jungkook jokes, taking his seat before pulling his headphones off and setting them down next to his laptop

"i just, um-" you press your lips together as you slowly start to lean down, stretching your arm out towards the pocket, "i just wanted to see you, buddy!"

"i don't believe that for a second." jungkook snorts, turning to look at you

you shoot straight back up and pull your arm up and behind your head as if you're in the middle of a good stretch, "hey, what's with that tone? it's not a crime for me to want to see you-"

"you saw me at lunch! and that was only like an hour and a half ago-" jungkook turns his head to look back at his screen and you quickly revert back to your mission impossible secret agent mode

the forced smile drops from your face and you lean back down, your fingers blindly feeling for the cool metal of the zipper

"you know, you actually came at just the right time-" jungkook speaks up again and you pause just in case you need to pull away from his bag, but he makes no move to turn and look at you, "ji-eun was about to leave for her class but now you can meet her before she goes off!"

"uh-huh..." your tongue pokes out in concentration as you unzip the pocket in one swift movement, immediately sticking your hand in and feeling around for the balled-up piece of paper, "sounds gre-"

hold on, what did he just say?

you shoot back up

"did you just-" you choke and reach up to pat your chest gently, "i'm sorry, did you just say that ji-eun was here?"

"uh-huh!" jungkook nods, "i didn't know she had a spare at the same time as i did so i was surprised when she came over to say hi- it turns out our schedules are, like, sort of similar which oddly makes me kind of happy-"

it's at that moment that you notice the cherry-patterned tote bag slumped in the chair sitting across from you and you let out a nervous chuckle as you shift in your seat, "great! great, that's so- great, it's great that i'm meeting ji-eun today, out of all days..." you trail off, glancing around warily as you try to come up with some kind of an exit strategy

you're just really not in the mood to meet the love of jungkook's life today

you've already been hit with so many blows and it's only two in the afternoon-

"sorry that took so long! i couldn't find a bin but i bumped into my friends and they said they'd throw it out for me-"

oh, you have got to be kidding me.

your eyes widen in mild panic upon immediately recognizing ji-eun to be the girl who had overheard your entire monologue in the bathroom earlier today — and from the way her eyes flicker, it seems as though she remembers exactly who you are as well

"oh, no worries!" jungkook beams at ji-eun before pointing to you with his thumb, "this is my friend, by the way. the one i was talking about earlier! y/n, this is ji-eun."

you stay quiet as you continue staring up at ji-eun, your mind racing a mile a minute as you consider your current options

you can pretend like you've never met her before or you can make things awkward by telling jungkook that you met her today after she'd emptied her bladder

"...y/n?" jungkook lowers his voice, nudging you with his elbow before letting out a nervous chuckle, "please say something."

"i- yes, hello!" you blurt out, the feet of your chair scraping against the rough carpet as you get up from your seat to stick your hand out towards ji-eun, "it's- ah- it's- it's so nice to meet you! i'm y/n."

ji-eun stays quiet for a second before her lips turn up in a polite smile and she reaches towards you, gently taking your outstretched hand in hers (for the record, her hands are shockingly soft and supple), "it's lovely to meet you... as well, y/n. i love your glasses!"

you can't help but notice the immediate warmth that seems to surround ji-eun and suddenly it makes a lot more sense as to why jungkook's attracted to her

you're about as comforting as stepping into a puddle of water while wearing socks

you feel a slight sense of relief seeing that ji-eun is playing along but your new concern is whether or not she's connected the dots that your monologue in the bathroom was dedicated to jungkook

you didn't actually say his name when you were talking out loud, so you might be able to get away with this...

"oh, these old things?" you reach up to feel the glasses sitting on top of your head before flicking your hand at her, "i bought them on amazon. they're blue-light glasses- i can totally send you the link if you want."

"that would actually be great!" she gasps, nodding enthusiastically, "i desperately need a pair of blue-light glasses- seriously, i stared at my laptop screen for, like, ten hours straight today and i really feel like they're about to roll out of my head-"

"oh my god, don't even get me started. at this point it'd probably feel better to rip them right out of their sockets-"

"ji-eun, you ready?"

"let's gooo, i wanna get an iced coffee before we head off to class."

you and ji-eun don't get a chance to continue bonding over the pain of sore eyes when you're suddenly interrupted by two new voices

you look up to see two guys approaching the table and you subtly push your seat back a bit as you prepare yourself to say hello again

"oh! yeah, i'm ready, sorry-" ji-eun gestures towards you with a smile, "this is- this is jungkook's friend, by the way. y/n, these are my friends."

"hi, hello-" you get up from your seat again to stick your hand out, offering the two (very handsome, might you add) strangers a friendly smile, "i'm y/n, jungkook's friend- but you- you already knew that because that's what ji-eun just said-"

"i'm taehyung! you can call me tae-" the corners of taehyung's mouth immediately raise in a bright grin and he gives your hand a firm shake before nodding next to him, "and this is jimin!"

"hi..." you trail off, turning to give jimin a handshake as well, "so nice to meet you!"

"oh, i just- i actually just washed my hands, so-" jimin chuckles, looking down at your hand before taking a small step back, "but it's nice to meet you... jungkook's friend."

ooh

is it just you or did it suddenly get a little icy in here?

"oh, no problem! um, yeah, you too." you pull your hand back before swallowing nervously and forcing the polite smile back on your face, "i like your jacket, by the way! it looks really cool."

maybe it's because he's wearing giant sunglasses indoors but you can't help but feel slightly intimidated by jimin

you can't see his eyes but you can certainly feel them on you and you're definitely getting the vibe that jimin is already not the biggest fan of you for some weird reason

"thank you." he responds curtly, smoothing a hand over the leather before looking down at ji-eun, "so can we go now?"

"mhm!" ji-eun gets up from her chair before pushing it back into place, pulling her tote back up onto her shoulder before flashing a sweet smile at jungkook, "see you later, alligator."

"in a while, crocodile!" jungkook responds enthusiastically, watching with twinkly eyes as she turns and heads off towards the exit with jimin and taehyung glued at either side of her

god

she even walks prettily

and you were literally clomping down the boulevard like a feral caveman a second ago

you wait until they've disappeared to turn and face jungkook with a raised eyebrow, "...jimin was kind of a bitch."

"hey, play nice!" jungkook frowns, reaching over to give your arm a gentle whack, "he's a fashion major! ji-eun says being snooty is part of the degree requirements-" he grins, shaking his head slightly before leaning back against his chair, "she's, like, super funny."

"mm." you hum, still feeling a little uneasy about your interaction with jimin

you just hate it when first meetings don't go well and that first meeting definitely wasn't super great

but it wasn't like you did anything wrong, right?

you were great!

snooty jimin was the one who was being rude

whatever

hopefully you won't have to hang out with him too often if jungkook and ji-eun become an item

maybe you can just stick with taehyung!

he seems to be a lot friendlier

"oh, by the way, i-" you're suddenly reminded of your main mission and you turn to point down at jungkook's bag, "it's not a big deal, but i- i accidentally shoved something in your bag earlier and- could i just get it back from you?"

"you did?" jungkook frowns, leaning down to pick his bag up before unzipping it all the way and pulling both flaps open, "what was it?"

"it was- uh- just some notes on a scrap piece of paper!" you immediately feel the weight lift from your shoulders at jungkook's cluelessness to the situation, "i put it in the right side pocket-"

"wait, are you talking about, like, a balled up thing of paper?" jungkook pauses before looking up at you with wide eyes, "oh, shit- was it important??"

"um, i wouldn't call it important-" you snort, shaking your head, "is it not there? i swore it was in the right side pocket-"

"no, no, it was there! it was there, i just- ji-eun needed to spit her gum out and i thought it was one of my scrap pieces of paper-" jungkook winces, grabbing his phone and unlocking it with fumbling fingers, "i'm so sorry, y/n- let me text ji-eun and ask her which garbage can she threw it into and i can go dig it out-"

"no, no, it's okay!" you nearly let out a screech of delight knowing that your note now has a slobbery wad of gum in it and is living at the bottom of a trash can, "it's fine, i just- they were just boring notes for something. i just wanted to see if i had really shoved it into your bag or not."

"oh, okay-" jungkook's shoulders immediately slump and he sets his phone down on the table, "you're sure it wasn't important?"

"100%." you hold both hands out with a chuckle, "i needed to throw it out anyway so i guess ji-eun actually did me a favour-"

"okay, phew." jungkook sighs, zipping his bag back up and plopping it back down on the ground next to his feet, "anyways- i'm actually glad you're here because now you can help me plan out my date! i was working on it but then ji-eun came and obviously i couldn't have that google doc open in front of her-" he turns his laptop to show you all of his hard work with a grin, "check it out! i have a list of things i need to buy, i have outfit ideas, i even went on pinterest for inspiration-"

"wow, kook-" your eyes bulge out for a second at the sight of the extensive and shockingly organized google doc before you reach over to pull his laptop closer towards you, "i... i really don't think i've ever seen you... even make a google doc before-"

he even has the sunset time written down for the date

why would he need to know what time the sun is setting??

"i have everything planned for next week." jungkook pulls his laptop back to him as you settle back against your seat, "i already emailed my landlord to ask if i would even be allowed to hang out on the rooftop and he said it would be fine! he also reminded me to keep a brick wedged between the door so that i don't lock us up on the rooftop-"

"so you're definitely going with the rooftop picnic, then?"

"oh, i'm actually changing it to a rooftop dinner instead of a picnic." jungkook shakes his head before giving you a half-hearted shrug, "i think a picnic is cute but i really wanna try to impress her, y'know? i ordered this thing on amazon just now- basically, it's a medium-sized inflatable bubble tent! the description says it's perfect for two people and- i'm gonna, like-" he pauses and looks away from his screen towards you with a smile, "well, you know, i'm gonna do what you said and i'm gonna stuff it full of blankets and pillows and... hopefully i can string up fairy lights and stuff on the inside... so that after the date we can go in there and just talk and not have to worry about getting attacked by mosquitos!"

"wow, that's-" you cross your arms over your chest before leaning back and looking up towards the ceiling, "huh. that's actually a cute idea, kook. i wouldn't have been able to come up with something like that. i didn't even know transparent tents existed."

"i know." jungkook gives you a smug little smile before bursting into a grin, "but yeah, that's it! all we have to do is go and pick up all the supplies and stuff."

"we?" you frown, looking back down at jungkook, "i... wasn't aware i was part of this plan..."

"what? of course you are!" jungkook snorts, looking at you as if a third eye just sprouted from your forehead, "obviously you have to help me-"

"well, i just don't know if that's-" you chuckle uneasily as you rub the back of your neck, "i really- i don't wanna get in your way, you know? maybe you should- maybe you should just take care of all of this yourself! i mean, you basically planned everything already-"

"what? but- but you're my-" jungkook deflates and you instantly feel bad upon seeing his eyes suddenly turn sad, "okay..."

you press your lips together and wait for him to say something else but the next few seconds are filled with nothing but awkward silence and the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights hanging above you

you'd jump off a cliff if jungkook asked you to but helping him prepare and set up his date is something that you,.., definitely would not enjoy.,.,

but then again, this isn't about you, is it?

this is about jungkook, your friend, and he needs your help to set up this very important date that-

oh, damnit.

"i'm-" you clear your throat as you sit up in your seat, reaching over to give jungkook's hand a pat, "no, of course i'll help, kook. i just thought that- well, this date seems so important to you that i thought you wanted to take care of all the details yourself!"

the bright smile immediately returns to jungkook's face and you resist the urge to call him out on so blatantly guilt-tripping you like that-

"yes! you're the best!"

"i know."

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

although you and jungkook are practically inseparable on campus (and some would say it might be healthy for the two of you to give each other a little bit of space) — you don't think you'll ever say no to hanging out with him downtown

of course, hanging out with jungkook downtown would be a lot more fun if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have basically spent the entire day shopping for all the things he needs for his date

and if it weren't for the fact that he paid for lunch and treated you to a cake pop and a venti-sized iced coffee, you would probably be livid about having to carry everything for him because you really feel like your arms are about to pop right off in about two seconds

fancy cutlery, porcelain plates, fluffy throw pillows, a giant blanket, fairy lights... at this point he might as well buy an entire house for ji-eun

and look, you know you probably sound bitter and that-should-be-me about this whole situation, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

it's just that listening to someone you like gushing about the person that they like for an entire day while you're carrying bags full of things for their date can get a little mentally and physically exhausting so if you're grouchy right now it's really not your fault

"i think we might have to call an uber back to your place, jungkook-" you mutter, adjusting the hefty tote bag over your shoulder with a grunt as you trail behind him on the sidewalk, "bringing all of this on the bus is going to piss people off-"

you stumble over your feet a little when the bag in your right hand knocks into a garbage can and you curse to yourself while resisting the urge to kick the damn thing over

"okay, grumpy, we'll call an uber home-" jungkook spins around with a smile before raising the notepad in his hand and tapping against it with his pen, "i just have one more thing i have to take care of and then we can go!"

"okay, well-" you set the bags down onto the ground with a fwump! before rubbing your sore palms together, "what else do you have to get?"

jungkook offered to help carry a couple of things but you insisted that you'd take it all and that he should just focus on ticking off all of the items on his list

you wince at the sight of the pinkish-red imprints now embedded into your palms from the straps of the bags

obviously you've now come to regret your generous offer

"flowers!" jungkook chirps, using his pen to point to the flower shop a couple of shops down, "i have to greet ji-eun with a bouquet of flowers as pretty as she is-"

"yeah, i understand-" you adjust the two bags on both shoulders before bending down to pick up the other two on the ground, "also, i'm not a genius or anything but i'm pretty sure the flowers aren't going to survive until the date if you buy them now-"

"duh, obviously not- i'm going to place an order now and then pick them up on the day of the date!" jungkook tsks, waiting for you to join his side before he begins walking towards the flower shop, "thanks for doing all of this for me, by the way. you really are the best." he hums, hurrying over to open the door for you

"i... yeah, of course, kook." you feel yourself soften slightly as soon as you see the sweet little smile on his face and you quickly scold yourself in your head for being so curt with him all day, "that's what friends are for, right?"

"mhm!" jungkook slaps his hands down on your shoulders from behind before giving them a squeeze, "and i am so letting you choose whatever you want for dinner tonight-"

"hello!"

"oh, jesus-" you and jungkook are immediately greeted by an overenthusiastic employee as soon as you step into the shop and you honestly probably would've knocked him out with one of your shopping bags if they weren't so heavy-

"are you two looking for anything in particular?" he smiles kindly before gesturing towards the large selection of flowers all around you, "we have flowers of all kinds! roses, tulips, lilies- i can even show you flowers from our new tropical selection-"

"actually-" jungkook nudges you aside before glancing down at the employee's nametag, "seokjin, i'd like to place an order for a custom bouquet, if that's okay."

"ah, a custom bouquet!" seokjin claps his hands and rubs them together enticingly, "what are you celebrating? i need to know so that i can help pick out the perfect flowers for your bouquet."

"well, i don't know if it's a celebration-" jungkook chuckles, his cheeks pinking slightly as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, "it's for a first date."

"a first date!!" seokjin gasps excitedly before turning his head to look at you, "you must be so-"

"-oh, not for me!" you let out a laugh before shaking your head quickly, "it's- it's definitely not for me. i'm just here to provide moral support and-" you lift one of the bags to show him, "muscular support."

"ah, i see... okay, well- why don't i take you around and introduce you to the different candidates you could consider for your bouquet?" seokjin turns back to look at jungkook, "each flower you choose will be very important in showing your future lover how much you care about them-" he pauses when he notices you hovering behind jungkook and he leans over a little with a bright smile, "why don't you go and wait by the front counter, darling? you can put everything down there and take a little break. there's some cucumber water and fresh puff pastry apple roses up at the front if you're interested!"

"well, i can't say no to free food." you snort, nodding before turning to head towards the front counter, "i'll just wait for you over there, then..."

you nearly let out a moan of relief as soon as you set all the bags down and you twist your upper body to the right and to the left until you feel the a satisfying pop! of your spine cracking back in place

your body was not made to carry heavy things

in fact, you'd like to argue that your body was made to lie down and do nothing

you take a seat on the wooden stool before turning to look at the apple roses sitting prettily in the display case and you almost feel like you shouldn't touch them even though seokjin offered them to you

even the pitcher of cucumber water looks too nice to touch

this place is awfully fancy

you didn't even know flower shops could be this fancy

you prop both elbows up on the counter before leaning back comfortably, your eyes lazily scanning around the store

"$15 for a single rose?" you gawk at the little wooden sign poking out from a large bouquet of neatly wrapped long-stem roses before making a face, "god."

you can't even imagine how much a custom bouquet is going to cost if a single rose is fifteen bucks

"-also write a note for you and attach it to the bouquet, if you're interested in that. it'll be an additional five dollars, but we handwrite it on the highest quality card stock with the most beautiful calligraphy and we even spray it with perfume-"

you perk up when you hear seokjin's voice and you look to see him and jungkook coming over to you

you have to admit that seokjin is great at his job because he's doing a good job at milking every dollar out of jungkook-

"yeah, that would be great!" jungkook nods enthusiastically, pulling his backpack off before unzipping it to grab his wallet, "i think a small note might be cute-"

"oh, that reminds me!" seokjin stops in his tracks right as he's about to lift the wooden slab to get behind the counter, "would you be interested in purchasing a teddy bear as well? if you add a teddy bear to your order, i'll give you a slight discount on the flowers."

"ooh, a discount!" jungkook gasps and you turn your head slightly so seokjin won't see you rolling your eyes at how much he's forcing jungkook to buy

you respect the hustle but this is too much

"where are the teddy bears?"

"right by the flowers!" seokjin smiles, wrapping an arm around jungkook's shoulders and spinning him around, "we can round back and take a look-"

"okay, i think i have to cut in here-" you chuckle, reaching out and grabbing the back of jungkook's elbow, "you don't- you don't think a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear is a little too much for a first date?" you clear your throat quietly before offering a shrug, "i feel like that's just... a lot, kook. i mean, i would be overwhelmed if-"

"well, i guess it's a good thing i'm not taking you out on a date then, right?" jungkook teases, wiggling his arm out of your grip before turning back to look at seokjin, "onward to the bears, my good man!"

ouch

"yeah." you can't help but frown as jungkook and seokjin head back towards the flowers, "thanks for the reminder."

"that's gotta hurt."

"god-" you jump at the sudden appearance of an employee standing behind the counter and you place a hand over your chest before letting out a breath, "you scared me!"

"sorry." he shrugs, "we polished the floors this morning so my shoes are making, like, no noise."

"oh."

a moment of silence passes while you turn to face away from him again, but all of a sudden-

"so he really can't tell that you like him, huh?"

"you-" you immediately straighten up and your head spins around so fast that you're surprised you didn't complete decapitate yourself, "excuse me??"

"what? it's obvious." the employee snorts, spraying cleaner onto the counter before reaching up to yank the tattered rag off his shoulder, "it's painfully obvious, actually-"

you can feel your entire face starting to go red as this complete stranger continues to rip you a new one and you hold a hand out to shut him up, "no offense, but i-i don't think this is any of your business, sir-"

"it's yoongi." yoongi looks down at his apron for a second before frowning, "huh. i forgot to put my dumb name tag on again-"

"well, yoongi-" you place emphasis on his name in an effort to intimidate him and make him go away, "you don't know what you're talking about and i suggest you mind your own business-"

"you should tell him before it's too late." yoongi doesn't seem to be all that affected by your biting tone and you roll your eyes at the way he rounds back to the topic

"what are you even talking about?"

"well, i assume you're going to be his best man at his wedding. from the way it's looking, you're certainly not going to be the bride," yoongi purses his lips as he folds up the rag into a neat little square, "you don't wanna wait until you're fixing his tie at the wedding to tell him that you love him."

"what makes you think i lo-" you cut yourself off quickly before that word slips out of your mouth, "like him?"

"if you didn't, you wouldn't be here right now." yoongi points out with a tilt of his head, "and from how smudgy your eyeliner is, it looks like you've been working hard all day."

your jaw drops slightly and you can't help but scoff

the nerve of this guy!

"who do you think you are?!"

"i'm yoongi." yoongi raises a brow, "i told you that like a second ago- wow, you are not a good listener-"

"do you usually do this with all of the customers who come here?" you interrupt, crossing your arms defensively before leaning in slightly, "you're awfully nosy-"

"i only do this with the ones that seem to have something juicy going on." yoongi hums, leaning down to put the spray bottle of cleaner under the counter, "this is a flower shop. the most exciting part of my day is watching a bumblebee choose which flower to land on."

"well, nothing juicy is going on here so-" you twist back around before sticking your nose up in the air slightly, "sorry to disappoint."

"alright, fair enough." yoongi nods to himself, letting out a sigh as he slowly backs away from the counter, "i guess i'll just leave you to... wallow in self-pity... and continue staring at your friend with cartoon hearts floating around your head-"

"'you should tell him before it's too late-'" you swivel around and slap both your palms down on the counter, "why would you- why would even say something like that?! i can't tell him. are you insane?!"

a smirk twitches at the corner of yoongi's mouth at your sudden confession and he lets out a sigh before stepping back up towards you, "and why can't you tell him?"

"because- i just can't! he's-" you clear your throat before leaning in and lowering your voice, "he's literally taking someone else out on a date- we're here to buy flowers for his date-"

"so what?" yoongi interrupts, "it's just a date. it's not like you're stopping his wedding."

"so what? because he doesn't like me back, so what's the point?" you hiss, resisting the urge to reach over and smack some common sense into this very nosy and very stubborn stranger, "this isn't a romantic comedy- and even if it was, i'm very obviously not the main character-"

"you don't know that he doesn't like you back."

...

well now he's just toying with you

"i... i can't tell if you're kidding or not-"

"do i look like i'm kidding?" yoongi asks, pointing to his poker face before shaking his head, "you don't know that he doesn't like you back. you've obviously never asked him."

"oh, please." you scoff, turning around to lean back against the counter again, "trust me, i know it."

"well, did he ever explicitly say that he didn't like you?" yoongi leans over to peek at jungkook over your shoulder, "do you have a definitive answer to this particular question?"

"no, but he doesn't have to... we're just friends." you frown, your eyes wandering over to the back of jungkook's head, "he doesn't like me. i know he doesn't. we're just friends."

we're just friends.

(saying it out loud is a lot more depressing than you thought it'd be.)

"well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that," yoongi suggests, your head tilting to the side slightly as you force yourself to consider his surprisingly wise words, "it's obvious that you have a solid friendship so it would suck if a relationship ruined that- so maybe he does like you and is only asking someone else out to try to force himself not to like you..."

you feel your heart skip a beat when jungkook turns to glance at you over his shoulder with a soft smile while seokjin continues rattling off about the vast choice of teddy bears available for purchase

you bite back a giggle when he mouths a desperate 'help' at you before raising his hand and twirling his finger next to his head to tell you that seokjin is fully crazy

"...so i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're never really going to know how he feels about you if you don't ask him," you tune back in to the end of yoongi's little speech and you turn your head slightly to glance back at him, "but what do i know, right? i just polish counters at high-end flower shops."

🎙️tell jungkook he's being an idiot or tell y/n to get a backbone (send in an ask!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like smitten!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

#this is definitely a filler chapter lol #aka BORING #my apologies #this is why i don't like writing series :DD #bff!kook #bff!kook drabbles #mini series: smitten #jungkook drabbles #jungkook fics #jungkook fic recs #jungkook au #jungkook university au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook au #jungkook drabble recs #jungkook fluff recs #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst recs #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook smut recs #jungkook one shots #jungkook one shot recs #jungkook oneshots #jungkook oneshot recs #jungkook one-shots #jungkook one-shot recs #bts #bts fic recs #bts jungkook

[nanahachikyuu]

just tell me if it's love and i'm going // hvitserk x reader

Summary: exchanging your warm country for the freezing Kattegat winter was worth it if it meant lazy mornings with Hvitserk for the rest of your life.

Pairing: hvitserk x reader

Type: drabble

Warnings: fluff, sexual content, but nothing happens

Word count: 654

A/N: so, this is my first finished work in a very long time and I'm very insecure about it, but Hvitserk was a more than good enough inspiration. Kind of inspired by this song here (yes, I’m aware it’s in Portuguese).

Board by me, pictures from Pinterest, Unplash and Pexels.

Gentle reminder that English is not my first language, and this was not proofread.

The cold wind coming through the window cracks made chills run down your spine, waking you up from your deep slumber. The body beside you stirred, an arm coming around your waist and pulling you closer into his chest, his musky scent immediately enveloping you, accompanied by a sense of peace only that man could ever bring upon you.

“Morning, beautiful”, Hvitserk murmured by your ear, his voice hoarse from the lack of use.

“Good morning, handsome” you answered, turning back in his arms, and hiding your face on his chest. “I’m cold”.

“You’re always cold. I don’t know how you’ve managed to survive in the cold this far”. Hvitserk replied, pulling the furs on your shared bed to cover you properly and holding you tighter.

“Well, and whose fault is that? I was perfectly fine in my country before you came along”. Nuzzling your cold nose against his tattooed shoulder, you felt his body quiver with laughter.

“Please, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it” the blonde man teased, that lazy tone making the hair on your neck bristle.

How even his sleepy voice had the ability to turn you on was unknown to you. In all truth, there wasn’t much to Hvitserk Ragnarsson that didn’t arouse you, such was the hold he had on you. Your silly, innocent, little heart never stood a chance. The moment he blinked those eyes at you, you were a goner. And how disgustingly fortunate you were for that.

After all this time, you could still remember the first time you saw him. Braided dirt blonde hair, that mischievous smirk as if he was up to no good, and indeed he wasn’t, even in the face of adversity, like nothing could ever bring him down. Standing next to his brothers, covered in mud and blood, he managed to take your breath away.

So many years later and you still thanked God, and the gods, for the day the Ragnarssons sought asylum in your small village.

“You know, I know a way or two to warm you up really fast”. Hvitserk pushed you on your back, his strong and slim body coming over yours.

“You say this every morning, Hvitserk”, you reminded him, not truly disliking where he was taking things.

“And every morning I’m right”.

Not many things could overpower the feeling of this man over you. Long hair lightly touching you, strong body keeping you in place, his unique scent filling your nostrils, the warmth he seemed to perpetually radiate had the power to melt you from the inside out. Being with Hvitserk like this was your own personal heaven, or your Valhalla.

You felt his lips on your neck, alternating between small pecks and bites, hands coming to your hair and pulling on your strands to keep your head the way he pleased, giving him more access to your neck and collarbone. Once he was satisfied you wouldn’t move anymore, his hand started running down your body until he reached your hips, his long fingers grasping firmly and bringing you even closer to his body, his own hips grinding into your center, all while his lips kept their assault on your neck, just barely reaching the top of your breasts. The contrast between his touches made you feel dizzy, unsure on what to concentrate.

“Honey, we need to get up”, you tried, pushing on his shoulders without much effort, but he ignored you, like you knew he would. Instead, he started making his way down your body, hands and lips touching everywhere he could reach.

“Hvitserk, I’m serious, your brothers are expecting us” you tried again, this time a little more forceful.

His only answer was a chuckle against your skin, lightly biting into the skin of your hips, calloused hands running down your thighs, and pushing your knees apart before placing his shoulders between them.

It was too cold outside for your liking anyways.

#vikings imagines #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk imagines #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk x you #hvitserk's heathen feast #vikings fanfiction #vikings history #vikings #nanahachikyuu

[searidings]

Lena's wardrobe planning must be a nightmare. Every day she has to account for the fact that this might finally be the day she and Kara fuck in a semi-public space

*EDIT: now on ao3 for your thirsty convenience*

“Tell me again what this article’s about?”

She asks it innocently, as if she genuinely can’t remember. As if she hadn’t spent an extra 40 minutes this morning dripping in a towel in the middle of her walk-in closet, determined to select the perfect outfit for this very conversation.

The way Kara’s eyes are glued to the exposed lines of her clavicle as she sits down tells her the extra deliberation was entirely worth it.

“It’s just a puff piece,” Kara says offhandedly, taking a seat on the far side of Lena’s desk. Or at least, she tries to take a seat but misses the chair entirely, pitching forward and almost taking half the contents of Lena’s desk with her. It’s only her superspeed that saves Lena’s water jug from its collision course with the ground and Kara rights it with sweaty fingers that leave faint smudges on the glass, blushing.

“Are you alright, darling?” Lena asks gently, biting her lip to keep from smirking as Kara, redder than a fire hydrant, finally takes her seat.

“Fine,” the blonde manages, only a little strangled. “Sorry. Just— misjudged the, you know. Chair.”

“Distracted?” Lena asks coyly, voice dipping a smooth half-octave lower as she arches an eyebrow.

She watches in barely restrained delight as Kara’s throat works. “No,” the blonde manages after a moment. “Just— busy. Articles, deadlines. You know how it is.” She seems to have regained her footing now, smoothing her hands over her slacks before reaching into her purse for a pad and pen. “The article’s another clickbait piece, basically. Dress for success: the wardrobes of women in power. Andrea’s making me write it.”

Kara’s voice drips with so much disgust that Lena purses her lips in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Kara. If there’s anything I can do—”

“Don’t be silly,” Kara says instantly, face breaking into a shy smile. “It means I get to spend the afternoon with you. And your wardrobe has always been very—” she breaks off, hand gesturing in the air between them as though she might be able to pluck the right word out of the ether. “—impressive,” she finishes with a small swallow, eyes delicately averted from the expanse of creamy skin on display before her.

“You think so?”

“Of course,” Kara says quickly. Her still floundering hand drifts back and forth in the air as if to encompass Lena’s general existence. “I’d ask if you dressed up specially for this interview, but honestly you always look like that.”

“Like that?” Lena repeats, a teasing lilt to her tone. She leans back in her office chair, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her dress. This piece, a deep red off-the-shoulder dress with a V-shaped neckline plunging just enough to be borderline workplace inappropriate, had cost more than a small car and been custom-made and shipped to her from an upscale boutique in Paris. Looking now at Kara’s wide eyes and pink cheeks, every last cent of import tax feels absolutely worth it. “Like what, exactly?”

Kara’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click and she stares down at the pad in her hands with such intensity that Lena absently wonders if the offending paper is about to be laser-visioned.

“Shall we start with the questions, then?” Kara says quickly, clicking her ballpoint pen with enough force that it shatters the entire casing. She stares forlornly down at the plastic shards in her palm until Lena clears her throat, passing another pen to the blonde with a wordless smile.

Kara removes the lid from the offered pen with the delicacy and focus of someone disarming a bomb. “I hope you don’t find this insulting,” she says as she turns to a fresh page, finally meeting Lena’s eyes again. “I mean, you’re one of the greatest minds in the country and I’m here to ask you about your clothes.”

“Not at all. Wardrobe planning is an extremely involved affair,” Lena deadpans, tilting her head to one side and relishing the way Kara’s eyes skate the cut of her jaw. “Quantum mechanics is nothing compared to the challenge of pairing the right shirt with the right jacket.”

“Right,” Kara says absently, her gaze fixed on the regal column of Lena’s bare throat. She’d foregone a necklace this morning and pulled her still-curly hair up into a soft bun for this exact purpose; knowing that her natural waves were Kara’s favourite, but knowing too that a dress like this deserved to be unencumbered by loose hair or jewellery to really reach its full potential.

“So, um,” Kara starts before swallowing hard, reaching for the glass of water waiting for her on the desk and downing its contents in one swift gulp. “What’s your, um, selection process? How would you describe your wardrobe requirements?”

One corner of Lena’s mouth tugs upwards. “As a woman in a male-dominated world, I’ve learned to use my wardrobe as a tool. My clothing has to be professional without appearing intimidating, project confidence without audacity. Visual impressions precede all other business dealings; I can tailor my wardrobe to my audience the way I would tailor a speech or a press release. When done correctly, it helps me get what I want.”

Kara is staring at her in rapt attention, eyes flicking rhythmically between Lena’s eyes and mouth. She hasn’t written a single thing on the pad in her lap.

“And of course, I have to be careful in the lab,” Lena continues, leaning forward to fold her hands together on the desk in front of her and squeezing her arms ever so slightly against the sides of her chest. It’s always prudent to take advantage of one’s strengths, and the plunging neckline of this particular outfit leaves no doubt in Lena’s mind as to which of her assets she should be emphasising right now. “I can’t wear anything that could prove dangerous.”

“Do you do that often?” Kara asks a little dazedly, gaze now focused a solid foot below Lena’s face. “Wear things that are d-dangerous?”

Lena smirks. Kara’s eyes are locked on Lena’s chest, following its gentle rise and fall with a tangible hunger. It lights a fire in Lena. “You tell me.”

The office falls utterly silent, the air between them leaden with tension. Kara’s eyes linger at the juncture where pale skin gives way to deep red fabric for one more aching moment before beginning a torturously slow crawl up Lena’s chest and neck to meet her gaze once more.

The blue eyes that lock back onto hers are dark and greedy, pupils blown wide. The sight sets Lena’s heart thud-thudding in her chest and damn the superhearing that has surely picked up on it, damn the owner of said superhearing whose lips quirk up in a barely-there smirk.

“You know,” Kara starts, pausing as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Lena can’t stop her own eyes from dropping heavy to take in the sight and the blonde’s smirk grows another degree. “I think if I’m going to do this piece justice, I really need to see the full picture.”

Lena can do little more than stare in silent confusion until Kara stands, dropping her pad carelessly onto the chair and rounding the desk to where Lena sits. “Stand up?” she asks in a low voice, holding out a hand. “That looks like a dress that deserves to be properly admired.”

Lena swallows hard against her suddenly dry throat, taking the proffered hand mutely and rising a little unsteadily to her feet. Kara steps closer until they’re toe to toe and Lena’s not even breathing as a tanned hand reaches up and gently releases her hair from its bun, letting dark curls fall freely across her bare shoulders.

But Kara’s hand doesn’t return to her side once it accomplishes its mission. It tugs through the curls now tickling Lena’s neck, the backs of her knuckles dragging lightly against Lena’s throat until she can’t restrain a shiver. It continues its wandering, sliding up the back of Lena’s neck to bury itself fully in her hair, thumb extended to rub at the hinge of Lena’s jaw.

“Is it?” Kara asks quietly, and Lena barely represses an honest-to-god whine at the sensation of the blonde’s breath hitting her lips.

“What?” she whispers, feeling Kara’s thumb shift against her skin.

“Is this outfit helping you get what you want?”

Lena swallows hard, the movement causing Kara’s thumb to slip down her neck until it trips to a stop directly over her thundering pulse. Lena takes a deep, decidedly un-calming breath, and tries with her last shred of rational thought to claw back the control of the situation she had at some point so thoroughly surrendered. “You tell m—”

She doesn’t even get the last word out before Kara’s lips are on hers, hot and insistent and perfect and fucking finally, and Lena just. Gives up. Gives up access to her mouth as soon as Kara’s tongue hits the seam of her lips, gives up trying to hold back her moans when Kara licks in warm and wet, starts sucking on her tongue.

Gives in to the desire, years in the making, to smooth her hands over Kara’s biceps, her broad muscular shoulders. Gives in to the urge to crush their bodies together, to finally feel the delicious press of the toned planes of Kara’s frame against every one of her own curves.

The hand not still buried in Lena’s hair begins charting an exploratory path up Lena’s side, across her ribs, and Lena is grateful for the sheerness of the skin-tight fabric that does nothing to dull the burning trail Kara’s palm is blazing against her skin.

Three things happen then in quick succession: Kara’s wandering fingers reach the underside of Lena’s breast and the sudden contact causes her other hand to tighten its grip in Lena’s hair, tugging sharply. Lena gasps, head falling backwards as a low groan rips from her throat at the slight sting. Kara’s mouth drops hot and wet to Lena’s neck, lips and teeth sucking and scraping over her rocketing pulse until Lena’s writhing against her.

“How long have you wanted this?” Kara pants, trailing kisses across Lena’s jaw and down the curve of her throat. “How long could I have been doing this?”

Lena’s eyelids flutter shut, fingers digging tight into firm shoulders as Kara sucks another mark into the skin above her collarbone. She lingers long enough that Lena knows it will bruise and in this dress, with this amount of skin on display and no way to cover it up, the thought sends a thrill through her that has her arching up into the heat of Kara’s mouth. “Oh, I don’t know,” she answers breathily, tugging Kara closer still. “How long have I been dressing like this?”

It’s Kara who moans then, reaching down to hook her hands under Lena’s thighs and lifting her onto the desk, pressing herself tight between Lena’s spread legs. In the back of her mind, Lena registers an inordinate rush of gratitude toward her past self for booking out three hours for this interview and issuing strict do not disturb instructions to her assistant.

“Gorgeous as this dress is, it’s kind of in the way,” Kara pants, one hand sliding under the hem of the offending material to skim up Lena’s bare thigh. “But it looks expensive, I don’t want to rip it—”

“Rip it,” Lena gasps immediately, tugging Kara’s mouth desperately back to her own. Preserving an item of clothing has never been further from her mind than in this exact moment. And as she’d said to Kara, her wardrobe had always functioned primarily as means to an end.

And what an end this was turning out to be.  

#well this got a little away from me #thank you anon and also today's gifset of lena in that low-cut red top for inspiring this #and for helping me get over crippling writer's block #sc #minific #asks #anonymous #dings dot txt

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || 12

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. this time, you both decided to tell your brother the truth. 

warnings: f!reader

wc: 1k

m.list | ch. 11 ↞ ch. 12 ↠ ch. 13

Last time…

“Hey, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi swallowed, his face a tad paler than usual. “We have something to tell you.”

✧ ✧ ✧

“We?” Tooru chuckled, a familiar playful lilt to his voice.

“Hello,” you piped up before he had time to tease Iwaizumi about who ‘we’ might be.

“Ah!” The phone burst with joy, a pleasant tinkle to the way Oikawa called your name.

Your stomach plummeted.

“So, what’s up?” Tooru sighed. “You’re not about to tell me that you need to borrow some money, are you?”

“When have I ever asked you for money?” You grumbled, your free hand teasing the fabric of your pyjama shorts between your fingers. God, it’s too normal; a typical back-and-forth between siblings.

It was a strange contrast to the dread settling in your gut.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Tooru chirped. Blissfully unaware. You were almost envious.

You braved a glance at Iwaizumi. His jaw was taut, his lips pressed thin.

You tightened your grip around his hand, as if you were trying to instil a modicum of strength into him.

“Yeah, well…” Iwaizumi cleared his throat, blinking a little faster than usual.

“You sound so grim,” Tooru chuckles. “Come on then, out with it.”

Iwaizumi’s face turned a shade paler, his jaw taut.

This was hard for him. That much was obvious.

But he was trying.

And it was as hard for him as it was for you.

Everything within you stung, a tempest of nettles and thorns that refused to give you any respite. You’d been doing this – whatever this was, whatever Iwaizumi was ready to call this fondness between you – behind Tooru’s back for so long now.

High school. Years of bitterness. Downplaying just how much you hurt in order to maintain peace. A peace which you’d shattered with your own hands, on your own volition, when you had every opportunity not to.

But what’s done is done. You weren’t about to make the same mistakes you had in high school.

You had to tell him. You had to assert yourself, to show him that you matter too. That Iwaizumi meant something to you. That you meant something to him.

“We’re dating.”

It blurted out of your mouth with all the clumsiness and inelegance of a newborn foal. You just wanted to get it out, to shift the horrible tightness in your chest, to breathe out the burning in your gut.

Deathly silence followed.

It was worse than you’d feared.

Tooru was never silent. Whenever he was, it meant something bad had happened. Stagnation. Rejection. Fury.

Those were the only things that could render Tooru silent.

You wondered if you should fill the space with something else. But, there was nothing to say.

All this tension, all this discontent, stripped naked in two words.

“Is this a joke?” Tooru’s voice was a razor, thin and sharp and cold. “Because it’s not very funny.”

Your brother had never spoken to you like this. You’ve heard him talk about other people in this voice – a certain Kageyama Tobio comes to mind – but the ire had never been directed at you before.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

God, you just wished you wouldn’t take it all so seriously – why did this matter so much? Why was it causing you so much stress? What was wrong with y—

“It’s not,” Iwaizumi said. “She’s telling you the truth.”

He no longer had a ghostly pallor. A familiar crease lined his brow. You realised, not without a hint of irony, that it’s the look he always had in the middle of one of his high school games. That was when his tenacity always shone through the most.

“I asked you to keep an eye on her, not fuck her,” Tooru hissed.

It was like everything you knew gave way beneath you, like the thin ground above a pit in one of those adventure movies.

You weren’t you anymore. You were her. Not a person on your own accord, but something to be coddled, ‘protected’, prevented from making their own decisions.

A grievance.

“That’s out of line!” Iwaizumi’s voice boomed, speckled with rage. “Don’t talk about your sister like that!”

“Don’t tell me how I can or can’t talk about her!” Tooru’s voice was just as sharp, just as blue-hot. “She’s my sister, you, you—”

“I’m right here, Tooru,” you hissed, the corners of your eyes beginning to sting. What were you, a doll? A pet? A cup of fine china that had to be handled with care?

You were an adult, a woman, and Tooru needed to—

“You stay out of this,” he barked.

“No!”

The word scratched against your throat like gravel. You sounded like a petulant child – something you’d told yourself to avoid in this call.

But that was all Tooru saw you as – a child who couldn’t make her own choices. A child that needed to be protected.

The horrible realisation comes to you with an underwhelming mundanity.

Tooru didn’t see you as an individual. Not in the way you wanted him to. You were just his baby sister, silly and stupid and easily misled.

“Don’t talk about me like that!” Everything you wanted to say was gone, no matter how desperately you tried to wrangle them. Any well-thought out defence, or explanation, or appeal to his reason… all of it, gone.

A pressure was building in your head, angry and persistent. You felt like you were going to explode, spluttering out of your seams. It was all slipping away from you too fast, running like water through your hands.

“I don’t want to hear anything out of you!” Tooru yelled. “You should know better than to fuck around with my friends!”

“My feelings matter too!” You shouted back. “You don’t own Hajime—”

“Oh, Hajime?” Tooru scoffed. “Jesus Christ…”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, every inch of your skin burning. This was the worst possible outcome. Nothing could’ve prepared you for this. Nothing at all.

“You don’t get to control who I do and don’t date,” you said, a waver running through your words.

“You know what? I’m not having this conversation.”

“Tooru—”

The end tone blared out its steady march.

He was gone.

It was over before it’d even begun.

The silence enveloped you like a shroud, dank and oppressive and suffocating.

Tooru hadn’t even given you a chance to explain yourself. Not properly. He’d just shouted.

He’d never shouted at you before – not properly. Sure, there were petty fights over meaningless things neither of you could remember, but there’d never been a true falling out.

But there you sat, an ache in your chest that felt wholly unfamiliar. A new kind of aloneness, an isolation wholly different from anything you’d felt before. It wasn’t like getting your heart broken by the boy you had a ridiculously big crush on. It wasn’t like moving to a whole new country, throwing yourself into a perilous unknown.

No, this was a new pain, one you didn’t know how to name. The insurmountable rift had grown even wider. Now there was no chance of reaching him.

Your chest ached with how tight it was, your eyes stung with a startling ferociousness, your head pounded to the rhythm of your racing thoughts—

“Hajime—”

His arms encircled you as you croaked out his name. He pulled you towards him and pressed a firm kiss to your forehead. You let yourself fall against his chest, your cheek coming to rest against the soft cotton of his shirt. He was warm, like he always was. Firm, warm, steady.

He was safe. You were safe.

You let the tears bubble out. You needed it. All that fretting, all that waiting, only for it to turn out like this? Maybe you were just the punching bag in some great cosmic joke. Something so trivial, so human, causing this much strife…

For the first time in your life, you envied all those people out there with distant relationships with their siblings – even the ones who regarded their blood relatives with contempt. At least, then, it wouldn’t feel so much like you were the one holding the knife. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be tearing yourself apart from the inside out over something you shouldn’t even feel guilty about in the first place.

God, this was so stupid. And Hajime… poor Hajime…

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. But you knew. You knew he would hold good on his promise. He wouldn’t run away this time.

He hadn’t.

Your heart was breaking all over again.

But this time, you weren’t alone.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #tiny love #I'M SO DUMB I HAD THIS DOWN AS CH 11 BUT IT'S 12

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”  

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”  

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.  

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.  

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them." 

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me." 

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever." 

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.  

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.  

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige." 

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.  

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.  

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.  

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.  

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #here to misbehave #h2m #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #spencer reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #reid request

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝔹𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕒𝕜𝕖

_________________________

𝔹𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕪 𝔹𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

(ℝ𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥) ANON: Hii <3 I hope it’s okay to send in another Buck imagine. Maybe where you’re a technician and you get sent to Wakanda to help Shuri with his new arm. During the time there you get really close to Buck and he starts opening up to you and recovers really fast. One night he sees you then sitting at the lake where his cabin is, watching the stars, so he joins you and you end up sharing a meaningful kiss and even more 😉The next morning Shuri looks out for you and sees you coming out of his cabin with a grin? :)

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: Smuttt!!! 18+, fluff ish (like they having feels for each other bleh lol), insecure!Bucky, Shepard Armless Jesus Bucky, I’m pretty sure that’s it

𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: i love this lmaoooo this is so funny!! Thanks for the request and your patience!! Enjoy :)

__________________________

You sat on the dock looking up to see the beautiful stars that sparkled in the sky. You were in Wakanda and have been since Bucky was taken after the Accords. You knew a lot about working with his previous vibranium arm and Shuri asked you to stay while Bucky went into the ice so she could modify and make his new arm even better. 

Now Bucky was out of the ice shepherding goats in the village. He came to the lab everyday for his arm and for the words that haunted him every day for years to finally be erased from his mind. Everyday you and Bucky talked and he was really opening up to you.

He told you stories about the 40s and his childhood being friends with Steve. It was nice and you looked forward to getting to talk to him and spend time together everyday. Sometimes just like right now, you and Bucky spend time talking out on the dock until Shuri comes looking for you and him calling you back to the lab. 

So it didn’t come as a shock when Bucky needed some fresh air after not being able to sleep and saw you at the dock looking at the stars. He padded softly on the warm grassy field until he came up to you on the small wooden dock and sat beside you.

“Stars always never ceased to amaze me,” you whispered, keeping your eyes up to the sky.

“They’re beautiful,” he wasn’t looking at the stars. 

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, turning to him; he shook his head.

“You?” 

“Same.” 

There was silence and you slowly leaned closer to Bucky before resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Really proud of you know,” you broke the silence.

“Why’s that?”

 “You're opening up more; you're getting better.”

 “Thanks to you,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

 “Me?”

 “Yeah.”

Another moment of silence happened again, both of you frightened that if you spoke you’d scare the other away. You could feel him so close to you. It wasn’t a surprise that you fell for the guy. Especially when there was a period in time where he only spoke to you after the ice. 

He really opened up to you and felt like there was a connection maybe? Or maybe you were just being silly.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky spoke.

Or maybe not. 

You lunged forward, lips pressing firmly to his, arms wrapping around his neck eagerly and he smiled into the kiss wrapping his arm around you as well. He leaned forward gently and you moved your arms back slowly placing your back on the wooden floor. His lips traced your neck and you sighed at the feeling of his soft velvety lips against your skin.

“Buck,” you breathed out.

“Not here. Not outside,” you said.

“Why not, baby?” he kept kissing you making it hard to resist.

“Bucky, no,” you giggled.

He didn’t reply but instead lifted you making you squeal and laugh. He practically sprint across the grass to his small cabin; your legs wrapped around his waist and you were holding on to him for dear life laughing and giggling with him.

Bucky pushed the door open with his foot and placed you delicately on to his bed. You stayed on your knees in front of him and helped him with his shirt. 

“Wait,” Bucky said suddenly. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m going a little fast. I shouldn’t have done that without asking first. God what was I think-”

“It’s not you. God it’s definitely not you. You're perfect. It’s just. My arm. It’s not there,” Bucky said sheepishly.

“I know. Do you want to keep your scarf on?” you cupped his face. 

“Well, I don’t know,” he sat down with you.

“Hey don’t be upset. Look Bucky I really, really like you and the last thing that I want to do is make you uncomfortable or feel pressured. To do something you don’t want to do,” you told him. 

“But I want to, for you.”

“Don’t it for me, do it for you,” you whispered. Bucky leaned in and kissed you again, his hand rubbing your thigh softly.

“Can you help me?” he whispered.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” he smiled. 

You looked into his eyes with gentle eyes; watching his face for any signs of discomfort as you slowly lifted his shirt. He took off the scarf and shirt altogether and you immediately caressed your hands across his skin. 

You took your own shirt off leaving you in a soft baby pink bra. Bucky looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes. You brought your hands to his shoulders and sat him back against the headboard straddling his hips. 

His hand reached around you and unclasped your bra letting fall between you. His hand squeezed your breast lightly making you moan breathy. His nose traced your jaw every now and then kissed and nipped at the skin. 

You stood up and peeling your pants from your body quickly returning to straddle Bucky’s stomach. Bucky’s hips lifted up bringing you up as well and almost ripped his pants off. His hand roamed the side of your body and his lips kissed your chest. 

He circled his tongue around your nipple and your hands went in his hair combing your fingers through his incredibly luscious long locks. 

“You are so stunning, baby girl,” Bucky whispered against your skin.

“Bucky please,” you moaned.

You reached down between your bodies and grabbed Bucky’s cock pumping it a few times. You lined it up with your entrance. You grabbed Bucky’s face and pulled him in a passionate hard kiss as you sunk down slowly. 

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” you whispered against his lips. 

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned. 

You bounced up and down, throwing your head back in pleasure. Bucky kept his eyes trained on you nothing but devotion. His hand grazed your skin ever so softly sending chills to rise all over your skin. Bucky lips attached themselves to your neck and sucked and kissed the skin making small marks and bites for you to admire the next morning. 

“Bucky,” you moaned.

“What is it, baby?”

“I need to come,” you drew out, whining.

“Let go, baby. I want you to come all over my cock; make a mess baby.”

You leaned forward and buried your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and your body shook against his as you reached your oragams. Bucky hips stuttered and jerked upward hard reaching incredibly deep inside you making you shriek in pleasure; his head falling back groaning as he came inside you.

You held on tight to Bucky as you breathed heavily still feeling his heavy cock settled inside you. You looked down at his shoulder and grazed your fingertips across the scarred skin. Unfortunately you couldn’t remove much of the scarring that had been previously there from the Hydra hack job back in the 40s. 

You had been perfecting his arm the last few months to stimulate feeling in the arm so that he felt somewhat human again, his words. You thought he was strong; he’d been through so much and he did a lot of it alone. You didn’t want him to feel alone again. 

“Whatcha thinking about, doll?” Bucky fingers traced the creases in your back softly.

“Nothing,” you whispered and closed your eyes. 

“You sure?” he whispered back.

“I’m sure,” you kissed him softly.

Bucky kicked the blanket and caught it in his hand covering you both. His hand snaked up your hair and pulled it back with your head to make you look into his eyes. 

“Just wait until I get my arm, princess. I’m gonna ruin you,” Bucky whispered against your lip, making you giggle before you both fell asleep peacefully in each other's arms. 

The next morning, Shuri came outside into the field where Bucky’s cabin was to wake him. She always made sure he was doing alright and checked if there was anything he needed her help with. When she got there she was surprised to find you walking outside holding Bucky’s hand who is in fact shirtless. 

Shuri ever saw Bucky shirtlass outside the lab and that in itself was very rare. Your hair was in a slight mess but nothing particularly crazy; it was clear you two slept together. If the appearance wasn't convincing enough, when you were pulled back by Bucky his hand circle your waist and your hands cupped jaw to pull him in a, uh… passionate kiss and Shuri’s eyes widened. 

When she was sure you were gone she walked up to Bucky who was surprised by her presence.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Uh, moring, shuri,'' Bucky said groggily still high from your intoxicating encounter.

“I assume you didn’t get much sleep?” she snickered.

“I slept very well actually. After we-”

“Ugh! I don’t need to hear about night shenanigans with my friend,” she covered her ears in disgust.

“I'm just messing with you,” Bucky chuckled.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked assuming this was a secret.

“Just last night.”

“Don’t worry; won’t tell anyone you're sleeping with your doctor,” she smirked, knowing that was illegal in his home country.

“Shuri, who are you gonna tell? You have no friends,” he walked back inside his cabin chuckling.

“Dick!” she yelled.

“I’m going to tell my brother!” she shouting, running away making Bucky come out with a scared look on his face; immediately chasing her to stop her. 

=======================

TAGLIST:

@mathletemadison

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #marvel smut #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes smut

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @stassaurus​​, @peachlle​, @livvtheangel​, @myjbphase​, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest​, @vxxn128​, @keithseabrook27​, @spaghettirogers​​, @writingstudent​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove​, @geeksareunique​, @cailoleaf​, @simonsbluee​ , @hereforsmutandfluff​, @starxtt​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @staygold-bebold​, @marvelschriss​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders headcanon #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby smut #alfie solomons #john shelby #michael gray #arthur shelby #finn shelby #isaiah jesus #ada shelby #polly gray #bonnie gold #tommy shelby one shot

[bopbopstyles]

Residue

RATING: R/smut (cw: emotional and mild physical abuse mentioned) 

WORD COUNT: 8.5k eek

CATEGORIES: friends to lovers, camping!harry (?), sleeping in the same bed

NOTE: this is for the Sex Bucket List Fic Challenge from @berrynarrybanana​ - prompt was in a tent while camping with friends....and then I just kind of created this mess. check out the other fics and the amazing creators!!!!

I ENDED UP WRITING A PT.2! Read Endlessly here.

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning--he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

or 

Harry and Y/N go camping with their friends and the fact that they’ve been in love with each other comes out

The drive out to the country was peaceful. Harry put on a podcast about music on the way and you listened as they analyzed Beyoncé’s Lemonade, pausing it occasionally to ask Harry questions about the technical parts. With the sunshine and Harry’s commentary once the podcast episode ended, the drive to the campgrounds in West Sussex passed quickly. 

Harry had booked your camp site last weekend, their trip a last-minute decision. You, Mitch, Sarah, and Nick had all been at Harry’s for a cookout and he’d mentioned wanting to get out in nature before the tour started, and Mitch threw out going camping. Nick took some convincing, but eventually he agreed. You and Nick had managed to get the time off from work, although Nick had to head back a day earlier, and it was settled. You had all left the particulars to Harry and when he texted a link to the campground in their group chat, you had fallen in love. Wooded, no power, cooking over an open fire--it reminded you of camping with your family when you were young. 

“Excited?” You asked Harry when you pulled into the parking lot at the front office. You threw the car in park and turned off the ignition, looking over at your best friend. 

He grinned back at you, eyes gleaming. You knew he’d been looking forward to this ever since you had first talked about it--he’d been calling you every day to go over the plans and picking out their meals for the weekend. “Psyched.”

You both climbed out of your car, stretching from the drive, and you inhaled the sweet smell of English oak trees, the sound of birds chirping making you smile as widely as Harry. Nick, Sarah, and Mitch were waiting by their cars, and Nick seemed to be animatedly telling a story about who knows what. 

“Is Nick being annoying?” You asked, throwing your arm around Nick’s shoulders and ruffling his hair. 

“He’s telling the story about the Brits. Again,” Sarah said, reaching out to hug you. “Save us, please.”

“Oi, you’re being mean.” Nick said and Sarah just laughed and shook her head. 

Mitch gave you a quick hug and you smiled at him--they’d all been working a lot lately in preparation for the tour. You had barely seen him, Sarah, and Harry, and you missed their presences more than you had realized. “Let’s go see what Harry got us,” you said.

“Spoiled you lot rotten,” Harry said, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose. 

“I’d hoped so,” you replied, and Harry chuckled softly before leading the group inside the office. 

“Reservation for Y/N,” Harry said to the receptionist and you looked at him in confusion. “Didn’t want anyone finding us,” he explained and you nodded immediately in understanding. After years of friendship, you were used to it, though it always tugged on your heart. You wanted, more than anything, for him to be able to be normal at some point. You knew he craved it too--anonymity. 

The receptionist clicked some buttons on her computer before pulling some folders out of a drawer and turning back to you all. “I’ve got three yurts reserved for you all--is that correct?”

Harry’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I had requested four over the phone.”

The receptionist--Martha, according to her badge, frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that. Unfortunately, though, we’re all booked up this weekend. Is there any way three could be made to work?”

That meant someone was going to have to share. Harry looked at you, and then at Nick. “Nick, you good to bunk, mate?”

Nick groaned and you rolled your eyes at him. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep I’ll lock you out.”

“I don’t think they have doors, Nick,” you told him.

He looked at you and grimaced. “Zip him out then.”

“How threatening,” Harry said, before looking back to the receptionist. “That’ll be fine.” She nodded and explained the rest of the check-in and check-out policies and the amenities on the site. It seemed perfect--a pub not too far from the grounds, camp fires you was most definitely going to take advantage of, and actual showers. He truly was spoiling you all. 

You walked back to the car with Harry to drive to their yurts, swinging your keys around your finger in thought. “H,” you said when you sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for bunking with Nick. I know you like your own space, so I appreciate it.”

He gave you a wide smile and you couldn’t help it--it warmed every part of you. It was moments like these you struggled to remember that Harry was just your friend. Nothing more. You’d dated people, he’d dated people, and you two were just friends. But then he’d look at you like this and you wanted more. “‘Course, love.” He reached across the console and gave your hand a quick squeeze, and your heart flopped in your chest. 

You were starved for touch--it’d been months since you broke up with your asshole of an ex and you were desperate to be touched, even if it was someone holding your hand. Usually you could count on Harry for some cuddles and tight hugs, but he’d been so busy practicing for tour that you hadn’t seen him much. Just FaceTime and the occasional meet-up at the café by your office on your lunch break and it seemed to be showing. 

You started the engine and prayed to the Gods that they would help you get through this weekend in one piece. 

The yurts were in a quiet part of the campground, secluded and in a thicket of trees. All you could hear was the sound of wind whistling through the leaves and the chirping of birds. After living in London for the past two years and barely leaving, it was a relief to be able to hear nothing but nature. 

Nick let out a whoop when he opened the door to his car. “God, this is gorgeous, isn’t it?” Sarah and Mitch pulled up a second later and you all wandered around the campground, deciding where you would put your chairs (around the campfire, obviously) and what you wanted to eat for dinner. Then, you started to unpack. You claimed the tent closer to the woods, wanting not to be awoken in the middle of the night if cars drove by and to get away from the group if you went to bed early, something that you had a tendency towards when Nick and Harry were together. 

The sound of the yurt being zipped open caused you to look up from where you were checking to see if there were bed bugs. After getting them when you were 13 on a family trip, you always checked. “This going to be okay for you?” Harry stood hunched over, his head poking into your yurt. His shirt was unbuttoned, the beige linen flowing in the soft breeze, and his hair flopped into his face. His green eyes were gleaming, a look he only got on break or on holiday, and it was your favorite look on him. He looked just unperturbed and blissfully happy. 

“Come in, silly,” you said, turning around and flopping down onto the bed. “It’s perfect, H.”

Harry grinned and dropped down next to you. “Comfy, eh?”

“Very.”

“I should plan every holiday at this rate.”

You whacked him with the pillow. The last holiday you had planned and the hotel had ended up being bad and their reservation for their yacht trip fully did not exist when they showed up. It was a disaster and Harry had yet to let you live it down. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“What? I like planning!”

“And you like being complimented.”

Harry huffed and you just smiled at him. After knowing one another for years, not only did you know everything important about Harry, you also knew how to push his buttons. Calling him out for what you had longed believed to be some kind of praise kink (you’d asked him about if while drunk and he’d looked so confused and embarrassed you dropped it) was the number one way to get him riled up. 

“How’s your tent with Grimmy?”

“He’s already asleep.”

“It’s noon.”

“Apparently he didn’t sleep last night.”

You laughed because it was classic Nick. It happened on almost every holiday you went on together, of which there had been a few. He’d get to wherever you were staying and immediately fall asleep for usually the rest of the day. You all usually just left him where he was and went about your business, but he also usually had his own room. “Were you able to put your stuff down at least?”

Harry shrugged. “Just dropped my suitcase on the ground and left him. I’ll wake him up eventually.” He turned his head and looked at you, his head so close that if you turned your head up ever so slightly, you could probably kiss him. 

“Fancy a swim?” You asked him, sitting up suddenly and trying to push the thought away. 

“Fuck yes,” he replied. “Let me change into my suit.”

The sun was out in full force when you jumped into the lake, your towels and clothes abandoned on the edge of the water. You were lying on your back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of sun on your skin. Mitch and Sarah were swimming around--you could hear them chattering about how Sarah wanted a dog and Mitch wasn’t into the idea--but you didn’t know where Harry was. You couldn’t hear him. Maybe he’d swam a little further away?

You pushed the thoughts from your mind and focused on not thinking about anything, which somehow took a significant amount of effort. Work kept trying to drift into your head--had the office finished the pitch that you had left for them on Thursday? It was a big account and you had put your all into it, but you hadn’t finished the final touches on Thursday before you had to leave the office, so you left it for your coworkers to wrap up on your behalf. Hopefully they didn’t half-ass it. 

Suddenly, fingers wrapped around your waist and you were being flipped onto your stomach, water immediately filling your nose and mouth. You snapped up, water flicking from the ends of your hair, and blinked the droplets away so you could see who had done it. 

Harry. 

“You bastard!” You screeched, shoving him. His skin was slick from the sunscreen and water, and you tried not to focus on the feeling of his arm muscles under your palms. “I could’ve drowned!”

“You were a competitive swimmer, Y/N,” he reminded you, chuckling. “You weren’t going to drown.”

You sputtered, slicking your hair back, and then gave him a death stare. “Still. You’re an ass.”

“That’s not news,” Sarah piped up from where she and Mitch were treading water and laughing at what had just happened. 

“This is true.” You gave Harry another look before shoving a wave of water in his direction, splashing water into his face. 

Harry gasped, wiping water from his face, his hair, which had grown longer in the past few weeks while he’d been on break, sticking to his forehead. He looked like a little kid, despite how muscular he’d become in the past year or so. You tried to not linger on it, but when he was in front of you without a shirt on, sun-kissed skin just begging to be looked it, it was quite difficult. “This is war.”

He shoved water at you, and suddenly you were splashing one another like children, both of you screeching as water got into your eyes. Your feet collided underwater, arms hitting each other as you twirled around each other in the water, trying to surprise one another. 

It was all fun and games until Harry’s hand reached out and accidentally hit you right in the boob.

“Harry!” You called out, swatting him. “You just hit me in the boob.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he said. “You okay?”

“Just sore,” you said, swimming a bit farther away from him. “Meanie.”

Harry gave you his puppy dog eyes, lashes blinking at you, plump lips sticking out ever so slightly. You hated when he did this because you always fell for it. Years of friendship and you still couldn’t hold anything against him when he did this because he just looked so goddamn gorgeous. You hated it. “Sorry?”

“Fine,” you said, “but you’re carrying me the whole way back to the campsite.”

You all ended up grilling burgers over the fire, Harry surprising you with some hidden skills over the open fire, and together the four of you drank beers as the fire glowed between them. Nick had never surfaced and Harry didn’t have it in him to wake him, so he let him be. Harry, Sarah, and Mitch had started playing music after dinner and you kept yourself entertained by requesting old One Direction songs, which made Harry stare daggers at you but amused you, Sarah, and Mitch to no end.

It was a chilly summer night and you were cuddled up in a sweatshirt of Harry’s, having forgotten yours at home, and a pair of leggings. You could feel your eyes drooping, your entire concept of time gone without the ability to check your phone. It could’ve been 9pm for all you knew. After a rendition of Landslide, you yawned and stretched your arms above your head, and decided to call it a night. 

“I’m going to turn in,” you said, standing up from the chair you’d been in for the past few hours. “Which way’s the bathrooms?” 

Sarah pointed to the right, and you nodded. You had to brush your teeth and pee before you could go to sleep, and you had no desire to traipse through the woods at night to pee in the brush, so you started off in the direction of the bathrooms, your toiletries bag tucked under your arm.

“Wait!” You turned to see Harry walking after you, his own bag tucked under his arm. “Didn’t want you to walk alone.”

You gave him a sweet smile and waited for him to catch up with you. “You ready for sleep too?”

He shrugged. “Probably be up for a little while longer, if that’s not too disruptive? Mitch and I thought we’d work on a song I’ve been thinking about. Thought I’d go ahead and brush my teeth, though.”

“I like listening to you play as I go to bed,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you thought about them. 

Harry’s eyebrows knit together and he studied you. “Never told me that before.”

Probably because it’s embarrassing, you thought to yourself. You loved listening to his music before you went to bed, especially the voice memos he’d sent you over the years of bits of songs he was working on before they were fully mastered. They were more raw, less produced, the stripped down Harry that you loved. “You never asked.”

He filed that information away for later and you climbed the steps to the bathrooms, both heading into the same free stall. You’d stopped caring about peeing in front of one another a long time ago. You went first, listening to Harry prattle on about a book he was reading that he thought you’d like as he washed his face. When you finished up, you switched places and you started brushing your teeth, stealing his toothpaste because it tasted nicer. 

“You should just buy some for yourself,” he commented.

“But I can use yours for free.”

He didn’t reply, just let you be, and you brushed your teeth next to one another, Harry knocking his hip against yours to make you smile. 

“Glad you came,” he told you when you exited the bathrooms. 

“Me too. Needed this, I think.”

“Same. Missed you, too.” 

You studied his face, barely visible in the moonlight. His stubble was growing in, but he had a peaceful expression you rarely saw in him. You saw it in moments on tour, sometimes--when you were cuddled up on his sofa watching a film after a show, or after a morning run on a day off. But here, this was the purest form and one you wished you saw more often. You didn’t tell him, though. You’d had that conversation before--how you were worried he was overworking himself, believing that he was able to work so much after years in 1D, working with barely any breaks. You wanted his solo career to be different, but Harry had a tendency to find work even when he wasn’t touring or recording. He loved it so much that it was all he wanted to do. “Missed you too,” you replied simply, and leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

Mitch set down his guitar and looked at Harry across the fire from him.

“What?”

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning--he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

With that, Mitch turned and went to where Sarah waited for him in their yurt, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. It was quiet, aside from the crinkle of the fire. Harry couldn’t remember when he fell in love with Y/N--there wasn’t some specific moment like they say in the books. It just...happened. The more time he spent with you, the closer you got, the more Harry hated leaving you. And when you dated other guys, it made his stomach turn to be around them. He tried to pretend like it didn’t, he tried to be nice and polite as you were to the girls he tried to date, but he knew he never was. He hated the way you would look at him when he’d make some snide remark, and he could feel the disappointment radiating from your stare. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let you go.

He’d tried to bury himself in work, in touring, in women. He’d lived in LA for months to try and get over you, he’d even dated Kendall fucking Jenner to try and get over you. Nothing helped. Camille had been the closest he’d gotten, but there had always been something holding him back. When he’d found out she cheated on him, it was a relief more than heartbreak--he didn’t have to be the one to break up with her this time. And he always went back to you, pretending to be more broken hearted than he was just to get you to spend days on end by his side, eating ice cream and watching films that you thought helped him. In actuality, it was you who helped him. It was being by your side, it was laughing with you, going on walks, even fucking gardening with you at his house in Hampstead. Anything with you healed him. 

And he knew it wasn’t fair, using you like he did. But he couldn’t help himself--it was the time when he could almost pretend you were his. It was when you ignored everything else and focused on only him and that attention is what he craved. You, together, no distractions. It’s what he wanted this weekend to be, but then you suggested inviting friends, and how could he say no to you? How could he tell you he just wanted to be with you for the whole weekend, the rest of the world forgotten?

Mitch’s words, though, were a stab in his heart. He’d always convinced himself that there was no way you could feel the same. You had fallen in love, you’d told him. With Tom. Bloody Tom. You’d met at some networking dinner and he’d asked you out, and from then on it was Tom, Tom, Tom. You had dated for a little over a year and Harry despised every second of it. Tom treated you like dirt--belittling you in front of your friends, in front of Harry, even, controlled your time and your friends. Boxed you in like you were some animal just there to please him, no life to speak of. It had happened while Harry was on tour and then in LA, so he hadn’t been there in person for most of it, and when he had been around you two together--whe he came home for the holidays and saw you, you had played it off. Said it was nothing, just a joke. 

But then her college roommate Jordan had called Harry, worried out of her mind about you. Told him how Tom treated you, all the things he’d done, how he’d manipulated you--hit you one time. Jordan was in New York City and work wouldn’t let her leave, but she knew Harry could go. She told him it was getting bad and he had to get you out. And so he did. He took the next flight out, barely packed a suitcase, and went. He went to your apartment and told you that Jordan had told him what happened, and you two had a massive fight over it, you defending Tom, Harry trying to convince you he had manipulated your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings, and you both ended up in tears before you finally let him take you to his house to stay for a few weeks. And together, you’d pieced his fierce Y/N back together. 

And all that time, he had never thought...He never thought you’d loved him. Not as he did, at least. You’d told him so many times that you loved him, but it was just as a friend. You’d made that clear in the ways you touched him and introduced him to people. He was your Harry, but just your friend. Your best friend, but friend all the same. It broke him, as much as he tried not to let it show. But for you to feel the same way? All this time?

And what did Mitch expect him to do? Bust into your tent and admit his undying love for you, you to admit you felt the same way, and for you to ride off into the night together? This wasn’t some romance novel (which Harrry knew Mitch read, even though he tried to hide them). This was reality, and in reality, it was just Harry, writing songs about you that you’d never understand the true meaning of, and a yurt shared with Grimmy. 

He stood up, his guitar held tightly in his hand, and put out the fire before heading into the yurt. Nick was spread eagle on the bed, still somehow asleep--Harry had never understood his ability to sleep literally all day--and snoring. Loudly. Harry sighed and went over to his suitcase, tugging off his jeans and sweatshirt and folding them neatly into the case. He pulled a henley and pajama pants on, knowing if Nick woke up to a half naked Harry in his bed he’d most definitely not let him hear the end of it, and walked over to the bed. He tried to shove Nick over and make space for himself, but the man was most definitely stronger than Harry had realized. 

Had he been working out lately?

Harry gave his arm another shove, but Nick didn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, Nick,” Harry said. “Do you have to seriously sleep like the dead?”

He looked around the room, trying to see if there was anything he could fashion a makeshift bed with. But there wasn’t even a spare fucking blanket. 

Maybe Sarah and Mitch would have one? Then he pictured walking into the couple’s yurt and immediately decided against that idea. That left you. You’d slept in the same bed before, albeit usually while drunk--maybe you’d let him sleep with you? Just for the night? 

Harry slipped on his flip flops, grabbed his flashlight and made his way over to your yurt. It was quiet except for the sound of your soft breathing and he immediately felt at peace, despite what his mind told him. He unzipped the front of your yurt and stuck his head in. It was dark and he could barely make out your figure, curled up tightly under the covers, hair strewn across the pillow. 

“Y/N?”

After a beat, he saw your body shift and your head stick up from the pillow. “Harry?”

“Can I sleep with you? Nick’s taking up the whole bed and snoring like a train.”

You giggled--and Harry’s heart started racing--and then said, “Of course. C’mere.” You lifted the edge of the blanket and Harry toed off his flip flops before walking over to the bed. “What time is it?”

He laid down next to you carefully, not wanting to brush up against you and make you uncomfortable. “Dunno. Late.”

You reached out for him, fingers brushing against his henley right over his stomach, and Harry’s heart seized. Did you know what you were doing to him right now? “Why are you lying there straight as a rod? I don’t bite, you know.” Probably not, he realized. You had no idea what the mere touch of your skin did to his heart. 

“Don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice quiet in the silence of the yurt. 

“You don’t, silly. Now c’mere.” 

He moved closer to you and you turned onto your side so that your back rested against his chest, and he wound his arm around your stomach loosely, holding you to him. You’d laid like this before, after your birthday earlier in the year when you’d gotten quite drunk and he’d brought you home so you didn’t choke in your own vomit. You’d snuggled into him then, just like you did now, and he tried to think of anything to get his dick to stop from plumping up under his pants. 

“H?”

“Yeah?”

“What was your song about?”

His breath caught in his throat. Had you heard it? It was so obviously about you, so unabashedly telling you how he felt. God, every song was about you. Even when he tried to make them less specific, when he tried to remove the details that would make it about you, you still left a residue. 

“Harry?” Your voice broke his thoughts, so sweet in his ears. He opened his eyes, which had closed while he thought, and looked into your hair. He could smell the remnants of your perfume mixed with the fresh smell of oak from the woods and the essence of smoke from the fire. He wanted to bury himself in your smell, in you. 

He should tell you. He knew he should. It was the perfect time--you were giving him the prompting. But he didn’t have the courage. “Did we wake you up?”

You rolled over and suddenly your face was mere inches from his. He could see your eyes in the dark, bright blue in the night. The ones that were painted in his dreams, echoes of you that never let him go. “Thought I heard something in the woods. Heard you instead.”

How much had you heard, he wondered. Had you heard his conversation with Mitch? You had been asleep when he had come into the yurt, so you had to have fallen back asleep. “What’d you think of it?”

You stared at him, your gaze searing through the protections he tried and struggled to keep up. “It was sad,” you said simply. 

“Hmm?” He mumbled, not really knowing what else to say to that. Of course it was sad, he was in love with his best friend and he didn’t have the balls to tell her. 

“The opening lines,” you whispered. “Put a price on emotion/I'm looking for something to buy/You've got my devotion/But man, I can hate you sometimes,” you sang it, perfectly in tune, hitting every note as he had around the campfire with Mitch. Your voice singing his words broke him in two, for some reason. They were the most honest ones of the whole song, he thought to himself, and the ones he was least likely to change. “Who is it about?”

Her question had changed. When you asked the first time, it was what. Now it was who. He studied you in the dark, searching himself. Could he muster the courage?

“Camille?”

“No,” he said, his words immediate. “No, not Camille.”

There was a rustle of the trees, but your eyes didn’t leave his. “Are you seeing someone new?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

He took a deep breath, and then, he pulled the words from the depths of his heart. “It’s about you.”

It was silent in the yurt. He couldn’t even tell if you were breathing. But your eyes didn’t leave his. He watched as your brain processed his words, pieced them together, matched them up with the song. 

“Test of my patience/There's things that we'll never know/You sunshine, you temptress/My hand's at risk, I fold.” You said the words, no song to them, just words, flowing from your lips as poetry, not lyrics. “You...Me. Things we’ll never know--that’s us?” 

He nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind your ear that had come loose. 

“You've got my devotion,” you whispered, the opening lines coming back around. “That’s about me?”

“Yes,” he said, the word simple, soft, quiet in the dark. But it took every ounce of his courage. It was worse than when he’d decided to go solo, it was worse than going out on stage alone for the first time, worse than stepping on the X-Factor stage. The hardest words he’d had to say. “Y/N,” he whispered, summoning the last of his courage, “the songs are all about you.”

That made you go quiet for longer. You stared at him, taking inventory of every part of his face. He could feel your eyes and he didn’t even squirm--it felt different than it did when you usually looked at him. It felt like you were seeing him for the first time. Like a veil had been lifted between them. 

And yet, you said nothing.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, the words breaking him. “I--I can go.”

But you pressed your fingers to his chin, instead. “Don’t go,” you whispered and this time it was him who stared at you. “I--I’m scared.”

“I know.” Your eyes blinked at him, eye level, so close he could see nothing but the rim of the blue, your long eyelashes he’d always admired. “I just...I can’t pretend anymore, love.” The nickname, long used between them, suddenly took on a new meaning in this moment. He could feel the shift in the air, the way the word landed between them. It slipped from his lips without him thinking about it, but he meant it in every which way. 

You ran your forefinger along the edge of his jaw and Harry’s breath caught in his chest. “Me either.”

And then, you pulled his lips down to meet yours and it was like Harry’s world bottomed out. Your lips were soft, just like he’d imagined them, and you tasted like sugar and the watermelons they’d had for a snack after dinner. The hint of toothpaste lingered and it made him smile, remembering how you’d spoken in the bathroom. His fingers wound their way into your hair and you let out a soft moan that set Harry’s skin on fire. 

Your teeth tugged on his bottom lip and Harry rolled you onto you back with a groan, begging for more, for anything you would give him. The kiss was deep, passionate, without end. You barely pulled away to breathe, wanting to never stop touching him. Your fingers crawled up his arms, across his collarbones, fire left in their wake. 

Harry balanced above you on his forearms, head dipping to meet your lips over and over again, his fingers curled into your hair that was spread out on the pillow. Your legs tugged apart, letting him slot himself between them, leaning into you. It was like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. 

“Y/N,” he said, pulling back from your lips just an inch so he could speak. “I--I don’t want to do anything if you don’t--”

“I want you,” you said, your hands drifting from his shoulders to cup his face between them. He leaned into your touch and you smoothed your fingers across his cheekbones. “I’ve always wanted you. H, you’re everything to me.”

His lips found yours again without a second beat, and you pulled every ounce of his heart from his chest with your lips. The sheets rustled under their bodies as they moved, begging to get more and more of each other. Your hands wound under his shirt, tugging as he leaned back, pulling it off, the chilly night air nipping at his skin. You sat up, Harry balanced precariously on your lap, and pressed kisses to his skin, licking over his swallows. 

Harry let out a moan, not being able to hold it in, but didn’t stop her as you made your way across his skin, claiming it as your own. He couldn’t hear anything but you--it was consuming, the feeling of being this close to you. Your teeth bit into the skin on his collarbones, sucking a bruise he knew would be there tomorrow, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He wanted the world to know he was yours, that he loved you with every fiber of his being, unashamedly. 

“I’m yours,” he said, his voice edging on a moan as you licked across his nipples. “Yours, Y/N, I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” you replied, and leaned back, tugging off his sweatshirt, which you’d worn to bed. You were bare underneath, and you could feel Harry’s eyes on your skin, learning you. Usually, you felt studied under the gaze of a man, but now, with Harry, you felt admired, adored, loved. His hands kneaded circles into your breasts and you arched into him, moans leaving your mouth in breaths. 

You felt his tongue on your nipples, just as you had done to him, and your fingers gripped into the curls of his hair. “Fuck, H.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your sternum. “So, utterly beautiful.”

You leaned back onto your hands, chest rising and falling as he made his way down your body, inching farther and farther back on the bed until he was on his stomach, lips hovering above the waistband of your sleep shorts. His eyes met yours in question, and you nodded, words failing you.

“Need to hear your words, love,” he said, kissing your bare skin just centimeters above the bow on her shorts. “Want to make sure that you’re sure.”

“Take them off,” you said, struggling to speak as he licked your skin. “Touch me, H, please.”

And he did. He tugged your shorts down your legs, underwear coming with them, and pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, nipping love bites into the skin there. “You know, I dreamed of you last week,” he said against your skin. 

“What?” You squealed as he sucked on the sensitive skin at the crease of your thighs. 

“Of you, like this.” Then, he licked a stripe up her clit and you buried your hands in his hair, holding him there. “But in the dream, I couldn’t smell you.” He sucked on your clit, and you struggled not to scream his name. Your friends would hear and the last thing you wanted was to deal with that in the morning. “I couldn’t hear you,” he said, licking you again, and your head flailed to the side. “And I woke up before I could do this.”

And then, he dove his tongue inside of you, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, holding in the moans that begged to fly free. It was heaven, his tongue. Delving into her like it was made for you, curling inside of you and rubbing the front of your walls delicately. 

“Harry,” you said, trying to keep your voice quiet, “more, please.”

He wasted no time pressing his finger to your clit and rubbing you in circles, causing your chest to arch from the pleasure. You could feel a knot building in your belly, begging and begging for more. 

“Please, H,” you let out in a moan, and that’s when you felt his own moan against your skin, the vibration of the stubble on your skin causing you to shake against him. But his free hand anchored your hips to his lips, and he continued his work, licking in and out of you, then up and down your folds, drawing soft moans from your mouth over and over again. 

“Wanna hear you,” he said softly against your skin, “please, love, wanna hear you.”

“Don’t want to wake them,” you replied, struggling to look down at him. But when you did, the sight of his head between your thighs, hair a mess, eyes gleaming up at you in the dark, it ripped a moan from your chest that you couldn’t contain. 

“That’s it,” he said. “Don’t give a fuck about them. S’just us, yeah?” He kneaded circles into her skin with his hands and sucked harshly on her clit, your hips bucking in response, but he didn’t let go. “What d’ya want, love?”

His words were rough, broken from pleasure. You loved the way he sounded, having never had the opportunity to have him this way. “Fingers,” you said. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” His one hand left her hips and circled your entrance, drawing your wetness around his fingers. “Fuck, love, you’re so wet.”

“H,” you breathed out, “please.”

That’s all he needed. He dipped his forefinger inside of you, your tight walls gripping him like a vice. But to him, you were virtue--you were everything to him, everything good in the world wrapped up in a single person. He curled his finger, brushing against a spot that made you squeak and he smiled before adding a second finger. “Come for me, love,” he said, sucking on your clit. “Wanna taste you.”

And that’s all it took. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, your hands gripped in his hair, keeping his face there as he licked your clit softly, drawing shock waves from your body over and over again. You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to watch him as you came, and he held your eye contact as you did. When he pulled his fingers from you and sucked on them, you just stared at him, wondering if this was real. If he was real. 

“Taste sweet,” he said, crawling up your body, pushing you down onto the bed with the weight of him. You loved it, the feeling of his skin on yours, of his body on yours. “With an edge of sourness.” He pressed his lips to yours, and you licked into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. You hadn’t been this turned on...ever, you realized. “Tastes good,” he said against your lips. 

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Felt good too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re good at that, you know.” 

He chuckled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. “Can’t wait to do it again.”

You captured his lips again, arms winding around his chest, pulling him into you, closer and closer until you couldn’t find the space between you. And then, you rolled, taking him with her, leaving him on his back and you flush to his chest. “Some other time,” you said softly, drawing back. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he let out, gaze travelling up your body as you sat back on his hips, bare center brushing over his pajama pants. “Want you too, baby.”

You smirked at him. “Baby?”

He blushed. “Sorry, it just--”

“Shh.” You pressed a finger to his lips. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You rolled your hips over his erection and he bucked up into you, not being able to stop himself, drawing groans from both of them. “Wanna hear you, H,” you whispered, tossing his words back at him. “Hmm?”

“Take ‘em off.” He bucked his hips again, and you smiled down at him. Your fingers curled around his pants and his underwear, and crawled back, pulling them off together in one motion, just as he had done to you. 

You held him in your hand, brushing your thumb over his tip, the pre-cum slick against your skin. Your tongue licked a stripe up the underside of him, drawing a moan from his chest as you laved circles around the tip of his length. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, “Not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he said. “Need--”

“I know,” you replied. You pressed another kiss to him and clamored back up his body. “Wouldn’t have happened to bring condoms, would you?”

“Fuck,” he said, “no, wasn’t exactly planning this.”

You pressed a kiss to his chest, trying to calm the panicked look in his eyes. His hands ran up and down your thighs, his touch consuming you. “I’ve got the implant,” you said, “if that’s ok with you.”

“I’ll pull out,” he said, leaning up on his elbows. “Promise.” Then your lips found each other’s and you rocked your hips against him, the slick of you dripping down onto his length. He swallowed your moans and you did the same, the dark of the night wrapping around you, encasing you in a world that was just the two of you. 

You reached down and ran your fingertips along his length, brushing his tip against your slit, the feeling sending tingles down her spine.

“Please,” he begged beneath you, fingers digging into your hips to where there would probably be marks tomorrow, “please, Y/N.”

When you slid down his length, your eyes shut from the sensation of him stretching you. You didn’t stop until he had bottomed out, you hips flush against one another. You could feel his eyes watching as you adjusted to his size, to the burn of him inside of you. It was surreal to have him like this, to have him so close to that you couldn’t find where you ended and he began. To have his lips find yours as you began to rock back and forth on him, open mouths meeting like old friends, begging for more and more and more. It was heaven, you decided, this was heaven on earth, this feeling. Your head snapped back when he bucked up into you, hitting a deep spot that made your arms shake. And then he ran his tongue down your exposed neck, nipping and biting into your skin, whispers of your name like an echo around them. 

You wanted all of him. Every single part of him, you wanted to have his laughter and his smile and his words and his thoughts and his love. You wanted his body in the morning and the night and across the distance. You wanted him to hold you in his arms always, to care always. To you, he was hope, he was a bright spot in a sea of darkness. He was the antithesis of your exes, of Tom, of the men who had used you up and left you in a bed of nails. Harry built you up, stoking your fire with actions that showed you how much he cared, never wavering from your side, always running back when you called. No matter how far he went, the residue of him never left your mind, body, or soul. 

Harry’s arms caged you in and suddenly you were on your back and he was above you and inside of you and everywhere. His fingers danced across you skin as his hips snapped into you, moans drying in your throat because you could barely think from the pleasure zipping through your body. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he said, words darting through the fog, “I love you.” He was holding you so tightly in his arms that you wondered if he thought you would run. As if you wanted to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, close to him, breathing him in and out. 

“I love you too.” The words left you without hesitation and you pressed your lips back to his as you chased your highs together, his hips never stopping. He pulled one of your legs high on his hip, reaching a new depth inside of you, and you scrabbled at his back with your fingers, leaving marks in your wake. “Right there,” you whispered against his shoulder, biting softly into the skin there. 

He pistoned his hips in and out, hitting the spot over and over again. “Yeah? Right there, baby?” 

You had always joked he had a praise kink, but now that you had him, you knew you were right and good lord did you feed right into it. “So good,” you mumbled, “so good Harry, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, tongue darting to the spot under your ear when you turned hyourer head, choking on a moan when he thumbed your clit. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Gonna tell you every day. Never going to stop now that I have you. Finally.”

You dug into his ass with your heels, keeping him deep inside of you. Hands grabbed skin, and you basked in the heat that surrounded you, the sweat that stuck their skin together. It was perfect--he was perfect, he felt perfect, it was as if you were made for one another. Somehow, every movement he made was better, he navigated your body like he had the only compass and it was carved into his heart. 

Every part of you ached, ached for him and for release. You could feel it rising inside of you, taught like a string, begging. “Oh my god,” you whined, spasming around him. Your hand gripped the back of his neck and dragged his head back to you, fingers digging into his warm skin. Your lips met as he pumped into you over and over, drawing moans from them both that never stopped. You loved that he made noise in bed, that he told you how good you felt, that he made sure you knew how incredible it was. Every kiss pressed to your clammy skin was a reminder of how much he loved you.

“Fuck.” A guttural moan escaped him when you clamped down on his length, your orgasm threatening to rip through you. “Not going to last, baby.” His forehead rested against yours as he dug into the sheets with his fingers and toes, using every ounce of his energy to bring you both to the brink. Your fingers scratched against his shoulder blades, gripping him close as you arched into him. 

“I’m close,” you said, words ragged, “so close.”

“Come,” he breathed out, “please, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his brow, the salt of his sweat against your lips. “Come inside me,” you whispered to his skin. “Want to feel you.”

His head turned, eyes meeting yours. “Sure?”

You dug your heels into his ass in response, gripping him like a vice to you. A moan ripped through him as he dug deep inside of you, pulling every piece of your love from her chest, just as you did to him. Then, he kissed you again, your name a mantra against your lips, and with that, your orgasm ripped through your body. 

He chased it with every brush of his hips, running after you as you soared and fell. You held him close as you came down, struggling to find your breath. But you didn’t want him to move. You wanted to feel him, to see him, to hear him finish. And when he did, it was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. His eyes bore into yours, teeth dug into his bottom lip so deep it probably drew blood, fingers curling tightly into the sheets on either side of your shoulders. Slowly, his hips came to a halt and you could feel his cum inside of you. The air was silent except for your breathing as he rested his body against you, not pulling out. 

You two laid there together, your arms wound around his waist, running your fingers up and down his back, his fingers threading through your hair. It was as if you were waiting for the words, because neither of you had them. What do you say after that? 

Harry moved to pull out of you, but you held him fast. “Please,” you whispered, “just…”

He shushed you, knowing what you meant. You wanted him close. After denying your feelings for so long it was like they were consuming every inch of you, overwhelming your brain and your heart. Having him close helped tether you to the ground and you couldn’t let go. Not yet. 

“Love you,” he said softly into your hair. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Love you too.”

“Think they heard?”

You giggled against his skin and you could feel his smile. “Probably. Don’t care that much, though.”

“Me either.”

You were quiet for a second before mustering the courage to ask the question swirling through your brain. “You’re not going to leave in the morning, right?”

He lifted his head and looked at you. “Never.” Then, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips and tucked his head into the space between your shoulder and your neck, his breath even against your skin. 

And you both laid there, adjusting to what it felt like to finally have the one person you’d always wanted, praying that when the sun rose nothing would change.

talk to me about camping!harry here | masterlist here

#the bucketlist fic challenge #friends to lovers and camping all in one babies!!!! #friends to lovers #camping!harry #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot

[anythingbutmar]

Lonely

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: You love Diego, but you get tired as he keeps ditching you to save the world. Fortunately, he knows how to make it up to you.

Prompts: 21.“Shut up.” “Well why don't you come over here and make me?" 23."For the love of fuck.” “Yeah that's me, I love to fuck."

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ACTUAL SMUT AND I’M SCARED, also, this is the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so proud! I love getting more and more Diego requests.❤

Warnings: unprotected sex, drinking, angst.

You know how you're still quite sensitive a few days after your period is gone? You told yourself that was the reason why you were sitting on your livingroom floor, drinking a wine bottle by yourself and crying your eyes out. But you knew the real reason had nothing to do with your cycle.

Diego had failed you, again. Maybe failed was too strong of a word, but he was late to your dinner for the third time in a week, and you truly wanted to understand him, but it was so damn hard.

It had been exactly a month and nine days since the day that he had stormed in your apartment rambling about JFK, 1963, the apocalypse and a commission. It took you a week to process the whole thing not only because it was incredibly hard to believe it, but because he kept adding details here and there like an excited little boy, except he wasn't excited at all, he was just mad at himself for not being able to save a president that had been dead for almost eighty years.

And so, he freed himself of his anger the only way that he knew: on the streets, which usually took him away from you for a few hours, but it was already one in the morning and he wasn't answering any of your texts and phone calls, so you drank and you weeped while listening to Toni Braxton.

You could say that Diego had changed for the better. He was no longer blaming his disgraces on his siblings, he told you he wanted things to get serious because of how much he missed you and you could see even more kindness in his eyes, but it still wasn't what you wished. You had always wanted him in every possible way, but this time you were asking for more, because even though he was your entire world it seemed as if you were never enough for him, given how he preferred to fight criminals over sharing one meal with you.

If you wanted to, you could have kept replaying depressing thoughts in your head, but you were tired already, so you laid your head on the couch and drifted away, holding onto an empty bottle.

And that is exactly how Diego found you half an hour later. He truly felt sorry, but he didn't want to wake you up, and he didn't want to fight, and in general he just didn't want to face you knowing he had disappointed you and a complete country, so he grabbed you in his arms, wanting to carry you to your bed, but even as you slept rage kept burning in the pit of your stomach, and it was that rage that woke you up, right as he was lifting you off the floor, so of course, your natural response was aggressively wiggling your way out of his arms until he accidentally dropped you. You could notice that he was about to laugh until he saw the terrifying look in your eyes and stopped himself.

Diego was no mirror, but you could almost see yourself through his expression. Messy hair, ruined makeup and wine stained lips. He might as well have called you Madremonte already, because you knew you must have looked just like her, same anger in your gaze.

"Where were you?" The alcohol could have blurred your vision but you could see him quite clearly, and it made you wanna cry because you loved him so damn much and you just wanted him to love you back.

"You know it's not a specific place, I just go around town."

"I'm not a jealous person Diego, but I'm not stupid either, and you can't expect me to be waiting for you as you're out there every night saving god knows who. It sounds ridiculous, but I envy an entire city because everyone in it gets to spend more time with you than I do."

Tears poured out again as you remembered the night you met him. You had just quitted your job and were too distracted with your worries to notice the robber creeping up behind you. Thankfully, Diego was there on his silly latex suit, and unlike you he had seen the guy, and he scared him before he could even touch you, freaking you out in the process, but he made it up by inviting you for a drink, and so, your "relationship" started, but it wasn't until that day when he showed up in your doorstep with longer hair and bigger problems that he'd actually adressed it as such. He had asked you to be his girlfriend, and you couldn't be happier to accept, you just didn't know it was going to be this hard, and thinking back to the days where he was saving you hurted like hell, because even though you didn't want to say it out loud, you knew you were alone now while he was saving everyone else.

Diego remained silent, he looked regretful, but that wasn't going to ease your pain.

"You don't have to say anything, I already know what you think. You regret this, you regret us." He frowned deeply, as if he expected anything but what you'd just said.

"What? Of course not!"

"You do! No matter how much you try to hide it it's the truth, you can't even stand to look at me anymore and I don't even know what I did!" Your breath escalated as you let out everything that you couldn't say before.

"Shut up Y/N, you don't even know what you're saying."

"It's not even what you try to tell me everytime! You don't think you've failed me, you just don't want me, so you go out to seek comfort on your fucking hero complex! You'll never learn that you can't save everyone and I don't understand why but somehow you resent me for it!" You screamed and it felt good even though he was right, you were just making up reasons for something that you couldn't understand, but he needed to know how much his absence harmed you.

"Listen to yourself! You're literally not making any sense! I've told you nothing but the truth since I got here because I want things to work between us, and when I say that I come late at night because I know I could have done more to protect you I really mean it. I can't face you when I fail at making you safe." He didn't even seem mad, he just looked frustrated, which actually made you sadder because you didn't want that to be the truth, you didn't want him to feel bad for something that he couldn't control.

"I should just leave, there's no point in arguing."

"No Y/N, you don't have to go, just shut up." He grabbed your wrist softly, letting you choose, and a devilish smirk appeared on your face as you got an idea.

"Well why don't you come over here and make me?" He looked surprised for a few seconds, but when the anger in your eyes turned into lust he mimicked your expression, more than eager to finish the discussion the right way.

He strengthened his grip on your wrist and he pulled you towards him so that there wouldn't be any space between you two, he looked down at you and kissed you passionately, playing with the hem of your skirt and gesturing for you to jump, and so you did, your legs hugged his waist and your hands tangled in his hair just the way he liked it as he walked to your bedroom, carrying you in a different way than he had planned earlier.

He sat you down on the bed and started undressing himself with quick clumsy movements that scattered his clothes all around the room, which might have not looked quite sexy to a normal person passing by, but to you, watching his back tense as he took his shirt of and threw it towards your nightstand was incredibly hot.

So you tried to do the same, to see if he would look at you the same way, but of course, you were still tipsy, and you almost fell to the ground for the second time while stumbling on your own skirt, but Diego’s arms were there to hold you once again, and much to your surprise, there was love and passion in his eyes, which only made you desire him more, but just when you were about to kiss him again, he stopped.

“You’re not sober baby, are you sure you want to do this?” He looked concerned and it made you soft because he was just such a good man.

“Diego Hargreeves, I’m not entirely drunk and I’m giving you my explicit consent.” You mocked him a little but you regreted it instantly, because as soon as you said the words he pushed you on the bed and removed your underwear, the last piece of clothing between you.

You reached out to kiss him and this time he kissed you back with the hunger of an animal. His hand went to your throat and pressed lightly, which gained a moan from you and allowed his tongue to finally meet yours, but it was too slow for you, you wanted more and more and more than you could take, so you turned the game and got on top of him, which he didn’t seem to enjoy as much.

Diego loved being in control, and by taking it away from him you were showing him what would happen if he ever made you feel lonely again.

You put your hands on his shoulders and eagerly lowered yourself on his dick, slowly taking it all in and getting used to his size before you started bouncing. It felt incredibly empowering to be in control and it made you drip with arousal.

He tried to help you by thrusting his hips but you pushed him down. You knew all about his games, he would start regaining his dominance bit by bit and before you knew you would be beneath him, begging for his mercy. But you weren't about to let that happen, not today.

“Damn.” He cursed both in pleasure and surprise.

You wouldn't even let him grab your hips, you fastened your pace by yourself and he was completely helpless, and the thought of him not being able to do anything he wanted made it harder for you to last. You had just started and you were about to cum already, all because it had been days since the last time he made you feel like this.

Apparently, your orgasm closing in was noticed by both of you, because the minute you got distracted in your pleasure he lifted you and helped you place yourself on his face, and when he was finally allowed to move he took advantage of it.

He ran his tongue across your folds in a painfully slow matter a few times before concentrating on your clit, licking and sucking fast and hard, the way he knew would make your knees shake in a matter of seconds.

“Oh for the love of- fuck!” He twirled his tongue around that extremely sensitive spot one last time before you came in his mouth.

You laid beside him, legs pressed together in adrenaline and a smile on your face, you had missed him in every possible way.

“Yeah that’s me, I love to fuck.” He laughed stroking your hair and pushing a few loose strands away in a loving matter. Diego was the absolute king of aftercare, he always seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he made sure you felt safe and loved before you both drifted off. “You do know that’s never going to happen again, right?”

“Oh it will happen over and over if you keep pissing me off, and I kinda liked being on charge for once.” You turned to face him but he wasn’t laughing with you. He wasn’t serious either, he was just staring at you as if you were an ethereal being, as if he couldn’t believe you were laying next to him, afraid that if he blinked or looked away you might slip from his arms.

“I love you baby, and I promise you will never ever feel alone again, and I’ll only leave when you want me to.”

You kissed him, a tiny peck on the lips to ensure him that you believed his words before you fell asleep, finally feeling how his warmth made your pillows softer, your bed more comfortable and your dreams more beautiful.

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves umbrella academy #diego hargreeves angst #diego hargreeves smut #umbrella academy angst #umbrella academy smut

[cinnamon-bebe]

Chemtrails (Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader)

Chemtrails (Pedro Pascal X Fem!Reader)

Summary: "If you died today, would you be happy with the life you've lived?" What happens when you've sacrificed your love for fame and fortune? Despite the glitz and glamour, the Reader is all Pedro can think about. The stars have never been on your side but can you rewrite the plans they have for you?

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Occasional Cursing

Inspired by the song Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey

"I'm on the run with you, my sweet love

There's nothing wrong contemplating God

Under the chemtrails over the country club"

"Baby what's your sign?"

"You're in the wind, I'm in the water

Nobody's son, nobody's daughter

Watching the chemtrails over the country club"

Pedro's POV

The chatter of a hundred people and yet I still only hear your voice. Memories of your words, from years past.

You asked me what my sign was, I told you I was an Aries. You laughed and told me we shouldn't be friends, the stars say so. The stars say we're incompatible, we'd be at each other's throats. I'm a fire sign and you didn't need any more drama. I kissed you for the first time and told you I'd prove you wrong, you simply smiled and looked off to the chemtrails that flew over us.  

Memories from years past.

I didn't have much to offer you but I told you that you could take my word. At that time, it was worth more than anything I could have given you.

"You want me to defy the stars?" You raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing your face.

"The stars can go fuck themselves." I told you and kissed you again.

We were so young. We were nobodies. Running through the concrete jungle, with your hand in mine. Sun dress and kisses at midnight convenience stores, splitting a hot dog on a summer day because we needed money for the show at 7.

We used to contemplate the meaning of life over a bottle on our little balcony. I asked you if you were happy and you smiled but did not reply.

"If you died today, would you be happy with the life you've lived?" You asked me instead.

"No." I told you. "There's so much more I want to do. I want to be somebody."

I didn't know it then but that was the moment I started to lose you.

Memories from years past.

I find myself sitting at a restaurant now, with more money to line my pockets, pats on the back from strangers. People know my name and it comes out in whispers, as they stare over their expensive plate, getting cold just to catch a glimpse of me.

A beautiful woman sits across from me. As if a movie star isn't a big enough draw, a woman like her only invites more gazes. She looks like she'd just stepped off a screen herself. She gives me all her attention, so much so that she does not register the envious stares from the others around her.

Her lips are moving, perhaps a funny anecdote came to mind or is she telling me about her sister's wedding again that she mentioned before?  I cannot tell you, for my mind is elsewhere, with someone else.

"So would you like to come?" She smiles brightly at me, her perfect teeth sitting between her lips, painted in a dusty pink.  

"Huh?" I snap out of my daze, embarrassed that I was clearly not paying attention.

"Jule's wedding, did you...want to be my date for the day?" She blushes, hopeful.

"Oh. I...uh. I don't know Kate. I have a pretty packed schedule coming up, I don't know if I'll have time." I try to make up an excuse.

"It's too early isn't?" She bites her lip sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I know we've only been dating for a few weeks, I shouldn't have sprung this up on you so fast."

"No no, please don't be silly. I love weddings!" I try to laugh it off. "It's just that, with the new movie coming up, I need to start preparing before we go into production."

"I understand." She nods with a smile, "Comes with the territory when you're dating a big movie star I guess." She looks at me, I'm not sure if she's anticipating a response but I reciprocate with a grin and wave at the waiter for another drink.

Soon enough, she excuses herself from the table to go to the ladies room and I'm left sitting alone at our spot. I grow tiresome of the incessant chattering from the tables around me and I massage the temples of head, wishing I was at home in the comfort of my bed with just the company of my television.

I see glances from a small table to the side of me, a group of young women clearly too shy to ask for a photograph, egging each other on to make the first move over to me. Their hopes quickly dashed as I feel a firm hand on my shoulder, turning me around.

"Pedro?" A familiar voice calls my name.

"Anthony! Fancy seeing you here!" My eyes widen as I pull an old friend down for a hug.

"It's my anniversary with Charlize, we're just celebrating! God I haven't seen you for so long!" He shakes his head, slowly looking me up and down, examining my so-called transformation. I've aged so much since we last we saw each.

"How long have you been here?" I ask.

"A couple of hours, I actually saw you before but I..uh...I didn't want to interrupt your date."

Date? I swallow the word whole.

"You lucky man. She's very pretty." He comments.

"Yeah, she is."

"You could seem a bit more interested though but those are Charlize's words, not mine." He raises his hands up, letting his wife take the blame.

"I must seem like an ass, don't I?" Poor Kate, how spoilt am I to show a woman like her so little interest. "I haven't dated for so long, it's just hard getting back into the scene that's all."

Anthony let's out an inaudible "oh" and I know he's thinking the same thing, I can practically hear the name sitting on his tongue, desperately wanting to come out. 

"How is Y/N?" I break the ice, allowing the elephant in the room an escape before he suffocates along with me.

"She's good, very good actually. She's a documentary film maker now. Her work is amazing, you'd love it." Anthony couldn't help his excitement when speaking about you and I feel an intense pang of sadness and jealousy seeing his eyes light up. To see you, celebrate you. I wonder if you've aged like me or do you still look the same as how I remember. Do you still crinkle your nose every time you hear a bad joke? Do your eyes still get red and glassy when you look at the sky because you're wondering if anyone's looking down on you? I wish I knew.

"Listen, I have to go." Anthony looks back at his wife who gives me a polite wave from a distance.

"It was really good seeing you Anthony, I'm sorry we haven't spoken all these years. It's just with work..." I recycle that old excuse again.

"Don't worry about it...you made it! I know you worked really hard to get where you are now. I know you had to make a lot of sacrifices..." The last sentence, spoken so softly, it was almost drowned out. "I'm genuinely happy for you."

I nod, giving my friend one last hug before I ready for him to turn and leave, instead he hesitates and looks at me.  

"Hey Pedro?"

"Yeah?"

"She still lives in the neighbourhood." He looks down at the scarf in his hand before patting me on my arm. "Just so you know."

With that, he waves me goodbye. Walking back to his wife, who he wraps his arm around. The way she naturally rests into him and slips her hand into his coat pocket as they exit the restaurant, I wonder if I'd ever have that level of intimacy with Kate.  

__________________________________________________

I sent her home in a taxi. "I have an early morning and need to prep for some meetings", my excuse for her this time. Kate's disappointed expression, as I gave her a kiss on the cheek is the last thing on my mind.

Scuffing the cap of my leather shoes, I kick at the pavement. The world moves past me as I hide myself in the bubble of my thoughts. I have no sense of direction, my legs taking me to no intended destination, only letting the neon lights around guide me to where it desires.

Anthony's words were still ringing in my ears.

Would you want to see me?

My mind reminds me of the last time we were together.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this, if I don't leave the city now, I may never get my chanc-"

"Get your chance to do what? Be a star?" You were sat deep in the corner of the sofa, far from me. Your voice calm and monotonous as you watched me pace up and down our tiny apartment. I couldn't decipher your expression, it was as if you knew what I was going to say.

"I want to make something out of my life! I want to prove to everyone and myself that I can make it Y/N. I don't want to waste my life away." I moved towards you, our presence separated by the little vintage coffee table I hated but still bought home because you loved it so much.

"Well then go, I don't want to hold you back from chasing your dreams."

"Y/N-"

"No. It's okay Pedro. I understand...I really do. I don't want to stop you from pursuing what you love." You got up from your spot, you seemed so small to me as you closed the gap between us. Your hand felt so light against my face, like you were disappearing before me. "Don't live in regret because of me."

"Y/N come wi-" I tried to hold you, hold you before you evaporated.

"No. My place is here." You took your hand away, moved back, the space between us grew more and more distant. "I don't have big dreams like you do. I like normality. I like living my life however I want it, do whatever I want, whenever I want. You asked me if I was happy...and I am."

"Would you still be happy without me?"

I stared at you. My gut sank because I already knew this was the end. You didn't have to tell me.

"I don't know..." You managed to smile, even through the gentle tears that formed in your eyes. "But I know you would be without me."

"That's not true." I tried to reach for you but you pulled away.

"We're very different people Pedro...I told you, we're incompatible. It's time we listened to the stars."

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted as I feel a hand rest softly on the small of my back.

"Hello sir, would you like to buy a rose?" An elderly woman smiles up at me. A child stands obediently nearby, holding a bouquet of individually wrapped stems, clearly past his bedtime but still helping Grandma late at night. The child looks tired, sad. Judging by the number of roses still in his hands, they must have had an unlucky day.

"How much for one?" I return her kind smile, taking out my wallet.

"$2. Thank you, thank you so much sir." The old woman sighs in relief calling the child over to bring the flowers for me to pick. Each stem had a handwritten tag with various cheesy sentiments adorned.

....A kiss in exchange for a rose...

...You're more beautiful than any flower but here's one to show you my love anyway...

....Would you be my Valentine?...

....Please forgive me, I was an idiot.

I chuckle at the last one before picking a rose at random.

I take out $100 and watch the old lady's eyes panic as she reaches in her purse to find change. Taking her hand firmly in mine, I assure her it wasn't necessary.

"I'll take one rose for the $100. You keep the rest of the flowers and have a good night okay?"

The woman looks at the child with her mouth agape and then back at me, clearly taken aback by the gesture.

"Sir, are you sure?"

"Yes, take the kid home and get some rest. This one rose itself is worth every dollar." I pat her hand which trembles in mine.

"Thank you! Thank you! Bless you and the woman who receives your rose!"

Taking the child's hand they quickly walk away, whispering to each other and disappearing into the night.

I stare at the flower in my hand and bring it closer to my face, studying the message on the tag.

...Let's defy the stars and write our own destiny.

I stand in the dark of night, illuminated only by the cafe lights ready to turn off for the day. My hand grips the stem as if it weighed a hundred tons yet afraid it would float away like a feather. The frantic honking of the traffic seems to taunt me, the laughter from the bars nearby seem to be mocking this idiot of a man standing in the middle of the streets, holding a flower he paid $100 for.

"Just do it!" I hear a young boy shout at his friend attempting a skateboard trick up the block.

Just do it. I repeat to myself. Just fucking do it.

"Taxi!"

 _________________________________________________

I remember these steps, we used to sit here with the neighbours' kids. Charlie, I think that was his name? I remember little Charlie proposing to you with a plastic ring and threatening to get his kindergarten buddies on me, simply for existing. I can't help but laugh at that memory.

Everyone was in love with you, the young, the old. They couldn't help but fall for your charms, your kindness, the way you'd smile at them even if you've never spoken a word to each other. Everyone was under your spell, including me.

You told me you loved me on these steps.

I had gotten back from a bad audition and couldn't bear to go home to you. I sat here for hours until you saw me from the balcony and came down. You didn't ask me anything. You just sat with me as we watched the kids run up and down the block, racing each other, teasing each other. I looked at you and you gave me a kiss on the nose.

"I love you."

You said it so quietly at first that I pretended I didn't I understand.

You rolled your eyes and pulled my face into yours, telling me you loved me over and over again as you smothered me with your kisses.

That was one of the happiest moments of my life.

Walking past our faded figures, I enter the building and see that nothing has changed.

The walls were the same duck egg green. The bulletin board covered in layers of flyers and advertisement, some new, with plenty dated months back. I wouldn't be surprised if the audition ads I tried out for from years ago were still there.

The smell of various cuisines mingle together to form its own unique indecipherable aroma.

A comforting aroma.

I look to the elevator, still out of order. Obviously.

We only lived on the third floor, the stairs will be fine.

I prepare myself for the incline when a voice calls out to me.

"Where are you going?"

I turn around and see our old building superintendent, decked out in his uniform. Stanley.

"Stan! It's me Pedro! Wow, you're still here!" I walk to him.

"Who?" He looks me up and down, completely confused as to who the hell I am.

"Pedro from 3B upstairs? I used to live with Y/N...maybe you don't remember me because of the moustache." I rub the bottom of my nose sheepishly.

"No...I don't remember you."

Old Stanley, perhaps age is catching up to him.

"I'm just going to see Y/N." I try to resume my journey but he stops me once more.

"No entry into the building if you're not a resident!" He points to the sign on the wall.

"Since when was that a rule?" I throw my hand in the air.

"Since today. We have too many unsavoury men try to come into the building, how do I know if you really know Miss Y/L/N? I'm not letting any potential predators or burglars into the building."

"But Stan she-"

Pointing to the sign on the wall again, he raises an angry brow. Not wishing a full body beat down by ol' Stan, I take myself back out the building like a bad dog.  

I sit on the steps, sighing in defeat. I try to convince myself that coming here is a mistake.

"Defy the stars...pfft! You've been in way too many movies Pedro." I mumble to myself, as I dig my thumb nail into the stem of the rose.

Perhaps we're only given the choice to rewrite our destiny but it doesn't mean destiny would just sit idly by and let you do whatever you want. It's probably for the best. What would I say anyway?

Running my hand through my hair, I get up to leave. The adrenaline from earlier had drained so quickly out of me, that its left me a fatigued mess. Move on Pedro, it's time to go home.

"Hey movie star." A voice calls from above. "You looking for me?"

Your hair falls past your face as you lean over the balcony and in that moment I feel my heart break into a million pieces.

There you are.

Standing before me, even more beautiful than when you left, if that is even possible.

You're wearing a simple white vest and grey shorts, one leg rubbing softly against the other. Your skin bears the warm orange glow reflected from the lights inside your apartment.

You look so raw, so delicate.

Every pulse in my body aches seeing you again.

"Wow." I breathe. "You look..."

You hide your laugh and I can see you blushing from behind your hand.

"Thanks. You look great too. I'm like the...um..." You rub under your nose with your finger.

"Thank you, I grew it out for a role but now people tell me I look like their grandma without it." I shrug, much to your amusement.

"What are you doing here?" You speak, more softly, more seriously.

How do I even respond to this question? I was out on a date with another woman but I bumped into our old friend who told me I should find you? Or should I go with I met an old woman and her kid, who I'm pretty sure were cupid's little minions, sent down to earth to give me a rose and to fuck with me?

"I was just in the neighbourhood. I wanted to see if you wanted to um...go out for a coffee?" I lie.

You look at me incredulously, clearly seeing through my bullshit.

"Everything is shut by now." You simply respond.

"Oh...well maybe we can just talk then?"

You tap the metal rails, where you lay your arms. Are you contemplating whether to come down or throw a bucket of water over me? I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Without saying a word, you disappear out of sight. The lights in your apartment switches off.

What does this mean? Are you off to bed?

Before I could ruminate any more, the doors open from behind me and you slip through.

God, you look even better up close.

My hands instinctively reach out to touch you but I withdraw quickly before you could see. You had wrapped yourself in a fleecy blanket, the threads a deep purple.

Without saying a word, you sit down on the step and I can only follow suit, my mind can no longer make decisions for itself it seems.

You smell the same, that same soft floral scent I used to love. The one I used to breathe in when I'd hold you close to me in bed because I didn't want you to leave for work.

Our knees are so close, they almost touch.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

For a minute I don't know how to respond, I just don't want to stop looking at you.

"I was...I was wondering if you were thinking about me?"

You laugh, I laugh too. Of course you weren't.

"I think about you all the time." You tell me so casually, it catches me off guard.

"You do?" I whisper in disbelief.

"It's hard not to when you're on every other billboard in the city."

Oh.

"I think about you all the time too Y/N."

You smile and look up at the sky. The night is aligned with many stars tonight and they all call for your attention but mine. I feel greedy staring at you but I'm simply making up for all the nights that I was alone without you, all those kisses I've shared with women that weren't you.

"What do you think the stars are telling us tonight?" I ask.

You grin and without looking back at me, you say "I think the stars are laughing at us."

"Do you think the stars have changed their mind about us?"

You finally turn to me, your eyes drop. "I don't think that's how it works Pedro."

"If this is the life the stars have planned for me, a life without you, then I don't want it Y/N."

"Pedro-"

"I thought if I made a name for myself, if people knew who I was, then I'd be sure of who I am...but who I'm meant to be, who I want to be...is to be with you." Your eyes meet mine, coloured with emotions you are scared to express. "I look for you everywhere I go Y/N, in every women I meet but you are always a world away."

"We don't even know each other anymore Pedro."

"You are the only one who has always known who I am, even before me Y/N. I'm still as strange and as wild as I have always been. I'm still as messy and as clumsy as I was before. I still love cheap corner store liquor and dancing terribly in public. I still look at chemtrails whenever they past me...because they remind me of you."

"Chemtrails are bad for you, they say they're chemicals."  You tell me, your voice low and expressionless.

"If I die with you as my last thought, it won't be so bad."

I finally find the courage to reach for you and you don't recoil from me, you let me gently run my finger against the hair that falls down past your face. You close your eyes and I selfishly take you, pulling you towards me.

I rest my forehead against yours and I savour this moment where I can be close to you and not let it be a memory.

"What if I've changed?" You whisper.

"Well then I'll spend the rest of my life getting to know you again."

"If I told you to run away with me tonight, would you?" You open your eyes to see me, your expression as serious as ever.

"You're my home Y/N. I'll go wherever you go. Even if it's to another galaxy, we'll drive a little red Corvette into space together and leave this all behind."

You smile and tug on the bottom of your lip. "You think the stars would still allow us to go to space?"

"Fuck the stars." I say as I take your lips.

Oh, how I've missed the sweetness of your taste; in this moment you are spoiling me rotten. You wrap your arms around me and allow the blanket to drop from your shoulders. The only stars that mattered now are those in our eyes. They're telling me the future and it's you. It's always been you.

The sirens of the city and the plane overhead may be loud but I hear nothing over the sound of your heart beat.

You pull away and we both laugh.

In this moment, we are perfect. I am no longer the famous celebrity that belonged to everyone. I am not a son and you are no one's daughter.

We only belong to each other.

I see you shiver and look towards the door.

"Let's go inside." You get up and take my hand, guiding me back to our home. The one I've longed for ever since I left.

The building is quiet, everyone asleep by this hour but old Stan at his desk. I try to shuffle past as inconspicuously as I could, my hand entwine with yours.

"Welcome back Mr Pascal." Stanley greets us as clear as day, his head not even looking up from above his phone.

"Wha- so you do remember me!"

Sly old dog.

Stanley doesn't respond and concentrates on his screen instead.

You shake your head and pull me up the steps but not before I set down my lucky rose on the desk.

"Good night Stan."

I call out before I chase my love up the stairs, both of us ready to write our next chapter together. I don't know what it will entail but I know if you're in it, it will be the greatest adventure I'll ever take.

"Kids these days." Stan sighs, closing the article on his phone and clicking on a familiar app. Putting his feet up, he relaxes with a smile on his face as the Mandalorian theme song begins to play.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #javier pena #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #ww1984 #maxwell lord #oberyn martell #game of thrones #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal imagine #fanfiction #chemtrails #lana del rey

[luvknow]

in another lifetime | lee minho

genre: ceo/iron man!lee minho x secretary!reader | ceo au ; superhero au ; alcohol mention ; blood mention summary: you and your boss were inseparable. no one could understand how you could work ungodly hours for such an inexperienced ceo. but your job was to stick by Mr. Lee for as long as you were getting paid, and that meant being his date to charity balls and helping him turn into the country’s best superhero. wc: 18.9k a/n: rewrite of that one w**jin fic cuz fuck that guy ~! the public has spoken.... lee minho has been chosen as the winner

Secretary was your title, but you liked to think you were more than just that. Perhaps secretary was just an umbrella term for amateur sommelier slash novice multitasker slash the only employee who knew how to drive stick. Whatever your job entailed, you were sure to list all of those tasks in your updated resume when it was time to pass the torch onto some other poor sucker because you would much rather die than be a secretary for life.

It wasn’t like your boss was a total ass, or anything. That was actually the scary part - the fact that your boss was one of the kindest and most attentive people you’ve ever worked for, yet you still hated this job! What made this so horrid was the amount of walking and running your poor feet had to do. And guess what? No sneakers were allowed in the office, so you were left with walking over forty-thousand steps in a day in toe-pinching sole-aching glossy shoes that were half a size too big for your feet because shoes like these always ran out in your size in the store.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee,” you greeted, walking into his private office at 8:00 am on the dot as normal. With tired eyes, he looked up from his stack of blueprints and gave you a warm smile. You don’t know how he does it, but he always managed to welcome your morning visits with a smile that almost made you consider your resignation. “Iced americano, extra shot.”

“You are a blessing,” he praised graciously. One sip of the liquid gold was enough to wake him up right away.

“Long night?”

“Yeah. You know how it took us hours to decide the wall colors for each floor in our building? Imagine doing that all over again, but for a superhero suit prototype.”

“But it’s just a suit this time, not fifty floors.”

“This isn’t just a suit, _____. It’s the suit of a man who’s going to save the world one day! A suit that everyone will lay their eyes on and judge me for my color choices.”

“You sound like a child.”

“An ambitious child, mind you.”

“Did you ultimately decide on a color?”

“Yes, two colors actually. Red and gold.”

“Wow, such a loud and loyal color choice.”

“Is it?” Your handsome boss pouted slightly while scanning his designs. “Seungmin said the same thing. Maybe I should change it -”

“No!” you interrupted for the sake of not wanting to look up Pantone’s thousands of shades of ruby and champagne. “Red and gold are perfect for you.”

Minho’s pouty lips melted into a proud smile. “If you believe so, then I trust you. Come take a look - what do you think of it overall?”

You walked around his ginormous custom-made walnut desk to peer over his shoulder. Minho could smell the familiar gardenia scent you wore for years and it immediately brought comfort to his panicking soul. Somehow your presence always calmed him down, no matter what stressful situation he was in. Maybe that’s why he wanted to have you around 24/7. How selfish of him.

Your couple minutes of silence were so agonizing that his nervous foot-tapping habit he told you about that he thought he got rid of in college broke through, which was your cue to answer.

“I like it. I like it a lot, actually,” you admitted honestly. “I would definitely feel safe if I saw you come to my rescue, although the helmet is a little concerning.”

“Concerning how?”

“Well, it has such a… A, uh… How do I put this politely? A dead expression?”

“‘Dead’ is a polite adjective to you?”

“I mean come on, Mr. Lee, there are two eyes and a flat line for the mouth where the corners curve downwards just slightly and it looks like you gave him little fangs. There’s not much life in the eyes, either.” 

“They light up when the suit is on!”

“Maybe I’ll like it more when I see it in person?”

“The helmet is the only thing I’m confident about, so nothing and no one can change my mind,” he said stubbornly.

“I’m sure everyone will love it,” you reassured while smoothing out the stress wrinkles on his indigo shoulder pads. “When do you plan on starting the build?”

“In half an hour.”

“What!?” Minho nearly spit out his espresso at your yelping and the frantic way you sifted through your massive planner and scrolling through your emails on your phone at the same time. Oh, so that’s what he forgot to tell you! He knew something felt off. “B-B-But I didn’t get an email that the shipment arrived!”

“I called the company at five in the morning just as they opened and demanded an expedited shipping of all the materials and they’ll be arriving in half an hour.”

“But did the quality department approve of the materials? Or your design at least?”

“You do know I’m the CEO, right?” Minho smirked teasingly. “That’s business talk for ‘fuck Quality’.”

Minho stood up from his black velvet Chesterfield chair to escape your nagging and briskly walked away towards God-knows-where. Like an obedient, push-over puppy, you trailed closely behind with a light jog and all you could think about was how it was too early for your feet to be aching this badly.

“I don’t like the idea of this,” you said firmly.

“You never do. Loosen up a little, will ya?”

“I will not! I looked the other way when you decided on signing a contract to collaborate with that ugly luxury car brand, I agreed with the proposal of a new smartphone that totally flopped in the end, and I barely allowed the approval for the development of the new branch in Taiwan! All of those ideas are whatever, arbitrary even, but this? This puts you at the front line of danger, Mr. Lee! What if something goes wrong, or the material is compromised? What if these companies take you for a fool for not checking in with the quality department first? What if you’re setting yourself up to be sabotaged, huh?”

Minho pressed the down button on the elevator, ignoring your pleas. Even though all you do is nag and play by the rules, he knew you were only doing so because he didn’t bother to. In the end, you were just looking out for him, and he couldn’t appreciate you more.

His gives you what he thought was a reassuring smile. To you, it looked rather mischievous “Lucky for me that you’ll be there the whole time, right?”’

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean you’ll watch the entire suit being built while you work. Then you’ll see how safe it is. I need someone to double check me, anyways.”

“Mr. Lee, I don’t think I’m qualified for that.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you are!”

Your engineering experience went as far as Physics I and II classes with a teaspoon’s worth in basic circuitry, so if Minho thought that qualified you to double check his work, then you might have to question his PhD degree.

The elevator welcomed you both into its vacant container. The lowest level this elevator could reach with a single button was the basement, but if the right person (or the wrong person) were to dial the buttons in the order of 4-4-1-9, they would be taken nine floors below the basement to the rumored ‘Super Office’ (ten was too much because Minho didn’t like the feel of the heavy pressure and eight was such a silly number).

The steel doors opened right into his Super Office which he designed to be five times larger than his executive office so he had plenty of room for building up new car designs and bringing his super suits to life for both him and his partners. His successful designs that were once worn but are now retired were placed on mannequins and stored inside a tall glass box on display for him to admire.

You walked up to your favorite one, eyes sparkled adoringly at Seungmin’s first Spider-Man suit.

“You always loved the red and blue,” Minho noted behind you. “Still not a fan of the black one?”

“The black one is scary! No one wants a hero dressed in all black, like that color does not exude the feeling of safe.”

“Duly noted for his next suit.”

Beside Seungmin’s old spidey suit was an empty display case you assumed was meant for this final draft of Minho’s Iron Man suit. Surrounding the two glass cases were dozens and dozens of wood and plastic demos that didn’t work out in the end, but Minho didn’t have the heart to take them to the dumpster.

“Looks like the shipment arrived early!” Your mature but easy-going boss jogged up to the piles of wooden crates and packages that were laid out neatly in the center of his work space. Without much patience, he took off his indigo suit jacket, tossed it to the side like it wasn’t worth two thousand dollars (to which you caught before it hit the ground), and took the crowbar on top of the pile to open the cases with ease. Sheets of metals, different tools, and a cool welding and soldering set scattered along the concrete floor. Minho gave you an excited grin that mimicked a child upon opening gifts on Christmas. “Let the building commence!”

There wasn’t room for any argument, so you took a seat at his desk where he normally would sketch the designs and worked off of his desktop with a heavy feeling of defeat. At least watching the process would be cool, right?

Maybe cool wasn’t the right word. Or watching.

For the next three months, from sunrise to sunset, you spent your day nine floors below the surface for almost twelve hours a day being his little helper. From holding pieces of metal in place while he flame torched them together to feeding him take out because his hands were covered in oil, you did it all and God, if Minho didn’t give you a raise or at least some meal tickets to the executive cafeteria, you might just quit on the spot.

“Done.” With a heavy and exhausted sigh, Minho clapped his hands together and marveled at his nearly-finished product. “We’re done!!”

“What about the red and gold paint?”

“I can’t work on this anymore or I’ll implode. I’ll just take this to my car guy and he’ll paint it exactly how I want it.”

“Not really a self-made suit then, is it?” you dared to challenge your boss.

He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Shut your mouth and give me my food.”

You handed a slouching Minho his box of take-out and wooden chopsticks. While you had a perfectly comfortable ottoman he could have sat on right next to you, he remained on the cold concrete, probably too sore and worn out to even stand up, let alone walk to a cushioned seat. Minho was a man with personality and many faces, but his face of satisfactory upon completing projects was when he was the most handsome. For a while, you two just sat in silence, taking in every detail of the flawless iron suit while slurping noodles. 

“So,” Minho began nervously. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, Mr. Lee,” you say immediately.

“You mean it?”

For someone so intelligent and talented, it was a wonder how a man like him could be insecure about any of his creations.

“Absolutely,” you reassured. “Flawless. Is it fully programmed and everything?”

“Yup. I installed the software and artificial intelligence last week.”

“Sounds like the only thing you need to do is take it out for a spin.”

Minho hummed with approval. “... Can you do it for me?”

“What!? No!”

“I really don’t want to do it…”

“With all due respect, suck it up.”

“Isn’t it reasons like this why I hired you?”

“I was hired to be your secretary, not your lab rat.”

“To be fair, the job description was pretty vague.”

“Yeah, I definitely did not expect to be helping you construct a modern Knight in Shining Armor cosplay.” After wiping your mouth clean of all MSG and soy sauce, you tossed your dirty napkin in the trash bin that was a considerable distance away.

Minho followed suit, who was also able to get his napkin in the can. Then you tossed another napkin, and then him, and this went on until you were left to toss your boxes and chopsticks. The real challenge was tossing the plastic wraps of the fortune cookies.

“Whoever loses has to do whatever the other says,” Minho proposed.

Without hesitation, you nodded in agreement. “Fine, but I will not test that thing out if I lose.”

“Deal. Secretaries first.”

You did your best to crumple up and squish out any air that was left in the wrapped before whipping it like you were throwing the first pitch. The wrapper hit the rim of the can and fell to the side. But that’s ok, because there was no way your boss could even come close to -

“WOO!” Minho cheered, getting up from the floor while you were left slumped in the chair filled with defeat. Of course, whatever he wanted, he would get his way. “Man, I am super lucky today.”

“What the hell! Did you wrap it around a stone or something!?”

“Darling, I would never cheat ~”

“There’s no use in arguing. Just lay the consequences on me, boss.”

Minho scooted the ottoman closer - almost a little too close. Then, like a handsome little goldendoodle with his swooshy chocolate hair and sparkling eyes, he gazed up at you pleadingly before offering you your punishment.

Fear and flattery tickled your spine. “Spit it out.”

A grin followed. “You will accompany me to the ball next week.”

“The Children’s Charity Ball? The biggest charity ball of the century? The one where all the white-haired big shots attend with their dates who just barely turned eighteen?”

“The very same.”

“And you want me to be your date.”

“Yes.”

“Seems a bit lazy, doesn’t it?”

“Lazy how!?”

Not wanting him to see you blush, you began cleaning up the mess from the takeout. “Lazy as in why not find a real date? You know, someone you’ll have a good time with.”

“Hey, I always have a good time with you! And I’m doing you a favor if you think about it. If I wanted to bring anyone else, that would mean you’d have to flip through all of my contacts and have you choose the perfect date for me. So unless you want the extra overtime, I’ll expect to see you dressed to the nines?”

“Don’t you want to bring someone more suited for this role? Someone with much more finesse and elegance?” you said as you twirled dirty napkins in the air.

“If I’m being honest, I do not have the time nor do I want to put in the effort into bringing someone so bland.”

“Who says they’re bland? What if I pick out one of your supermodel friends or like a professor, or something?”

“All my supermodel friends like to toke up in bathrooms and what’s a professor going to do? Lecture me to death? _____, please, I am begging you - be my date? You know you and I are going to have a blast, I promise you. We always do when we’re together.”

A moment of silence passed while you shuddered in disgust. You couldn’t believe you were going to say this, but…  “So what should I wear?”

“Yes! That’s the spirit! Wear anything besides velvet because that’s my fabric of choice.”

“Can you at least do the picking for me? We should at least match in the slightest.”

Minho let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, fine, I’ll do all the work.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Mr. Lee.”

“It’s what I do best.”

After cleaning up the mess and a last quick polish on the Iron suit, the two of you took the elevator to the level below the basement where Minho parked his favorite fancy shmancy foreign sports car you couldn’t pronounce. In its shiny and spotless all-white glory sat his coup in his executive parking spot where no other car or person was in sight.

“Quite showy for you, isn’t it?” you accused your normally toned-down boss.

“I had a hunch that today was going to be the day we finished, and low and behold, we did. Soojung the Spyder always brings me good luck,” he patted and praised his prized roadster.

The distance from the office to your apartment was a solid forty-five minutes away by public transportation, right on the edge of being not too far, but not close enough, but by car it was only twenty-five minutes. During your first couple of years with the company, you enjoyed the lonely rides and getting lost with your thoughts, but there were moments you got so lost that you missed your stop a couple too many times and sometimes the winter made waiting outside so unbearable. It wasn’t until you started to clock in tons of overtime that Minho was nice enough to drive you home from then on.

--

“C’mon, _____, just get in the car,” Minho begged for the twelfth time, holding the passenger door open with one hand and an umbrella with the other. He parked his car illegally right in front of the bus stop that so many other employees used. Why did it matter that you were using it while it was thunderstorming and past 10:00 PM? “The heat is escaping the longer we argue.”

“It’s fine! I don’t live too far away,” you lied. “Please go home, Mr. Lee, your puppy must be worried sick.”

“Hazelnut can wait, but I can’t. As your boss, I order you to get in my car!” Though the statement was serious with his booming voice, his pouty lips made it much less intimidating.

“With all due respect, I have clocked out for the day and I don’t have to listen to you until 7:00 am tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me break the law.”

“What do you mean?”

The blinding lights of the bus flashed irregularly, a polite way of telling Minho to get the fuck out of the way. But he didn’t move in the slightest. He patiently waited for you by the passenger door, not moving a muscle and looking like a car model dressed in his long, warm and tan pea coat. The patient and smug look on his face let you know he wasn’t playing around and that he’d dare tell the bus to wait until you got in.

“Mr. Lee, get out of the way!”

“Not until you’re in my car,” he shook his head stubbornly. “The bus is getting closer ~”

Your anxiousness hiked up exponentially when the driver held the horn long and loudly, not looking like they had much patience in them and indicating that they were very, very annoyed. For the sake of not inconveniencing the butt-load of passengers and the driver and securing your job, you hurried into his car, cursing up a storm that rivaled the one outside. A triumphant and smirking Minho followed suit and sped away at a dangerous speed, perhaps breaking a second law that night. For those twenty-five minutes (or maybe it was fifteen with Minho’s driving), the car was silent because your reckless boss focused on cutting every civilian off on the highway and you were too busy covering your eyes in fear.

--

“You were so dramatic back then,” Minho snickered at the seemingly-harmless memory.

“Me!? You were the one who parked in front of a bus stop and begged me to get in!”

“You were the one who wouldn’t get in the damn car!”

“How does it look to on-lookers that a secretary is getting into her boss’s car!?”

“It’s not like anyone knows our relationship.”

“Oh please, someone like you driving a beautiful shiny car picking up sad ol’ me at the bus stop - of course on-lookers may not know me and my relationship to you, but they definitely know who you are at the very least.”

“I could not give more than zero fucks of what people think.”

“Yes, that much is clear.”

“_____, you can’t always worry about what everyone thinks ~”

You sighed loudly, as if you’d explained this to him a thousand times already. “Worrying is the basis of my entire title, Mr. Lee.”

“And will you drop the ‘Mr. Lee’ once and for all? We’re the same age!”

“Same age, but different titles and a massive pay gap. You and I are not equals.”

Minho reached over to mess up your hair. “You’re so formal, it’s so cute!”

“Ah, stop it! You’re swerving!!”

Minho had dropped you off and walked you up to your apartment more times than you can count, but you don’t think you’ll ever get over the embarrassment of your humble abode. Of course you’ve visited his mansion just as many times, since you participated in the designing of it, and him having to see such a sad home in comparison is, well, terrifying each and every time.

“Ok, bye,” you dismissed quickly.

A handsome laugh escaped your handsome boss’s lips. “Still hate having me so close to your home? You know, it’s quite rude you’ve never invited me in and yet you’ve been in mine hundreds of times!”

“My home doesn’t have marble statues or glass refrigerators and I can’t hire you to redesign the interior.”

“You know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“But I do!”

His tongue tisked disappointedly. “What a shame. I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but friends don’t break sensitive boundaries.”

He passively waved you off. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

“Excellent. I have one request.”

It was your turn to pout. What could he possibly want this time? “Already? At least let me sleep peacefully.”

“It’s nothing complicated, I promise! In fact, it’ll save you thirty minutes. Don’t bring me my coffee tomorrow.”

“Don’t? Are you on a caffeine cleanse again? You know how badly that went last time - you barely lasted two days and you fired someone, to which I had to convince you for forty minutes to hire them back.”

“No, not a cleanse. Just come in a bit earlier. Let’s get coffee together.”

“Do you have time for that?” Knowing how packed Minho’s schedule was in the mornings, you wondered his sanity for making time just so the two of you could grab a cup.

“I’ll make time. Actually, you’ll make time. Can you pencil us in for some coffee?”

“U-Uh, yeah!” With nervous and shaky hands, you pulled out your work phone and squeezed in half an hour of coffee time. “Done.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don’t be reckless driving home.”

“No promises.”

Before going into your apartment complex, you watched Minho wave goodbye before blasting music with a deep bass and speeding off, leaving a smokey trail from burning rubber.

“I hate him,” you smiled to yourself.

--

“I hate him,” you said to yourself upon walking into Minho’s office.

Like an artificially intelligent robot that didn’t know of its purpose, Minho dressed in his Iron suit walked around his office doing regular office things, like dusting the blinds and tidying up loose papers on his desk. It was a little difficult to do smaller tasks with his stiff and massive iron hands, so you’re not entirely sure what your boss was doing.

“G’morning!” he greeted cheerfully. “Just taking this baby out on a test drive.”

You had just noticed the paint job was completed on the suit which meant that it was good to go. However, you didn’t think this was the ideal way to ‘test drive’ a superhero suit. 

“Good morning, Mr. Lee. Is this really the right way to test drive?”

“I got too excited when my car guy told me it was done. He did it so quickly and precisely, too. Look, he even engraved it with my signature! She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very shiny. The gold and red are much prettier than I imagined.”

“Right!? Not too Gryffindor-y, is it?”

“Not at all,” you said sincerely. “Do you want to get coffee now? We should hurry, you have a conference call at 8:00.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Minho followed you to the door with a trail of heavy iron steps. You turned around quickly and gave him an incredulous look, one he’s seen much too often. “I don’t want coffee anymore.”

“Why not!?”

“I’m not going out in public with you wearing that thing! You look ridiculous!”

“That’s so rude of you to say about my pride and joy! This also took me thirty minutes to put on!”

“Mr. Lee, we’re just getting coffee!”

“You are not fun at all.”

It took only five minutes to get your boss stumbling out of the suit because the button for the release was hidden under a metal panel on his wrist, but at least it was painless.

“I thought you didn’t want to reveal Iron Man until you tested it and got your seal of approval?” you asked the child-like man.

“That’s still the plan, but I’m just so excited! I think we should test it tonight.”

“Tonight? Already?”

“Yup, and I need you here with me in case I die, or something.”

“And to think I was gonna relax and take a bubble bath tonight.”

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

“I’ll believe it when I drop my bath bomb in my tub.”

In your whole time working here, you’ve spent more time together with Minho at both the office and at his home than working alone. The ratio was about seventy-five percent at the office, fifteen percent at his home, and ten percent miscellaneous, like going to business lunches or simple walks to the coffee shop like today. The long work hours were brutal on your feet and your social life, but the money was way too good to pass. You swore you broke the world record for ‘quickest payment of student debt’ with your hard work.

To anyone else, your job sounded so unappealing that no amount of money could ever convince them to do what you’re doing. ‘So brave’, they tell you, but it’s not that you’re brave, it’s that you’re loyal and as much as you hate to say it, you had the best boss. Yes, he’s a little goofy and yes, maybe a bit naive because he’s so young, but he treated you like you’re his equal and not someone so beneath him who takes all of his notes and takes his laundry to be dry cleaned. Plus when he compensated for your time so handsomely, how could you hate your job? Every day was new and exciting when you were with Minho.

The day went along as normal, from conference calls to lunch and finishing the day with an interview with the press. The very second everyone clocked out at 5:00 pm, you followed a speedy boss to wherever he led you.

“Are we going to test it out now?”

“No, silly, it’s still too bright out! We have to test it once the sun sets.”

You knew that sounded too good to be true. You held a light jog in order to keep up with him. “Where are we going then?”

He turned and gave you a suspicious grin. “Shopping!”

“For what!?”

“You and I need matching outfits for the charity ball, remember?”

“You know, I was just kidding when I said that… We don’t have to match…” The last thing you want is for someone to mistake you as your boss’s date instead of his secretary, but to be fair you don’t know many guests going that bring anyone that isn’t a date, so you kind of shot yourself in the foot when you didn’t make that shot into the trash bin.

“We are matching and I am not arguing with you.”

A defeated sigh escaped your lips before entering the backseat of Minho’s car where his driver would take us anywhere he pleased. He told him a cross section that sounded familiar, but not enough for you to guess where you’re going, so from here on out until you were home taking a hot bath, the rest of today would be a surprise. 

The car stopped in front of a glossy black DIOR building. You expected nothing less from Minho.

“You would pick Dior,” you scoffed, completely amazed at how someone so rich could have so much brand loyalty to one company.

“Hey, they are consistent and beautifully crafted, don’t judge me.”

“Mr. Lee and Lovely _____!” An older, graceful lady came running to greet both of you with a warm smile dressed in a hot red shade of lipstick. You recognized her voice to be the owner from all the times you called to ask about any pieces Minho could reserve before they hit the runway and were snatched up by the ‘I Have Daddy’s Credit Card and Inheritance’ private-school boys. This was your first time seeing her in person and her calming voice matched her mature appearance perfectly. “This piece has been waiting for you ~”

“I can’t wait, Auntie,” he smiled back graciously like an obedient nephew rewarded with cookies.

She led the two of you to the very back where the private dressing and tailoring area was, where the mirrors went from the floor to the ceiling. The store owner walked in with Minho’s fabric of choice, a velvet jacket with crisp black pants and a white button-up that had the slightest sheen of silver from metallic strands woven into the shirt fabric. In the shadows, one would think the velvet was black, but in the light or at certain angles, there was the slightest sheen to it that showed the darkest shades of indigo and green, like an oil slick. You couldn’t believe the amount of detail in the velvet that your eyes looked like they were popping out of your sockets.

Your boss was so eager to try it on that he was taking off his pants before you were warned. Quickly you turned around and shut your eyes, pretending that you didn’t see his KakaoTalk-patterned boxer briefs.

“M-M-Mr. Lee! At least warn me if you’re going to strip!!”

“Sorry ~” he apologized unapologetically.

A couple of zips and rustling of fabrics later, Minho tapped your shoulder to turn around. Your eyes bulged out of their sockets again while looking at your boss dressed in a suit that was clearly made for him and him only. It didn’t look like any tailoring was needed at all! He looked like he walked right off the runway. There had to be some enchantment spell in the fabric because you swear you’ve never seen any man more handsome before this moment.

“I take it you like it?” Minho teased.

Your cheeks tickled with red when he caught you staring. “You look amazing as usual, Mr. Lee.”

“You think so?” You knew so. “It’s not too flashy, is it?”

“Not at all. I think you have the perfect amount of flash. How does it feel?”

“Like a glove. It’s already perfectly tailored!”

“I know your measurements by heart, my dear,” Auntie bragged. “Of course I had it ready to go already.”

“You’re the best.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. “What would I be without you?”

“Not GQ’s best dressed man under thirty, that’s for sure.”

“Could you do me another favor? Do you perhaps have something for _____ to match? We have a charity ball next weekend.”

“Mr. Lee, this is really unnecessary -”

“I know exactly what to pull.”

Before you could object, Auntie ran to the back of the store where all the hidden inventory was held. You glared at your cheeky boss, still dressed in his sexy outfit and it was hard to keep your glare when he looked so damn good, that handsome bastard.

“I’m not wearing whatever she brings out.”

“You will and you’ll look great and we will buy it, so don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you!? I am not your doll!”

“I’ve got it!”

Both you and Minho whipped your heads to see Auntie running in with a blacker than black satin and silky outfit that was simple but elegant. Nervous goosebumps spread through your arms and straight to your wallet. You already knew this was going to be the most expensive outfit you’ve ever worn.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasped so slightly.

“Try it on!”

Minho followed Auntie out of the dressing room but not before shooting you a triumphant wink. I mean, who were you to deny your boss and the store owner, right? So with ease, you put on the cooling fabric that clung to your body in all the right spots. The mirror did all justice and perhaps it was a magical mirror that Dior spent millions on to convince their customers to buy everything because damn, you look hot! With your face as red as Minho’s Corvette, you presented the outfit to the two judges.

“Oh, it fits perfectly!” Auntie gushed with wide eyes.

Minho stayed silent with his mouth ajar and eyes scanning you up and down like you were a precious gem discovered in a deep cave beyond a waterfall. It was hard to differentiate between feeling flattered and feeling like object, but at least you were a desired object, right?

“You look amazing,” Minho admitted sincerely, no longer looking at you with awe and rather content.

“Really? I look ok?”

His handsome smile shined brightly at you. Whether you were dressed in your formal work clothes that screamed ‘absolute virgin’ or you were head-to-toe in Dior, you were never just ‘ok’. You always had the attention of everyone in the room once you walked in, especially his. You were always stunning, no matter what. Validation from your boss always came easy and calmed you quickly because he only had eyes for you.

“You look just fine,” he lied, because ‘fine’ didn’t come close to how you looked to him.

“We’ll be the best dressed at the ball, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

The car ride home was quiet other than the trot music playing on the radio from the driver’s playlist. Minho seemed as cool as a cucumber, but you were at the edge of your seat feeling a bit awkward and ugh, unintentionally sweaty. Compliments from any man was one thing, but coming from your boss? A whole different level of weird, especially if they weren’t work related! What did ‘you look just fine’ even mean!? Was that a good thing? Were you too average-looking? Whatever it was, from now until you fall asleep at ungodly hours, those words were going to circulate your thoughts, perhaps haunt you for days.

At exactly 7:03 pm, just as the sun set below the horizon revealing the indigo night sky, the driver pulled up to the back entrance of the building that led to a secret elevator that would take you straight to the underground office after punching in the code. A giggling and grinning Minho was the first to hop out of the car and ran towards the door.

“Mr. Lee, hold on!” you whined as you struggled to get out of the tall car.

“Hurry up, _____! Now’s the perfect time to earn that OT!”

“This time-and-a-half pay better be worth it…”

Upon entering the elevator, you were ready to punch in the 4419 code, but Minho had already pressed the button to the top level, which led to the roof slash helipad.

“Why are we going up?”

“We can’t test the suit inside, silly. Seungmin came by earlier to pick up his suit after I recalibrated it last night and I asked him to take the suit to the roof.”

“How, that thing weighs like a ton!”

“Not when you’re wearing it.”

“You let him wear it before you test drove it!? Mr. Lee, that’s extremely reckless!”

“Relax, I trusted he wouldn’t mess anything up, and look! It’s right there!”

The glass elevator made a slow stop to reveal the red and gold suit standing proudly in the center of the helipad. As soon as the doors panned open, Minho handed you his suitcase before running out and tossing his blazer onto the floor before hastily stepping into the suit.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, running back to your frazzled state. He took the leather suitcase from your hands and popped it open so he could give you a glass tablet. “This is for you.”

You looked at the shiny slab of glass with wonder. “What is it?”

“It’s like a control center. You’ll see what I see in terms of my stats and where I am in the city. If anything goes wrong, like say the jets give out, I need you to send a command to manually turn on the back-ups.”

“And what code is that?”

“Not important, we’ll study those later.”

“Later!? What if something happens tonight!?”

“Nothing will happen I promise, I’ll see you in a bit ~!” his cheering faded away the further he ran from you and to his beloved suit.

There was no use in fighting your boss, so you did as you were told and touched the tablet to reveal the control panel. It was black for a few moments before the screen showed your tiny self off in the distance looking down at the tablet which meant that Minho was able to put on and turn on the suit super quickly without any problems.

“What do you see?” he asked you through the speakers of the tablet from his built-in microphone in the helmet.

“I see me in the distance, the battery level of the suit, and all other weird liquids and commodities at one hundred percent.”

“Perfect!”

You turned to look at your boss who was stretching and feeling out the suit as if this wasn’t his 50th time wearing it. Still, he looked so excited and proud of his hard work, it was hard to tease him about how childish he was, even if he was trying out his yoga poses he just learned. 

“How does it feel?”

“It feels incredible! Totally indescribable now that I’m out in the open. And it’s surprisingly lightweight.”

“How were you able to make it feel light with all that metal?”

“I don’t know, if I’m being honest…”

You rolled your eyes. “The work of a genius, huh?”

“You’ve got that right. Are we ready to take off?”

“I believe so. Are you ready to take off?”

“More than I’ll ever be, baby!!”

Before you knew it, you saw the camera’s view on the screen wobble and turn towards the edge of the building. Terrified, you saw your child-like boss get a running start before he dove off the edge and into the sea of the city.

In a panic, you ran and took a peak over the edge, hoping the jets or whatever kept the suit flying would operate properly and leave you without any worries. At first, Minho was but a dark red speck falling beneath the shadows, but a second later, he came flying up at lighting speed doing tricks and flips with ease and whooping loudly, as any normal CEO of a software company slash wannabe superhero would do. You could hear him giggling through your tablet, and like a spectator watching the most spectacular aerial performance, you watched him with a smile on your lips.

After his solo, he glided back down to you and hovered beyond the edge just at your eye level. You couldn’t see any features behind the glass of his eyes so you were left awkwardly staring at his expressionless helmet with those signature weird fangs. After all you and Minho have been through together, even with an idea like this being so ridiculously obscure, he could always rely on you to support him no matter what. He saw how your eyes sparkled with wonderment and how your cheeks dusted a soft pink and it was then that he knew you would stay by his side for even more ridiculous shenanigans to come.

He would never let you leave, anyways. Even in another lifetime, he’d have you by his side forever.

“How cool do I look right now?” he asked. His voice sounded deeper and electronic through the helmet, like he was a robot or had his voice programmed through a phone like Siri. You imagined an idea like that was how Minho planned on becoming immortal one day.

You raised a brow. “You look kind of… scary?”

“Scary!? Why?”

“I don’t know, if I saw a flying robot come at me at rocket speed, I think I’d be terrified!”

“Well, if I come to your rescue, at least you’ll know it’s me.”

“I suppose. So what are you going to do now? Throw a reveal event? Press conference, perhaps?”

“That, or wait for a Demon-Level threat to pass through our city. I don’t know, whichever comes first.” Minho shrugged nonchalantly. “Wanna see something cool?”

Before you could agree, Minho held his palm to the sky before a neon blue blast shot out of it, disappearing into God-knows-where. You could feel the heat from the beam of light radiated around you and fear sparked inside your chest.

“What the hell was that!?” you exclaimed.

“Isn’t that so cool!? Gonna hit some suckers and fry them up like bacon!” Your boss blindly shot another beam of light into the sky and you prayed to someone out there that no planes would disintegrate in the process.

“Hey, careful! What if you hit a satellite or something!” In the process of grabbing Minho’s iron hand so he’d stop being so reckless, you burned yourself upon touching the hot metal opening like a total dumb ass and yanked your hand back. “Ah!!”

“Oh, shit.”

Quickly and haphazardly, Minho landed back on the helipad and climbed out of the iron suit. In the process of running back to your aid, he untied his black silk necktie to use as a temporary band aid on your scalding palm. Gingerly, his cold hands took yours and ran a thumb over the scarring semicircle.

“Ah ah ah stop!!” you cried with tears of pain and embarrassment streaming down your cheeks.

“Sorry! Here,” Minho wrapped his tie around your palm and tied it tightly. The pure silk felt cooling against the burn and soon your tears stopped and you couldn’t do anything else besides sniffle. “Let’s go back inside. My office has a first aid kit.”

Your mumbling and cursing boss led you back to his office with urgency, blaming himself for being so stupid and recklessly playing with what could be considered a weapon of mass destruction. And now his favorite person, the one person who believed in his iron suit, was hurt in the process, pouting cutely and holding your burned hand like you were an injured puppy. This was one of his greatest fears upon completing this project.

You sat on his sapphire blue velvet couch with the bronze-gilded frame that looked like it belonged in the Ravenclaw common room trying to alleviate the pain of the burn in Minho’s ice bucket (for his white wine, of course) while he shifted through his drawers to find the first aid kit you gave him a couple years ago.

“Do you remember when you got this for me?” he asked as soon as he pulled it out from the bottom drawer. You shook your head, too lightheaded and in too much pain to remember. He sat next to you and began to tell the old story while patching you up. “It was your third year working here, but my first day as CEO when I took over for my Dad. I got so many paper cuts from all the paperwork I had to read and sign and I got a massive headache afterwards and I just wanted to eat something because all I had that day was an iced americano. It was so late and by the time I was finished, it was maybe 7:00pm -”

“8:00 pm,” you corrected in between sniffles.

“Ah, so you do remember! At 8:00pm, you waltzed into my office wearing your comfiest clothes with a bag of take-out in one hand and the first aid kit with a million bandaids and Tylenol in the other. That night, you sat in my office and helped patch up my fingers, fed me lo mein, and helped me with the rest of the paperwork for two hours. I thought of you as my guardian angel since that day and vowed to myself that no matter what, you and I would stick by each other’s side and be the dynamic duo that we are forever. Oh, how the tables have turned tonight. Now I’m the one patching you up.”

Minho had finished wrapping your palm at the end of his story. Something about his proclamation didn’t sit right with you. Something about staying here forever, clocking in massive amounts of overtime and being subservient to the same men sounded like your own personal hell.

“I can’t be your secretary forever, Mr. Lee.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I don’t have to think about that for quite some time, right?”

“Maybe.”

“I hate change, you know.”

“I, more than anyone else, know that.”

Your handsome boss chuckled lightly at the heavy subject. His curly coffe hair covered his eyes as he looked down at your hand and traced small shapes on the bandaid. You knew that he knew you didn’t want to stay here forever, and he couldn’t blame you, but it didn’t make the thought of you leaving any less heartbreaking.

“Does it feel any better?”

“Much better,” you said truthfully as the cooling gel felt like a magical potion.

“This first aid kit is the only practical gift I’ve ever received. All others are for the aesthetic.”

“Do you prefer practical gifts, Mr. Lee?”

“Of course! The fuck am I going to do with a VVS diamond-encrusted chain?”

“Flex on all the other young CEOs?”

“And partake in their pissing contest? No, thank you.”

“You’re telling me you won’t be doing that this weekend at the Charity Ball?”

“When I have you next to me, I don’t need VVS diamonds,” Minho grinned flirtatiously.

You hit his arm with your good hand and he flinched upon his correct prediction. “I am not an accessory!”

“Of course not! You are my beloved intelligent sidekick that all other big wigs tell me they wished they had! But when you look like that, it’s bonus points ~”

“Ugh, your kind are all the same!” you scoffed, trying to collect your things and storm out the door.

“It’s a compliment!” he teased. Minho managed to chase after you and grab your things to carry to his car so he could drive you home for the 1106th time.

--

After a long and tiring rest of the week helping your boss do target practicing with the iron suit on, Saturday had arrived and now you had the honor of accompanying said-boss to a Big Dick contest disguised as a Charity Ball. The main event was for the sake of the children of course, but the real show was to see who was wearing what designer with what accessories and who pulled up in the fanciest sports car with the youngest and sexiest date in their arms. You were so, so lucky to be working for someone who liked to stay low key, despite always being the center of attention.

“Why are you so nervous?” Minho teased, nudging your arm as you both walked up to the front doors of the venue. “This isn’t the first time you’ve played as my date.”

“I know, but it doesn’t get any easier,” you admitted, shyly covering yourself from the much-more revealing outfit now that it was tailored to fit.

“You and I look fine! Muted colors, minimal diamonds, low key attitudes - we’re perfect! No one will even notice we’re here.”

That was a complete lie, because the second you walked in, a swarm of gossip columnists and magazine writers circled around the two of you, bombarding you both with the same questions you were so used to.

“Mr. Lee, who are you wearing?”

“Mr. Lee, who’s your lovely date?”

“Mr. Lee, what’s the best way to lock in that your date will go home with you?”

Minho raised his hand slightly and all that could be heard were the cameras clicking. God, the power he has… 

“Dior, a close friend, and be so irresistible that they can’t say no.”

Without another word, he gently took your bandaged hand and led you out of the circle of gossipers who were silent in awe. With your free hand, you covered up your ugly laughing.

“You’re such a cornball!” you said in between a fit of giggles.

“An irresistible cornball, at least. Now, walk me through all these people again?”

Minho was young and when it came to networking, he still had the mentality of being the CEO’s son rather than the CEO. That meant that Minho didn’t care much in remembering other CEO’s names and relied on you to remind him of all the people he should have remembered three years ago. It was a consistent hour of introductions and small talk about future goals, collaborations, and golfing, all of which you were able to expertly tune out while sipping prosecco and snacking on caviar tarts. Years of experience thankfully made these events easier.

“Did you practice your speech for your donation?” you reminded Minho after taking a seat at the prestigious Table 2. Since the company was one of the Charity Ball’s biggest sponsors, the CEOs were always invited to say some manufactured speech.

“Yeah. I even practiced it in the shower. Hopefully I get the charity organization correct this time.”

“It’s amazing how you even got this far.”

The Charity Ball should have been named See Who Can Donate the Most Money Ball because every speech given by a CEO of some company tried to out-do each other. Luckily, your company’s speeches were always last and your touch of humanity written on paper always had the audience in awe with the Minho’s compassion. To pass the time, you and Minho played rock-paper-scissors and whomever lost had to drink champagne. Let’s just say Minho ended up having the infamous Asian Glow.

His face was still blushy by the time it was his turn and you almost felt bad because the pictures with the flash turned on probably wouldn’t be so flattering in the magazines, but that wouldn’t matter because he still looks like the most stunning man in the room. All eyes were on him as he made his speech, but he had his eyes on you. Probably because he would piss his pants if he saw how many people were looking at him. You gave him two thumbs up for encouragement.

“It is the greatest honor to be here and giving a speech for the third year in a row. Children are the source and future for a better world, and it is our duty to -”

You blanked out for most of it since you wrote it. It was hard to focus anyways when his eyes were so piercing, so you averted his gaze and counted the number of peppercorns on his unfinished steak. At an alarming fifty-three, you glanced around the gallery to see if anyone was actually paying attention. Many, if not all, of the guests around your age were paying attention with dreamy eyes and pouty lips, all wishing they were in your position tonight. Some even dared to make eye contact with you as if to say, ‘how DARE you NOT pay attention to the sexiest man alive!?’ The older, more powerful guests seemed genuinely interested in the amount Minho was donating and the older dates seemed to care more about their reflection on the back of a spoon.

The fattest check with a bunch of zeros was walked onto the stage. A standing ovation was in order of course, and you conformed with the crowd, even though applause always made Minho visibly uncomfortable.

“He throws a big, fat check to charity and yet he still doesn’t like the attention, huh?”

As the clapping died down and the noise faded into the smooth hum of the live piano and jazz music, you turned to face the owner of a familiar sly voice. The man that stood before you was the famous doctor slash art collector slash playboy who you’ve come to know after attending all of these flashy events.

You smiled slyly at the man. “If it isn’t GQ’s Bachelor of the Month, Dr. Park Seonghwa.”

The raven-haired man gave you his signature smirk. Then he took your hand and kissed it tenderly like the prince he is. “Lovely _____, pleasure to see you as always.”

“Have you been doing that to all the other guests you frequent at these events?”

“Of course not! Just the beautiful ones.”

You let out a loud scoff. “You and your way with words.”

“Are they enough to convince you to finally go out to dinner with me?”

“Not quite.”

Seonghwa sighed tiredly and dropped his head as if this was the first time you’ve rejected him. Guess every time felt like the first time. The handsome raven held his hand out to you. “If not dinner, how about a dance?”

Hesitantly, you searched for your boss like you were trying to sneak away from a parent. He was busy shaking hands and catching up with The Important People’s Club, so you didn’t think one dance would hurt, though once you feed a dog a treat, he’ll be begging for more forever.

You took his hand. “One dance.”

“Five.”

“One.”

“Three?”

“Dr. Park!”

“What!? Ok, fine, one dance, unless you’re really feeling it and then we’ll dance some more.”

“Maybe in another lifetime, Dr. Park.”

The young doctor led you to the dance floor before you could object further. For someone not-so-smooth with pick-up lines, he was definitely smooth with his moves. With one gentle hand on your waist and the other holding your hand, you two glide around the white tiles like the Royalty of the ball, and truly, for a few moments, it really felt like you were the star of this fairy tale.

Seonghwa let out a tired sigh. “Intelligent, beautiful, loyal, and good at dancing? How are you so good at everything?”

“Stop that.”

“I mean it! Yet no man swept you off your feet.”

“Just because I won’t say yes to you, doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for that special someone.”

Seonghwa held your hand up high and made you do a little twirl. “You might be waiting for a while, beautiful.”

“Why do you say that?”

“With Mr. Minho by your side twenty-five hours eight days a week, there is no man that has the courage to come in between such a strong relationship.”

“Even you?” you challenged.

“Even I. Unless you want me to -”

“Nope.”

“Ice cold heart as always…”

Song number one melted into song number two and it passed you both as you continued to discuss the hot topic of why you’re still single. It’s a conversation topic that you thought was reserved for nosy family members for you to brush off, but coming from another man who has begged for your number since you both met really put your love life into perspective. Perhaps you were too loyal to your boss…

While engulfed in the heated debate, Minho was desperately searching for his right hand where he thought you’d be - either at your seat or by the bar, but you were at neither. After receiving his order from the bar, he let the expensive gold liquid over ice flooded through his bloodstream, which led him to a group of gawking gossipers whining and gazing at the dance floor. What was all the hype about?

The sight of you in the arms of the world’s most arrogant doctor didn’t sit too well with him. The scene made him see green.

“You’re such a liar!” Minho heard you laugh aloud. “I did NOT give you so-called bedroom eyes at Yuta’s house warming!”

“You’re telling me you weren’t eyeing me up and down like a barbecued piece of pork belly dipped in sesame oil?”

“That’s because you had sesame oil on your white shirt!”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Minho took another sip of his golden drink before putting it down haphazardly and waltzing towards the dancing couple. To onlookers, this scene looked like it was straight out of those cheesy love triangle dramas. The gossipy gals wondered - would Minho punch Seonghwa? Would he grab your hand harshly and drag you away to scold you and tell you how much he cared about you? Would he kiss you!?

You saw your uncharacteristically stern-looking boss approaching, and even though you’re unsure of his intentions, you still smiled brightly, as you always did whenever you saw him. Minho lightened his heavy, angry steps. Even with another man by your side, you still looked at him. How could he be mad at you?

“Hello, Mr. Minho,” Seonghwa greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake. You knew your boss wasn’t the biggest fan of Seonghwa, but he politely returned the gesture anyways. Somehow you felt your heart beating in your throat - the tension on the dance floor was too high, too powerful, and you were but an awkward and nervous secretary standing on the side while two powerful men duked it out.

“Dr. Seonghwa, nice to see you again.” Minho was good at lying, but his lies never passed you. The amount of discomfort knitted in his eyebrows almost made you snicker. “Long nights at the hospital still?”

“As always, but at least it’s rewarding and enjoyable. How are your long nights at the office?”

“Can’t get enough of them, right, _____?”

“What? You’re still doing that much overtime?” Seonghwa asked worriedly. Now, was he worried because you were overworking yourself or was he worried because you were spending so much time with a man that wasn’t him?

You shrugged unapologetically. “I love that overtime pay.”

“_____, that’s not good for your health -”

“I tell them that all the time,” Minho interrupted defensively. He was always like this whenever anyone questioned the amount of work you had. To you, it was not much of a burden at all, but to anyone else, they couldn’t fathom your work hours but if they saw your paycheck, maybe they’d understand. Even your boss felt bad whenever your friends blamed him, but  no matter how much he tried to convince you of a normal 40-hour work week, the duties of being his secretary never added up to just that. Therefore, your boss always felt the need to defend you and him for the sake of making sure you weren’t portrayed as his slave. “But you’re just so stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Only because it’s you, Mr. Lee,” you said like you’re reading a script. Somehow that doesn’t translate through the ears of the two powerful men in front of you, as your boss smiled triumphantly and Seonghwa couldn’t help but shake his head.

“If you ever want to take me up on that date, Lovely _____, you know who to call.” The most handsome man who’s ever flirted with you took your hand gently and planted a sweet, soft kiss that sent little tingles all up your arm. You don’t think you’ll ever reciprocate his feelings, but the feeling of being desired and wanted by a man really kicked up your ego and really made you think - when was the last time you ever liked someone, or someone ever liked you?

Park Seonghwa disappeared into the crowd and perhaps left the Charity Ball all together. Until next time.

Your boss turned to face you, whose stern face quickly melted into innocence as he knew what was coming by the look on your annoyed expression. “What?”

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You shook your head and mumbled under your breath, “Ugh, you are unbelievable, Mr. Lee.”

As you tried to escape, the desperate man caught your hand. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Away from you for just five minutes, can you let me do that?” you snapped in a hushed volume. “Or do you need to watch over me and speak on my behalf, since you’re my Father apparently!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act like that.”

“You say that every time, especially when I’m talking to another man and even more-so when I’m talking to Dr. Park. When will your sorries mean something?”

“You know I get protective over you.”

“Again, you are not my Father!”

“I know, but -”

All of the attention that was once focused on the handsome CEO and his secretary shifted to the glass ceiling that was now shattered to pieces upon the force of some dozens of masked strangers dressed in all black. Minho instinctively, though harshly, forced you down so he could hover over you so none of the glass hit you. What followed seemed to be too numbing, as all of the stimuli in the banquet hall was too much to handle.

“Get down,” Minho instructed while pushing you under one of the tables. “Don’t move until I come back.”

“Wait, but where are you -”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes!”

“Mr. Lee!”

Of course, he didn’t listen, as Mr. Lee always did what he wanted, right? Which would normally annoy the fuck out of you, but who has the time to panic about what your boss was up to when you’re stranded under the table and shrouded by cheap table cloth linen?

Since those people had invaded and fallen from the sky, you noticed that no gunshots or any sort of violence outside of melee were heard. No purpose of the attack is even known yet, but the signs were promising, until the famous alarm was heard throughout the whole town.

“Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until all threats have been cleared. Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until -”

“Ah, yes, the richest of the rich gather here today to donate the smallest percentage of their some billions of dollars to charity,” a booming voice tisked through a microphone. “Do you feel good about your good deed of the year? Are you proud of yourselves?”

For some unknown reason, the voice paused, as if waiting for an answer or a reaction from the people. Nothing was heard besides shrill screaming and crying, which was probably what the wannabe-vigilante wanted. For the first time, you peaked through the slits of the table cloth. At the stage where Minho gave his speech was a now-broken stage with the foot of a giant robot through it. It was a very top-heavy robot that looked like it had a large cavity in its belly, whose odd shape probably served some weird purpose unknown to everyone.

“Perhaps you’ll be proud of your donations for once when we capture you all and milk you of your every last penny!” The man laughed evilly at the head of the robot. “Down with the rich!”

“Down with the rich!” his people cheered in unison.

The oddly political turn of events made the scene less jarring - it seemed like an over-exaggeration of townspeople coming together to fight for higher taxing of the rich. Then you were reminded of the Dragon-level threat by how the minions loaded up the richies with a gun pointed to their heads and the complex mechanism that loaded them up to the belly of the robot. Somewhere among the mass of people you saw Seonghwa in between another surgeon and a senior engineer at Tesla before he disappeared behind the walls of metal.

“Hey, I found another one!” someone yelled close by. “Under Table 2!”

Shit. “Fuck.”

Perhaps all those years of advance self defense classes that Minho’s father enrolled you in would come to good use this time.

By your glamorously-strapped heel, one of the masked men dragged you out from under the table. There was no use in struggling, and the man seemed quite satisfied with how you complied.

“Let’s go, darling.”

With your free foot, you dug the pointy end of the studded heel into his groin. Luckily, you can only ever imagine how painful something like that could feel. He was in so much pain that he doubled over and let go of your foot, leaving you to flee to God-knows-where after you stole his police baton.

“Don’t fucking call me darling,” you spat as a farewell.

There were too many men in between you and the emergency exit, so you had to fight your way through like in those cheesy American action movies. A bunch of kicks in the groin here and a couple baton to the knee caps there were enough to get you by half way, but then they started double-teaming on you. Of course, this was much harder, but Senior Mr. Lee didn’t give you the best sensei in the damn nation for no reason. You felt invincible even after defeating multiple double teams, but it was the triple teaming that got you stuck. You can only kick and baton so many groins at one time until two men held each of your arms and the other stole the baton.

While struggling to break free, you managed to knee the one in front of you in the chin, causing him to cut his lip with blood dripping on his cheap leather shoes. After realizing what had happened, he punched you in the cheek as punishment. Was that a bone you heard cracking?

“Try me again, bitch,” he seethed.

Out of nowhere, your knight in Iron armor landed before the one who punched you and returned the favor, sending his body through so many walls of this building that you worried about the foundation and how long you had before it collapsed.

Minho’s red and gold helmet swung sharply and the empty eyes were staring into the souls of your captors while at the same time not.

“Who’s next?” Minho threatened with his super cool and inaccurately deep robotic voice.

Both men fled the scene as quickly as possible, losing their grip and throwing you to the floor. The penny taste finally registered in your brain that yes, you were definitely coughing and spitting out blood.

The cold metal of Iron Man’s hand helped you to your feet while the other cupped your quickly-bruising cheek gently. The underlying tenderness of your boss’s touch somehow healed all pain, or perhaps it was the cooling iron. Gestures like these were so foreign that you almost forgot it was your boss behind the mask and not some handsome stranger who was ready to sweep you off your feet. It was instances like these where you wished the latter was real.

“Are you ok?” he asked gingerly.

“I’m fine,” you promised. “Go save your investors.”

A light chuckle came from Iron Man. “My driver’s already waiting outside. Are you able to run?”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“C’mon, _____, now’s not the time -”

“Do not argue with me until you save everyone, Mr. Lee.”

Minho shook his head tiredly. He knew there was no use arguing with his headstrong secretary. “You’re so stubborn. Just promise you won’t get into any trouble this time.”

“No.”

“I’m cuttin’ down on your work hours!” he yelled, blasting off to fight the giant robot thing so he wouldn’t have to hear you argue back again.

You were left with a couple of masked minions who still had the balls to attack and capture you as if you were worth more than your surprisingly above-average five-figure salary. Your copper saliva mixed with your boss trusting you enough to not die in the middle of a Dragon-level threat really pumped the adrenaline through your veins, so as one man sprinted to attack, you managed to dodge it and kick him in the throat before he could try something else. The other guy tried to sneak up behind you, but you were quicker, swinging the baton hard enough to the head to knock him out cold. The power you felt coursing through your body left you on a major high. Where were all the other minions? No way was that all…

In the middle of the banquet hall was the face-off of the century, rivaling any and all story lines from DC and Marvel combined. A tiny seven-foot-something intricately crafted and painted sheet of metal was about to fight a giant several-stories tall and several-dozen-tons heavy hunk of junk with dozens of guests they managed to scoop inside. Now how was Mr. Lee going to save the day this time?

“Lee Minho, the man of the night,” the man controlling the ship scoffed. “You will look like my childhood favorite action figure once I stuff you in a glass box in my office! A prized treasure is what you’ll be. How does that sound?”

“Sounds kinky.” You could just sense the smirk behind his mask. “Then what will you do to me?”

“Milk you of all your assets, of course! Liquidation of its truest definition! The redistribution of wealth will come easy to the people, especially with your earnings in the mix!”

“Fine, take my money. But let these people go.”

“Absolutely not! I need all the money I can get! How do you expect me to change the distribution of wealth of the entire world with just one CEO’s salary!? Mr. Lee, I thought you knew that, silly.”

“Ok, fine. You take all of our money and then what?”

“Well, kill you, of course.”

A chorus of gasps and crying were heard from the belly of the machine.

The philosophical man continued. “People like you are the very reason there is a large pay gap. You sit on your ass drinking cocktails and eating caviar and you donate to some profiting charity only a tiny percentage of what you make while all the good hard-working people are the ones bringing the big bucks into your bank account! And what do they get? Small paychecks and four hours of sleep!”

Yeah, this guy was bad, but he had his points, so you’ll cheers to that, am I right?

“Well, then where will you get your money after that? Hm?” The captain stayed silent. “Where will you get more money to sustain this utopia? Certainly not from the hard-working people who have no experience leading or handling such a huge sum of money. And certainly not from you, right? Ha! With your five-figure salary paychecks that barely get the bills paid on time.”

A heavy arm swung to try and snatch up your boss. Though the arm was so large and heavy, Minho barely managed to escape his grasp. By the silence of the once-chatty leader of the pack, you could tell that he was bothered by the words spat by the youngest CEO in the room. How dare Minho mock his hard-earned pay when his earnings were given to him on a VVS diamond-encrusted platter!? There were a couple of times where he landed a couple of hits on your boss and you should feel worried, but you couldn’t help but think he deserved it. You hated to be on the enemy’s side, but you, too, were one of those five-figure salary paycheck owners that are barely scraping by with their bills. And of course you were all for the redistribution of wealth, but this guy definitely went a little too far…

You would think that the sheer size of this oddly-shaped hunk of metal wouldn’t be able to move so fast, but it managed to capture Minho by digging its claw to the wall and sandwiching Minho in between. He couldn’t even wiggle his way out between gaps because the thing was pressing too hard against the wall. Minho could feel the metal bending from inside.

“People like you will never understand the worth of the dollar,” the captain seethed. “Not when stacks come to you in baskets sewn with gold and jewels commissioned by your Daddy. People like you, and everyone captured, need to be humbled a little. Maybe you all can learn a little something from the working class.”

“Then we die, is that right?”

“Of course! But at least you’ll die a hard-working man, Mr. Lee.”

“I will. But I’ll die a hard-working man with billions in my grave before I let you take a penny!”

The blue beam of light that you once cursed for burning a half circle on your palm you were now thankful for, as that beam of light shot your boss up in the air and freed him, taking a few fingers off of the hunk of metal with him. A couple more shots of incinerator beams later, and both arms of the robot had been severed and half disintegrated. Minho kicked the glass where the leader sat and pulled out the defenseless lump of flesh that spoke the harsh truth about the wealthy. The leader was a young man who was not much older than either you or your boss, who didn’t look afraid in the slightest. Perhaps he expected, or even wanted, to go out this way - fighting for what he believed in.

The police, who had been waiting outside for all the ruckus to die down, came in and cuffed the leader and a few of his minions who cowardly hid under the tables. Minho helped all of his investors safely come out and among the crowd you saw Seonghwa, safe and sound.

You thought after a traumatic attack that now was not the time and place to reveal who Iron Man was or even associate yourself with him, so you tried to mix in with the crowd and book it to the driver like he asked you to do before. But of course your flaunty boss wanted to do the exact opposite.

“_____, wait!”

No, no, no, no, no, what the hell! Really!? Right now!? was how Minho read your expression as he walked to you with the suit on. When the seven-foot something Iron Man stopped before you, the face of his helmet slid open to reveal an out-of-breath Minho. The entire banquet hall echoed with gasps.

“Are you ok? You’re not hurt, are you? Your bruise is getting worse!”

You could not feel anything on the left half of your face besides intense pain and somehow numbness at the same time and your limbs felt like jello and over-kneaded dough. But you couldn’t let your boss worry about you - he needs to take care of more important people right now. You’ll be fine come tomorrow once you sleep on a frozen bag of peas.

“I’m fine, I promise,” you said convincingly. “Looks like you have an impromptu press conference to deal with.”

To Minho’s dismay, all of the cameras and press and the phones of his business friends captured his face inside the Iron suit next to his famous secretary that all his business friends wished they had. He knew you hated press conferences because even though you never said anything, you were always by his side and that meant the cameras were pointed at you also.

“I can deal with them. Go to the car and go home.”

“I can stay with you.”

“I won’t allow it. You need to go home and ice your face.”

“I said I -”

“I said go.”

Minho never raised his voice at you ever because he never had a reason to. You were always hard-working and loyal and you always did everything correctly and did it with his best interest in mind. He’ll allow small things that might be detrimental to your health, like all the over time you loved to have and the unhealthy amounts of coffee you drown yourself in. But when the arm that’s supporting your body weight was shaking, your left cheek was the color of aubergine, and you had blood splatters on different parts of your body, that’s when he had to draw the line. Worry was knitted into his brows and his lips were a flat line and you only ever saw his face like this whenever he talked with his father. It was terrifying to see him almost mad at you and it made your heart sink a little that you did something wrong.

He softened his expression upon seeing your glossy eyes. “Take Monday off to rest. I’ll see you on Tuesday, ok?”

“But -”

“I’ll pay you for your time off, so don’t worry about the money. I just want you to rest. Can you do that for me?” You could only nod. “Thank you. Go home - I’ll text you when I’m done cleaning up tonight.”

Minho plastered on his happy television face and returned to the fawning crowd and overly-thankful investors. You were blinded by the flashing camera lights and that was your cue that you didn’t belong there anymore.

The trot music-loving driver hummed the whole way home while driving on auto-pilot, as he had memorized the path to your apartment long ago. Sitting in the back seat covered head-to-toe in the finest satin wasn’t as luxurious when you were alone as opposed to having your equally-luxurious boss next to you. You imagined what it’d be like if a giant robot didn’t crash the party this evening: you’d probably yell at him more about how you needed space and that he was overreacting with the whole Seonghwa deal; then he might try to bribe you with food or dessert so that you’d stop pouting like a child (and you’d totally cave in); and finally, he’d walk you up to your doorstep begging to come inside once more and you’d deny his entry, only for him to leave you with a comment about how you were the most stunning person at the ball tonight.

In short, as much as you hated to admit it, the ride home was lonely. Can you believe that? Your short time alone away from your boss was fucking lonely. Not peaceful, not relaxing, not mind-clearing, but totally and completely lonely. So much so that your heart ached a little, and to put these feelings in the simplest terms, it was because you were so used to being by his side that the emptiness to the seat next to you mimicked an unfamiliar cavity in your heart. It’s a painful feeling, really, because that meant leaving this job would be much harder than you hoped.

As if he planted a tracking device in your phone, Minho texted you upon locking the front door to your place.

The Money Man [01:03 am]: did you make it home ok?

An involuntary smile spread across your lips.

You [01:04 am]: just got home. are you stalking me?

The Money Man [01:04 am]: you didn’t think the phone i gave you was completely harmless and bugless, did you? ;)

You [01:05 am]: i should have known better. how’s the impromptu press conference? are people surprised that it’s you?

The Money Man [01:07am]: they are, but at the same time it’s not. ppl keep asking me questions and won’t let me take the suit off, can you believe that!? it’s hot as balls in this thing!!

The Money Man [01:07am]: shit, gotta go - gotta somehow convince these idiots this is definitely NOT something to invest in.

You [01:08am]: text when you’re home.

The Money Man [01:08am]: yes, darling.

‘Darling’ has a nice ring to it.

--

Having Sunday all to yourself was normal and you did what you always did every weekend: cleaned your place, took your time making a nice meal, organizing all of your work papers, and ended the night with a hot shower and an ice pack to your cheek. Monday, on the other hand was a disaster. You were so bored! Your fingers were itching to scribble down your boss’s agenda and you were so tempted to log into your work laptop, but you knew Minho would chew your ear off for not listening to him and resting as you should. It wasn’t your fault that you were a work-a-holic!

After looking in the mirror and hating the way your face looked for the fiftieth time, it was time to accept that the bruise wouldn’t disappear for at least a couple more weeks. Sunday was at its ugliest, where the center of your cheek was a deep purple and there was this off-colored halo around the perimeter. Now, the swelling went down and it wasn’t as purple or painful, but still equally ugly no matter how you looked at it or tried to cover it up.

After a lonely and boring Monday afternoon, your doorbell rang around 5:00pm. You weren’t expecting any visitors or deliverymen, so upon peaking through your viewfinder, you were surprised to see your boss on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” you asked surprised.

Minho was glad you didn’t seem disgusted by his presence since he was the one who told you to take the day off and you must be tired of seeing his face by now. He whipped out an oily bag from behind his back with a child-like grin on his face. It was an unusual sight to see a man dressed in a several thousand dollar business suit carrying a twenty dollar bag of dinner.

“You and I have some business to discuss.”

“Hold on, let me get this straight - you tell me to take the day off, rest up, ice my bloodshot cheek only for you to come into my home and say I need to work?”

“Yup,” he claimed unapologetically, squeezing past you to get through.

“Yes, please come in, Your Highness,” you rolled your eyes, though he was already setting up at your dinner table.

“Your home is nice. Why are you always so embarrassed whenever I try to come in?”

“I mean, look at it. It’s nowhere near as nice as your home.”

“It’s as more of a home than my place will ever be, no matter how many velvet cushions and arcade games I ask you to buy for the place.” Minho whipped out two bottles of beer, his favorite chaser to wash down the oiliness of the fried chicken, and poured them into glasses. “How’s your cheek?”

“By the look on your face, I guess not so good?”

He adjusted his twisted expression upon your teasing. Blood and bruises were never his thing, so any variation of the sort just looked bad in general. “It just looks so painful… Have you been icing it like I asked?”

“I have, and it’s not as painful as it looks!”

“Oh, yeah?”

Minho challenged your claim by standing in front of you and lowering his head to see you at eye-level. His face was way too close to be considered appropriate for CEO and Secretary relationship behavior, though you knew he never cared for those formalities. His eyes were always so sparkly per usual and that gave him that dreamy stare all the ladies in the office loved. You never saw the appeal to it until now, with only a few centimetres in between.

He poked your bruised-like-an-apple cheek.

“Ow, what the hell!” you screamed, swatting his hand away.

“Not as painful as it looks, my ass.”

“Well, people don’t go around poking my cheek all day!”

“Do you need pain killers? My doctor can write you a prescription for the best one on and off market.”

“That’s ok, I only trust Dr. Seonghwa.”

Minho gave you the same look he gave a former intern who got his breakfast and coffee order incorrect. Let’s just say the intern started crying on the spot. You, on the other hand, could barely hold in your snicker from his death glare. You were never on the receiving end of the infamous death glare and now that you were, it was hard to take it seriously.

“Ha ha,” Minho fake laughed. “Not funny.”

“What exactly do you have against him, anyways? It’s surprising that you’re threatened by the likes of a doctor and not some other hot shot software company CEO.”

“I don’t have anything against him.”

“You’re such a liar!” you scoffed, taking a swig of the ice-cold beer. “If you didn’t have a problem with him, you wouldn’t have acted so defensive at the charity ball.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he said shamelessly. A vigorous bite of a chicken leg came afterwards. “He looks at you like how I look at chicken legs.”

“Well, maybe I like the way he looks at me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Stop doing that.”

“You deserve it for acting like my Dad that night.”

“I said I was sorry! I even bought you dinner and cold beer to make up for it!”

“Oh, so this is not because you said that me and you have some business to discuss?”

“Well, that, too.” Minho wiped his greasy fingers on his silk handkerchief that he kept on the inside of his breast pocket before whipping out his phone to show you multiple news articles on the night of the charity ball. “Watch these videos.”

Almost all of them were exposing your boss who was behind the genius that is Iron Man, but what preceded the reveals were clips of you kicking major ass. The sources came from both paparazzi and the security tapes at multiple angles and it was hard to hide the fact that it was you as all angles captured your facial features quite clearly. Headlines and whole articles talked about how the mighty CEO and his secretary were the perfect unstoppable duo and they weren’t wrong - you kicking ass in a sexy outfit with a man of iron handling the big guy? Definitely a story worth selling.

Your brows furrowed worriedly because you had no idea how Minho felt. “Are you mad…?

“Mad?” Minho paused the current video and placed his phone face-down on the table so he could focus on his good chicken and better company. “Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know! What’s the point in showing me these videos?”

“To show you how bad ass you look! Where did you even learn these moves!?”

“For some reason, your father thought being a secretary was dangerous enough that he decided to enroll me in some classes. I actually really liked it a lot, so I kept at it and I guess I got to a pretty advanced level.”

“Pretty advanced is definitely a misnomer, love. Well, it’s good to hear that Father has made one good decision in his reign.”

“Is this the business you wanted to speak about?” you asked shyly, hoping that the beer was a good enough excuse for your blushing cheeks. You’ll never get used to Minho praising you.

“Sort of. I have a proposition for you.”

“What, that you want me to be your sidekick?” you scoffed. When Minho remained silent with only the same sly smirk on his lips, you could see your worst fears coming true. “Oh, God, you’re not serious.”

“I am one hundred percent serious.”

“Are you out of your damn mind!? I am not sidekick material!”

“You totally are! You and I are already the perfect duo! Why not take it up a notch!?”

“No, Mr. Lee, I cannot be your secretary again, but in a different form and outfit!”

“Why not!? It’s not like I’m not going to pay you for it.”

“The pay is not the problem. The pay is never the problem. It’s…”

How do you put that the pressure of keeping the entire country safe and being by his side twenty-four/seven sounded like your own personal purgatory that you could never escape for as long as you lived, or until you died by the hands of some Demon-level threat monster?

“It’s a huge commitment, I know,” Minho admitted. “Too huge to even put a price on it. But can you at least consider it? I can’t imagine anyone else by my side except you.”

Now only if a man who wasn’t your boss said that to you without any underlying superhero context, you might have considered the proposal.

“Mr. Lee, I can’t…”

You hesitated getting the right words out, but Minho knew why. You’ve been bringing up how you couldn’t stay his secretary forever, and although he knew this was true, he couldn’t help but try to keep you anyways. You’ve been loyal to him for so long that he often forgot how to treat you like a friend and not his subordinate. But the thought of you leaving? Soon, at that? It was something he didn’t want to think about just yet. He wanted to keep you by his side for as long as he could.

Minho downed the last of his beer before whipping out his phone again. This time a slow song played over the speakers. He stood up and offered you a hand.

You raised a brow. “What are you…?”

“You and I never got to dance on Saturday. So dance with me.”

“Here? Right now? In my small ass apartment?”

“The next charity ball isn’t for another month and I don’t think I can wait that long.”

His impatience was just shy of flattering - if only you weren’t so afraid of being within close proximity to him. It was one thing when he helped ease the burn on your hand, it was another when he touched your cheek while inside his iron suit, but the two of you alone dancing in the middle of your living room was a whole other level of intimacy that needed to be hidden from human resources,

You took his hand and he led you to the living room. One hand on your waist and another holding the one with the scabbing half-circle. The two of you swayed in silent contentment for several songs. It was a comfortable silence, but there’s some hidden sadness to it that you couldn’t explain - something along the lines of him missing you dearly, despite you being right in front of him, and you missed him dearly, too. So much that your nerves made you squeeze his hand harder, asking him to not let go of you for a long time.

Then your boss pulled you in close enough that it felt like he was hugging you.

“S-Sir?” you stuttered nervously.

“Thank you,” he began. “For always being there.”

“Well, that’s my job,” you snickered.

“Not just as my secretary, but as my friend.”

“You think of me as your friend?”

“I do. Don’t tell Vice President Chan this, but I consider you one of my closest friends.”

“You’re quite soft, aren’t you?” It took a moment to register that he was definitely not joking. The tension in your shoulders diminished and you were able to relax in front of the equally-vulnerable man. “I consider you one of my closest friends, too.”

“Really?”

“By association though. After all these years being by your side, it’s only natural that I came to like you.”

“I like you, too,” he chuckled, tucking some hairs behind your ear. “A little too much, at that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“In another lifetime, I feel like you and I would be soulmates.”

“You don’t think we would be in this lifetime?”

Were you hoping to be? “Perhaps. By association though, right?”

You didn’t want to press more about any underlying meaning to his statements, so instead you looked down embarrassed. In another lifetime, in this lifetime, in multiple lifetimes, Minho thought you and him would be each other’s soulmate no matter what, because a lifetime with you sounded perfect.

A thumb gently ran over the perimeter of your cheek bruise and it tickled rather than burned, so that was a good sign that it was healing. A loud tisk came from your boss.

“God, do I really put you through this much pain!?” he cried aloud.

“Huh? You didn’t cause this - those dumbass followers did!”

“I guess, but I was the one who brought you to that event! And what about the scar on your hand, huh? I definitely caused that one.”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“That’s it, I can’t be hurting you like this anymore. I can’t be putting you through all of this danger like you’re my bodyguard. I have to let you go.”

You knew he was joking when he couldn’t hold in his cheeky smile. “That is not probable cause to fire me, Mr. Lee.”

“Really? Dammit.”

“No matter how many times I get hurt, you can’t get rid of me that easily, ok? I go out on my own terms!”

“So strong willed… I almost hate it.” Minho sighed exaggeratedly before pulling you in for a real hug this time. His arms squeezed your waist tightly, letting you know that he didn’t want to let you go even if he tried. “Just make sure to give me a two weeks notice, all right?”

“Anything for you, boss.”

“I’m going to miss hearing that from you the most when you leave.”

You hit his chest lightly, but he caught your hand and held it for a few moments before leading you back to your kitchen to finish up dinner. The rest of the night wasn’t you and your boss - it was you and your closest friend enjoying dinner and some ice cream you had in your freezer.

In another lifetime, huh? Too bad you were stuck in this one.

--

Work has mellowed out in terms of paperwork and actually work and has instead transitioned into more press conferences and meetings with government officials regarding Iron Man. In theory, the meetings sounded cool, but you wouldn’t know for sure, as your boss decided to take one of the newer girls as his assistant for these meetings.

The first time he denied your company, you were only a little confused, but it soon passed when he said there was a lot of paperwork he only trusted you to complete on his behalf. But when he would bring her to every event - whether it was out of habit or on purpose - for an entire month, and her only, it really made your blood boil.

No, you weren’t jealous…! You weren’t jealous he was hanging out with someone younger and prettier and more his type! Definitely not! You were upset that your boss, whom you called one of your closest friends in a time of vulnerability, was already replacing you before you could put your two weeks in! And you knew this to be true when he denied your invitation to get lunch and instead you found him in the cafeteria laughing and flirting with the new girl at the table you and him would always sit at.

For a whole month, without even knowing it, you were slowly getting left behind and replaced for someone better - someone who would actually heed his every word and never argue. Someone who would keep their mouth shut for once. Someone who wouldn’t mind taking order from him forever.

It had been a month since you were living in this limbo, and tonight, the night of the Animal Cruelty Charity Ball to which Iron Man would be making a guest appearance, was when you knew he no longer needed you.

“You’re taking Ryujin…?” you repeated, as you couldn’t believe your ears.

“Yes, so you can go home early if you want,” Minho said as he fixed his bow tie in the giant mirror in his office. He then turned to present to you with an ignorant grin. “How do I look?”

“Why are you taking her?”

“She’s been working hard this past month, so I thought I’d reward her with tonight and have her practice some networking skills.”

“How generous of you,” you mumbled bitterly to yourself.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you help me put on this chain necklace thing? The clasp is so damn tiny…”

Reluctantly, you helped clasp the silver jewelry. While you thought your boss was heavily admiring himself in the mirror, he instead was focused on you and how your face was uncharacteristically stern.

“Are you ok?” he asked sincerely. He pressed a firm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick?”

You harshly swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.”

He shrugged it off, thinking that you probably had a bad week with all of the boring work he’s been having you deal with. A lot of weird and unsettling energy was pent up inside of you for the past month, so before you exited Minho’s office for the weekend, for some reason you thought this was the appropriate time to speak on it.

“Actually, I’m not fine,” you blurted out. Minho gave you his full attention for the first time that month. “I… I’m putting in my two weeks.”

His eyes went wide. “What?”

“I’m giving you my two weeks notice.”

“Do you have a job lined up?”

“No, but I will figure that out later.”

“You don’t have another job lined up but you want to quit? Where is this coming from?”

He didn’t sound angry. He wasn’t - he was more hurt than anything else that you wanted to leave without a proper explanation. He thought you and him were doing well… What changed so suddenly?

“I can’t do this anymore,” Minho noted how your voice was shaking. “I was fine when you had me staying ungodly hours, I was fine when you had me get you coffee every morning and your dry cleaning every Monday, and I was fine when you involved with the Iron Man project, but now all you’ve given me lately is paperwork and shit that the new hires should be doing and not myself!”

“_____, language -”

“And why is that? Why do I feel like I’m starting to get left behind already, or-or why do I feel like you don’t appreciate anything I do!? It’s clear to me that you’ve already begun to replace me, so what’s the use of me staying here when you don’t want me anymore?”

Minho was silent. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad or surprised at your sudden outburst. The tension in the room was suffocating and his silence even more so, like this was his ideal form of psychological torture. Minho didn’t seem to care for your feelings anymore as he turned back to face the mirror.

“Your two weeks has been noted,” was all he said.

You left the room in tears, with your blood still boiling and your heart crushed. But this was a good thing. In the end, this would be a good thing, is what you were trying to tell yourself, because this lifetime wouldn’t let you be with Minho.

--

Another month passed by and you were left in a worse limbo than you began with a month and a half ago. No one was contacting you about any job offers so you were left to ‘self-reflect’ or some bullshit this self-help book told you to do for the past two weeks. Luckily, all the overtime you put into your savings account had vastly accumulated into an unthinkable sum that would support you far beyond whatever the government noted as a proper unemployment time. Like, you didn’t even know what to do with the money sometimes - thank Minho for time-and-a-half, huh?

On days where you couldn’t help yourself - when you felt like torturing yourself - you would look up Minho on all the tabloid sites. Surprisingly enough, this happened way more than you’d like. Of course, as you speculated, Ryujin had quickly taken your spot as his secretary and God, did you like to shit on how terrible she was! You didn’t have to be at the office to know that Minho must be frustrated with her by the crookedness of his ties and jackets and how she must have forgotten to schedule a salon appointment by the look of his roots and unruly brows.

Ha! That’s what he fucking gets for not being grateful! That dick!

What a shame your relationship with him had come to. To spend what felt like an entire lifetime with him to being complete strangers, it was like you were reborn into this new and fresh carefree person. So carefree that you hummed on the way home with a bag full of fresh produce from the local market.

Perhaps you should have been less carefree, as a stranger snuck up behind you and knocked you out cold.

--

“Ryujin, where’s my document-signing pen?”

“Um, in your drawer?”

“Which drawer?”

“The one with all the other pens…?”

Minho sighed loudly, running a hand through his curly locks and staring intently at the mess of papers that scattered on his desk. His desk hadn’t been this messy since the first day he started when he had to sign all of those official documents that transitioned him to CEO. The same day when he fell for you.

Ryujin, who was nothing close to a secretary compared to you, was only getting on his nerves these days. Perhaps yes, he’s been a little too harsh on someone who’s still fairly new, but in truth he just didn’t have a way to express his frustration about you leaving all of a sudden. Where had he gone wrong?

“Take the rest of the night off,” he told his subordinate.

The poor girl bowed obediently and scurried out the room.

Another sign left the young man’s lips. This time it was because he was tired. He couldn’t deal with anymore bullshit tonight.

An anonymous FaceTime call rang his phone. Who could be wanting to FaceTime him at such an odd hour of the weeknight?

When he swiped to answer, all he saw was you tied up roughly to a splintered chair with tape covering your mouth. Minho nearly dropped his phone.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee,” a familiar voice sang. From the shadows behind you emerged the fake vigilante that led the invasion of the Charity Ball. “I see that you’re doing well.”

“What do you want?” he demanded quietly.

“I think you know what I want.” A shiny knife drew a line across the other cheek, small drops of blood seeping through and mixing with the dried tears and dirt. Minho’s heart felt like it was collapsing. “A blank check addressed to little ol’ me.”

“If I see another scar on them, I’ll kill you,” he threatened.

The man held his hands up high in defensive mode and took a step away from you. “Fine, I won’t touch them! Just give me what we want near the docks.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Oh, and one more thing - come dressed in Iron Man and I’ll slice their throat. Bye!”

The line cut dead and Minho had no choice but to leave empty-handed with only a blank check in his pocket.

The air inside the enclosed cargo bed was hot and suffocating and your rising panic did not ease your pain or heavy breathing one bit. It didn’t help that the guy and his minions were playing with your hair and playing with their knives, dragging the dull edges on your arms and neck. Normally, you wouldn’t be so weak and crying to the point that the tape around your mouth was loosening up, but life these days was tough and perhaps an event like this, causing Minho major inconvenience once again, was what you deserved.

Scurrying and uneven footsteps were heard from outside and you really, really hoped it was Minho not dressed in Iron Man.

“Here already? He must like you,” the leader teased.

The back of the cargo bed opened up to reveal that the sun had fallen a long time ago and the light of the moon outlined your plain and simple hero. He didn’t give the leader a second passing glance before blindly shoving the blank check to his chest and rushing by your side to untie you. First, he ripped off the tape and you let out loud gasps of air and cries.

Minho’s shaking hands take hold of your face to try to calm you down. “Hey hey, shh, I’m here. Are you ok? Are you hurt?” You shook your head vigorously, whining and trying to break free from the ropes tying you down. “Hold on, I got you.”

Before Minho could untie your hands, one of the minions hit him on the back of his head the same way they knocked you out. But your boss was stronger than that - his head was harder than his iron helmet. At the failed attempt, Minho hurled the guy over his shoulder and out the cargo bed. Your bad ass boss got up like it was nothing, but he was breathing heavily.

Not because he was tired or weak, but because he was furious.

Three more guys tried to kick his ass and it was then you realized that your boss wasn’t just some fake hiding behind an iron suit who could program it to fight. He truly was kicking their ass! Like, raw strength and all! If you weren’t scared to death, you might have thought this was kind of hot. But then Minho punched one of the guys too hard and it sent him flying over to you, to which you fell over and broke the chair. The rope was no longer tied to anything and you were free.

Yet another one of the lame-o sidekicks tried to capture you again, but now you were equally as furious, if not more, than your partner in crime. How dare they sneak up on you and not even give you a chance to fight back!? That was the definition of a weak-ass group of villains! So of course you had to show them a lesson and kick a few balls and some asses. But the number of asses was infinite and you were getting really tired. They had enough people to fight you and Minho until you couldn’t keep up and then they’d kill you easily.

“Mr. Lee, now would be a good time for one of your brilliant plans!” you begged between kicks and breaths.

“Ten seconds tops. But when I say so, I need you to hold my hand, ok?”

“What!? What are you planning!?”

“Just trust me!” You and Minho saw the leader direct the last ten of his minions to finish the job. “Ready? Three… two… one!”

A heavy force on the outside pushed the cargo bed off the edge of the pier and into the ocean with the purpose of drowning everyone in it. The only sensation you felt was ice cold water freezing your blood flow and Minho grasping your hand for dear life while trying to swim up to the surface. Before blacking out from lack of oxygen, you felt the ripples of something entering the ocean and saw a faded red and golden glow of light. Not a second later, a hollowed Iron Man on autopilot rushed you and Minho to the surface and placed you gently on the sand just under the pier. The silent night was filled with a chorus of ugly coughing fits from you and your boss. What a wonderful CEO slash ex-secretary couples activity this turned out to be.

As soon as your breathing returned to a rhythmic beat, a wet, crying, sand-covered Minho held your face in his still-trembling hands. He didn’t say a word - he simply held you and pressed his forehead to yours, making sure that yes, this was real, and not some unconscious dream where he was still in the middle of the ocean drowning. Yes, you were there with him and you were alive.

“Why are you crying? I was the one kidnapped,” you joked, hoping it’d lighten up the mood if but a little bit.

Minho laughed between sniffles and shivers, but couldn’t stop crying. He was smiling, but still crying, and if that didn’t perfectly depict this situation, you’re not sure there’s anything out there that did. Haphazardly, he planted a cold kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re ok,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why? You had nothing to do with this.”

“I’m just sorry in general. I’m sorry I took you for granted. I’m sorry for making you feel like I was replacing you. I’m sorry for not buying you that cappuccino three years ago. I’m sorry for -”

What’s the only way to silence your sexy boss in a heartfelt moment like this that would complete this superhero plot line? Kissing him mid-sentence, of course. You kissed your loving boss fully, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your whole body into it. It took him a while to register that yes, his secretary was definitely kissing him, but once it did, he kissed you even harder, enough to make you fall back onto the grass with him on top of you.

You’re left breathless the moment your lips parted. “I-I, uh, I forgive you…”

“How could you ever think that I could replace you?” he muttered. “I could never. Not in this lifetime.”

“You also said that me and you wouldn’t happen in this lifetime,” you challenged.

“Lifetimes can merge into one, I guess.”

Iron Man returned to Minho’s basement as soon as his job was done, so your favorite driver picked you two up in ten minutes with plush hot towels and dry clothes to change into. The pajamas you wore already had your initials monogrammed over your heart.

“Yeah, uh, about that,” Minho began awkwardly on the car ride home. “I was going to gift them to you a couple Christmases ago, but you said that monogrammed clothing was cheesy and stupid, so I abstained…”

“... They’re not so bad,” you admitted truthfully. “Very soft.”

Coming home to Minho’s felt so wrong, yet so right. You’ve only ever been inside for business reasons, such as redesigning his closets and kitchen pantry, but now that you were here on leisure - well, after almost fucking dying - it was kind of weird. But Minho holding your hand reassured you that you were wanted here - that he needed you here, damp with salt water and all.

“Take a shower upstairs. I’ll go make some tea.”

You gladly obeyed, using your favorite shower that you helped design. The door and the walls of the shower were made of glass and the shower head hung from the ceiling, making your long, hot shower feel like it was raining. Your body was covered in cuts and bruises and it was really ugly, but you’ve never felt more badass and in control in your entire life.

You left the shower smelling like orchids and eucalyptus and entered the kitchen that smelled like ginger and honey. Minho, who had also showered, followed shortly after, stealing a kiss on your cheek that was cut up earlier that evening.

You followed Minho to his giant marble island while he poured tea into white mugs on the other side. This felt so… domestic. This felt so right. This felt like home.

“I have a business proposition for you,” he smirked slyly.

Well, that ruined the moment. “What, no ‘how have you been the past month since I replaced you with some other chick’?”

“I promise I’ll ask that after, but I need to ask you this.” Your hard-headed boss was all giddy just at the idea of it and it was the first time in a whole month since you’ve seen him smile like this. He was so, so cute.

“Fine, what is it?”

“I want to hire you back.”

“Mr. Lee, I already told you, I can’t -”

“As the Head Director of the Iron Man project.”

Your eyes widened at the prestigious title. “Head Director?”

“You stayed by my side through all the criticism and the praise and I can’t imagine a better person for the position.”

“So it’s not just a fancy title for like, super mega ultra secretary, right…?”

Your handsome man chuckled. “No, I promise.”

“Head Director, huh?” your lips slowly spread into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“On a few conditions.”

“Hit me.”

“Higher pay with time-and-a-half.”

“Obviously.”

“I get my own secretary.”

“Only if you don’t fall in love with them like I did.”

You rolled your eyes and continued. “An extra week of vacation.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Last one. I’m your date to every event from now on.”

Minho raised his eyebrow teasingly. “Oh? And if I say no?”

“Then I say no.”

“Jeez, I’m kidding! So strict. Of course you can, on two conditions.”

“Fine.”

“You call me Minho from now on. Or boyfriend, or soulmate, or sexiest man alive, or whatever suits your fancy.”

“Deal.”

“Second,” Minho leaned in and puckered his pink lips. “Seal this with a kiss.”

You start your new job next week - after Minho cashed in one week of vacation to spend with his soulmate.

#minho #lee minho #lee know #skz #stray kids #lee minho imagines #minho imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho scenarios #minho scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids minho #i still hate the ending idc tho #if i had time i would rewrite it... too sleepy lolol

[snowpeawritings]

As Long-Standing As The Earth

Every day, Zhongli stares down at a little cube. The cor lapis-colored thing humming with Geo energy as the little dial that shows on one side slowly ticks.

When the dial reaches its peak, Zhongli feels like the earth is alive again.

Reader is gender neutral

CW (CONTENT WARNING): Reincarnation AU, Modern AU, Zhongli character story spoilers, blood warning

❄ Snowpea’s words: LET’S GO ZHONGLI BANNER DROPPING TOMORROW I WROTE 2K WORDS LIKE I PROMISED--

The first time he held the little cube, you were dying in his arms.

It shouldn't shake him, he thinks. He is the god of war, death became a norm when mortals and archons alike are associated with him. He is the long-standing pillar that brought his army to victory. Just like the earth that continues to stand, just like his energy that reshaped the land, he will not bow to whatever danger his immortal lifetime will experience.

It shouldn't shake him. It shouldn't shake his hands when he holds your lifeless corpse, your blood running down his skin like water weathering down stone. It shouldn't.

Yet it does. Each stream of blood crumbled his visage, eyes pleading at your dead ones to see if you will laugh at how ridiculous he looks. He would take any sort of jest from you just to see you that you were even capable of making jokes while bleeding out.

You never did.

And just like sand, he crumpled down onto the earth, hoping that he would be swallowed in when the gods took you away from him.

The second time he held the cube, it was when he used it for the first time.

He remembers it fondly; you were pledged to him beyond Teyvat's mortal realms, as a god and a mortal who were sworn to each other. You joked about it, saying you two were practically married to each other and wondered if he hated the fact that he had been tied down to a mortal.

Before, he would've laughed at the thought and said that you were silly.

He wished he could've done more than just laugh at your insecurities.

The Guili Plains were slowly coming to life as he spent his energy on making his abode. You mentioned to him before that you would've loved to sit back and eat your favorite cuisine underneath a red tree, surrounded by water as the sound of nature encompasses your dining wonderfully. He had hoped that the tree in the center was big enough for you to see.

As if realizing his fondness, a little cube-no bigger than his palm-glowed from his pocket. It hummed with elemental energy as he gasped at the dial pointing at its peak.

Terraforming would have to wait.

Ever since the Archon War, he began to loathe being an archon.

He sees old friends come and go or worse, die during the war. It wouldn't be a surprise that he was used to death.

No… that's not how he would describe it.

He was used to loneliness…?

Close.

Ah, he grew tired of being lonely. He supposes that was an agreeable feeling to describe him. The price of him wanting to end his loneliness was a price his heart couldn't bear. He was a smart god, cleverly providing strategies in order to gain the upper hand in the war. 

Clearly, he wasn't smart enough to know the long-term consequences of his need.

The gods had warned him and he stood his ground as resolute as the mountains of Liyue.

The bustling village greeted his sight. Newcomers of Liyue and old villagers walked around, giving space for him to walk. Whether it was fear or admiration towards the archon, he couldn't care less. He set sight on a rather large house, its windows and doors opened for the public as wounded laid down on cots. Victims of people attempting to colonize Liyue, Treasure Hunters, or the sad case of Hilichurls, he couldn't care less.

He spots the aura of yellow energy before he could properly see the person. They were wearing a nurse's outfit, caked with blood and unknown grime from treating patients. Yet he never saw a more beautiful sight.

He approaches you and he feels the cube in his hand vibrate in tune with your aura. Making a deal with the devils be damned, he can never throw this opportunity away because he was an immortal.

"Oh, hello sir!" You greeted him and he felt the earth tremble slightly from your voice. "What can I help you with?"

He smiled at you, placing his palm in front of his chest pocket where the cube hummed. "My name is Zhongli. I heard that you are an excellent doctor?"

The third time he held the cube, he nearly threw it away along with his past.

He was no longer Morax, or Rex Lapis. He was just Zhongli, the head of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

It was ironic, to be connected to a place of death and moving on when he tries to do the same thing. Not once did the thought of moving on never crossed his mind. Not once did the thought of giving up his life never crossed his mind because he was so tired.

His past seemed just as resolute as the earth, he thinks bitterly.

The cube that he wanted so badly to discard still kept reappearing in his sight. Whether throwing it outside the window or burning it in the fireplace or even chucking it at the Chasm. It doesn't matter, it keeps reappearing like it was gloating at him. Like it was sneering at him as it reminds him about this perpetual curse that follows him until his dying breath.

But that doesn't matter at the moment. He has a job to do as the head for doing the rite of passing. He follows the Traveler to the floral boutique, wanting to buy the best Silk Flowers for Rex Lapis's passing.

How fitting.

Before he could try to get a word out for the history of Silk Flowers, his words got trapped in his throat. He sees the same yellow aura that he associated with the color of Geo. No matter how much time has passed, he knows those vibrant colors anywhere. The cube inside his coat hummed annoyingly like it was trying for him to do something. You were blissfully unaware of his longing stare, busy trying to barter against a merchant for the cheapest price of cor lapis.

Oh, how much he wanted to march right next to you and barter with the merchant himself, say that the cor lapis he sold couldn’t hold a candle to the aura that you emitted, that he was willing to put the price of the cor lapis on his tab because you were worth it--

"Mr. Zhongli?" The Traveler's travelling companion asks. "Are you okay?"

He ignores them, chest tightening at the thought of seeing his love for the third time. "I… lost my thought. I apologize."

Stand as resolute as the earth, Zhongli scolds himself. You can't stay like this forever.

... Forever is nothing compared to an archon, though.

After having dinner with the Traveler with a smooth rite of passing, he would've loved to take Barbatos's advice and drink until he can't think.

The fourth time he held the cube, it was when he felt his powers slipping away.

The times have changed, he fears, for the Statues of the Seven slowly dwindled out until they were almost ruined. The age of metal and alchemy conquered Teyvat instead of the elemental energy and Visions that people possessed. He couldn't heal using the broken down Statues but at least he could share one last drink with Barbatos before the inevitable.

"You should see them build the first plane!" He said excitedly as he downed his umpteenth drink. "Looks like they don't need the winds from their archon anymore!"

Somehow, he wishes he could share Barbatos's anguished laughter as he drank himself into forgetfulness.

The age of innovation grew higher and higher towards its peak while Zhongli's powers grew lower and lower. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't mind it.

Anything to get rid of the blasted cube.

He gave up trying to get rid of it. Gave up on trying to find his love when the dial hits its peak. If giving away his gnosis meant that the cube would no longer work, he would. Even more so with the depletion of everyone's belief at Archons.

He hopes.

Alas, it appears Celestia would laugh at Zhongli's hopes, for when the cube glowed for another time, he nearly tore his hair out.

How many lifetimes? How many more heartbreaks? How many more funeral rites?

And yet he seemed to be the biggest fool despite being the eldest Archon, for when he sees you, an inventor innovating the new gadgets for tomorrow, he felt the earth beneath his feet tremble.

He missed this feeling.

"Hello sir!" You greeted him with enthusiasm that he wished he could relate to. "Care to see the future of mankind?"

He is the biggest fool there was. "I would love to."

And he may as well die as a fool.

The fifth time he held the cube, he was only fidgeting it around.

Funeral parlors were becoming commonplace but not a lot of customers. With globalization and the new funeral trends being used, people have mixed feelings about having such an expensive and extravagant rite of passing.

And it also doesn't help that he gets confused when some people don't even bother asking for his services. They just stare at him with a wiggly smile on their lips.

Regardless, he won't look a gift horse in the mouth. He sees the dial on its peak but he doesn't pay heed to it. He gave up. With how many people there are and newer countries emerging, he lost hope.

No, more like he doesn't care anymore.

It was probably an insult to you-no-it was a clear insult and it was scary that he doesn't care anymore. He can't be the man that existed before, assisting the Traveler and Childe. He can't be the broken down Archon that shared drinks with Barbatos. He was so goddamn tired that he deserves this sanctuary.

If he could even call it that.

And yet, he persisted. Not for Guizhong, not for you, but for himself.

He takes his time with his tea, relishing in the flavors as he used this time to calm himself. The sounds of the clock ticking, the ceramic of his cup hitting the table, and the distant sound of birds chirping were all welcomed to his ears. It appears that his daily tea rituals haven't changed at all ever since he was born.

As he sips up the last bit of his tea, a knock broke him out of his concentration. He allowed entry.

An employee under him bowed before straightening his back. "Mr. Zhongli, you have a customer."

He sets down the cup. "Bring them in."

The employee nodded at him before walking back to fetch the customer. He fixes his tie and moves his finished tea away, wanting to look best for the customer.

Hearing an extra set of footsteps, he raised his head to greet the customer but he felt the earth tremble.

Maybe Celestia had enough of his sulking as he sees you smile at him like the first of you smiled at the archon all those millenia ago.

"Hello, Mr. Zhongli," you greeted and his name never sounded so poisonously sweet in his ears, "I hope you aren't too busy with what I have to ask…"

He may as well start his own funeral rites for himself.

He takes a while before composing himself, not meeting your eyes as he gestured to the vacant seat on his left side. He can’t meet your eyes even when you sat down and smiled politely at him. It felt like his heart stopped, then jump started like an engine.

“So, um…” You said, fiddling with the tips of your fingers and Zhongli had to resist the urge to take your hands in his. “Mr. Zhongli, I was hoping that I could ask you something.”

He steeled his spine in order to not show the shiver he felt when he heard you say his name. Gods, when has it been that your past reincarnation said his name? Even in a non-romantic way? “Well, as long as it is within the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s power, I’ll do what I can.”

This time, you averted your eyes from him, your hand moving to scratch the back of your neck. “About that… it’s not really something related to the funeral parlor perse…”

He raised his brow, your nervousness almost easing him. “Oh?”

Your face flushed and Zhongli can’t help but feel his heart race just like before. “It’s ah… It’s just that I have a research thesis that I’m doing and for some reason, the people I’ve asked recommended you.”

He slightly deflated, then wondered why he felt disappointment in the first place. “A research thesis? Pertaining about...?”

You immediately perked up and you reached out from behind you. Your bag was sitting behind you, smooshed against the chair as Zhongli watched you curiously. From your backpack, you fished out a laptop, a heavy history book, a slim book, two notebooks, and a pencil case that’s practically bursting at the seams with stationery. You set them down on the table, the force clattering the plates but nothing was spilled.

You booted up your laptop, getting one of your notebooks and grabbing a pen. When the laptop finally booted up, you logged in and presented Zhongli what was on the screen.

He felt the earth tremble from his knee knocking up against the table.

‘History of Rex Lapis And Their Influence On The Modern World’

“I’m a huge fan of history, you see!” You explained quickly, grabbing the large book that shows an old copy of Rex Lapis Incognito, a book that he hasn’t seen a while. “I really appreciate everything that the old archons did for the world, even if people don’t believe in them anymore. I especially have a fondness for the adepti but they’re even more forgettable-but I don’t mean it in a bad way! I want to write this with intentions of people remembering what both archons and adepti did for Teyvat…”

He zoned out soon after you said ‘history’. He wasn’t the type to pray for a blessing when, after all, you’re a literal god. But it comes to a time where, after heartbreak after heartbreak, he grows tired and soon goes numb. He thought he hardened his heart ever since he subjected himself to this but it appears even bedrock can be reduced to dust.

He let out a small, shaky breath before raising his head. That doesn’t matter now. He was Zhongli, used to be adeptus, used to be archon, but now: a man.

He couldn’t be any happier.

“I admire your fondness for researching ancient history.” He said, cutting off your rambling. “I may not be as knowledgeable as any other book, but I will try my best. We should speak about this somewhere else, though. It would be dreadful to speak in a funeral parlor.”

Just like terraforming, he can be rebuilt.

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagines #snowpea writes #scenario #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH ZHONGLI BANNER DONT HURT ME KSDKFNSKF #I OFFER THIS AS TRIBUTE

[buckyownsmylife]

white winter hymnal - tom hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s PA and you two get snowed in.

Warnings: smut, boss/employee relationship, dirty talk, kind of sexist remarks?, that wasn’t my intention, but maybe that’s how you’ll see it, so I should warn you about it, reader is very sex positive in this fic, idiot in lust, PA!Reader, jealous!Tom, kinda possessive! or maybe asshole!Tom, again it wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to write some dirty talk, use of the term cockslut and another that I can’t remember, or maybe it was cockslut twice

A/N: I’m not really satisfied with this collage, but this will have to do 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, here’s another anon request I received a while back. Please take everything Tom says as nothing more than dirty talk. Also, I did that thing where I wrote a pre-POV intro, idk if it’s any good but when the inspiration hits, I just roll with it ✌

Y/N wasn’t having a good week at work. It wasn’t that something wrong had happened - actually when you considered the cold facts about what had left her feeling so high strung that a simple touch almost made her moan, anyone would think she was crazy. Those were nice things, good situations that she’d found herself in.

But she’d disagree emphatically. There was nothing nice about the fuck-me eyes with which Tom, her boss, had regarded her when she arrived on set with the pencil skirt that she knew made her ass look great. There was nothing nice about the way he’d commented on how she was out to get him, making his life more difficult because of the way she was dressing. There was nothing nice about how he had kept on complimenting her, telling her how pretty she looked with her hair down, or how he joked about how it must have hurt when she fell from heaven.

And especially, there was absolutely nothing nice about the subtle, fleeting touches he’d decided to shower her with, leaving her burning and more aroused than she cared to admit, considering how innocent they actually were. Tom had been flirting with her ever since her job interview, it was nothing new and she should have gotten used to it by now.

But the truth was that she didn’t, she couldn’t. And who could really blame her, when every day it seemed like Tom stepped up a notch, making it harder and harder for her to ignore his advances and keep things professional between them?

Especially considering just how badly she needed to get off and just how attracted she was to him and his stupidly perfect body and damn hypnotizing smirk. She was only human, after all. A human woman with healthy desires that seemed to revolve exclusively about her boss.

God, she was pathetic. At least, she could always count on Saturday nights. That was the time she managed to escape the acting world and the craziness of the set where they had been filming for the last month to go to the bar and find someone who’d take her home and help her deal with her growing levels of horny.

If it weren’t for random strangers who knew what to do in bed, she wasn’t too sure she wouldn’t have succumbed to Tom’s spell and climbed him like a tree already. And that’s where she was headed, just after she stopped by his rental house and went over their schedule for the week ahead.

She’d get through this, she thought as she made sure her coat was tightly wrapped around her waist before exiting her car and running towards the front door, ignoring the snow that had been lightly falling since that morning. Just two more hours and she would be on her way to drowning her needs in another stranger’s body, just to pretend that she didn’t think about Tom during the entire act.

Yeah. She could totally do this.

Tom was screwed.

He had been since he first laid his eyes on her, some five months ago, just before they moved to this fucking freezing country to start filming for his next movie. He knew even back then, he should have thanked her with a smile, explained that she wasn’t right for the job, and asked her out. The fact that she was the best person for the job shouldn’t even have counted, because he was head over heels for her in that first meeting, how the fuck could he keep himself away when she was supposed to be working by his side every minute of every day?

In the end, the idea of having to wait until the end of filming to actually get to spend some time with her made him take the impulsive decision that led him to this situation. Having her so close, but nowhere near what he wished for.

It was hell on Earth. Especially since he knew she felt the same way, he could see it in her eyes, in the way she squeezed her thighs together every time he so much as looked her way. If only she wasn’t so unbelievably professional.

“Tom?” He heard her sweet voice calling out from downstairs and casted a glance at the window. The snow had been gradually building up since that morning, it was a surprise she had managed to reach his house in the first place. But of course, she would never let something as silly as the weather keep her away from her responsibilities.

With a low chuckle, he made his way to the living room, rubbing his hands together to create some warmth despite the heaters that were working overtime since he arrived at that house. It didn’t matter, it was still too fucking cold.

“Ready to go over your schedule?” He trailed his eyes over her body, taking notice of the dress she was wearing over the warm leggings. What day was it? Oh, right. Her day off started the minute she finished this one last task, and then she’d be off to…

He knew where she’d be off to. Thinking about it made him see red, especially since he didn’t have the opportunity to do the same where they were. He envied her, but he envied the lucky bastard that got to fuck her tonight even more.

“Of course,” was all he said, assuming a spot on the seat next to hers on the couch. She visibly tensed, but then threw him a small smile that seemed to try to ease her own nerves, to which he returned with a grin of his own.

“What are you all smiley about?” It was nice to see her more laidback, it was clear that the prospect of letting off some steam tonight was relaxing her. Tom could work with that. In fact, it just made his plans that much easier.

“I can’t imagine how someone could be near a woman as beautiful and not be happy, sweetheart.” Her smile immediately dropped, her eyes growing twice their size as he maintained his grin. “But let’s get on with it, shall we? I have a lot to plan out with you.”

She raised an eyebrow at his lack of interest in continuing to mess with her but shrugged it off before opening her planner. They did have a lot to talk about before she could finally leave to the nearest bar.

Tom chanced a glance out the window as she tried to locate their current week on her faithful notebook. This might just turn out the way he needed it to be.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Aaaand… I guess this finalizes your schedule for the next week,” I commented as I made sure to correct the time for a phone interview Tom would be having on the following Friday, before glancing up at him. He’d been mostly quiet for the last few minutes, a stark difference from how he had behaved during the entire meeting. Through all my time working for him, it had been the first time he was actually really present for the scheduling of his following week, making changes and trying to be sure that it would go as smoothly as he wanted it to be.

It wasn’t an unwelcome change, but it sure was peculiar. And by now, I knew him enough to get that there was definitely a hidden reason for him to be behaving this way. Still, I couldn’t yet grasp what it was that he had planned, so I resigned myself to getting through with what I intended to do for the day, and thankfully, that was now done.

“Well, if you won’t be needing me anymore, I’ll be getting out of your hair now.” I smiled softly down at him when I left the sofa, making quick work of my scattered papers and random pens before straightening out to say goodbye. “What?” I had to ask since he was looking at me like he was trying to contain his laughter.

“Well, first of all, sweetheart, I always need you. Perhaps not in the way you’re supposed to help with, according to your job description, but it’s the truth.” I had difficulty maintaining eye contact after that, opting to stare at the mountain of documents in my hands while I fidgeted from one foot to the other, feeling the arousal inside of me sparkle before starting to burn even more intensely. Why did he have to be so honest about wanting me?

“Second and perhaps most importantly… I think you’re stuck with me for the rest of the evening, love.” That made me look at him again, desperate to find any signs that he was only toying with my emotions, anything to show me that he was only playing. But all I got was a nod of his head, pointing towards the windows, and that’s when it hit me.

We were snowed in.

A lot of different feelings took over me at the realization. First, there was despair. What would I do now that I couldn’t go to the bar? Then, there was anxiety. How the fuck was I supposed to survive spending the night with my boss - to whom I was attracted to - in a house with a single room in it?

Finally, sheer panic set in, making me shake my head in frustration. I’d never be able to find enough control to resist him without the release that my weekly escapades granted me. And by the way he stared up at me, with those darkened eyes filled with lust, I could tell that he knew.

I watched with a trembling body as he slowly rose from the seat and made his way to me until we were chest to chest. His eyes ran up and down my body until they finally settled on mine again, and I had to bite down a whimper. 

That’s how weak I was for him. He could reduce me to a wanton mess with a fucking stare.

“You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question. Both he and I recognized it as a fact. Still, I whispered into the air between us, “Yes.” Immediately, he pressed on. “Of me?” I almost melted at the sight of such a burly, strong man, towering over me and devastated at the prospect of threatening me.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I waited for her answer with a heavy heart, but the hopeful expectation that she did actually feel just the same as I did: scared at the prospect of what could happen between us, but equally excited. 

“No.” I tilted my head at the word, curious as to what was her explanation, then.

“Then what?”

“Of what could happen if I let go of my control. Of what I would become.” Slowly, a smile took over my face, and I finally felt confident enough in her feelings to feel like I could touch her. So I raised my hands to hold her hips, rejoicing in just how small she was in comparison to me. It felt like I could very easily pick her up and take her - in whichever way I wanted. And there were a lot of them.

“Let go,” I whispered in her ear, having leaned down so I could compensate for our difference in height. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you without that precious control of yours.”

Goosebumps had spread all over her skin at the difference in temperature of my breath and her skin. I watched in fascination, following their trail, rubbing my nose across her jaw before finally, her lips were inches from mine. And then they were mine.

I possessed her mouth just like I’d fantasized for so long, desperate to make up for the lost time, for all the nights I spent alone thinking about her while she was off with someone else. And she responded just in kind, her arms barely able to embrace my body, but her palms were spread over my back, pulling me closer, and that was more than enough for me. 

For now, at least. Now that I’d captured her on my web, there was no way I was letting her go before I fulfilled each and every one of the dirty, dirty dreams I had about the two of us. I was going to ravish her. I was going to ruin her.

She let out a tiny whimper when I pried her lips open with my tongue, before melting in my arms as I explored her mouth, basked on her taste. “You know there’s no way I’m letting you go now, right?”

By the way she looked at me with hazy eyes, it was clear that there would be no resistance from her whatsoever. She was pliant and soft in my hands, easily following when I picked her up and climbed up the stairs to my room with her in my arms. And then, when she was on the bed, there was just no way I could control myself anymore, not even long enough to take off our clothes properly. So I just flipped her skirt up, before ripping apart her leggings and finding her underwear absolutely drenched for me.

“Fuck,” I whispered, already reaching out to rub my thumb over her nub, making her gasp and cry out for me. “I can smell you dripping through the fabric, sweetheart.” To my pleasure, she didn’t seem coy about it at all. 

Oh, no. My little assistant, the picture-perfect of professionality was licking her lips, frantically nodding to my indication. “For you, I’m always dripping for you.” A smirk took over my face at her confession, my cock hardening even more at hearing that while I was suffering silently all that time, so was she.

So I ripped her underwear to shreds, spreading my hands over the inside of her thighs to get the perfect view of that pussy that had been haunting my dreams. “Shit, I can’t wait to eat that.”  And with only those words as warning, I dove right in, attracted by the sweet smell that made my mouth water.

She was just as sweet as I thought, but the sounds with which she filled my bedroom were what drove me crazy. I couldn’t close my eyes to fully appreciate her taste, too transfixed by her beauty, unable to believe that I finally had her, that it was her pussy I was currently lapping.

“Damn, look at you,” I hummed against her clit, making her jerk and try to pull away for a split second before I threw an arm over her hips to secure her position. “You fought so hard against your instincts, only to end up right here, spread open for me.”

With each word that left my lips, she seemed to get closer and closer to her release. “And to think you could have had my mouth on you all this time. Tell me, darling, do you think a stranger could make you feel better? Were any of the people you fucked, trying to ignore our connection, this great at making you cum?”

I could feel her muscles quiver under the soft skin of the inside of her thigh, and I doubled my efforts on her pussy, determined to see her cum at least once before I finally got my cock in her. It was throbbing now, begging for any sort of attention, but I was too transfixed by the sight of her reaching her high, the way her chest heaved as I quickly rubbed her clit with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth.

“Gimme your cum, baby. C’mon. Been waiting so long to get you in my bed…” She came as I hummed against her, the sensations obviously flipping her over that edge. “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

I kept on slowly cleaning her up, mindful of not hurting her, as she struggled to get her breathing in check. Despite her sensitivity, I couldn’t get myself to part with her taste just yet, even considering the possibility of eating her out some more, making her cum one or two more times before I fucked her properly.

But that was all before she fractured my control with two simple sentences. “Want some help with that? I’ve really been looking forward to getting your cock in my mouth.” I hadn’t even realized that I had been grinding against the mattress as I pleasured her, just to relieve my needy member at least a little bit.

What I knew was that I most definitely would not be able to hold back enough to feel her mouth around me. At least this first time. So all she got was a growl as I pounced on her, forcing her to taste her cum as I kissed those gorgeous lips and held her knees open to accept my weight between them.

“Right now, I’m gonna fuck this little pussy until you’re sobbing for me, okay, love? If you beg nicely, I might let you taste me later.” She whimpered in response, and a smirk took over my face. “Wow, you really are cockdrunk for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” The whine I got only made me laugh, giving me a little bit more control to tease her some more.

“You think you’re ready for me?” I asked, pressing the head of my cock against her clit, rubbing it with my member. “Are you sure you can handle my dick, darling?” Watching her thrash around the bed in an effort to get me to push into her was something I never thought I’d get to see. It made that moment of victory just that much sweeter.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was trembling in anticipation to finally have him inside of me. To feel that fat cock stretching me open, filling me up like I’d always wanted it to. It was enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.

“Yes, yes, please, I can handle it. Please, stop teasing me,” I begged, my hands not able to choose what to hold as I struggled to keep myself from losing my mind over my boss’ cock. From the depths of my desire, I took notice of the way he smirked, one eyebrow raised up as he stared down at me, still slowly running the head of his cock between my pussy lips.

“Teasing? This isn’t teasing, love. Teasing is what you did to me, every single day since we met, parading everywhere with those fucking skintight skirts.” And with those words as preamble, he finally slid home, only stopping when he was completely inside of me, hitting my cervix and difficulting the now herculean task of remembering how to breathe again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be this tight. I just fucking knew it.” Those were the last things I heard before he started pounding me against the mattress, barely having given me any time to get used to his thickness. 

If I thought I was losing my mind before, it became clear from the way he was bruising my insides that there was no possibility of me ever leaving this bed as a sane woman. Tom had managed to reduce me to a blubbering, stupid mess. He truly had turned me into his cockslut, I realized. I’d do anything just to keep being filled by him, over and over again.

“See? This is what you could have been having this entire time. Me and my cock. Instead, you just had to leave me for those random men. And while you were out, having your fun, all I had to keep me company was my own hand.” Tom never stopped the torturing pace with which he kept on fucking me as he slowly drove me crazy with his words. It was just unbelievable how great he was at dirty talk, I felt like I could cum already from the rhythmic attack on my sweet spot and the filth he was spilling. 

The mental image he elicited of him touching himself didn’t hurt, either.

“You’re so egoistic, sweetheart. Wasn’t it your job to serve me? Instead, I had to get off all by myself.” Despite the teasing nature of his remarks and the still brutal pace of his thrusts, his touch over my body was gentle, as he gathered my hair away from my face so he could bury his head in the crook of my neck.

“You… You could have had anyone you wanted,” I managed to remind him, starting to mirror his movements, fucking myself up on his cock. “You could have had anyone at all.” Abruptly, he stopped hiding his face against my skin, pushing away just enough to watch my expression - or maybe to show me his, in all of its seriousness.

“The only one I wanted was you. This was everything I wished for, since day one.” Tom raised himself slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts in a way that had me gasping in surprise, while also preventing me from being able to figure out what I could possibly say to that. So he continued, slowing the movements only a bit, but fucking me deeper, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t pinpoint. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

She gasped, finally giving up that last little bit of control and allowing herself to relax against the mattress as I did all of the work. “But now I have you, huh? And this is where you should be spending your days, with my cock deep inside of your pussy, keeping me warm, keeping me happy.” I kissed her before finishing, “Keeping me fulfilled.”

With a moan that electrified every single cell of my body, she came and prompted my own orgasm, and I spilled inside of her with a roar, momentarily losing my strength and falling on top of her body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, darling. Let me get out of you.” But she stopped me from leaving her arms and her pussy, hugging me to her chest until I had no other choice but to cuddle her.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers lightly running through my short hair. “I like it.”

I fell asleep that night happy because I understood that was her way of saying that she was satisfied with this development in our once strictly professional relationship. And I couldn’t wait to wake her up with another reason why she shouldn’t regret this.

#my fics #tom hardy smut #tom hardy #smut #tom hardy reader #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy oneshot #tom hardy oneshots #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy insert fanfiction

[crystalirises]

5 Times Fundy is Left Alone (+3 Times He's Not)

In which, Crys forgot to crosspost this sskskkskss. Anyway, this is a fic about the boat glitch! Just a warning though, I know the boat glitch is about astral projection but I did not utilize the rules of astral projection in this fic so please don’t read this through the lens of astral projection. Anyway hope you guys like this fic :D!

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/74572116

Ghostbur hummed a soft tune underneath his breath as he picked at the flowers by the lake, eyes flitting up towards the sky every now and then as a soft breeze ruffled his translucent hair.

His gaze turns towards the lake, the symphony dancing at the edge of his tongue quelling to a silence as he caught the glimpse of familiar ginger hair in the distance. His heart raced as he watched his little champion’s boat glide along the glimmering surface of the lake. Ghostbur hadn’t seen his son since… he couldn’t remember when was the last time, but oh well! He smiled to himself as he thought about how great it was that his son had found a new hobby to partake in. Ghostbur wasted no time as he floated over to where Fundy was, a soft smile on his face as he hovered in front of his little champion. He waved a hand in front of the fox hybrid’s face, hoping to catch his son’s attention before Fundy panicked and fell off the boat. Ghostbur was pretty spooky if he did say so himself! “Fundy! Hey, Fundy! Enjoying the lakeview, son?”

Fundy didn’t glance up at him, a blank look in his son’s eyes as he continued to stare past the spectre. Ghostbur awkwardly chuckled, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck as he waited for Fundy to look at him. He floated closer, wondering if his little champion hadn’t heard him. His son didn’t flinch, even as Ghostbur sat down at the edge of the boat, flower basket in hand.

“Fundy?” He hesitated, form flickering before placing a hand against his son’s shoulder. He frowned as Fundy didn’t twitch, eyes glazed over as if lost in a world of his own. Ghostbur couldn’t help but panic, wondering what was wrong with his little boy. “Fundy! Please, son!”

The ghost felt a pinch of pain in his heart as Fundy continued to ignore him. He didn’t know what to do! He wrapped his arms around himself, hyperventilating as he tried to calm down.

Ghostbur couldn’t help but wonder what he had done wrong, what he had done to cause his little champion to ignore him so - and that had to be what was happening! Why else would Fundy not respond to him? He bit the inside of his cheeks, wishing that he could feel some semblance of pain to drown out the ache in his heart and the whispers in his head. Fundy wasn’t talking to him, why wasn’t his son talking to him?! Ghostbur couldn’t help but curl into himself, rocking back and forth, the boat creaking under the sudden shift of movement. What did he do wrong?!

Then all fell still, the sound of birds chirping in the distance the only sound that broke through the silence. If one were to look out into the lake, they’d see a ghost and a fox… both unmoving.

“Well, Fundy… it was great talking to you but I really ought to get back to Phil and Techno! So, um, here have some blue and uh… oh! A flower! You like flowers, right?” Ghostbur snapped out of whatever daze had fallen into, honestly, he should stop spacing out! He shook his head, his signature smile appearing back on his face as he placed some blue in his son’s unresponsive hand and a flower tucked behind his son’s ear. “I have to go now, Fundy! I’ll talk to you later! Bye!”

Ghostbur wasn't sure what had happened, but he was happy to know his son was enjoying the fresh sun and the cool air. He had hardly seen his little champion since… well, he couldn't remember and if he didn't remember then it probably didn't matter anyway! Ghostbur floated away from the small boat, pausing at the edge of the lake as he turned to give one glance towards his son. Fundy sat in the boat, eerily still and staring into the distance… almost as if he wasn't truly there… but that was a silly thought! His son was probably just busy thinking about one of his crazy contraptions! Ghostbur could only hope that Fundy didn't overwork himself too much. His little champion shouldn't tire himself out. Ghostbur gave his son one last wave, before disappearing further inland, humming a soft tune underneath his breath. He'd see Fundy again, maybe tomorrow if Ghostbur looked for him. Hm… no, maybe his little champion wanted some peace and if so… Well Ghostbur was not going to deny his son what he wanted!

Fundy wakes to blue melting off his fingertips and a wilted flower tucked behind his ear.

---

Niki tugged the collar of the dark brown coat closer to her chin, scowling as she felt the harsh wind against the landscape, ruffling her pink hair as she looked up into the sky. She didn't know what had compelled her to visit the remains of a country no longer worth fighting for, but here she was, basking in the beauty of the lake. She took a deep breath, calming her shaky nerves. Techno had just offered her a position she couldn't refuse, and she'd be damned if she let another country rear its ugly head into the peace they had so clearly established. Countries brought war, governments brought misery. Why let a new one rise from the ashes of the past? Doesn't she have the power and the right - the responsibility - to make sure no one ever loses themselves to the idea of a nation ever again?

She sighed, wishing people could just open their eyes and see the truth for what it was. As she ran a hand through her hair, she noticed a boat in the distance, floating and drifting as though no one was controlling it. Her eyes narrowed as she moved a bit further up the dock, the wood creaking beneath her boots as she finally came to a stop at the edge. From there, she could see the glimpse of ginger hair, the sun casting it in an ethereal golden glow. Niki's eyebrows furrowed together as she watched Fundy's boat continue to float through the lake, the fox hybrid unmoving even as his boat began to hit jutting rocks or the edge of the lake. Niki waited until Fundy finally settled, the boat stuck against the shore. She made her way towards him, concern flitting in her mind before his betrayal casted anger in her heart. Of course she'd find him here, where else would he be? Gods know the fox was sentimental. He'd never abandon L'Manburg so long as a part still remained. Maybe getting rid of the lake would make him leave too.

"Fundy!" She trampled past the flowers growing by the edge of the lake, her hands curled into fists by her sides as she reached the fox hybrid. She glanced down at him, pausing as she took in the dark circles underneath his eyes and how thin he seemed to have gotten. She felt her anger disappear as she crouched beside him, hands twitching as she thought of what she should do. "Fundy? It's Niki. When was the last time you slept or ate? … Fundy?"

The fox hybrid sat there, silent and eyes empty of emotion. She winced as she reached out a hand to pat him on the cheek, pulling back as she felt his too cold cheek against her palm. If it weren't for the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling, she would have thought him to be dead. She sat down against the grass, feeling the blades tickle against her ankles as she tried to coax the fox hybrid into looking at her. Fundy didn't look at her once.

"Fundy… are you ignoring me?" Niki couldn't help but feel hurt. He was the one who betrayed her, who betrayed their belief, and now he was pretending as if she wasn't there?! Niki felt her fury rise once more, all previous concern lost as she rose up from where she sat. "Well, FINE! You know what?! I thought we could be friends again! I thought you were on my side again! I wanted to trust you but you're still nothing but a no good traitor! That's what you'll always be!"

She expected him to turn towards her, eyes blazing at the words she had just spoken, but he didn’t even move. Niki ran her hands through her hair, nails biting into her scalp as she let out a scream of frustration. Why wasn’t he looking at her?! Was he that adamant about keeping quiet that he’d let her insult him like that? She took a deep breathe, anger clouding her judgement.

“I’m leaving, Fundy. I don’t want to see you again. If you’re going to pretend I don’t exist…” She gritted her teeth, her whole body trembling with rage. “Then you don’t matter to me either.”

Fundy didn’t twitch, didn’t cry, didn’t scream. Nothing. Almost as if he was but a corpse.

“WHY WON’T YOU SAY ANYTHING?!” Niki felt tears at the corner of her eyes, gliding past her cheek as she shrieked at him, a part of her begging him to turn around and look at her - just look at her. She wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her coat, sniffling as she looked at the frail form of a man who she thought would always be her friend. Her bottom lip trembled as she stared at him, dead and unhearing to her please. “Fine. Be that way, but don’t come crawling back to me if you ever want to talk.” Although she shouldn’t have done it, Niki roughly pushed him off the boat, knocking him to the muddy edge of the lake. With that, she walked away.

Fundy wakes to mud tangled in his hair and a burning ache on his shoulder.

---

Tommy wasn’t sure why Sam Nook had thought they needed flowers for the hotel and why he had sent Tommy of all people to do it. He picked at the flowers without care, trampling over some of them in his haste to pick the best among the rest. He grumbled underneath his breath, nearly slipping into the lake for the tenth time that day. Honestly, why did he have to be the one to pick fucking flowers? He was Tommyinnit, he shouldn’t have to do this shit.

The wind ruffled his hair as he looked over at the lake, a pang in his chest as he tried to ignore the ruin behind him. L’Manburg was gone. Tommy took deep breaths, like the ones Puffy taught him to do each time he got frustrated. As he tried to calm his thoughts, he saw a boat gliding against the surface of the lake, a familiar pair of fox ears catching Tommy’s attention. He was surprised to find Fundy there of all places. Actually, when was the last time he’d seen Fundy? Whatever, right now, it was clear that the furry didn’t even know how to properly row a boat.

“Oi, Fundy! You have to use a paddle or else you’re just going to drift further away from the lake like an idiot!” He waited for a response, a cry of protest or fear… but it never came. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows, worry crossing his mind as he realized Fundy was slightly slumped over, not that he looked like he was unconscious but he certainly looked as if he wasn’t really present. Tommy dropped the flowers, running to the edge of the dock as he watched Fundy’s boat continue to float, following the direction of the wind as it continued to push him further and further away from the dock. “FUNDY! Come on! What the fuck are you even doing, I一 I’m going to get you, alright? Just… stop acting like an idiot by the time I get there or fucking else!”

He kicked off his shoes, grumbling underneath his breath as he jumped into the icy cold water of the lake, shivering as he began to swim his way towards Fundy’s boat. He was going to kill that furry for fucking ignoring him. Tommy nearly shrieked when he felt a fish swim against his arm, sputtering dirty lake water as he splashed around. After a moment of floundering and shrieking, Tommy finally made his way towards the boat, clutching the rotting edge as if it were a lifeline.

“Fundy, seriously, have you gone deaf or some shit?” With ease, Tommy pulled himself onto the boat, surprised to find paddles hanging from the edge. Tommy took them, the paddles seemingly unused as they looked newer compared to Fundy’s boat which was slowly rotting away with moss clinging to some parts of the wood. He turned towards Fundy who stared glassily into the distance, his head slumped forward as though he had fallen asleep with his eyes open. Tommy chuckled, awkward and wrong against his ears as he sat down at the front of the boat. “Fundy?”

He waited but Fundy didn’t even look at him, silent even as Tommy began to pester and curse him. Tommy sighed, shaking his head at the furry’s choice of silence. He rubbed his hand on his mouth, wondering whether throwing Fundy into the lake would wake him up. He decided against that and decided to just row the boat back towards the dock and hope that the sudden movement would wake the fox hybrid up. Tommy began to row them back home, casting side-glances over at his… his silent nephew. He didn’t like how quiet Fundy was, didn’t like it one bit. Fundy should be complaining or… or something. “You know, I haven’t seen you since fucking Doomsday. What, did you fall into a ditch or something? ...I’ve been doing great, man. You know I’m helping Sam Nook with the hotel and shit. Yep, no more fucking wars for me, you know? It’s nice. The peace, that is. You know, you could help out over at the hotel if you want to.”

Tommy shuddered at the lack of response, not even a stutter or protest. What the fuck was wrong with Fundy? He shook his head, forcing his aching arms to keep rowing until they reached the dock, Tommy letting out a sigh of relief as he let his limbs rest from the growing soreness blossoming on his shoulders. He walked onto the dock, freezing cold from his impromptu swim.

“Time to get out of the boat. It’s nearly night and I’m not leaving you out here to get eaten by a fish or whatever the fuck else lives in this lake.” He waited but Fundy stayed where he was, almost slumping over if Tommy hadn’t reached out to keep him steady. Tommy shook his head as Fundy continued to give him the silent treatment, choosing to take the rope of the boat and tie it to one of the wooden posts on the dock. As amusing as the thought of Fundy waking up at night to find that he had drifted out to sea was, Tommy wasn’t going to let his nephew drown (not again). He reached down into his shorts pocket, grasping the pen Sam Nook had given him. He took it out, gently grabbing Fundy’s cold and unfeeling wrist. “Whatever, stay here all night if you want to, but at least stop by at the hotel tomorrow, yeah? You better be listening, furry…”

Tommy scribbled the address of the hotel onto Fundy’s palm, wincing at how Fundy didn’t wake up from the chill of the ink. He watched as Fundy’s hand banged against the side of the boat, the fox hybrid not crying out in pain despite the blossoming patch of red against his skin. It would bruise, but at least it wouldn’t bleed. Tommy hesitated, wondering what he should do, what he could do. Fundy wasn’t reacting to anything, not to Tommy and certainly not to whatever was happening to his own body. Maybe pushing him into the lake wasn’t such a terrible idea at all. He waited and waited. A part of him hoped that Fundy would wake up at any second, but when the chill of the day turned to the freezing cold of the night, Tommy found himself walking away. He gave Fundy one last glimpse before heading off towards the hotel, wondering what he could have done to wake his nephew up. Whatever. Tommy tried to help, and that was good enough.

Fundy wakes to find his boat tied to the dock and fading black ink against his palm.

---

Ranboo scurried about the edge of the lake, a grass block in hand as he looked out wearily into the lake. He couldn’t quite remember why he was there, his mind fuzzy with muted memories that he was sure he wouldn’t recall anytime soon. He turned to head towards the dock, the wood groaning beneath his feet as he took a nervous step onto the walkway. He didn’t want to step onto it and gain a nasty surprise in case the dock decided to collapse underneath his weight. He wasn’t quite sure how long it had been since anyone had visited the lake, the place too close to the remains of New L’Manburg to really invite anyone over. He wasn’t sure why he was even there to begin with. Somedays he wished he could just remember where he ran off to in his sleep.

As he slowly walked across the wooden surface, he caught a glimpse of a familiar fox hybrid at the edge of the dock. Ranboo paused where he was, terrified of confronting Fundy, especially on a day where he was already frazzled and scared. He just wanted to go home to Phil and Techno!

“Hey… Fundy…” Ranboo pushed down the terror he felt. It was just Fundy. Fundy couldn’t do anything to Ranboo, not without inciting Phil and Techno’s wrath. He was safe. He was fine. Fundy wasn’t going to hurt him. He stepped closer, surprised to find Fundy’s head resting against the wooden dock, the rest of his prone body sitting on a boat that looked ready to collapse at any moment. He felt a strike of fear in his chest as he crouched down beside the unmoving fox hybrid, his hand hovering above dirty ginger hair as Ranboo wondered if he should wake Fundy up. His fingers were shaking, small tremors racing up and down his arm as he slowly retracted his hand away from the fox hybrid. He couldn’t help but feel safer that way. Fundy wasn’t… he wasn’t in his body. Ranboo knew this trick, knew that Fundy wasn’t really there with him.

Ranboo sat down next to Fundy, curling up into himself as he looked down at the shell of - his used to be - best friend’s body. He liked it better this way. At least he now felt safe next to Fundy.

“So… this is where you’ve been… you’re not really here so I guess I’m talking to myself.” Ranboo glanced over at Fundy, praying that Fundy wasn’t in the area. He didn’t want to think what would happen if Fundy’s soul was sitting right beside him, listening to him talk. Ranboo would scream and teleport away if Fundy suddenly woke up. He didn’t want the confrontation. “I… uh… I’ve been doing great. I see you’ve… lost yourself… I’m not surprised, I guess.”

He pulled his knees closer to his chest, grass dirt block forgotten on the ground as Ranboo felt pain inside his chest. He missed talking to Fundy, even if it was just the husk he was talking to.

“Fundy… why are you doing this to yourself… you look… horrible. Like, really horrible, when was the last time you were… awake?” He didn’t expect to gain an answer, he’d be horrified if Fundy suddenly spoke. Ranboo wiped away the dirt on his hands against the bottom of his pants, wincing as they left a mark on the dark cloth. “I guess it’s better this way. You’re not on any side but your own, and I honestly think you’re safer this way… I guess. You… you’re probably happier in your own world… good… stay there. I don’t… I don’t want to fight you again, Fundy. If this is how we… avoid fighting… then okay. I’d rather you like this than us fighting again.”

Ranboo stopped himself, words stuttering against his throat as the fear flooded back into his mind. He couldn’t bring himself to stay a moment longer. Fundy could wake up at any moment and he did not dare provoke the luck gods by staring any longer. Ranboo stood up, his knees shaking as he turned to go, pausing only when he realized how he shouldn’t leave Fundy in such a position. Despite his terror, he turned back to help Fundy off the boat, placing him down on the dock. Ranboo stared and stared, feeling a stinging pain at his eyelids the longer he looked.

“I… I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I thought it would be easy but seeing you like this, I一 I can’t deal with this, Fundy! Just… please… be awake when I come back, okay?” Ranboo winced as he felt a tear drip down his chin, his skin burning as he felt more tears spring from his eyes. He couldn’t stay a moment longer, being near Fundy - even seeing Fundy - pained him. Ranboo walked away, nearly tripping on his own two feet as he forced himself to leave. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay. “No. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry… goodbye...” Then he was gone.

Fundy wakes to find himself on the dock and blades of grass floating over his head.

---

Phil flew over the ruins of L’Manburg, his heart beating heavily in his chest as he looked over at the rising moon in the distance that bathed the ground in its silver glow. A few weeks ago, Ranboo had come home with the remnants of tear tracks on his cheek, the enderman hybrid couldn’t remember what had made him so upset and Phil didn’t press him. At some point during the night, on this particular night, Phil heard Ranboo mutter Fundy underneath his breath and felt rage at the thought that Fundy - his disowned grandson - had somehow made Ranboo cry.

As he glided through the night sky, he found himself looking down at the lake where he had once spent an entire afternoon with Fundy, catching fish and laughing as he tried desperately not to think about how Fundy reminded him of his own son, Wilbur. He flew down, closer to the lake.

The lantern in his hand served as his beacon as he landed at the old dock, illuminating the rotting path with its golden glow. Phil walked closer to the edge, pausing as he noticed a figure lying down on a boat. He hesitated before moving closer, his sandals clacking against the wood as he drew near. Phil lifted his lantern, catching a glimpse of ginger hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in nearly a month. His breath caught in his throat as he fell to his knees with a thump, hands reaching out to pull the prone form of his grandson out of the nearly collapsing boat.

He couldn’t help but panic, all previous anger gone as he felt how cold his grandson’s body was. Phil held him close to his chest, wings wrapped around them to keep away the chill of the night. Alone as he was, he couldn’t help but think of another memory such as this, another time where he had held his own son's cold body to his chest. He had cried then, screamed his throat raw until he’d lost the ability to speak for a few days. Wilbur, his boy, who only ever wanted to let the world hear his symphony. Phil wasn’t sure why Wilbur’s death had hurt him so much. It was inevitable. He was Philza Minecraft. He had lived through centuries of death and misery, had lost so much to war or to nature, yet it was Wilbur Soot’s death that caused him grief after centuries of apathy and detachment. Holding his grandson - who you disowned, the voices in his head cackled in glee - he felt hollow and empty, like he’d lost another child that he couldn’t keep safe.

He stopped as he felt Fundy’s beating heart, faint as it was. Phil relaxed his hold, still keeping Fundy in his arms as he tried to calm down. Fundy was alive. He hadn’t failed Wilbur again.

Phil couldn’t help but keep his grandson close, the false scare was enough to keep him from flying back home. He was unsettled by Fundy’s glassy eyes, how they barely held any life in them despite his grandson’s clearly beating heart. Fundy hadn’t moved at all, almost as if he was nothing but a statue, frozen in time. Phil couldn’t help but wonder if his grandson had died along with L’Manburg, if - just like the nation - he was nothing but a husk of what was. Phil shivered, his wings curling closer around them. No. That wasn’t the case. Phil knew that. He knew this particular form of magic, how his own grandson came to know it he’ll, perhaps, never know.

He’d heard stories of it, hadn’t mastered the form of magic himself as he never found a reason to in his lifetime. He knew tales of people - lost to history now and remembered only by those who lived long enough to remember - who lost themselves into a world unseen by any other. They would lay down somewhere, most of them having an item or particular ritual to help ease the transition of their mind from the physical realm to the spiritual realm. Then they would be like what his grandson was right now, empty shells as their spirit disappeared to do what they wanted to do in the realm of their own making. Some said that form of magic wasn’t harmful, that it was merely a ticket to a world of fantasy that the users would eventually snap out of, but Phil knew better. What people forget - what they chose to forget - was the inevitable ending. At some point, people would begin to lose themselves to their own fantasies, their bodies rotting away as they一

Phil took in a shuddery breath, resting his chin against his grandson’s head as he gently closed Fundy’s eyes with his hand. Fundy would wake eventually, he had to. The other option was downright unforgivable. He looked down at Fundy, the lantern’s light revealing dark circles underneath the fox hybrid’s eyes, his body much too thin for someone of Fundy’s height. His clothes had tears and holes in them, his hair having grown past his shoulders and matted with leaves and mud. Phil couldn’t help but pull Fundy closer to his chest, wondering how anyone - how he - could have let this happen. He wished he could take the fox hybrid away, take him home where he could be cared for, but taking the body without the spirit inside could prove fatal.

Despite his senses screaming at him to take Fundy, Phil knew he couldn’t. He stood up, his grandson in his arms as he made his way towards the edge of the lake. He placed Fundy down on a patch of grass, wishing he could pretend that Fundy was sleeping and would wake up at any time. Phil placed his lantern beside his grandson, wings rustling behind his back as he turned to leave. He’d be back. Maybe he’d send Techno to watch over Fundy if Phil couldn’t make it. For now, he had to leave. With a flap of his wings, he was off, once more, into the night sky.

Fundy wakes to the sound of flapping wings and a newly lit lantern by his side.

---

Technoblade looked up into the starry night sky, boots thumping against the ground as he made his way through the wreckage of New L’Manburg. He wasn’t quite sure why Phil had begged him to pay a visit to the New L’Manburg lake, his father adamant that he go and… watch.

He wasn’t sure what he would find, but he’d brought along an axe in the case that he’d need it. Techno didn’t expect a lot, unsure of what Phil had meant by ‘Please… he might respond if he hears your voice.’ The voices in his head certainly weren’t any help, most of them screaming about blood or death, a few begging him to sleep (those he didn’t pay attention to because sleep was for nerds). Techno paused by the edge, the lake water silver as beams of moonlight blessed the land. He waited for a moment, his ears twitching as he picked up the sounds of crickets and fish darting through the lake. Techno wanted to turn around and go home, tell Phil he hadn’t found the so-called ‘he’ that he had wanted Techno to talk to. Just as he was about to turn and leave, he paused, eyes narrowing as he noticed a boat in the distance. Someone had clearly missed the water because the boat was on dry land, unmoving despite the passenger in its seat.

Techno made his way to the boat, taking note that it was recently made. He stilled as he spotted Fundy on the boat, his nephew (???) sitting eerily still, his hands in his lap as he stared out onto the quiet lake. Any other normal being would have shivered at the sight, but not the blood god.

“Fundy.”

He noticed the twitch of an ear, as though Fundy had heard him but didn’t dare move from where he was. Techno moved closer, taking a hesitant step forward until he was close enough to touch the top of Fundy’s head. He hesitated before placing a hand on top of his nephew’s hair, the voices in his head encouraging and mocking him as he slowly began to pet Fundy’s hair. Someone had recently cut his hair, the style reminiscent of what Phil would do to Tommy, although Tommy’s haircut was usually uneven since he couldn’t sit still for even a second. Fundy had no such problem, unmoving and dead as he was. Techno had heard tales and legends from Phil of this kind of magic, knowing full well that he couldn’t just take Fundy and leave (despite the protests of the voices for him to either take Fundy home or to punt him off a cliff).

Techno sighed, unclasping his cloak from his shoulders before settling it over Fundy, his clothes cold from the night air. He wasn’t sure how, but it seemed as though Phil had either forgotten the concept of making a house where Fundy could stay in or that Fundy had made his way outside again to disappear into the fantasies of his mind. Techno sat down beside his nephew, waiting.

He wasn’t quite certain what Phil had hoped to gain by sending Techno of all people to speak to Fundy, not that he ever had much interaction with twin’s son before. The piglin hybrid turned towards Fundy, sighing underneath his breath as he moved the fox from the boat and onto a soft patch of grass. The fox hybrid continued to lay there, unmoving, the only indication that he was still alive was the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. “Hey, uh, kid. Uh… mind waking up soon?”

All he got was a slight twitch of the ears, as if Fundy’s spirit could hear him. Techno let out a huff before settling back to where he was seated, knowing deep down that his nephew’s spirit was somewhere nearby, perhaps even listening. He couldn’t fathom why his voice would attract Fundy as they weren’t even close. Neither Phil, Ranboo, nor Niki could wake him, why could Techno, even if it was just a twitch of the ear? Techno shook his head, pink hair framing the sides of his face as he looked up into the night sky. “You know if you weren’t unconscious, I’d probably tell you the story of the stars. I used to tell Wilbur and Tommy the tales before we grew up and went our separate ways. Fundy... I’m not… good at this uncle thing. I don’t have anything to say that could make you wake up, and really, you’re probably better off never waking up.”

He winced, ears flicking as he realized how terrible that last line sounded. Phil really shouldn’t have sent Techno of all people. He rubbed a hand on his face, trying to compose the right words to say. Wilbur was the poet, not him. “Kid, just... don’t go to where we can’t follow.”

Techno could have sworn he felt Fundy move just a bit closer towards him.

---

Eret raced through the ruins of New L’manberg, their cape fluttering in the wind as they looked behind every piece of debris that jutted from the ground. Their heart beating erratically against their chest as they looked everywhere for a single sign of their son. They couldn’t find a single trace of Fundy anywhere, panic blooming in their head as they headed towards the lake.

They had been away due to a meeting with some of the local monarchs in the area. When they had gotten back, Eret didn’t expect to be hit with the news that Fundy wasn’t quite… conscious.

Eret supposed they should have pressed for more details from the frazzled and scared grandfather who looked like he hadn’t slept a wink in a week, but the panic had overridden their logic as they had quickly rushed towards the ruins of New L’Manburg. They had to find Fundy immediately.

“Fundy! Fundy, it’s Eret! I’m back! I’m back!”

They paused at the edge of the lake, finding a prone figure in the grass, a familiar red cape draped over who Eret could only assume was Fundy. They broke into a sprint, stopping a few steps away from their son who didn’t even flinch at their oncoming footsteps. Oh gods…

Eret pressed a hand against Fundy’s cheek, nearly pulling away as they felt how cold it was. They looked at the dark circles underneath the fox hybrid’s closed eyes, almost as if someone had closed them to look as if he was sleeping. From what Eret could remember from their conversation, Phil had told them enough about what was currently happening to their son. They crouched, a part of them unable to leave Fundy alone in such a secluded area. Phil had told them not to move or take the body away, but Eret couldn’t and wouldn’t bring themselves to leave Fundy’s body alone. Their hands gently slid underneath the fox hybrid’s shoulders and knees.

“Funds? It’s Eret. Can you hear me? Are you anywhere near me, right now?” Eret hefted Fundy up into their arms, panicking at how light he was. “Fundy, please. I’m here now. I’m right here.”

They nearly gave up until they felt movement. Eret looked down and nearly cried tears of joy as Fundy slowly moved his arm up, resting it on Eret’s shoulder before the arm flopped back down again. There were soft murmurs coming from the fox hybrid’s mouth, words that Eret couldn’t quite understand nor hear but was enough to make them feel relieved. Fundy was somewhere nearby, he had to be. Eret wasn’t sure how this form of magic worked, but they would do anything to fix this. There had to be a reason Fundy wasn’t going back into his body, had to be a reason why he wasn’t waking up. “It’s alright, Fundy. I’m taking you somewhere safer, alright?”

They felt Fundy curl closer towards them as they felt what Eret could only describe as “ghostly” hands run through their hair, nearly jumping when they felt a hand hold their shoulder before the touch disappeared once more. Eret tightened their grip on Fundy’s body, moving back towards the ruins, careful not to move too quickly in case Fundy’s spirit lost Eret within the wreckage. Phil would probably panic if he saw Eret with Fundy’s body. Hopefully they could tell him what had happened before the frantic grandfather started flying around the Essempy, looking for any telltale sign of a lost and very confused fox hybrid. Every so often Eret would stop, feeling a hand touch their back before disappearing again, a sign that Fundy’s spirit was still there. Eret kept walking until they saw their castle in the distance. Home. They were bringing Fundy home.

And as Fundy kept muttering underneath his breath, Eret swore they’d bring Fundy home.

No matter what.

---

Wilbur walked down the length of the castle hallway, refusing to stop even as his father and Eret kept screaming for him to come back. His heart was dead set on finding his son as he could. He remembered Ghostbur’s memories, remembered his last memory of Fundy. Despite his feet wobbling against the carpet and his knees shaking with new life, he forged onwards.

He hated how he had left his son alone on that boat. Even though he knew he wasn’t to blame for his ghostly counterpart’s action, Wilbur felt the guilt and shame as he realized he could have spared his son the agony if he - as Ghostbur - had just tried to wake Fundy up. It had gotten out of hand. Phil had given him some of the details, most of them fuzzy as he had just woken up from literal death by the time Phil had begun to speak. Fundy’s spirit - gods did he end up killing his son? - couldn’t return to the body, having spent too much time in the spirit realm without anything to ground him back to the physical realm. Wilbur brushed past everyone who tried to stop him in the hallway, pushing past Technoblade, Niki, and Ranboo (who he had yet to formally meet), only pausing briefly when he caught Tommy’s eyes. Unlike everyone, Tommy didn’t try to stop him, letting him through with a solemn nod. The two of them would talk later.

Wilbur walked until he nearly collapsed against the doorway of Fundy’s room, his legs still not used to being, well, alive. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the untouched bedroom, his son’s too still form lying on the bed for, what he could only assume, was a very long time. He forced himself to stand, to stagger to his son’s side, grasping his son’s too cold hand in his as he tried to keep himself from sobbing. He heard footsteps pause outside his room, a brief moment of silence before he heard the door shut close. Low and worried whispers faded down the hallway.

“Fundy… My poor boy… I’m so so sorry.”

Wilbur pulled himself to his knees, grasping his son’s hand with both of his hands as he kept his breath steady and calm, the panic rising in his throat with every second that he was forced to watch his son lay there… dead to everything and to the world. As if he was barely holding on.

“Dad’s here, Fundy. I’m right here.” He pressed his son’s hand closer to his chest, on top of his beating - and alive, gods he couldn’t believe he was alive - heart. Fundy didn’t stir and despite the pain he felt, Wilbur couldn’t blame Fundy for not wanting to wake to his voice. After everything they had gone through, he was the last person Fundy wanted to see. “I’m here, son.”

He hesitated, pausing before deciding to move closer, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed as he finally got the chance to take a good look at his son. His son was thin, too thin. The dark circles underneath Fundy’s eyes reminded him too much of the ones he used to have when he was alive and wasn’t quite as sane as he was now. Fundy’s hair and tail looked perfectly well groomed, as if someone had taken the time to brush them, possibly Eret since they were the only ones who knew how. Wilbur tucked a stray hand of hair, tracing circles against the knuckle of his son’s hand. “Funds… I’m here. I’m really here. I wasn’t the best dad, I know. Gods, please wake up. Please don’t leave me now that I’m back. I could take you fishing, like you always wanted. We could do whatever you want, start a forest fire or-or something. Please, just don’t leave.”

Even if he knew that there was a slim chance that Fundy would break through the bounds of reality and enter his own body just to push Wilbur away, he moved closer to his son. Even if Fundy came back just to yell at Wilbur about his shitty parenting job, he wouldn’t mind. Anything, if it meant Fundy would wake up again. He pulled his son into a gentle embrace, arms wrapping around his son’s prone form and sobbing as he realized that Fundy wasn’t trying to push him away - not that he can, but his spirit probably wanted to. “Please, just wake up, please. Yell at me. Shout at me. Curse at me. I don’t fucking know! Punch me if you want. Just please please please wake up. You can’t go like this. Please! Come back, son. Please don’t leave. Please, don’t leave me again. I couldn’t handle it the first time, how much more now that there’s a chance you’re going to leave me forever? Please… just wake up, Fundy. Please, wake up.”

Wilbur held onto his son, his hold never wavering even as fatigue began to take its toll on his resurrected body. He didn’t dare leave, didn’t dare sleep in the case that Fundy… Wilbur tried not to think about what he’d do if he lost his son a second time. He buried his face in his son’s ginger curls, singing a lullaby that he used to sing to Fundy when he was just a kid, when he was Wilbur’s little champion - all bright eyes and puffy cheeks as he tried to stay up and prove that he was old enough to stay up late. His voice cracked as he reached the last verse, breaking down into a sob. “Gods, please, don’t let his last memory of me be the time I told him I despised him.”

He continued to sob, begging any deity with a heart to save his son.

He only stopped when he felt Fundy shift, his son’s tired golden-flecked brown eyes - life, weak as it was, dancing in his gaze - fluttered open. He held his breath as a tear rolled down his son’s cheek, a weak smile finding its way to Fundy’s lips.

“Hi, dad.” Fundy let out a sigh before falling back to sleep, the beating of his heart much stronger than it had been before. Wilbur nearly sobbed, clutching his son closer as he wept.

Fundy was alive.

His son will be okay. Wilbur would make sure of that.

(+1)

Fundy woke to the sun in his eyes, hissing as he turned over on his bed, his head still heavy and drowsy with sleep. Despite the ache in his bones, he forced himself to stand up and walk.

He looked around the room, surprised to find that nothing had changed despite what felt like years of wandering in the spirit realm. He nearly collapsed as he took one step out of the bed, his legs weak with disuse as he slugged his way towards the door, pausing as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked frail, which wasn’t a surprise to him at all. He looked much healthier for someone who had been “unconscious” for an entire… two months? Three? Four? Fundy wasn’t sure. He shook his head, wincing as a spike of pain tore through his head, almost pushing him back to unconsciousness. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself from collapsing again. He couldn’t go back to sleep again. He wasn’t sure he could after everything. Of course, with the dark circles underneath his eyes, he was sure that Eret or Wilbur would tell him to sleep a few more hours. That conversation could wait after breakfast. Fundy was starving.

His hand reached down for the doorknob, pulling the door open before he stumbled into the empty hallway, keeping a hand to the wall as he made his way towards the dining room (if Eret hadn’t chosen to move the rooms around while Fundy was away). From the sounds of murmurs and laughter, Fundy knew he was going the right way. He finally made his way to the doorway of the dining room, pausing only to watch the nearly domestic scene before him. Eret and Niki were happily chatting away as Tommy and Tubbo helped Niki with what she was baking. Phil, Techno, and Wilbur were talking while Ranboo listened to their conversation intently.

Fundy leaned against the doorway, pressing all his weight against his shoulder as he listened to (family? friends? acquaintances?) their conversation. His eyes drooped close, stuttering to a wake when he nearly slipped on the floor, quickly adjusting himself as to not alarm anyone. Unfortunately (Fortunately?), the noise caught everyone’s attention, eyes turned towards him in surprise. Wilbur was the first to break out of his stupor, rising from his seat to pull Fundy into am embrace. Fundy held onto his dad just as fiercely, not wanting to ever let go again.

Fundy felt himself smile.

“Missed me?”

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this is so long omg ;-;

#fundy #wilbur soot #niki nihachu #tommyinnit #ranboo #philza #technoblade #eret #mcyt #boat glitch angst #pls don't kill me for the first five people I was trying to emulate the five stages of grief #did it work probably not