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lucyandthepen · 10 months

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love on the floor - i. | njm

exactly when does vice president na turn from the company’s worst nightmare into your favorite daydream?

pairing: chaebol!na jaemin x secretary fem!reader rating: vaguely M, but will very quickly escalate into a hard R in coming chapters genre: romance, fluff, (eventual) smut (in later chapters), chaebol!au warnings: jaemin isn’t really a total asshole but he isn’t great at the beginning either and i think that should be a warning, there’s probably some language use that deserves a bit of caution i GUESS, but tbh nothing much here because we want to pretend that this is a fic of chaste circumstances and not a lead-up to raunchy, depraved smut word count: 16.4k

author’s note: first of all, the development of this fic is absolute SHIT because i love context too much and refuse to shut up at the beginning only to get antsy for the ending so if the pace is a little stop and go … it’s because i’m a Fewl !! and i totally own up to that !! and second of all, this is actually just a set-up for about two more shorter (?? what’s shorter) works that i’ve already been wanting to write but felt like i would be remiss in doing so without some kind of build-up to the relationship so :^) here we are ! heavily unbeta'd and miss lucy is a bit rusty but we carry on for the sake of enjoying oneself (and practicing writing once again) muah enjoy!

At least this job gets you free medical.

Actually, all things considered, this is an excellent job with limitless benefits. You never have to worry about the three-level insurance, you have monthly paid-for visits to the dentist, and you sometimes get to use the company car for personal errands for as long as you meticulously check everyone else’s schedules and butter up the head secretary, Son Seungwan, just enough so that she feels mollified enough to let you have this favor (but not too much to the point that she catches on and gives you a ten minute lecture on the rising prices of gas post-the-turn-of-the-decade). Your rent’s well paid-for, and the apartment you’re staying at is comfortable, albeit a little smaller than most, although that’s just because you prefer spending your money on once-in-a-lifetime type things, like front row seats to a Paul Kim concert. You get 50% discounts at the company cafeteria, which boasts a pretty nice salad bar with more than just perilla leaves as the greens. The bathrooms even have luxury soap installed into the automatic hand dispensers, so you always come out clean and fancy smelling.

All in all, the job’s pretty perfect, to the point that you don’t think leaving will ever truly be in the cards — except for the fact that you barely see your boss, which, as nice as it sounds on paper, is actually the most stressful part of the position.

You’ve always been of the opinion that if Vice President Na Jaemin put his mind to something, he’d actually do it very well, but the running issue is that he hardly ever puts his mind to anything, especially when it comes to work. In fact, the only thing he ever seems to take seriously is having eleven hours of uninterrupted sleep, which you personally think is an extremely hard thing to achieve, leading you to the firm belief that if he channeled that energy into something less dead-to-the-world and a little more productive, things would be amazing.

And maybe things would also be a little less distressing if his family would just accept him for who he is instead of expecting too much (or, actually, anything) from him, but Vice President Na is the only son of the family that owns the largest telecom company in the country, so his parents have a ton of huge expectations for him. His father, in particular, is clearly trying to prepare him to take over the entire business, something that the Vice President clearly isn’t keen on doing, based on the many arguments you’ve had to sit through alongside Head Secretary Son. The result is a lot of tension that’s only exacerbated by the Vice President’s desire to avoid more conflict, which he does by suddenly disappearing from the office for hours — sometimes days — at a time.

So for as much medical, dental, and reasonably priced caesar salad as you’re getting from this job, you’re not entirely sure how worth it those things all are if they come with the task of you having to sit through twenty minutes of lecturing in place of Vice President Na Jaemin himself.

“This is the last time,” President Na roars — not necessarily at you, but at you, in your general direction, while you stand helplessly in front of his desk, your hands folded across your lap and your head hung low. You don’t really feel terrified or hurt — more than knowing that the President isn’t shouting at you for your incompetence, you’ve also gotten used to being on the receiving end of these weird, indirect lectures and have thus come to know the exact standard of ‘sorry’ that you have to look for it to be over as quickly as possible. Still, you’re kind of annoyed that this particular spiel is taking up precious minutes from your afternoon break. Then again, you don’t know what you’d expected to begin with when you’d come back from the cafeteria after lunch and found the Vice President’s chair abandoned, leather cold, indicating that he’d been gone for quite a while. It’s about four o’clock now, and he still hasn’t come back, and all your messages to him have gone unread, as you’ve also grown used to. “You tell my no-good son if he isn’t back within the hour, he can live the rest of his life without my last name.”

You’re not sure if the implications of that will really sink into the Vice President’s heart enough to trigger the guilt it’s clearly trying to elicit, but you know better than to voice your opinion. You nod once, then bow at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Four years of this, and he hasn’t learned a single thing,” the President continues, completely ignoring your useless and vaguely insincere apology. “Where’d he run off to this time?”

You don’t know. You never really know. Since he actively tries to avoid all work-related things, he also actively tries to avoid you, something he does by never picking up the phone or telling you the details of his daily schedule anyway. You can only share what you do know, which is very little and, therefore, extremely useless, but you try to say it in a way that appears relatively helpful. “His schedule says he was supposed to have lunch with the foreign investors that are trying to connect Prime Video to the Korean market, but it seems he didn’t show up for that.”

Which essentially translates to: you have no clue. Again, all parties in the room — inclusive of Head Secretary Son, who constantly has to bear witness to the many threats Vice President Na receives via you — know this isn’t your fault, but it doesn’t make the vein that’s about to pop out of the President’s temple any less pronounced, nor does it stop you from bowing and apologizing again when he says “get him back in here before five o’clock or tell him he’ll never be able to step foot in this building again!” even though you know that the threat would probably sound more like a gift than anything else to Vice President Na.

“And you,” the President points a vaguely accusatory finger at you. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. “If he isn’t back here at that time, you can kiss your job goodbye too. You go ahead and tell him that. Let’s see if Jaemin will finally get off his ass if he knows someone else is going to have to suffer for his behavior.”

The only person who sees your jaw fall open is Head Secretary Son, who’s now leading you away from the President’s desk and towards the door; the President has taken to staring at this huge family picture of himself, his wife, and the Vice President that’s hanging just behind his executive’s chair, all looking considerably happier than anyone in this situation feels. You hear him mutter something that sounds like “where did I go wrong with you, you punk?” before the door shuts close behind you.

“I’d say he doesn’t mean that, but we don’t actually know to what lengths he’ll go to get the Vice President on board.” Head Secretary Son admits, lifting two fingers to gently shut your mouth, still agape. “If I were you, I’d figure out how to keep him on a leash. The fact that he’s never around is probably ninety-percent of our current problems.”

“I can barely get him to respond to schedule reminders,” you groan; your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose like this will somehow stop the oncoming migraine. “Let alone get him to stay still. I was just about to put in a down payment for a car of my own, too.”

You’ve never really been considerably attached to this job, mostly because there isn’t much to actually attach yourself to, but if you think about it now, it really is better than most, and this economy isn’t really kind to people who get fired from their jobs. You feel like puking at the thought of losing the free unlimited coffee in the pantry and trading it in for a life behind a convenience store counter, which is probably where you’ll end up, pessimistically speaking.

You excuse yourself from Head Secretary Son, who has the heart to look a little pitying as you trudge towards the elevator. You don’t even know where you’d start looking for the Vice President, especially since he spends quite a lot of his efforts trying to avoid having to communicate with you. You don’t even know what his habits are, which means you can’t make educated guesses on where he might have run off to, so the only route to go is to look in the immediately surrounding area and widening your search diameter as time passes.

Until five o’clock, of course — a deadline that, if unmet, will likely mean you also won’t be returning to the office either.

You start off at the nearby bookstore, extremely skeptical that the Vice President would ever willingly go to a place that requires more effort even after you make a purchase. As expected, he isn’t there, but he isn’t in the nextdoor candle shop (also unlikely) either, nor do you find him in the hand-cut noodles shop next to that as well. You walk down the entire street for a good twenty minutes, pressing your face against the windows of stores shamelessly, to the ire of many startled and disgruntled staff, trying to look for a familiar head shape in the small crowds in them, but to no avail. Then, you think about calling him again, but when you pat the pockets of your jacket, you realize your phone is still on your desk, where you’d left it when you’d been summoned to see the President. With a loud groan and an annoyed clip clop of your heels as you stamp your feet on the pavement, you walk back to the office.

In your frenzy to find the Vice President, you’d gone quite a distance, and your shoes simply aren’t made for long, aggravated walks; they start hurting your feet halfway back, and you’re pretty sure you have a blister behind the strap of the left one. Pride would tell you to tough it out, but you’d thrown that out at the thought of losing your job at the expense of a single man, so you don’t even hesitate to take them off and run back to the building. The big digital clock above the elevators says you have ten minutes left to find your boss, and you start thinking about using that time for better things — like packing your stuff up neatly in a box for when you get sacked.

With the situation seemingly hopeless, you trudge to the first floor cafe, where the return counter has a pitcher of water and a stack of tiny paper cups. They’re tiny tiny, like the size of your thumb, so you have to keep refilling it just to start feeling a little more human.

You’re on your third refill when you hear a giggle come from across the space. The barista’s just finished laughing at what must have been an extremely hilarious joke, or she might be flirting with whoever’s leaning over the counter to talk to her. A whoever that seems to be the exact same height and build as the elusive Vice President of this company.

You accidentally toss the paper cup in the plastics bin in your desperation to get moving, worried that if you’re not fast enough, he’ll disappear into thin air again. Luckily, his attention’s completely focused on the barista, so he can’t go anywhere when you finally reach his side and huff, loud enough to interrupt what seems like an intimate-ish conversation between them.

“Sorry, I was just — oh, it’s you.” The Vice President’s smile fades when he sees it’s you, someone he can’t charm out of what they’re supposed to be doing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the Vice President smile at you in any capacity, anyway, except for maybe one or two slightly sarcastic smiles that are probably more fit to be classified as grimaces. “What do you want?”

“I’ve been looking all over for you, sir,” you say, stiffly and a little quietly because you still don’t want to embarrass him in front of the slightly confused barista. “You haven’t answered my texts.”

You don’t have any way to check, but you’re pretty sure this is a safe enough assumption, which is corroborated by the Vice President bringing his phone out and checking the screen lazily before turning it back off.

“Sorry. I don’t answer unknown numbers.”

You guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to save your number when he hates hearing about work, which is all you really try to communicate with him about, but it still stings considering it’s been two years and you’ve been using the same number since high school. It’s fine, you think. You really can’t expect much from him.

“Well, your father’s been looking for you, too. He wants to meet you.”

“I’ll take a rain check, but thank you.”

“Sir,” your voice quivers with poorly quelled exasperation. “This isn’t an optional thing. This is very serious.”

“I can see that, Briar Rose,” his eyes are trained towards your shoes, still dangling from your grasp, with a level of unabashed amusement. “Did he summon me from deep within the woods, or is this a new casual Friday look I should get in on?”

When his words are met with a stony silence, he sighs, pushing himself off the counter. His half-finished Americano is collecting a small pool of condensation under it, and you offer him the little handful of tissues you had gotten from the return counter and had originally been planning to use to wipe your tears in case you cried after getting fired so that he doesn’t waste time looking for something to hold his cup. He takes them without even a word of thanks, opting to instead say ‘lead the way, miss.’ You don’t miss the fact that he meets the barista’s eye with a considerably more genuine grin, raising a hand in goodbye to her before he strides ahead — before you even get a chance to lead the way at all — towards the elevators with you, hobbling on one foot to slip your shoe back on, not far behind.

The President’s office must be sort of soundproof for instances like this. For the first time, you’ve been asked to wait outside with Head Secretary Son as the Vice President gets chewed. It doesn’t matter; you don’t really want to be in the middle of yet another round of shouting that has nothing to do with you in the same afternoon, plus you also know how the conversation usually goes: the President making very agitated threats and talking about his heart condition (even though the medical reports from their private doctor say he’s in perfect health) that the Vice President, who just spends the time looking boredly at his nails, will inevitably trigger. When you press your ear to the door for a minute, you actually hear something like ‘... strike you out of the will so that when you kill me, you won’t get a single won!’, and you can imagine Vice President Na’s exasperated sigh punctuating the statement.

Ten minutes later, the room has gone quiet, and you step aside just in time for the Vice President to open the door and step out. You don’t even understand how he can look so unaffected after being ripped apart, but you suppose he’s also heard the lecture as many times as you have and is pretty much immune to all the insults. He doesn’t really have to make a show out of not caring, though, with his hands in his pockets and his lips pursed to allow him to whistle idly as he strolls down the hall to his barely used office. He’s been in it so few times that after long, inexplicable vacations, he sometimes forgets how to get there. You’ve always had to walk behind him just in case he gets lost or, worse, tries to make a run for it. You’ve never had to tackle him to the ground reciting the Miranda warnings, or anything, but he has faked left a few times just to give you a mild heart attack for the fun of it all.

This time, he just walks, not bothering to joke you into trying to create a human wall he could just as easily push away. When he gets to his office, he lazily plops down onto his couch, extracting the Rubik’s cube he’d been working on for a few weeks now from underneath himself and spinning the top layer idly. He’s only ever finished the blue side.

You just stand there, kind of perplexed and unsure of how to start the conversation. He’s still whistling, and you’re not sure if talking over him will count as interrupting him, which isn’t something you’re supposed to do. Thankfully, he stops after about two minutes of fiddling with the yellow side of the cube, looking up at you with a slightly surprised expression that somehow makes you want to cry.

“Can I help you with something, Secretary ___________?”

“Well, I…” You stutter for a bit, unsure of how to politely point out that he should be asking you for help with his job instead of the whole other way around. “Because… I just thought…”

“You can always leave a message with my secretary if you need time to figure it out.” He grins. “Oh, wait a minute.”

“Sir, don’t you think you should… I don’t know. Figure out your schedule, or something? Prepare for… anything?”

“What’s that smell?” He lifts his nose to the air, suddenly curious, and because he looks so serious, you also start sniffing, but you can’t really smell anything out of the ordinary. “Smells… fresh. Very clean. A little like green tea.”

“Oh.” You awkwardly shift your weight from leg to leg. “I think that’s my perfume, but I don’t see w—”

“You smell very expensive, Secretary _____________.” He sounds genuinely surprised that you do, like he’s somehow saying he hadn’t expected you to have good taste. You have no idea where this conversation is coming from, so you chalk it up to him wanting to derail you from talking about work. “I like it. Very classy. Not too strong.”

“Sir, I don’t think now’s the time to be talking about perfume scents.”

“You’re actually quite pretty.” He sounds genuinely surprised again, but this time, it stings a little more. “I never noticed that before. How come?”

You want to say that it’s because he spends most of his time and energy playing long-term hide-and-seek with you, but there’s also no polite way of putting that into words; even if there were, with the way you’re now bristling under his gaze, you’re not really sure you’d go the courteous route, anyway. You just decide to ignore the comment and question entirely, which you almost get to do.

“Wouldn’t you like to take a look at some of our upcoming projects? For instance, we’re just about to start negotiating the terms of this new partnership with Huawei —”

“You’re pretty, but you’re also pretty tense.” He cuts you off again, now looking a little dejected at this newfound information. You can’t understand why this disappointment in you actually hurts your feelings a little. “I think the cafe downstairs serves some tea, if that kind of stuff helps you.”

“Sir,” the one syllable is laced with weariness, and you knot your fingers together in front of your lap. It probably looks polite, but it’s mostly so that you can feel like you have some semblance of control over anything, even if it’s just your own body fighting off the urge to grab him by the collar. “Please. If you could just take a look at your schedule — even just for tomorrow —”

“What’s the point?” His shrug is nonchalant, and he’s turning the cube over in his palm now, more interested in looking at it than witnessing your tired expression. “It’s almost six o’clock. I’ll deal with tomorrow tomorrow, you know what I mean? If my dad finally loses his marbles, I’ll deal with it all then. In fact, I might actually be okay with losing this department if it finally actually gets him off my back. I’ll also deal with that when it happens, probably.”

Another long, uncomfortable silence blooms as his words sink in; not for the first time today, President Na has threatened the existence of your job, now alongside a good twenty other people’s, all for the sake of snapping some sense into the Vice President. However, like everything else, it seems to just be backfiring; Vice President Na doesn’t seem to care about anyone else in this department, most likely because he’s barely interacted with anyone else. You’re surprised he even remembers your last name, considering he once called the department accountant ‘Heejin’ even though her nametag clearly spelled out ‘Jinhee.’

It makes sense that the threat of abolishment means absolutely nothing to him, but it doesn’t make the knowledge of that any less distressing. He watches you curiously as you tug back at your ponytail, like it’ll once again stop the crawling migraine.

“Sure a cup of chamomile tea isn’t in the cards today? I think I have the company card in here somewhere, although I can’t be sure that it hasn’t been cut off, based on my dad’s last threat—”

“I’m fine; thank you.” You mumble, checking the clock. He’s wasted what’s left of the hour anyway, and the lack of change in his position just means he’s not going to change his mind for the rest of the time. “At least let me give you tomorrow’s agenda.”

“Boring, but okay. Give it to me, then.” He yawns to make a point, and you offer him the tablet you tote around with you everywhere you go, just in case Vice President Na finally decides he wants to do his job. To clarify: that’s two whole years of you carrying that heavy thing around, with the Vice President only having touched it a handful of times. You’re mildly shocked that he actually opens it to check, because he barely does even that, but that all goes away when he yawns again, his expression glassy as he scrolls down aimlessly. “This is a lot. Can’t you just clear my schedules tomorrow? Actually, if I can make demands for real, I’d like to clear out my schedule for the rest of the year.”

He stretches when he stands, ignoring your slightly agog expression as he pats you on the back, smacking his lips sleepily. “Good day’s work, Secretary _____________. Want to grab a beer? Have ourselves a little intra-department party? I’m pretty sure ‘intra’ stands for ‘us two,’ or am I wrong?”

You sincerely hope he doesn’t mean a goodbye party, but with his attitude right now, that might very well be. You shake your head, and he shrugs, like he wasn’t really expecting you to agree in the first place. “No thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s already halfway out the door, waving dismissively with his back turned to you. When you peek out of the space he leaves by opening the door, you can see about half the entire department’s watching, not even bothering to pretend to scurry back to their seats as he saunters out of the office. He calls out to you, his voice ringing clear even though he’s already out of sight.

“We’ll see about that.”

You come up with a master plan, but not before you scope potential jobs.

You actually stayed an hour overtime at your desk looking for positions, but all of them pay lower than average or are about an hour’s commute away from where you live, so none of them seem worth it. The search ends when some people from the department come over to say goodbye and see your computer open to SaramIn, at which point they connect the dots and start to panic about their insurance. You shut your monitor off and spend another useless twenty minutes calming Jinhee, who’d started having a mild panic attack.

In that time, your resentment builds. Why can’t Vice President Na simply get his act together? You suppose that there’s some indescribable burden to being in his position, but between him, a rich heir who owns two sports cars and lives in a paid-for house, and you, a public-transport-using, pays-by-the-month nine-to-five worker, you can’t really understand why he would be having it worse than everyone else who works under him. If he worked even just half as hard as everyone else did here, he might scrape by.

You can’t know if President Na’s anger was only short-lived or if he actually meant to downsize the company by getting rid of your department entirely, but you also know that if he’s serious, then there’s nothing much you can do about it, short of terrorizing the Vice President into stepping into bigger shoes.

So, that becomes your master plan.

It isn’t very refined, mostly because you think about it on the bus home, but the heart and spirit are there, and those are probably the most important things anyway. It’s that heart and spirit that motivate you to get up an hour earlier than you usually do, dressing quickly for the day before taking the company car from your place to downtown Apgujeong. You usually don’t take it on days that Vice President Na doesn’t come into work, which is practically every other day, but this time, you’re determined to see him into the office. The ride with Hyunsung, his official company driver, is quiet, save for the question he asks when you roll up to the Vice President’s driveway.

“Are you sure about this?”

“No,” you admit. He’d probably seen you chewing down on your thumb, some of your confidence taking a hit when you belatedly realize you could be shot with a huge privacy lawsuit if this doesn’t go the way you plan. But you do know a lot of secretaries that do the morning calls for their superiors, so this should be fine. Not that you’ve ever heard from those secretaries ever again.

Vice President Na’s laziness seems to extend to all aspects of his life, including the fact that he doesn’t ever change his door’s passcode; it’s still the same numbers as it had been when he first bought the house a year ago and had you install his lock while he was missing in action from work, yakking it up with some farmers up in the Netherlands. He likes to do that — ‘see the world,’ or whatever, even though his wanderlust makes everyone else’s lives very difficult. At least it makes your life easy now, and you step through the door and walk quietly across his unnecessarily large living room.

You’ve never been in here exactly, and you only realize very belatedly that this house’s design would be very frustrating for a break-and-enter criminal because nothing seems to be where it’s supposed to be. You learn the owner’s suite is actually on the basement floor, so all the climbing of those slippery stairs was for nothing.

Vice President Na’s bedroom is bigger than your whole apartment, which also means he has a sizable bed and, thus, is completely out of sight under his gigantic covers. The only indication that he’s even still in there is that they’re rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. You stand by the edge of the bed, on the side he’s closest to falling off of, clearing your throat at the tuft of hair peeking out from under the comforter.

“Vice President Na? It’s time to go to work.”

Your voice has been tempered down by years of this professional work, and this is easily the loudest and most demanding you’ve ever heard it. You’re not even sure you can do it again, but the muffled groan from under the covers is all the motivation you need to try.

“Sir, you have a ten o’clock meeting with Samsung’s representatives for Apple. President Na also asked that we contact Amazon right away to reschedule the Prime Video deal.”

“How,” his voice comes out first before he does, squinting up at you, completely disoriented. “The hell did you get in here?”

“Sir, I’m your secretary.” You sigh, skimming over the fact that you’d walked into his big kitchen twice through two different entryways before coming into his bedroom. “I’m supposed to be able to get in here.”

“Except this is a first.” You think he’s about to get up, but he just shifts his weight, rolling over so he can cocoon himself tighter into his blankets. “Goodnight. There are eggs in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“I’ve already eaten, like a normal, functioning human being with a very important job that starts precisely at nine o’clock would.”

“This seems like a very targeted comment, Secretary ____________. I’m not sure I appreciate it.”

“Since we’re already having this conversation, I’m guessing you’re conscious enough to get dressed.”

To your relief, he actually does throw the covers off of him, leaning up on his elbows. You try not to balk at the fact that he’s shirtless, although you’re also not sure why this should surprise or bother you to begin with. He doesn’t even seem to mind; he just yawns, wide and unashamed, as he looks over at the clock.

“It’s seven-thirty. This is insanity.”

“No, this is a wake-up call.” You offer him a neatly folded towel that he eyes suspiciously. “We need to get you in the office on time.”

“There’s really no point,” he sighs, scratching his head idly. “It’ll just be another boring day of talking to people I don’t care about. Someone who cares about it should talk to them. You care about it, don’t you?”

“I won’t talk to them for you, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t get paid enough to be doing that.”

He once again stares at the towel like he’s trying to will it to evaporate, but in the end, he only sighs louder and takes it from you, kicking his blankets off completely. You look up at the ceiling, not in prayer but to avoid the more embarrassing fact that he’s only in his boxers after all. Well — it’s embarrassing for you. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Something’s different.”

“Usually I don’t wake you up,” you offer the painfully obvious. “Or come here. Or talk to you.”

“Yeah, all that stuff,” he says dismissively, halfway through a yawn. “Did you have a life-changing experience recently?”

“Something like that.”

“Couldn’t it have been one where you decided to leave me alone for good instead?” He grumbles, more to himself instead of to you. It doesn’t matter, anyway; you already see he’s up and fishing socks out of his drawer, so you’re marching out of his room to avoid having to hear more of his complaints (and, quite frankly, to avoid looking at his broad back).

However, the day thereafter doesn’t go as planned. You thought that waking Vice President Na up for an early day of work might shock him into doing something with the knowledge that it was urgent, but you’re not sure why you didn’t anticipate a scenario in which he’d fall asleep in the car on the way to work and you’d have to shake him into waking in the stuffy parking lot. He spends the rest of the morning out of sorts, ignoring you point blank when you try to brief him on the meeting. The meeting in and of itself doesn’t go any better, with him excusing himself fifteen minutes in by saying the pitch doesn’t seem all too exciting and innovative. You didn’t even know he knew the word innovative and, by the shocked faces of the Samsung people, they were of the same mind.

By lunch time, you’re more exhausted than you’ve ever been, and a part of you is wondering why you wanted Vice President Na in the office in the first place when you’re already used to the much simpler routine of get up, work, eat lunch, get yelled at, work again. Sometimes, on slow days when Vice President Na is completely out of town for the week and President Na is out of things to yell at you about, you even get to just sit back at your desk and play old crossword puzzles.

Now, you’re basically handholding him, but the weight that keeps him down is so heavy that you’re being dragged down, too.

“You mean people do this every single day?” He shuts the folder with a contract that requires his signature that you’d given him just now, not even bothering to peruse the first page, much to your rapidly increasing ire. “This is ridiculous. Working makes no sense.”

“All employees come to work to do that, sir. It’s literally what makes up half their lives.”

“Except it shouldn’t,” he sighs, like this is a true global issue and not a problem of his own making. “Everyone needs to be able to do what they want and live life to the fullest.”

“Not everyone can,” you point out flatly. “Some people don’t have the luxury of time even for that.”

“Then, they should. The more I’m in this situation, the more it feels like it might be better for everyone to have a little work break for — I don’t know. The next year or so.”

Vice President Na has his arm outstretched, handing the folder back to you. You don’t know if it’s what he says that causes your blood pressure to rise, or if its the completely unconcerned look on his face, or if it’s the fact that he’s holding the folder so lazily that the papers are starting to slip out on your end, requiring you to use two hands to keep them all from falling apart and creating a mess you’ll end up having to clean up anyway. Whatever it is, you snatch the folder from him with a little more aggression than necessary (or that you’d even care to admit). Even though it’s out of place, you can’t help but feel a small sense of triumph at the slight surprise in his eyes.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, sir.” You pause, mostly because you can tell he doesn’t believe you — Vice President Na is nonchalant, not stupid — and you want to give yourself a little bit of time to grapple with your pride before you admit the truth. “Yes, sir. It isn’t fair to your entire department for you to talk that way.”

“I’m saying the entire department doesn’t have to work this hard. It’s senseless. How are you supposed to live a good life if all you’re doing is sitting behind a desk?”

“Like I said, not everyone has the luxury of living your life. If they want even a little bit of that comfort you enjoy, they have to work very hard for it first.”

“Then they should at least do something they enjoy. If this department goes down the drain —”

“If this department is abolished,” this is your first time interrupting a superior, and it already makes you want to throw up. “Then people will have a very difficult time finding a job in this market. More than that, a lot of people enjoy working for this company — quite genuinely, in fact. I don’t think it’s right to think that they’ll be happy while they’re jobless and floundering in this economy.”

“So you’re happy like this? You really want this job — this whole working under me situation?”

“Well…” you trail off, your voice taking on a slightly thoughtful tone. It’s been a relatively long time since you’d entered this job, but you do faintly remember the feeling of excitement at getting this position — the desire to want to learn from the best in this industry, the anticipation of being able to meet and network with interesting and important people. Your first few weeks of work had involved wanting to spend as much time in Vice President Na’s shadow, in case you could pick up some important business tidbits from an entrepreneurial master… until, of course, you realized there wasn’t much you could stand in the shadow of to begin with. “These days, it isn’t ideal. But this job is a really good thing for most of the people who work here.”

“Then it sounds like you have more to gain from me working hard than I do.”

You can’t contain your disapproving frown, and your voice comes out a little sharper than you intend. “Doesn’t it bother you at all, sir? Knowing almost twenty people could lose their jobs in the blink of an eye? Think about all the people who look up to you and rely on you — they’ll have to suffer because of this. They might never find a job that matches their needs, and a lot of them have families to take care of, too. If you can do something to make sure they have these good lives you keep talking about, why not do it? I know you’re capable of that. You’re capable of doing much more than what you’ve been doing thus far.”

Vice President Na is quiet for a moment before leans over on his desk, lacing his fingers into a loose combined fist and putting his weight on his forearms. One of his forefingers detangles itself from the pile of digits and curls inwards, beckoning you closer. Your grimace is probably obvious, and you lean in a little warily. He lifts himself off his chair slightly so he can whisper in a low voice, as if you two aren’t the only people in this wide office.

“If you care about it so much, then ask a little more nicely.”

Your light breakfast almost makes a reappearance, and you draw back in mild shock. He also leans back, significantly more relaxed than you, looking unperturbed as he settles back against his chair. You two engage in a very uneven staring match, until he gestures for you to proceed, looking expectant.

“You want me to beg for my job?”

“Not what I meant, but I could accept that,” he hums. “I just think you could throw in a please while you’re guilting your boss, at least.”

Gawking probably doesn’t suit you, but you do it anyway, wondering how you managed to find yourself in this position. This morning, you had been strictly guiding him through what to do, and now you’re paralyzed in front of the Vice President, feeling very foolish for saying so much out of turn. You couldn’t even get through a whole work day before seeing your grand master plan slip down the drain.

But there is, at least, some small comfort in what he said — the part about guilting, which, if you squint hard enough, seems to be implying that this conversation has left him with a small amount of guilt. You don’t think it’s that much, but it’s a miracle he feels it at all, so you take the horribly subtle win and inhale deeply.

“Please, sir.” The words are very thick and reluctant, unsticking from your throat. “This department really needs you.”

He stares, very unnervingly, without saying anything, but there’s something in his gaze that makes you vaguely certain he’s actually thinking about it. In fact, he actually looks a bit serious, which isn’t anything you’d ever think you’d be able to characterize him by. That impression easily falls apart when he claps his hands, once but very loudly, startling you into jumping a little.

“Ah, how could I turn down such a nice request?” Vice President Na is grinning from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen him do in the context of the office, much less a few feet away from you. His smile is actually kind of nice, if you don’t think about the fact that it seems to be smug at your expense. “Since you asked, I guess I’ll have to try my best, or whatever it is people do in this damn company. I guess that means you owe me now, Secretary ____________. You’re very welcome.”

The silence that once again blooms as you stand, motionless, in front of Vice President Na is suddenly interrupted by the sound of chairs scraping back all at once. The floor vibrates a little as the entire department troops out to the elevator area so they can go to lunch. You only watch stupidly as he also stands, shrugging off his jacket and flinging it over the back of his chair. “See you, then.”

“Where are you going, sir?”

He looks a little surprised that you even ask. “To lunch. Do I have to ask for your permission for that, too?”

“Are you… coming back?”

“You want to come along with me and make sure I don’t run away?” He smiles even wider, which you didn’t even think was possible. It makes you awkwardly uncomfortable to know he’s taking a lot of pleasure in joking around with you, mostly because you were kind of hoping you’d get him to take things seriously in a serious manner, not in a … whatever this is that’s making you feel like you’ve lost a game manner.

“A little bit.”

“Ask a little more nicely, then.”

“Never mind,” you mumble. “Have a good lunch, sir.”

He snaps his fingers a little comically before turning to the door, flinging it open so he can join the now thinning throng of people leaving the floor. “Thought I almost had you there. Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. Or not.”

In the end, to your utmost relief, Vice President Na does, in fact, stay inside the entire time he has lunch. You’re not sure if this is the product of you sitting two tables away, trying to will an imaginary chain to his wrist so he doesn’t bolt off or because he’s still feeling a little affected by everything you said earlier on, but whatever it is, it works. He just eats his club sandwich in peace, picking off the crust easily and double dipping the fries that come with it in his ketchup. At some point, he looks up and notices you burning holes into his torso, so you quickly have to avert your eyes in shame. You think he laughs at this, but you can only see out of your peripheral vision at this point, so you can’t be sure.

You’re supposed to have one hour for lunch, but he eats quickly and gets up before the whole hour is over, so you end up throwing your half-eaten wrap and following him. Again, you’re not sure what’s funny, but he’s chuckling to himself as he holds the elevator door open, waiting for you to run in next to him.

“Relax, miss secretary. I already said I was going to do my best.”

“No offense, sir, but I don’t know what that looks like, so I have to be careful.”

“Fair enough.” He hums, letting the door close on its own. “But you should still take it easy. You’re pretty t—”

“Tense. You said so yesterday, sir.”

“That’s two times you’ve cut me off in a single day.” He doesn’t sound very annoyed about it; in fact, he’s still got that amused, inside joke tone to everything he’s had all morning. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gunning for an insubordination report.”

You don’t think that’s fair for him to say, especially since you haven’t really had much of an authority figure to be subordinate to for most of your career in this company, but you keep your mouth shut since saying so is exactly what would be on the first line of an insubordination report.

When you arrive back at his office, you take the time to discuss what you should be doing from now on. It’s an extremely messy exchange, with you two grappling between terms you can’t agree on. For instance, Vice President Na thinks that it seems only fair that he should really only be coming in after one o’clock, but you’re insistent on making sure he gets to work on time, since most important meetings happen within that time period (a fact he already seems to know but chooses to ignore anyway). You end up agreeing on bringing him in for the standard nine-to-six for as long as he never has to work overtime. You also find it necessary to iron out the fact that if he has lunch outside, he has to actually come back, a statement he once again finds very amusing for some reason, as if you’re the weird one in this conversation.

And to his credit, he tries to stick to his word. It isn’t exactly a walk in the park, especially not during the first couple of weeks, but you suppose that habits are very difficult to break when they’ve been so easy to acquire and nurture over many years. More than once, you’ve arrived late to meetings to the disapproving gazes of Head Secretary Son and President Na. However, the latter finds he has less to say these days because Vice President Na’s presence in said meetings had, before this time, been nothing but a pipe dream for everyone.

You also notice he starts taking the time to ask about things he doesn’t understand, as opposed to his initially brash or sometimes completely unresponsive approach, which has turned out better results when it comes to business lunches with investors and potential partners. Even the Samsung people, who are extremely wary of him during the callback meeting, come out of their next encounter with the Vice President looking vaguely more satisfied than they did the last time (the bar isn’t that high, considering they’d left shell-shocked previously, but you’ll still take the improvement).

Of course, with all the time you end up spending with, chasing after, and vaguely lecturing (only when the need truly arises) Vice President Na, you also learn some things about him that you hadn’t expected, like how he doesn’t really like milk in anything he drinks (but especially coffee) and that every third Sunday of the month, he meets his old high school friend Lee Jeno, the son of the guy that owns half the residential high rise condominiums on this side of the Han. Apparently, they play badminton together — he had told you that when he’d caught you wondering about the super out of place little kid’s karate trophy among other more adult, official ones in his living area. The trophy goes to whoever wins the match of the month, and according to the Vice President, he’s been ‘wiping the floor with that bastard’s handsome face for half a year straight.’ Although you can’t verify this by anything more than the slight blanket of dust on it, you think it takes nothing out of your pride to applaud him like this is an amazing thing. It also does you no harm to see him swell with misplaced pride about a kid’s karate trophy.

You also notice that despite how healthily he eats at the office, he has a bad habit of craving deep fried food in the afternoon, which is why, over the last few weeks, you’ve been accompanying him to the corndog street stall two blocks away, a few days a week. He’s even had to borrow loose change from you a few times to because he always forgets that no street vendor likes to receive crisp, fresh-out-of-the-bank fifty-thousand won bills, but you just let him have it; his heart’s in the right place when he orders an extra one for you without even asking. You realize that he has a fairly good memory for as long as he’s concentrating, and that he likes to spend late nights watching the shittiest horror movies ever known to man (his words, much to your bemusement), and that when he listens attentively to you telling him about the day’s agenda, his left ear twitches a little when your voice hits it.

Somewhere along the way, you realize that Vice President Na is a charming, outgoing, and fairly capable person, and in doing so, you also realize that he seems to be, for lack of a better word, your style.

You can’t really believe it either, and you’re not even sure when it started. In between sitting with him in the company car and handing him forty-page agreements he has to look over carefully (very carefully, as you’ve taken to reminding him, so often that he starts saying it before you do now, which has only somehow endeared him further to you and not annoyed you the way you were sort of hoping it would), the small non-work related part of your consciousness had decided that it needed a more complicated situation now that things were going relatively well.

To be fair to yourself, liking him isn’t a huge distraction; most of the time, you’re both so engrossed in something you desperately have to finish that you don’t even have time to think about it. Instead, it kind of catches you off-guard, like when he’s double dipping his french fries into his ketchup, or when he smiles at you (politely to him, probably, but overwhelmingly charmingly to you) before he leaves the office, or when his brow’s furrowed in (a total shocker) concentration as he reads.

Then again, everything about Vice President Na seems to be catching you off-guard these days. This much is proven by the fact that instead of the normal silence that you’ve grown accustomed to being greeted by when you enter his house, there’s a lot of noise coming from one area that can only mean either that someone had broken in to mug him or for some reason, he’s up before you need to wake him.

It’s nothing you have to call 911 for, but it still paralyzes you to see him, surrounded by opened jars and a particularly dirty bread knife as he stands in front of his fancy toaster, drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently.

“If you have a minute to spare, could you bring my laptop into the car?” He asks without turning around. His hand, still holding the bread knife, points towards the bar counter on the far end of the kitchen, where the laptop is still whirring away.

“Of course, sir. Um,” you gingerly shut the monitor, putting the laptop to sleep and tucking it under your arm. “Were you… working this morning?”

“No, I was playing a riveting game of bridge against the computer AI.” He turns to you, grinning. “Of course I was working, miss secretary. What do you think I’d be up this early for?”

You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind — Vice President Na hasn’t ever woken up early for anything to your knowledge, anyway — so you just nod and bolt, unwilling to bear witness to his smile this early in the day. When you come back, particularly less red in the face, you find him topping one of two sandwiches with the last slice of bread to complete it. He takes one, as you expect he would, and you stand there, trying to look polite as you essentially observe him eat.

This isn’t something very unusual; ever since the first time you’d done it, you’ve been watching him out of habit. So far, only the motivation’s changed from you wanting to make sure he doesn’t bolt to you simply enjoying the view of his profile when he eats. Of course, he probably doesn’t know this, but he’s also just gotten used to you watching him and probably finds it funny — as suggested by his perpetually amused expression — that you still think, after all this time, that he’s going to make a run for it. You don’t actually mind it; you get to watch him for free, and he has something to laugh about, so everyone kind of wins.

He’s halfway through the sandwich when his expression turns quizzical. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Eat,” you echo hollowly. “Eat what, sir?”

“A delicious, handmade, gourmet peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich.” When you don’t move, he pushes the plate with the untouched sandwich forward towards you like he thinks you can’t understand anything he’s saying. “What? Are you allergic to something?”

“No, but…”

“But?”

There’s no but; you don’t have a good reason to decline other than the fact that accepting it feels weird, but refusing him when he’s looking at you this expectantly is just as awkward. You rub the back of your neck as you walk over, not missing the look of triumph that crosses his face as you pick up the sandwich and take a bite. It’s good, but you don’t really think that has anything to do with his culinary skills, based on what it is; still, he looks like he’s patting himself on the back for this feat.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Secretary ____________, I hope you can count this as a momentous occasion for the both of us.” He chuckles. “You get free breakfast made especially for you by your direct superior in the comfort of his own home, and I finally get to learn what all the settings on my toaster are for. Between you and me, I think mine’s the better achievement.”

You’re still in the middle of eating when you laugh, and you hastily raise a hand to cover it — only Vice President Na catches your wrist halfway through, so quickly you vaguely choke on the bread that’s only partially down your throat.

“I’ve never seen you laugh,” he looks as surprised as you feel, although probably for a different reason. “I don’t even think you’ve ever smiled at me, specifically.”

“Oh.” You need time to respond, mostly so you can swallow but also because you need to collect yourself from your shock. There seems to be a lot of that going around this morning. “Sorry. Should I do that more often?”

“I mean, if you ask like that, it’s kind of disingenuous,” he laughs. “But I like it. I like knowing you’re not just in a constant state of stress because of me. Feels even more momentous than the toaster thing.”

He loosens his hold, and you manage to take your hand back, now refusing to meet his eye. “I’m not… stressed by you.”

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore,” you agree, and he looks particularly delighted when he sees the corners of your lips turn up again. “Not for a while. And not that my opinion matters, but you’ve been performing above expectations, sir.”

“You’re right,” he hums, taking the plate and putting it in the sink — a problem he seems to be saving for later. “It doesn't matter. But I like it, all the same.”

You’re willing to chalk the morning off as a wonderful anomaly, especially since the rest of it passes as it normally does, with a generally quiet car ride (you’ve also learned that Vice President Na likes to listen to rap music on days when he wants to avoid falling asleep in the backseat, which is equal parts amazing and amusing) and a fifteen minute briefing of what he has on his plate today. He disappears for the better part of the morning and even the whole lunch hour, but you expect this because he has a business lunch with the representatives for some Norwegian appliance company that’s looking to break into the Korean market. You can’t imagine many people want a state of the art rice cooker alongside their monthly internet bill, but it’s polite for him to go anyway, and the prospective partner seems very on edge about company secrets. It’s one of those meetings you aren’t allowed to come along to, which means that you’re missing out on a few hours of Vice President Na trying to iron details out with a couple of old guys.

While you eat, you’re once again struck with the random notion that it feels weird not to be around the Vice President. You’ve been working together regularly and in a very close capacity, which basically means that you’re always in his shadow. It’s the life you were kind of hoping to have at the beginning and were deprived of for a good two years. Now that you have it, it feels weirdly natural — so natural that it’s unnatural to not have his voice ordering you around in that easy tone or his aftershave lingering in the air directly above you.

You throw the tissue you used to wipe the oil from your egg toast off your mouth onto the table, crumpled and wilted.

You miss him, which is ridiculous considering you don’t even know what there is to miss. Your relationship, while admittedly lightyears ahead of the starting point it had been at back then (again, not a great standard, considering you didn’t even have a relationship before this period of time), is nothing close to the point of being what it should be for one to miss the other.

And yet, you look forward to seeing him, watching him do something from afar, helping him whenever he needs you. You like the fact that he still sometimes fakes left when you’re accompanying him back to his office, and you do this thing where you pretend to be annoyed even though it makes you happy to know he won’t go anywhere. You like the little sounds he makes when he eats his super unhealthy corndog as if he’s eating it for the first time every single time (see: very unnerving and slightly disturbing but altogether amusing mmmmmmmmmms). In fact, if you didn’t have a vivid memory of telling him off from way back then, you feel like you could easily convince yourself that things had always been like this — that you two had always been together, happily at work.

You’re not surprised that he isn’t back from his meeting even when you get back to your desk after lunch, but you do feel a pang of dejectedness that lasts for a few more hours — time which you spend lazily looking over a contract he’d signed yesterday that needs a fair amount of amending and re-signing. It’s hard to pretend to care today, for some reason, especially since your mind keeps going back to peanut butter sandwiches and some ridiculous vision of Vice President Na standing in the middle of your tiny studio apartment’s kitchen area.

Your reverie’s broken when an envelope falls onto your desk, covering the page of the contract you’d been glassily staring at for the last hour and a half. You’d drawn the same circle about twenty times already, and the paper’s all dented from your efforts. When you look up, Vice President Na is staring down at you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Miss me?” He drums the envelope, the paper muffling the noise of it all. “Oh? I was joking, but it looks like you actually did. That’s twice in a single day, Secretary ____________. You’re setting a very high record.”

You try to tamp down the smile on your face upon seeing him, clearing your throat so that you have an excuse to press your lips together. You guess it doesn’t work because he just keeps smiling, anyway, or maybe he’s just in a really good mood. “Did your meeting go well, sir?”

“Is Lotteria the national fastfood chain? Too bad I don’t work for anyone because it kind of feels like I deserve some kind of reward.”

“Could we say that this partnership is its own reward?”

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he sighs. Once again, his forefinger taps the envelope, calling your attention a little more clearly to it. “I know we’re on a tight schedule for this, and I hate to ask this so late of you, but —”

“Of course, sir; I’ll have it in your hands first thing tomorrow.”

You’re already gathering it up along with your other (vaguely unfinished) paperwork when his whole palm comes down, trapping the envelope and everything else you’d been intending to carry under it. Your hands go up like you’re being held at gunpoint, your eyes wide.

“On second thought,” Vice President Na muses, a little too serene for someone who’d just scared the living daylights out of someone else. “How about I take care of the Samsung deal you’re looking over, and you can handle the Norwegian contract?”

“I haven’t… really made a lot of headway with it, if I’m being honest.” You’re hoping he doesn’t ask you why because you’re too embarrassed to come up with a lie on the spot and will inevitably have to confess your random attraction to him under these terrible circumstances if he does. Luckily, he just shrugs.

“All the more reason to split the work, then.”

The still mildly stern part of you is begging to point out that he’s giving you a whole new set of documents to look over anyway, so it’s not even like you’ll have less to do, but the larger, more endeared part of you tells it to shut up and mind its own business. “I thought the crux of our agreement was that you’d never have to work overtime.”

“Because I look like such a stickler for the rules, don’t I?” He snorts, waving you in with the same envelope, and you concede.

Working next to Vice President Na isn’t anything new to you; you’ve been doing it everyday for a while now, especially if he needs you to be quick on call. Ever since you’ve realized his presence makes your heart beat a little faster, you’ve promised yourself not to let that fact show at all when he’s around, something you’ve been quite careful about perfecting.

Something’s different, though, when it’s after official hours. Maybe it’s because the floor is quieter than it is during the day, so there’s nothing you can listen to but the sound of pen scratching on paper and Vice President Na’s steady breathing. The only real interruption is when Hyunsung knocks on the door to ask if the Vice President is going home; the look on his face is panicked and confused, like a puppy that’s just been dropped off at the mouth of a dumpster site, when he’s told that Vice President Na will drive himself home, so he can just leave the keys.

Maybe it’s also because it’s pretty dark outside, and while you’ve worked into the night a few times, it’s usually alone or with some other poor sap that has even more backlog than you do — it’s never been just you and the Vice President, who seems supremely unperturbed by the fact that he isn’t at home doing… whatever he does at home after work. You can only guess at it (or wish you knew).

That makes one of you that’s keeping busy, although you know it should be two. The fact that you’re distracted by his presence all of a sudden is only exacerbated by the mutually exclusive headache that the paperwork you’re looking over gives you. You don’t know why you had expected it to be in Korean, but you and your intermediate level English struggle to keep up with all the little things you have to look through. Sometimes, you can’t tell if the clauses are actually confusing or if you’re just the poor product of your middle school education. It strikes you more than once that Vice President Na had gone through this, somehow, himself — talked to people in a completely different language, probably with ease. You can at least be proud of yourself for being right: for as long as the Vice President puts his mind to something, he’s able to do it — perhaps even well.

What shocks you after an eternity of silence is the hand that extends towards you, forefinger lightly nudging your chin. You sit up straight like a bolt of lighting had gone through you, meeting Vice President Na’s thoroughly and inexplicably amused expression. Your jaw slackens in shock, but his finger just stays there, like it isn’t invading your personal space. Like it just belongs there.

“What are you doing?”

“What—” you splutter, bemused at the fact that you hadn’t asked the question first. “What are you doing?”

“You keep moving your mouth. What — are you praying or something?”

“No, I —-” You gesture at the contract page you’ve been trying to stumble through for the past twenty minutes. “No, I’m just… I’m reading?”

“You’re…” The start of a laugh escapes him, and you really don’t know what’s so funny. “You’re reading aloud?”

“I wasn’t making any noise, I think,” you grumble, sounding a little more defensive than you’d care to admit.

“You read silently aloud, then.” His eyes twinkle at this information, although why it should elicit this reaction also completely escapes you. “Why? Because it helps you memorize it or something?”

“My English isn’t that great,” you admit begrudgingly, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Sometimes I need to mouth the words to understand it.”

And he does the most outrageous, inexplicable thing: he gently cups your chin, making sure you can’t turn your head to look away in embarrassment. Now you have to look at him, red in the face and close to exploding.

“Don’t you think that’s a little too much, miss secretary?”

You can’t ask what; your voice isn’t working. You just open and close your mouth around the syllable, and after a couple of attempts, he starts copying you, evidently having a better time than you are based on the grin stretched across his face.

“What? What? That you’re doing something this cute in front of me is what I mean. You’re obviously going overboard, and I don’t think it’s very nice.”

He retracts his hand as quickly as he’d used it to close the distance between you, and your hand immediately comes up in its place, almost cupping your jaw like he did. It definitely doesn’t give you the same tingly feeling, so that’s an obvious bust.

You and Vice President Na have a sudden staring contest with amended rules: you blink a hundred times a minute at him while he laughs quietly, leaning back on his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It confuses you and kind of enrages you, but you also find your heart thumping away in your ears like it’s trying very hard to remind you that Na Jaemin makes you feel alive.

“I— I just—”

“Coffee? I could use some coffee. You look like you could use some too.” He stands, buttoning his blazer with one hand like he has someplace important to go. You’re still so shell-shocked that you don’t even try to stand up to help him, a fact which he notices very clearly. “Oh no, I’ll do you this favor. You sit tight and read your contract. I’ll be back. Keep doing that cute thing with your mouth.”

Vice President Na finds you exactly as he left you: still wondering if you should be offended at his teasing or enamored by his touch and, more importantly, what the hell his deal is. You have a million questions that need answering, but the only thing you blubber out when he comes back is “Why?”

“Because you’re amazingly fun to tease,” he responds simply. “And because it’s true. I find it extremely cute. I find you very cute, Secretary _____________, in a kind of good girl, cool girl kind of way. It’s a little confusing to me too, but I think this slightly stern but overall gentle aesthetic of yours is actually growing on me a little.”

“Sir, I—”

“While we’re taking a break,” he interrupts you. You guess it’s probably the right time for a break considering there’s no way you can work in peace now. “Do you constantly have to call me that?”

“What else would I call you?”

“My name,” he suggests, taking a sip of coffee. You ignore the shit, that’s hot that comes out of him as he puts the paper cup down gingerly on his desk, looking a little bit betrayed by his drink. “Jaemin. Many people call me that.”

“People who are close to you, you mean. Like your family or… your friends.”

“Are you saying you don’t think we’re close? Or that we aren’t friends?”

“Sir, I work for you.”

“So by that alone, we simply can’t be friends? Et al?I think you really are being too much now, Secretary ____________.” He folds his arms across his chest, tutting disapprovingly as he leans back on the edge of his desk. You try not to think too hard about the fact that he does it very close to you, at an angle optimal for viewing the leanness of his form. “After all those times you broke into my house—”

“To get you ready for work.”

“— walked into my bedroom—”

“Only whenever necessary—”

“— gone through my things while I’m half naked in bed like you’re trying to organize a charity drive—”

“Because you need to get dressed, not because I have some perverted agenda —”

“—eaten the food off my kitchen counter, too—”

“You told me to!” You get to your feet, the contract slipping from your lap in your enthusiasm to defend yourself. “You offered it to me!”

Whatever happens next is completely out of your control, and you know this because the room spins without you moving by your own will. Vice President Na must have been an expert dancer in his past life, or something, because after that one dizzying moment, you find yourself leaning against the edge of the table he had been just a second ago. Warm hands are on your waist, tucked under your cardigan, the heat bleeding through your shirt.

And the Vice President’s smile is inches away from your face, still mischievous but much gentler than any other time before.

You’re not sure if you’re paralyzed or if you just don’t want to move, but the reason doesn’t affect the outcome: all you can do is stare up at him, once again dumbfounded after a small outpouring of words that ends in some kind of forced defeat. Except this particular surrender doesn’t feel so sore, for some reason.

“Even when you’re angry, you’re still pretty, you know that?”

“I wasn’t… angry,” you mumble under your breath, afraid that talking louder will scare him off. You don’t even think he’s listening all that much to you, considering that all he does is tuck your hair behind your left ear and completely change the topic.

“So, tell me, Secretary ____________. Is this still a situation where we’re not close at all?” He pauses for a moment, probably to let you answer, but you don’t say anything. You’re pretty sure your swallowing nervously is the only true sound you make. He seems to be eager to do a lot of the talking anyway, which is absolutely fine by you. “Or have I completely misread all your cute little signals?”

“Well — no, but I didn’t send any signals.” Obvious ones, at least. You’d been pretty sure you had tried to keep it under wraps as much as possible, but you’re starting to realize it’s a little possible you’re not as great at pretending as you think you are.

“Not on purpose, probably. Although you really almost got me with the one-man show vibe you have during lunch hour.”

“I… didn’t think you knew, if I’m being honest.” Honesty is the only thing you have right now, anyway, especially since Vice President Na has pretty much confirmed, in his own way, that he knows about how you feel. Now you can only wonder if he’d noticed before you even came to terms with it yourself, and the thought of that being a real possibility urges you to grab the still-steaming cup of coffee and douse yourself with its contents.

“For a while, I was pretty sure you were messing with me. I would never,” he adds just as you say it too, mimicking your astounded tone up to the lilt. “Which is why I started thinking about why else you might be looking at me so intently. You weren’t sitting there objectifying me, were you, miss secretary?”

“Sir, I would never,” you repeat, and he mouths the same words again in his amusement, although silently this time.

“I think I would have been okay with it if you were. Or would be, even until now. For the record.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You sure? No shame in it. Totally fine. Not sure about anyone else, but I’m totally okay if someone else thinks I’m eye candy in the privacy of their own minds. I am, I think, a fine specimen of a human, if I do say so myself.”

“I really wasn’t, sir.”

“You should have, then. Lost opportunities.��”

“I could argue that I was just worried you’d leave and not come back.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you,” he hums. “Not anymore, anyway.”

The ‘to you’ is what stumps you into another silent spell, but this time, Vice President Na doesn’t attempt to fill in the void. He just starts running his eyes over your face, like he’s trying to read something there or maybe memorize your features, or something. At some point, you start thinking about how this kind of silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, contrary to your expectations and with interesting consideration of the fact that he’s still holding your hips. Apart from the idle skimming of his thumb over the curve of your pelvic bone, he doesn’t move — nearer or closer, which is probably for the best since you don’t know which one you really want more at this point.

Again, when you gather some part of your wits, the only thing you still know how to ask is “Why?”

“Because,” he replies immediately, simply, like the answer has always been very clear and you’ve just been too ignorant to figure it out. “You said that I could, not that I had to.”

It’s hot. Isn’t it hot? You don’t know what he’s talking about, but your body already reacts on principle, and you have to stand-half-lean there with your entire face burning and Vice President Na’s body heat washing over yours like an electric blanket.

“I don’t know what that means, sir.”

“It means I didn’t do this for my dad or just because you told me off in the comfort of my own office.” He bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing (yet again) at you as he witnesses, from the best seat in the house, your face turning almost purple with the effort of keeping down your embarrassment. “Although that played a bit of a factor in it. I couldn’t tell if it was rude of you to say so much or kind of cute that you did despite knowing you were being rude. But that’s besides the point.”

Good, you think. If he manages to hit you with another cute in this timeframe, you may easily cease to exist.

“You know firsthand, anyway, what my dad always says. You must take on the responsibility you were born with. You have to do your job. You must remember that you owe your life to my achievements.” He mimics his father’s gruff, booming voice amusingly well, to the point that you can’t stop yourself from laughing. His facade breaks easily, and you think you hear him mumble cute under his breath again, although you choose to ignore it so your knees don’t buckle completely (something that you think would be very embarrassing with you so close to him). “I don’t think he’s ever once said an encouraging word to my face. And if there’s anything I can confidently say I won’t do, it’s doing what people only say I need to do. It’s my life, you know what I mean? I’ll do what I want.”

“You’re saying you suddenly wanted to work because I said you could?”

“More like I wanted to see if you were right.” He muses. “I was pretty sure I didn’t have the personality for it. Or the attention span. Or the skill, either.”

“I think a couple of those things are still up in the air, sir.”

“One compliment and you’re already gunning for another insubordination report.” Vice President Na’s voice is a low, casual hum, but you notice the grip around your waist tightens for a brief moment. “At first, I figured I’d just show up to get everyone off my back, but I realized along the way that I’m pretty good at this being at the helm business. I’m sure you’ll agree. Hopefully because you want to, not because you also have to.”

“I do agree.” Your reply is wholehearted, and the Vice President’s smile widens. Your chest swells so much that you think you might explode right in front of him. “Because I want to.”

“Please don’t misunderstand me, miss secretary. I’m not attributing all my successes to your impulsive words.” He teases, although his eyes stay gentle despite his tone. “The efforts were still all mine. However, I’m not too proud to admit I had a very responsible first mate by my side, for whom I am very grateful. Although I hope this doesn’t mean she’ll pluck up the courage to ask for a raise considering how well I pay her. I think. Does she get paid well? Maybe I should ask Park Jinhee from accounting.”

“She won’t,” you laugh softly, not missing the fact that he’s finally learned her name. “And she’s not really doing this for the salary, even if it is a nice bonus.”

“What’s she doing it for, then?”

As a job, this was really mostly about yourself — or it was, in the beginning. You’d terrorized Vice President Na to some degree because of the innate tendency towards self-preservation, and when that felt a little one-sided, you also considered everyone who might lose their jobs if the department got cut. It had been, for the most part, an act of pure desperation, so strong that you were willing to point fingers and raise your voice (only a few decibels, because you’re not a crazy person) at your boss. Now… that wasn’t really part of the equation. Maybe you had gotten used to the fact that the Vice President wouldn’t be going anywhere, so you’d stopped worrying about your and everyone else’s jobs, which all seem to be on a smooth path alongside the captain of the ship.

But if you had to be honest to yourself, part of the reason you’d grown a bit complacent about thinking about the fate of the department also had to do with the fact that you genuinely enjoyed being next to the Vice President. Mornings spent helping him prepare for work were regular highlights in your week, and the looks of approval you received from him every time you helped him finish a particularly difficult task were second to none. Always being close to him, always being the first and last to see him in the day, simply being able to look at him -– silly as that all sounds, they now play an undeniable factor in your desire to wake up and go to the office every single day.

“I did it for you.” You answer, and because the answer’s honest, it feels completely natural to say. A pause slowly lengthens between you two, though not nearly as tense or borderline uncomfortable as you thought it might be this time around. A slow smile stretches over the Vice President’s face, but his words don’t easily take the straightforward route this time, either.

“Should I take up with the human resources department the fact that you’re outright breaching the terms of our contractual workplace relationship? How am I?” He speaks over, with you again, your voices overlapping. You can’t help it — you laugh at the absurdity of how well he’s come to know your responses, from the word choice to the lilt in your voice that signals some level of affront. When, exactly, did Vice President Na start committing the things you said and did into memory? “You’re seducing me, miss secretary. Before you say you’re not — you are. You are, without even knowing it. You’re winning me over, telling me all these sweet nothings to tickle my heart — I believe in you, Jaemin. I love working with you, Jaemin. I did it all for you, Jaemin, because you’re obviously the best in the whole world, ho ho ho.”

“I never said it like that.”

“You might as well have.”

“Should I stop believing in you so that we can avoid a scene, then, or is the damage to your good standing too far gone?”

“Rather than stopping something already in full motion, I think it might be better to make certain amendments to our current agreement.” Vice President Na reaches for the pen tucked into his breast pocket — the gold clip catches the fluorescent light and momentarily blinds you as he brings it up between you. He brings it to one side, then to another, and your eyes follow it, amused but also admittedly a bit hypnotized.

“What kind of trance are you putting me under, sir?”

“The kind that gets you to stop calling me that,” he chuckles. “Among other, more important things on my agenda.”

You have an excellent view of Vice President Na’s stellar smile from the back of the meeting room.

The deal he closes three days later goes even better than expected; not only does he bring Amazon into the fold after weeks of (surprisingly consistent) hard work and no small amount of beguiling charm (owing to the fact that he’d offended said Amazon representatives earlier on in his still relatively short-lived career), but he also manages to snag Samsung Electronics’ participation. As an already existing subscriber to the company-provided phone plan, you’re pleased to find out that you’re entitled to twelve guilt-free months of Prime Video as part of a new promotional deal, which you can now enjoy on nights you aren’t working overtime — something you’ve racked up more of as you’ve found yourself striking more of a work-life balance, thanks in large part to the Vice President’s steadily active involvement in all things on the ‘work’ aspect of the scale. Your first goal is to finally get past the first episode of an animation everyone in the department is raving about (but that you haven’t seen more than five minutes of, in actuality, because the horrible subtitles and sluggish 144px stop motion-esque have, until recently, adamantly deterred you from enjoying anything about the story).

Standing a fair distance away from the executives, you wait for the flurry of handshakes and accompanying congratulatory statements to die down; it takes quite a while, considering the sheer volume of people, and the thickest throng has come to gather around Vice President Na. At one point, all you can see of him is the slightly unruly lick of hair that’s sticking out above the rest of the considerable crowd of balding men around him (the sole crow’s feather a mountain range of gray). All their voices overlap, and you’re only able to catch key phrases — brilliant young mind… knack for business! … just like the President… bright future ahead, you know?

Fifteen minutes of conversation and bellowing guffaws pass before Vice President Na emerges, adjusting the front of his blazer as a result of too much handshaking. Behind him, still speaking to one of the marketing executives, is President Na, who shoots his son a surreptitious look you’ve never seen him wear in your considerable number of years in the company’s employ — one of triumph and pride. The Vice President, however, is intently loosening his tie and scanning the room, stretching himself just a fraction taller above everyone else to get a better view throughout.

You wait, wondering if he’s looking to speak to someone, lost in that host of black and gray suits — the Amazon media director, perhaps, or the in-house designer that also seems to be trying to catch his eye, for some reason (you sense the needy greed for a sudden promotion that seems highly unlikely in such a setting), but even though his vision passes over them, however briefly, Vice President Na doesn’t seem satisfied.

That is, until his eyes land on the corner of the room you and Secretary Son have backed yourselves into to allow the higher-ups room to mingle.

One beat later, and the corners of his mouth are pulled up — a soft, knowing smile directed in your general direction. You glance at Secretary Son, maybe out of instinct, maybe somehow out of panic — as though you worry she’ll somehow come to chastise you, but she’s too busy trying to re-buckle her thin coat belt with rapid-fire tsks. She seems acceptably preoccupied, so your eyes flit back to the Vice President, whose eyebrows are now slightly raised, the telltale signs of a growing grin now playing on his lips as the front of his teeth begin to peek out from the seam. Another cock of his eyebrows, lifting them higher, tells you he’s waiting for some kind of message — an indication that you see him too, maybe, or… perhaps, oddly, any sign that you’re as proud of him as everyone else in the room is.

You can’t help it — you laugh, louder than you’d have originally liked to, a hand coming up over your mouth as Secretary Son’s head snaps up from her waist, bamboozled at your quick but sudden outburst. She throws you a look that suggests she firmly believes your mind has snapped, quite like a stale breadstick in a derelict Italian restaurant, but it’s worth it; Vice President Na looks satisfied at this — though, why he would be, you haven’t a true clue.

As the managers and members of the board file out of the room, both you and Secretary Son inch closer to your respective direct superiors; you both stand a few steps away as the last of the executives drag their feet, still hoping to share one last handshake with either of the two, until an elderly Mrs. Kwon’s surprisingly firm grip is finally shaken off by a sheepish President Na. He turns to his son, who’s still hosting the remnants of a genial smile on his lips, clearly poised to say something. For some reason, you expect the senior to berate the former, simply out of sheer habit, but he does nothing of the sort.

“Jaemin-ah,” his voice is gruff but not at all begrudging; it’s a low rumble of triumph. “Who’d’ve thought? My boy… you brat…”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now, dad,” the Vice President teases, to which the President chortles heartily.

“Old men like me have the right, much more than anyone else.” You’ve never seen the President wear an expression even remotely close to softness, but you see it in his gaze now; it strikes you, then, that although you’ve always known the two to be related, this is the first time you can confidently say they resemble each other to the cores of their being — a view of happiness, somewhat mirrored in each of them. “I’m proud of you, son. You did everything I hoped you would — no, no… more than that, even.”

“I’ll take most of the praise, thanks,” Vice President Na replies with his characteristic cheek. For a moment, so quickly you think you may have missed it, his eyes flicker to you. “But I can’t say I could’ve done it alone.”

“Punk,” President Na snorts, yanking on his son’s earlobe; you and Secretary Son have to avert your eyes with expert speed to avoid being caught snickering at the slightly juvenile “ow, dammit,” that the Vice President groans out. “One big closed deal, and your head’s this big? I better not catch you floating away to a Las Vegas casino after all this.”

“Give me some credit; I’d at least visit the desert first.” This time, when the Vice President glances at you, his father’s head turns too, and you stand up straighter at the unprecedented onslaught of attention. “Besides, I’ve got someone here to keep me anchored now.”

“Good work, Secretary ____________,” President Na offers you a rare smile that truly has you feeling like the world has turned upside down: the President in an agreeable (almost ecstatic, though you’d never say that out loud) mood, the Vice President doing his job not just in general but actually commendably well, and not a single strand of baby hair sticking up from out of your ponytail. Inconceivable.

You bow, murmuring a thank you, and Secretary Son quickly follows suit for the formality of it all before she strides over to the President, who’s leaving his son with one last thunder-like clap on the back before he’s leaving the meeting room, still jovial when he catches up with the suspiciously lagging figure of Mrs. Kwon by the door.

Vice President Na starts to follow suit, walking towards the other end of the meeting room; you quickly scurry behind him, still clutching your tablet, blinking a low battery warning, to your chest. You’ve come to grow accustomed to the ‘secretary’s pace’ over the last few weeks as well — always close enough to help, never too close enough to step on a superior’s toes.

But in the moment you fumble to silence your device, you end up stepping into someone’s shadow; glancing up at the Vice President, you find yourself looking at not the familiar view of his back but that of his side profile (one you’re actually also familiar with, though you refuse to admit to the level of familiarity). He’s slowed his pace considerably, allowing you to naturally fall into step with him, and even this, he expects a response from you somehow — he asks for it with yet another wiggle of his eyebrows. You laugh again, shaking your head, and yet, inexplicably, it seems to be exactly the reaction he hopes to see.

The department floor erupts into applause when the two of you pass through the glass doors; a flash of mollification crosses the Vice President’s features before he’s back to his signature light humor, raising a palm up in receipt of praise. Park Jinhee is clapping with only her left hand smacking the side of her mug, a few drops of coffee streaming down the handle side on impact. One of the team managers rushes forward, eager to shake Vice President Na’s hand, and, riding his high, also yours, pumping it up and down with so much vigor that you mumble a quiet ow behind a strained smile. Only the Vice President’s hand on your shoulder, steering you away, saves you from what feels like possible dislocation.

He’s still waving at them like this is a pageant and not his day job, even as he guides you towards his office door; you have to use your elbows to push it open and effectively help you both avoid ramming into frosted glass. The applause dies down as your somewhat conjoined figures disappear through the doorway — you first, albeit convolutedly, your heel still holding strong in the job of keeping the door wide open enough for Vice President Na to saunter through before you let it swing shut to a now relatively silent office floor.

His hold on your shoulder doesn’t let up, though; it’s still urging you forward, towards his desk, and you open your mouth to say something along the lines of I’m gonna break my hip if we keep going this way, but just as your throat conjures up the first syllable, he turns you around, letting you rest light against the edge of the table.

In a pattern reminiscent of three days prior, Vice President Na’s hand finds its way to your waist, utterly comfortable in a way that mystifies you; he acts like it belongs there, as natural as the smile that’s still playing on his lips.

“Sir, you realize it’s the middle of the day?”

“You realize that we had a deal,” he corrects you, brow furrowing in feigned sternness. “Hold up your end of it, miss secretary.”

“Only if you stop calling me that.”

“Now, that absolutely was not part of the contract.”

When you laugh this time, he chimes in; there’s a harmony in your voices that has your posture softening. You feel airier, your heart much lighter, and when you look up at him, you can’t help but flush at his expectant gaze.

“You realize it’s the middle of the day,” you repeat, carefully, the words suddenly somewhat unfamiliar on your tongue — the next two syllables, most of all. “Jae… min.”

Odd as it is, you’re rewarded with the pleased look that takes over his features; he takes a moment to exaggeratedly revel in this new occurrence.

“Better. Much better. You could still be a bit more comfortable with it, I’d say, but… baby steps?”

“Please re-prioritize your day, si— Jaemin.” The terse tone you’re going for is brutally marred by your blunder, which has his shoulders shaking from laughter. “Someone could very easily walk in.”

“Who’s going to fire me?”

“I can think of one person.”

“You heard him. I’m proud of you, Jaemin. You’ve completely exceeded my expectations, Jaemin. You are the light of my life — my favorite son, Jaemin, ho, ho, ho.”

“Sir,” you sigh. “You’re his only son.”

“We had a deal,” he repeats, letting the return to habits slide, and there’s a laughably childish air to his words. “I’ll… file an insubordination report. Breach of contract as well. Tsk, tsk, miss secretary. Not on such a momentous occasion.”

“Some might classify this as threatening behavior.” Your eyes are soft, though, when they meet his humored gaze. “If you want a reward… ask a little more nicely.”

A soft snort — his fingers dig lightly into your waist, and the next second, he’s lifting you off your feet and settling you lightly atop his desk. his palms never leave you, even after you’ve been placed; they’re increasingly warm beyond the fabric of your top.

“____________,” he murmurs, saying your name so naturally that you could almost believe he’s referred to you as nothing else for as long as you’ve known him. “Kiss me.”

Your own hands find their way behind his neck, but he does most of the work in closing the gap anyway; you’re not even sure who, between the two of you, gave that first sigh of longing, of relief. Perhaps it was both of you, all at once.

Jaemin still tastes like the coffee you’d given him this morning — not a trace of richness, but a bittersweet and earthy twang that’s signature post-Americano. There’s even a hint of mintiness from the nervous handful of Tic Tacs he’d had just before the meeting started; you find that out the moment his tongue swipes against yours, leaving behind the invisible bite of menthol. And then there’s you, a clean taste that settles against his teeth, subtle first but growing stronger until you’re satisfied with the notion that you may linger there for some time — even after you pull away, slightly breathless.

“Congratulations to me,” he breathes out, trademark grin flashing bright again. “So what happens if I close next month’s Disney Plus deal?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer; his hand’s already skimming down, over your hips, following the path of your thigh. Your hand reaches out on instinct to stop him, but he’s oddly more aware of his surroundings than you give him credit for (or maybe, you’re just that predictable to him). He meets your palm, fingers lacing into yours and allowing him to lift your wrist to his lips. There, you feel the warmth of his kiss again, and he uses his hold to bring himself even closer, until he’s able to press his face into your neck.

“Sir—”

“Jaemin. You call me Jaemin from now on, remember?”

“Sir.” You’re adamant. “It’s work hours.”

“You’re not tense.”

He doesn’t move his head; in fact, you feel him burying his face further into your shoulder. In this position, there’s no real way for you to pull away — there’s also no real desire for you to do so, anyway.

“No, I’m not.”

“Good.” Warmth again on your skin — his lips leave an invisible mark just above your collarbone. “I like you best like this.”

“What? Not tense?”

“Happy,” he corrects for accuracy. “Happy that you’re with me.”

You fall silent, not because you’re not sure of what to say, but because you don’t need to tell him that he’s right.

Moments later, his fingers find their way into your ponytail; the index hooks into the elastic, bringing your hair down. You feel his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, he’s inhaling your perfume again.

“Green tea. Something floral. Jasmine? Maybe a little bit of citrus.” He lifts his head but stays close, warm breath washing over you. “It’s so you. Fresh. Pure. Beautiful.”

The gap between the two of you doesn’t last for too long thereafter; he kisses you again, and your heart lifts to find that your taste still lingers somewhere there. It’s longer because it’s slower — less playful and more exploratory, until he pulls away to a much more breathless you. How he finds the air to talk even after is miraculous to you.

“Be mine, miss secretary.”

You blink — once, twice, at his serious expression, wondering if it will break and give way to more humor. But he waits, unwavering, until the last piece of resistance you’ve clung onto is washed away — the last thing that made you, for a second, deny that you were in love with him.

His smile slowly mirrors yours as it grows.

“Like you could ever get rid of me, Na Jaemin.”

1K notes · View notes

atlasnessie · 26 days

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hii i saw ur requests were open and i decided to make one :3, how the bsd men would act when they are lovesick? Like not yandere and those twisted things, but they just feel like a teenager boy in highschool with their first love, nothing else than pure fluff =w=" i honestly dont care which characters you add, but id really like to see fyodor in there ;P.

Bonus points if the reader is just so gentle, kind and pure with everyone ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა!! You can ignore this request, take your time. I hope you have a good day and thanks for reading me :DD

GOD, IM SO LOVESICK. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME ?

osamu and chuuya slowly realizing that they’re in love with you.

an: FINALLY FINISHED THIS OMG anon im so sorry it took so long also i’m … still unsure of how to write fyodor ughh ikk embarrassing !! hope this is okay nonnie :((

OSAMU DAZAI never had the chance of falling in love. everything ended one sided, a side that would benefit him and him only. he’s lived long enough to know that he was not worthy of such a delicate feeling; everything he has and wishes to have will all disintegrate as soon as he has it. dazai was not willing to risk it. not now, not ever.

at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

dazai can’t shake off this feeling when being around with you. he stands by the roadside of the sidewalk when walking with you, voluntarily giving his coat when the weather gets chilly, and surprisingly have enough money to buy you some good coffee (and not put it on a tab). he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, it’s not like he’s into you, but his thoughts wander off to wanting to feel your hands on his, to know how his first name would sound from your lips instead of his surname. and once he realizes he’s in love, he’s gone.

lovesick isn’t something dazai had ever felt. romance and osamu dazai should never be in the same sentence, they don’t belong together.

“you’ve been avoiding my texts, my calls, and now ignoring my knocks on your door ?” you stand in front of the paint chipping door, a bento in one hand and a finger pointing at his chest with the other. dazai looked terrible, his eye bags more apparent and the stench of alcohol from inside could make a lightweight drunk at the smell.

“ah, whatever do you mean —”

“you know what i mean, dazai. i’ve gotten calls from kunikida telling me that you haven’t shown up to work for a week ! he can’t even enter your apartment and he calls you every morning to check that you’re okay.”

you pushed your way inside his apartment before he could speak. this wasn’t the first time you’ve been in here, and was definitely not your second. or third. or fourth, or fifth, or however amount of times you’ve been here. dazai can’t remember.

placing the bento down on the cheap wooden table, the color of the lunch box was the only bright thing in the whole house. dazai quickly closed the door, almost tripping on your shoes before speed walking behind you. if he’d known you’d come in, in which he probably did, he would’ve cleaned and tided up a little beforehand. your eyes darted around the room before unboxing the bento.

“sit down. i made you something to eat.” your voice was quiet, but a little higher than a whisper. the aroma of fresh, real food made dazai’s mouth water.

“at your command, then.” dazai responded back, pulling a creaky chair and sitting, his eyes shining dull as he heard the sound of wooden chopsticks break.

“here, you eat. i’ll clean.”

“awh, i was hoping you’d feed me.” chocolate brown eyes met with yours, faking tears to brim out of his eyes as he lazily held the chopsticks, holding it as if he had never seen them before. an excuse. this was an excuse. not for you to feed him, though, he’d most certainly love that, but for you to not clean up the mess he had made. the cluster of sake bottles and canned crab made his apartment look less pleasing to look at.

“eat. i’ll clean.” your voice was persistent as you pushed the bento closer to him. grumbling, dazai pick up an egg roll and inspected it. how stupid, he thought. a toothpick shaped as a cat stood idle in the middle of the roll, its dark void eyes staring at his. it looks a lot like you, naive and ever so …

shit. thoughts like this shouldn’t be running in his head. you’re just a co-worker, afterall. right ? though … dazai has to admit; the food that’s on the bento tastes better than anything ever, and the soft hum of your voice lulls his worries away.

to be loved is to be known, he thinks.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA has no time for feelings outside of the port mafia, but you’re an exception. the sun sets slowly on the horizon of yokohama, and the wind is just right for a nice breeze. the picnic cloth is laid on the ground as chuuya swirls his glass of wine, watching as you talk about your day. you weren’t anything special, hell, it was total coincidence that you two even met.

a civilian and an executive of the port mafia. what a story to tell. but you weren’t aware of chuuyas profession, no, why would he break the trust that built up and took so long to gain ? he wouldn’t dare, he couldn’t.

“and then, while i was walking home today, i bumped into some guy and he was all like, ‘double suicide’ this and ‘double suicide’ that. scared the hell out of me ..!” you laugh and take a sip of your own wine and out of the corner of your eyes, you can see chuuyas shoulders tense up.

“he didn’t … he didn’t have some weirdass bandages all over … did he ?” chuuya grumbled as he pressed the wine glass to his lips, hiding his irritation.

“oh, he did. it was really weird.”

fuck ..!! chuuya though, grinding his teeth together just at the thought of that disgusting man. his thoughts of killing dazai were interrupted as you point at the sky.

“look, isn’t it pretty ?” you sigh, placing your hands behind you and leaning back. the sky was painted a radiant orange, complemented by pink and yellow. chuuya blinks and stares into the horizon, the corner of his eyes shifting back to you subtly. his chest tightens and—

oh, how he’s smitten. maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the gentle rays of the sun, but his face feels hot and he leans closer to you, bringing up a hand and tucking in longer strands of hair behind your ear. you turn your head as chuuya stops midway, your hair falling out of his fingers. leaning back, chuuya coughs and plays it off, pouring himself another drink.

“sorry. looked like it was bothering you.” he mumbled, biting the rim of his glass before taking a sip, his gaze avoiding yours.

it’s the little things, but to him, he wants to do more than subtle hints of love. this is a start, at least.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x you #dazai x you #atlas writes !

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messylustt · 11 months

Note

Can you write about an arguement with ethan because he got jealous and then reader and Ethan give eachother the silent treatment for days but then ethan folds first and BEGS for her attention :) thank you so much

i love desperate men

desperate jealousy — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : an jealous argument leads to a rather desperate ethan.

contents : just a heated kiss and some jealousy. wc 2.0k.

you nod, smiling at this guy you met in econ. you got paired up for an assignment, him taking the seat beside you.

throughout the discussion of topics he had slowly began to move closer, copying your smile. “are you sure we should do that topic?” you ask, relaxed in your seat.

he shrugs. “i mean it’s easy enough to get good marks.”

“true.” you say. “but that usually means that everyone else is gonna do it.” you randomly gesture at the students. “professors usually look for work that’s different.”

you had been so used to working with ethan—having been allowed to choose your own partners in the past. but this lesson your partners were chosen for you, leaving you with a guy—though cute, still wanting to find the easier way out.

as you carried on discussing, ethan watched from his seat next to some girl—his partner. “ethan.” she tries to get his attention. “i think we should do this topic.” she points at one of the possible selections.

but ethan just hums, keeping his gaze on you and the guy. he wasn’t too thrilled about the partners being different. he liked working with you, you both had similar minds. thoughts and decisions flowed easy.

“ethan.” the girl tried again, finally earning him to look away from you and to her. “why are you so distracted? i thought you were the smart one in this class.”

ethan keeps his almost solemn expression, but forces himself to face the assignment and try to engage with his partner.

at the end of the lesson, you got up from your seat. “so does that topic work?”

the guy—james—nods. “yeah, that should work. whose house should we do it at?”

“oh, i was just thinking we work in the library when we’re both free.”

james looks slightly disappointed. “but i’m usually quite busy doing other…stuff in the day. going to one of our houses in the evenings would work better for me.”

you slowly nod. “alright. um, my house is free…tomorrow evening. does that work?”

james nods, shooting you a smile. “i’ll see you then.” he says, heading down the hall. you both having walked to the exit throughout the talking.

you go to turn down the opposite way when you jump, ethan standing directly behind you. “ethan.” you breath out a sigh of relief. “hey.”

but ethan’s gaze is narrowed, glaring after your assignment partner. “are you…alright?” you slowly ask, raising a brow.

ethan shifts his gaze to you. “shame we didn’t get to work together.”

you nod. “yeah, it felt weird discussing topics with someone else.” you chuckle, adjusting the books in your grasp. “it took awhile to convince him to not do something generic.”

“hmm, same with my partner.” ethan agrees, a small smile edging his lips.

“what topic did you choose?” you ask, to which he answers, following with “we’ve decided to work in the library. not too happy bout that…with her of all people.”

“why not?” you tilt your head. “i offered the library to james but he insisted we work at one of our houses.”

ethan pauses, brows furrowing. “one of your houses?”

“yeah.” then you further mutter. “shit, i should probably clean up.”

“your house? you guys are working at your house?” ethan can’t help but let his annoyed tone slip.

you meet his gaze, a slight furrow to your brows at his tone. “yeah…”

he clenched his jaw. “you should…change that.”

“change that?” you repeat.

ethan nods. “you shouldn’t let someone like him into your house.”

“why not?” you’re genuinely confused.

“oh come on…” ethan clicks his jaw. “he’s a dick. i bet he only wants to get into your pants.”

you slightly raise your brows at his blatancy. “i’m sure you’re reading into it too much. he’ll just come, we’ll work, then he’ll go.”

“you’re not dumb, y/n.” he says pointedly. he had grown more annoyed at your persistence. “you have to have clearly seen that he was flirting with you.”

you shake your head. “we were just talking about the assignment—“

“his body language gave him away.” ethan interrupts.

you narrow your gaze. “were you watching us?”

ethan pauses for a moment. “i just…wanted to make sure he wasn’t doing that thing that you always hate.”

ah, yes, ‘the thing’ being taking full control over the assignment and making decisions without proper discussion. “well, that’s sweet…” you drift off. “but he was fine. If anything he was leaning more to the side of doing nothing.” you chuckle.

“see.” ethan is still persistent, and you’re not sure why. “he clearly won’t help you. you should change partners.”

“ethan.” you say slowly. “what’s gotten into you?”

he runs his tongue along his teeth, as he looks away a moment. “i just don’t want him taking advantage.”

you sigh. “ethan. i’m fine. he’s fine. i appreciate the concern though.” you smile. you hadn’t realised how much of a friend ethan had become over the lessons.

“do you?” he suddenly says. you’re slightly taken a back by his tone.

“ethan—“

“do you like him? is that it?” he can’t seem to control the words from slipping. his mind whirring with different possibilities.

you step back, not liking his expression. “i really don’t know why you’re acting like this.”

ethan steps closer again, his heart pulsing with anger. “do you like him?” he repeats. he’s talking down to you, and that aspect has a slight scowl forming on your face.

“so what if i like him?” you’re beginning to walk away. of course you don’t like james. but you didn’t appreciate ethan’s misplaced strong feelings about the situation and the way he displayed them.

ethan swiftly grabs your arm harshly. “seriously?”

you’ve had enough with whatever this is. so, you rip your arm away, and quickly head down the dispersing hallway.

;;

ethan fucked up. he shouldn’t have gotten angry over something he didn’t have a right to get angry over. and now you weren’t speaking to him. not that you talked much outside of classes. but when you were in them, you’d always sit beside each other.

and now you sat with james, not sparing ethan a glance. ethan gritted his teeth. it had been two days since you last spoke. you had had your ‘session’ with james at your house, and ethan was dying to know what had happened.

what had you two talked about? did you…do anything?

ethan had at first reciprocated your ignorance, not moving to speak to you either. but he had begun to grow desperate. he missed your voice. he tried to keep back, mad at you for entertaining this loser of a guy. but his control was slipping.

he glanced over at you as your head stayed down, writing notes, most likely, from the lecture. ethan tilted his head, watching as you tapped your pencil in thought, your leg moving up and down.

then he saw james walk in late, moving to take the seat beside you. but ethan quickly moved from his seat, grabbing his books as silently as possible as he took the empty seat.

you turn your head to stare at him, brows furrowing. you still didn’t know what had made ethan so angry before.

you shift your gaze back to the front of the lecture hall. ethan set his books down, the lesson continuing. james had to take ethan’s previous seat, and ethan couldn’t help but let a small smirk edge his lips.

he then glances back at you. you kept your head turned, your hair moving to hide the side of your face. ethan reaches his hand out, tucking your hair behind your ear so he could see you.

you turn to look at him, confused now. ethan’s gaze wandered your face, his eyes hooded with interest. you quickly turn your head away, staying silent.

ethan’s hand was still hovering by your ear. he then leaned closer to you, whispering, making your entire body stiffen. “can we talk after class?”

you lean away, acting as though your mind is occupied with the lecture. ethan grits his teeth. “y/n.”

you say nothing. and ethan’s resolve continues to crumble. “talk to me.” he tries to bring your face around to look at him, by a grip on your chin. but you yet again tilt your head away. you had always been stubborn. you were waiting for an apology and maybe this is what the ‘talk’ was about. but you’d rather hear it now, not him bringing you somewhere quiet.

ethan—like always—stayed persistent. “please.” you finally caught on to the desperation in his tone.

meeting his gaze, you could see his heavier breathing, his eyes focused entirely on you. you gulp, as you swat his hand away from your ear.

but he grabbed your moving hand instead. “i’ve had enough of the silent treatment.” he whispers.

you move to get your hand out of his grasp, but he just moves it under the table, holding it by his thigh. you try to move away again, but ethan just tightens his hold, looking back to the professor.

“ethan.” you hiss. “what are you doing?”

ethan’s lips curve up, his grip tightening around your hand, knowing he came out successful. “you spoke.”

you grit your teeth. ethan’s hand began to travel up your arm, keeping you at his side as he stared, only half reading the words written on the board. you shivered, his fingertips dragging across your skin.

“i’ll let go…if you say yes.” ethan says, keeping his taunting strokes along your skin.

“seriously?” you whisper.

“mhm.” ethan hums. you notice the professor walking closer to look at everyone’s progress so you quickly say “yes…alright, yes.”

ethan grins, letting go of you just as the professor nears.

;;

when the lecture ended, you began to pick up your books. ethan did the same, watching you closely. once he saw that you had your bag slung over your shoulder, he swiftly grabbed your wrist, pulling you to a more desolate part of the hallway.

you turn to him. “look ethan, i’m just conf—“

but you cut yourself off as you realise how close ethan stood. he had begun to step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your hair again. you lean away. “and you’re not helping my confusion.”

ethan’s brows furrow at your action. “i didn’t like you not talking to me.” he admitted.

you eye him. “it’s not like we talked much.”

“you started talking to james a lot more.”

you sigh. “look, if you’re gonna be all weird again, then please—“ you go to step away, but ethan quickly grabs your arm, stopping you.

“don’t go— just…” he breathes. “i’m…sorry.”

“you’re sorry?” you reiterate.

“i shouldn’t have…gotten mad.”

you slightly turn back to him. “no. you shouldn’t have. why did you?”

ethan gulps, his grip ever so slightly tightening around your arm, thinking you were gonna try and leave again.

“ethan?” you try but you can tell he’s in his head, thinking a mile a minute.

“i have to go.” you sigh, beginning to walk away again, but this time ethan yanks you back, his hand moving to your waist as he smashes his lips against yours.

you gasp, eyes widening. “eth—“

but you’re both stumbling back, ethan stepping forward as you stepped back, his mouth eagerly moving against yours.

a breathy sound left his lips, as he found your tongue. your eyes had rolled closed, your back hitting against the wall. ethan couldn’t help but let his hands wander your body, slipping under your shirt to graze against your bare hips.

your back unintentionally arches into him, making ethan press harder against you, one of his hands slipping to cup part of your jaw and ear, tilting your head how he wanted.

when you break for air, your chest is heaving, butterflies having swarmed your stomach, you speak. “ethan…i didn’t…i—“

“shut up.” he breathlessly whispered, eagerly capturing your lips again. her lips do taste like everything sweet—ethan thinks to himself, as he grinned against your mouth.

#. ( psychos )#the ethan effect #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #jack champion x y/n #scream #ethan landry smut #jack champion smut #scream 6 smut #scream smut #scream vi #scream vi smut

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strniohoeee · 7 months

Text

Hearth

Pairings: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Synopsis: During a cabin get away a game of Never Have I ever leaves Y/N embarrassed. And a nice Matt is worried and in love🥹

Warnings⚠️: This is a 18+ story. It’s straight up smut okayyyy. Never have I ever being played, lose of virginity. Sweet cute lovey dovey sex. Madi is the “bad” guy but like I had no other girl to make it so it had to be her. No hate to her tho at all.

Song for the imagine: In my room- Chance Peña

⚠️THIS IS AN 18+ STORY SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT BEYOND THIS POINT⚠️

The triplets had asked me if I wanted to join them on their trip up to the cabin up in Cape Cod, of course I agreed I would never miss a trip to the Cape, but slowly I was getting a little nervous wondering if they had asked any other girl up to the cape with them. I was relieved when I found out it was only Madi, she was my only girl friend I had. Most girls the triplets would be friends with never liked me, so it made it hard to have friends. I never really cared because most just wanted to fuck Chris or matt, and they were soon dropped which made me laugh.

We had just got to the Cape on a chilly Friday night, and we immediately ran into the house, getting a fire started, and choosing our rooms. I picked the room with one bed, while Nick bunked with Madi and Chris and Matt bunked together. I enjoyed being alone, but sometimes that loneliness felt like seclusion. Madi was their friend first, and introduced me to them so I was close with them, but not as close as she was.

Although she was close with Nick I always felt this vibe that she might’ve liked matt. And it hurt after a while when I started to catch feelings for Matt. He was always there for me, and me and him were always together, that is until Madi comes around then I seclude myself not wanting her to think I wanted Matt. Although they never had anything going on I always knew how she truly felt.I never told her because Matt would never go for a girl like me when Madi was far more gorgeous.

I settled into my room deciding to unpack a few things, and I decided to turn on my Roku tv and cast my Spotify to the screen so I could blast Olivia Rodrigo. As I was unpacking and jamming out Matt came into my room

“Yooo” he said as he threw himself on my bed

“Sup Matt” I said lowering the volume on the tv to hear what he has to say

“We ordered some wings and fries from that spot we drove by on the way down here” he said watching as I put my makeup on the dresser

“Oh nice I’m so hungry” I said looking a him

“Yeah Chris took Madi with him” he said looking down at his phone with a blank stare.

“Oh cool” I said not really caring to respond to that

“So I figured I come chill with you” he said locking his phone and looking at me

“Ouu glad I’m an afterthought” I told him jokingly rolling my eyes

“What no..you just always leave me when Madi comes over to me” he said closing his eyes pretending to sleep

I went to answer but we heard Nick call us down to come eat. We both ran downstairs and sat at the table beginning to eat. As we ate we joked and laughed. My eyes kept wandering over to Matt and seeing Madi looking at him and chatting with him made me a little sad. God I wish he could look at me that way was all I could think.

As I’m continuing to glance at them I see her touch his hand in a flirting way, and this immediately made me lose my appetite. I loudly slid back from the table grabbing my plate and standing up.

“Done already” Chris asks looking at everyone else still shoving food down their throat

“Uhh yeah I uh just got really full” I said looking down at my plate that had four wings and a few fries eaten. He looks at me a little confused and just nods his head

I decided to clean up my plate and drink some water in the kitchen watching them as they engaged in conversation.

“OH MY GOD GUYS!” Nick yells loudly

“It’s a cabin tradition! We have to play never have I ever” he said giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Nick…what are we 10” Matt says shaking his head

“Nah this will be fun” Chris said laughing as he wiped his fingers

After everyone finished dinner and cleaned up we all showered and changed and went back to the living room. Madi had Matt help her start up a fire in the fireplace again after the first one went out. While Chris was grabbing a Pepsi before heading over to the couch. Nick was already sitting on the couch waiting for the fire to start. I was the last to join because I could care less about playing never have I ever. I wasn’t too fond of playing a game that ended in people being embarrassed and exposed.

I grabbed a water bottle and headed over to the couch to sit next to Nick.

“The queen joined us” Nick said hugging me

“Oh I couldn’t miss playing this middle school game” I said giving him a sarcastic grin

“Hey! This’ll be fun” Madi said, smiling at me, and I smiled back. I could never be mean to her. She was my closest friend, but man when she was all over Matt I never wanted to look at her again.

I just smiled at her, a weak smile that I hoped she picked up on, but knowing her she didn’t

“Alright bitches who’s going first?” Madi asked

“I say Nick goes since this was his idea” I stated looking over at Nick giggling slightly.

To this he just rolled his eyes and mumbled a ‘fine’

“Alright, never have I ever shit my pants” he said laughing and we all just rolled our eyes. All of us putting a finger down.

“Never have I ever stood someone up” Chris asked, every finger went down but mine.

“Y’all are cruel” I said shaking my head, and to this they laughed shouting out little excuses

“Ouuu never have I ever farted in a public place’’ Matt said laughing, once again all our fingers went down as we died in laughter… “ouuu stinky” Chris said in a funny voice.

Two rounds later I saw Madi’s body shift, and I knew this shift meant intense questions were coming.

“Let’s spice it up. Never have I ever made out with an influencer of some sort at a party” Hers and Nicks finger went down

“Never have I ever got caught during ‘me time’ Chris asked. My finger was the only one to go down. My eyes bulged out in embarrassment.

“Explain” Madi said laughing at me

“Well I was about 17, and I thought I was alone in my house, but uh turns out my grandma heard some things” I said covering my face in embarrassment as everyone laughed.

“Never have I ever kissed someone” Matt said, and once again my finger was the only one that didn’t go down.

“Never have I ever messed around in your parents house” Nick asked, and not a shocker my finger was still up.

“Never have I ever given head” Madi asked. Are we shocked that my fingers are still up??

“Never have I ever gotten head” Chris asks, wiggling his eyebrows. To no surprise the finger is still up.

“Never have I ever given a hickey, '' Madi asks, and now I’m starting to think she's picking up on my lack of experience because her eyes are starting to twinkle with an idea.

“Never have I ever had sex” I keep my fingers up with a long sigh and an annoyed expression

“Never have I ever hooked up in a car” Now I’m just staring at the floor wanting to die.

“Never have I ever not done a single sexual thing” Madi asks laughing

“Alright now you're just being mean” I finally snapped looking at her with a hard glare

“WHAT?? I’m just messing around with you” she said still laughing

“Yeah embarrassing me is so funny” I said giving her a sarcastic smile

“I didn’t embarrass you…technically you did that yourself” she said looking down. I just scoffed and got up

“Goodnight! Glad I could be the center of the ring for you guys” I said grabbing my phone and my water and turning around

“Wait don’t go” Matt said sounding bad for me, I just shook my head and kept walking upstairs to my bedroom

3AM

It was now 3am, and everyone had called it a night by 10 because of how exhausted they were from the drive here.

However I was wide awake replaying the embarrassing event that occurred a few hours prior. I was so annoyed that Madi would say such a thing. She was supposed to be my best friend, and those weren’t the vibes I was getting. I decided to head downstairs to sit in the living room, and clear my mind.

I headed downstairs, and started a small fire in the fireplace, so I didn’t have to keep the lights on, and potentially wake one of them up; because I really wanted to be alone right now. I sat in front of the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around me. Just staring into the flames, and letting my thoughts run clearly. I felt a tear slip down my face as I felt all the embarrassment and shame wash over me.

Just sitting asking myself why. Why in the world would she ask those questions knowing my answer. I felt betrayed and like a fool. I shouldn’t be embarrassed of my lack of experience. I'm only 21. This is very normal, but I just hated how I felt, and I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and disappear. After wiping my tears and collecting myself I just stared into the fire letting the flames reflect off my brown eyes

Suddenly I heard a door creak open from upstairs, and feet shuffling. I was really hoping one of them were just going to the bathroom, so I can bask in my self hatred a little more. Unfortunately I heard the stairs creak loudly under the pressure of someone’s feet, but I refused to look over my shoulder.

I felt a presence next to me, and suddenly they sat down next to me, and only then did I finally look over, and to my surprise it was Matt looking into the fire. I watched the reflection of the flames make his icy blue eyes twinkle. When he decided to speak up “I don’t think you deserved that” was all he said still looking at the fire

“Thanks, but I’m used to being the embarrassed one” I said quietly

“Doesn’t matter. It was fucked up, and uncalled for. Plus she’s your best friend. I have no clue why she'd say such a thing. I’m not too sure what’s gotten into her lately” Matt said, looking over at me. This made me turn to look at him, giving him a small smile

“She likes you” was all I could say as I searched his eyes for an answer, or a glimpse of hope that they’d scream “i don’t like her” back at me

“Likes me?” He said with a confused look

“Yes Matt…you are so blind Madi is head over heels in love with you” I said in a nonchalant way

“She’s like my sister….I have never expressed any other feelings other than a family type of relationship with her” he said rubbing his eye

“Yeah well she might not have gotten that. Don’t you see the flirty looks, the flirty touches, the comments trying to embarrass me infront of you” I said looking him dead in the eyes

“Is this why you leave my side when she comes around?” He asked staring back into my eyes

“Well yes. I don’t want to be the punching bag, and I can’t stand watching her trying to get with you” I said slightly looking away from his gaze

“I would never get with her” he said almost laughing a little bit

“Why not? She’s gorgeous, long hair, beautiful face, thin, sweet, funny and nice” I said turning back to look at the fire

“This is crazy” he said still looking at you

“Is that all you took away from what the fuck I just said” Still not looking at him

“It’s crazy that even though she embarrassed you and always does you still have nothing but nice things to say about her” Matt said, waiting to see if I’d look at him

“Jesus Matt!” I said a little more loudly finally turning to look at him

“I’m sitting basically professing my love to you in such a vulnerable way, and all you can do is mention her” I said shaking my head

“Mentioning her? In case you haven’t noticed I’m mentioning you….haven't you seen all along?? The looks? The touches? Always running to you for opinions? Always looking for you? Always wanting to be near you? And all you did was run away from me every single time” he said looking hurt

“Didn’t you notice the captions on my instagram posts?? They would be finishing every sentence you would say. You pay attention to the little things, so I thought you’d catch on” He said shaking his head

Everytime Y/N would post on Instagram it was always a song lyric.

Y/N caption: she thinks it’s special

Matt’s caption: but it’s all reused

Y/N caption:Think I’ll miss you forever

Matt’s caption:Like the stars miss the sun

Y/N caption:I’m trying to be brave

Matt’s caption:Stop asking me to stay

And Y/N’s latest post even had some fans questioning what was really going on being her and the young boy.

Y/N caption:Just put your hand on the glass

Matt’s Caption:I’ll be there to pull you through

Their posts had been matching up for some time now, but neither of them would say a thing.

I just stared at Matt dumbly because I genuinely had not paid any attention to our captions. I couldn’t allow little small things to alter my brain, and make me think we had a chance

“Y/N you’re my everything. You have always been since the moment we shared a Twix after Chris stole mine. I saw how giving you were, and how you cared to everyone, and that made me fall head over heels in love with you” He said searching my eyes for an answer

“Matt you have been my everything since the moment you complimented my hair and makeup after Madi told me it was too much. Right in that moment it gave me so much hope you saw me differently” I told him looking back into his eyes

Without a warning he just pulled me in for a kiss. I have never kissed anyone before so I was shocked, but when I finally got the hang out I could feel butterflies all in my stomach, and the weight of 1,000 pounds being lifted off my chest.

“I have wanted to do that for so long” he said after pulling away, and all i could do was stay there starstruck and as red as a tomato

I just pulled him back in for a kiss, and this time it got more heated. I had wrapped us in the blanket when I started to lean back onto the floor as he started to hover over me.

“Wait I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this to do this” He said pulling away from the kiss

“I would never think that, and if I wanted to stop I would’ve” I told him shyly. He continues to kiss me slowly going down to my cheek, then my jawline, and then down to my neck. Peppering light kisses to my neck on both sides. This made me let out a few sighs as I ran my fingers through his hair.

“Matt, can you take my virginity?” I asked him bluntly. He pulled back and looked into my eyes once again searching for any sign of discomfort

“Are you sure?” He asked me looking down to my lips

“Yes Matt. This is all I’ve ever wanted” I told him shamelessly. He nodded and began to kiss my neck again. He decided to take her shirt off, and continued to make out with me while I got more comfortable.

“Matt, I want to take off my shirt,” I said, pushing him back a little bit. He nodded and let me remove my shirt. I was completely bare in front of him. This made me a little shy, and he took notice

“God Y/N you’re so gorgeous” he said as he went down kissing both boobs, and slowly taking one nipple into his mouth while he kneaded the other one. I let out a silent moan and ran my hands through his hair. This action alone was making me so aroused, and I was starting to ache with an undeniable want for Matt

“I have to stretch you out a bit before I can have sex with you” he said after pulling away from my breast, and running a hand down from the valley of my beast to my lower abdomen.

“Do whatever you want to me Matt” I said looking at him

“This might hurt, and you have to promise to be quiet. We don’t want to wake them up” he said, kissing my lips. I nodded and bit my lip

He slowly removed my pants, and then along my underwear followed.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous with the fireplace reflecting off your skin” he said feeling up on my body as he stared at me

“Matt please touch me I want you so bad” I said to him, and to this he nodded

He started to kiss my neck and the valley of my breast as he started to travel his hand down to my pussy. Collecting my arousal and spreading it around some more

“God you’re so wet” he said as he continued to rub, and all I could do was moan and whimper lowly for him

He pulled his fingers away and spat on them to lubricate them some more. He placed them back on my vagina and continued to rub my clit as my legs spread wider for him

Slowly he pushed his middle finger in. As it kept going in I felt the burn from the stretch of his finger. I had fingered myself before but this was a different stretch. Matt’s fingers were thicker and longer

My eyebrows furrowed in pain and pleasure as he got his finger all the way in. Slowly he started to go in and out pushing up against my G spot in a come here motion

“Fuck Matt” I whimpered lowly

“I know baby” he said, kissing my lips as he slid the second finger in. This one I felt the pain the most. I gasped loudly and bit down on my hand

“I’m sorry. It will go away pretty girl” he said pushing both fingers in again.

Matt was taking his time fingering me and stretching me for him. I told him I wanted to cum on his dick, so to not take the fingering too far

“You think you’re ready for all of me” he asked as he pulled his fingers out

“Yes Matt” i told him running my hands down from his chest to his bulge and giving it a light squeeze

Matt had removed his pajama bottoms and his underwear. He pumped his cock a few times, and then lightly spat on it to lubricate it some more. This made Y/N even more wet just watching this beauty of a man touch himself infront of her

“Okay baby this will hurt, but it will go away, and if it’s too much I’ll stop okay” Matt asked rubbing her cheek with his hand

“Okay Matt. I trust you I’m ready” she said as she held onto both his arms as he leaned over her.

He brought one hand down to guide his dick to her entrance. Slowly he pushed his tip in. Y/N let out a small cry in pain as this was a new stretch for her

“Fuck Matt this hurts” she said opening her eyes to look him in the eyes

“Do you want me to stop” he asked her, looking back at her. She shook her head no, and he slowly kept pushing himself into her while kissing her so he could silence her winces

At this point Matt was all the way in and was getting adjusted to Y/N. She nodded at him to let her know he could move

So Matt started slowly moving in and out of the girl. Allowing her to feel all of him as his dick hit her G spot

“Fuck Matt” she whined as he hit her g spot once more

“Shhh baby i know” he said breathing heavily

Matt was continuing his slow and steady strokes. He moved a little faster, but mostly he was focusing on slow deep thrusts to allow Y/N to feel the most pleasure. At this point Matt was sweating and breathing heavily. He really wanted to be a moaning whimpering mess for her, but he couldn’t risk waking anybody up. He snakes his hand down to her clit to allow her more pleasure so she could cum.

Y/N let out a loud moan and Matt quickly put his hand over her mouth to silence her, and to this she moaned again letting her eyes roll to the back of her head as he kept pounding into her and rubbing her clit

After 10 more minutes of deep strong thrusts Matt started to feel her clench around him, so he knew she was close.

“Matt I’m going to cum” she said looking up at him all fucked out. Hair sticking to her forehead and her body glistening with sweat

“I know baby. I know” Matt said rubbing her clit faster and thrusting deeper and harder

“Fuck Matt fuck fuck fuck” she said as she clenched down harder, and with this she came all over his cock. Her brows were furrowed together and her mouth was hung open as she let out silent screams. Her body was shaking and trembling, her thighs were shaking as she saw white flashes of ecstasy. She slowly came down from her high with heavy breathing and Matt pulled out. Stroking his own cock over her

“Can I?” He asked her as he was stroking harder

“Please Matt cum for me” she said to him, and that was all it took for his brows to furrow and his mouth to fall slack as his lower abdomen contracted, and he was painting her stomach with white hot strings of cum.

As he came down from his high his breathing was deep and shallow. He grabbed his shirt and wiped her stomach clean. Falling down to the left of her and allowing the blanket to cover them.

“God Y/N you’re so gorgeous I’m in love with you” Matt said as he looked down at her. Propped up on one arm as he looks into her eyes wiping the hair off her forehead

“Matt this was all I could ever ask for. I love you so much” she said weakly looking at him

“I love you too” he said, giving her a kiss on the lips.

She turned into his chest, and they eventually fell asleep together

8AM

Around 8AM Nick and Chris came downstairs and walked to the living room to see a sizzling out fireplace, and a naked Y/N and Matt sleeping together wrapped in a blanket. They both looked at one another wide eyed

“MATT WAKE UP” Chris said kicking Matt’s foot, and to this he jumped up to, also waking up Y/N

“OH SHIT” Y/N said covering herself with the blanket

“What the fuck happened here” Chris said

“Uhhh” Matt said looking over at me

“YALL WAS FUCKIN” Nick said trying to contain his excitement

“I fucking knew y’all liked each other” Chris said kind of jumping like a kid

“Although this is so cute and yall are so cute together. Please get up and put some clothes on” Nick said laughing

Chris went to grab Matt’s shirt when Matt interrupted him

“DONT touch that shirt” Matt kind of yelled

“Why not?” Chris asked scared and concerned

“It has my cum all over it” Matt said bluntly

“MATT!” Y/N said smacking him on the arm

“DUDE WTF” Chris said running away

“That’s actually disgusting” Nick said giggling like a little kid and kicking the shirt away

Matt and Y/N got up to get cleaned up and ready for the day, and finish the rest of their weekend get away.

The End

I think my next ones going to be a Nick with a female reader but it’s going to be a friendship imagine🥰🥹

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #Spotify

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 7 months

Text

The Danger Zone (Part 4) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.5k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: Jake tries to talk to you, if only your family would stop getting in the way.

Series Master List

Master List

One Hour Earlier

Jake closed the door to his truck and walked up to Coyote and Phoenix’s house. They bought it during the preparations for the wedding, which definitely added to their stress level at the time, but it was nice to come home to a house that was all theirs after their honeymoon. And now Jake was reporting for painting duty. He let himself in through the side door and spotted Javy in the kitchen, putting away some random things.

“Where’s Phoenix?” Jake asked, setting his keys and wallet on the countertop.

“She went to her parent’s house for the weekend to grab some stuff and help out a bit.”

“And you promised to get a whole bunch of shit done while she was gone?” Jake guessed, gesturing to the empty boxes and random tools and materials all over the place.

“And you’re going to help me with all of that shit,” Javy replied, patting Jake on the arm. “Come on, let’s start painting.”

They walked into the spare bedroom and started cleaning out all of the shit that was shoved in there. Setting up the sheets on the ground, Javy glanced over at where Jake was pouring the paint into the tray.

“So, what’s new with you?”

“Nothing much,” Jake replied, turning back to the wall. “Just the same old shit.”

Javy nodded and stood up, fixing Jake with a knowing gaze. Javy and Jake had been best friends since the Academy and Javy liked to think that he knew Jake more than well enough to know when something was up with him. Good or bad. And Javy was very much aware that Jake wasn’t himself.

“How’s everything going with your relationship?”

“It’s over,” Jake replied simply. “And it wasn’t even a relationship.”

“What happened?”

Jake shot Javy a look, but Javy shot him one right back. Jake could play the whole nonchalant bullshit with everyone else, but Javy would call him out on it when he felt it was needed. And after seeing the change in Jake’s demeanor after whatever he wanted to call your relationship ended, Javy knew that he needed to call him out.

Jake picked up a roller and started to paint the wall in straight, even lines. Javy did the same, though he was still feeling out Jake at that moment. He usually just had to give Jake a little bit of time to think over it on his own before following up.

“And you’re okay?”

“No, but nothing I can do about it now,” Jake replied, a bit tensely.

“Did she block you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jake mumbled, running the roller through the paint again. “She’s been reaching out to me, but I haven’t responded.”

“Because?” Javy stressed, earning a sigh from Jake in return.

“Because what’s the point? It was never going to go public. She’d never stand up to her family about it. And we just didn’t work anymore.”

“Didn’t work with what?”

“We weren’t on the same page.”

“About?”

“For fuck‘s sake, Javy.” Jake set down the paint roller and turned to Javy, who remained calm and eyed Jake with a knowing expression. “She was acting weird before the wedding and at the reception she just blew me off, so what was even the point of all of it? It was just a waste of time for both of us.”

“Or did she hurt your feelings and you wanted to push her away to protect yourself?” Javy asked, setting down his own paint roller.

“You’re not my therapist, Javy,” Jake muttered, looking away from his best friend.

“I know I’m not. But I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you made the right choice when you look as miserable as you do.” Jake sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, causing Javy to soften a bit. “Jake, you were really happy when you were with her. And maybe you two grew apart and maybe you want different things in life and maybe I should just mind my own business. But just talk to her. At least figure out why she was avoiding you in the first place.”

“It was probably something with her brother or Mav,” Jake huffed, picking his head up more. “Or, hey, maybe she found a new fuckbuddy.”

“You don’t know any of that. And she’s not the type to play shit like that and you know it, Jake.” Coyote paused for a moment before adding, “Hell, maybe it was something with work or she’s dealing with some other issue and she wanted to figure it out first before telling you about it.”

“I just don’t know what would cause such a sudden change in her. I mean one minute she was fine and the next she just shut down.”

“You know how you’re going to find out?”

“How?”

“Talk to her,” Javy emphasized.

“I liked you better before you got together with Phoenix,” Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re acting all wise now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javy muttered, waving Jake off. “Now, be an adult and go talk to her. And, hey, maybe in a year, I’ll be your best man at your wedding.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jake sighed, getting to his feet. “And I’m holding you to it, Javy. If it’s a shitshow, you told me to start shit.”

“Get out already.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Jake grabbed his keys and wallet and headed down to his truck. Sliding in, Jake thought about how to proceed before just deciding to drive over to your apartment. If the two of you were actually going to have the conversation, he wanted it to be in person. And well she was also a little worried he would lose his confidence if he gave it too long to linger.

Parking in the lot, Jake spotted your car and made his way up the stairs to your apartment. He, however, didn’t recognize Emma’s car parked in the lot too. Stopping in front of your door, Jake knocked lightly and took a step back. He knew that you had a viewport and could see that it was him. Whether or not you opened the door was your choice.

The door opened a few moments later and Jake was rather quietly surprised at how shocked you looked when you spotted him. Why hadn’t you looked through the viewport before answering the door like you always did?

“Jake,” you breathed out nervously.

“Hey,” he replied softly, unable to prevent himself from frowning a bit at your reaction.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk about . . . everything.” Jake paused, mulling over his words before asking, “Is this a bad time?”

“Um. . . yeah, kind of,” you responded, wincing. “My brother’s here. And Mav is on his way over here right now.”

Jake’s eyes widened a fraction but before the curse could slip from between his lips, Rooster walked around the corner.

“What’s taking so long, old—Hangman?” Bradley corrected himself, very openly frowning when he spotted his teammate in the hall. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, he’s just here to pick something up,” you lied, turning to face your brother.

“Pick up what?”

“Uh, his . . . sweatshirt,” you decided, gesturing for Jake to come inside. “He let me borrow it at the beach when Coyote and Phoenix had their thing and it got cold.”

“And he just dropped by?” Bradley asked, staring after you as you hurried to your bedroom to grab it before shooting Jake a look. “Without your permission?”

“I told him that I was going to be here,” you snapped back defensively. “It’ll be two seconds. Calm your tits.”

Hurrying into your room, you started to dig around your closet for Jake’s sweatshirt that he gave you several months ago right before he went on deployment. You wore it on multiple occasions and by now Jake’s scent had long ago disappeared from the fabric. Meanwhile, out in your living room, Jake and Bradley were in the middle of a staring contest.

“So, you were just in the neighborhood?” Rooster asked suspiciously.

“I do live in this town too, Rooster,” Jake reminded him, causing Rooster to narrow his eyes a bit.

“So,” Emma cut in, trying to control the tension, “how have you been, Hangman?”

“Peachy.”

“Here you go, Jake,” you called, hurrying over and shoving the sweatshirt into his hands before urging him towards the door. “Well, thanks for giving it to me. For that day.”

When you were only two steps away from the door, there was a sharp knock. Cursing under your breath, you glanced at Jake to see that he looked like he was readily planning to climb out the window, before turning to the door. Letting out a breath, you opened the door to reveal Maverick and Penny standing there.

“Hey, Mav, Penny,” you greeted them, trying to act normally.

“Hangman?” Maverick asked, confused.

“Maverick,” Jake returned, his face impassive though he was sweating nervously.

“He was just grabbing something,” you cut in, talking just a little too fast. Maverick looked over at you, raising his eyebrow just a bit. “And he’s leaving right now. So, uh, bye Hangman.”

“Yeah, uh, see you around.”

Jake moved past you and he was about to walk past Maverick when the older aviator stopped him from his escape.

“Where are you going, Hangman?”

“Just heading home, that’s all,” Jake stated, turning to Maverick. Scrunching up the sweatshirt you gave him, he held it up. “I’ve got some laundry to do.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner,” Maverick offered, causing you to shake your head slightly. “And cake too, if you want. You saved my life, so it’s the least I can offer you.”

“I think he said he already has plans, Mav,” you tried to butt in.

“I’m sure the laundry can wait,” Maverick insisted kindly, though with an edge of force.

Jake shot you a slightly nervous look, to which you tried to discreetly shake your head. Penny seemed to be eyeing the exchange curiously, though you knew she sensed Maverick’s tone. You sent Jake a look to get out while he could. But then bigmouth Bradley came around the corner and decided to butt in.

“Yeah, I’m sure we can find something to talk about,” Bradley stated, leaning on the wall with his arms folded in front of him.

And Jake, sensing his rapidly approaching defeat, started to surrender.

“I don’t want to intrude—”

“—You're not,” Maverick interjected before gesturing inside your apartment. “Come on, I’m sure the food’s getting cold.”

You stood stone faced by the door as Bradley, Maverick, and Penny walked further into your apartment. Sharing a defeated look with Jake, who pulled up the rear, you shut the door and tried to calm yourself down before you turned on your heel and headed towards the table.

You found yourself sitting with Maverick on your right at the head of the table, Jake to your left looking uncomfortable as hell, and Bradley across from you with a sharp glare directed at Jake. You shared a look with Emma, who returned an apologetic grimace. Staring at the glass of wine in front of you, you simply ducked your head and stared at your plate.

“So, what caused the sudden change in location?” Maverick asked curiously.

“There was a minor problem at your place,” you replied, staring down at your plate.

“We set the oven on fire,” Bradley filled in, causing you to kick him under the table. Bradley shot you a look before turning to Maverick. “And then she threw up again and we just decided to get out of there.”

Again?

Jake glanced over at you from the corner of his eye, concern clear in his gaze. You didn’t look severely ill. Maybe a bit flushed, but not ill. So what caused you to throw up so often? And how did you just seem to bounce back if you were so sick and throwing up?

“How did the fire happen?” Maverick asked calmly, used to the back and forth between you and Bradley.

“I accidentally set the timer for too long,” Emma cut in, trying to take some heat off of you. “I walked off and it boiled over and burned.”

“Not a problem. That oven was ancient anyways,” Maverick dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I barely used it as it was.”

The family conversation continued on with an occasional pointed comment directed at Jake from Bradley, but it wasn’t too much. You seemed to be well-versed in how to deflect your brother’s questions and comments. It almost made Jake wonder why you were so cautious about him being anywhere near Rooster or Maverick with him.

“Anyone want a refill?” Penny offered, getting up from her seat.

There were a few mumbles around the table, but when Jake glanced over at your wine glass, he was a bit more than just surprised that it looked like you hadn’t touched it. Not that you had to drink the wine. But why didn’t you?

“So, Hangman,” Rooster cut in, causing Jake to turn away from you, “did you spend a lot of time together? Planning Coyote and Phoenix’s wedding and all, I mean?”

“Yeah, so what?” you snapped in Jake’s defense. “I spent a lot of time with Emma’s brother for your wedding, Bradley.”

“It was just a question,” Bradley scoffed in return.

“This is a great meal, Emma,” Penny announced louder than she needed to speak. “What restaurant did you get it from?”

“Ferrucci's down the road from here,” Emma answered, talking loud as well. “It’s really good. We should go there more often.”

“How was the wedding in your end, Hangman?” Maverick continued, getting the conversation back on track despite Emma and Penny’s attempt. “I feel like you were quite busy.”

“Yeah, I was,” Jake replied honestly.

“We didn’t see you at the after party,” Bradley added, earning a nudge from his wife.

“I was feeling under the weather. Just tired from everything,” Jake stated, staring down Bradley, not at all afraid of him.

He was slightly terrified of Maverick. But Bradley? Not even a little bit.

“Funny. That’s exactly what someone else said that night,” Bradley replied, turning to look at you. To which, you narrowed your eyes and shot your brother a warning look back. “What a weird coincidence.”

“Bradley,” you hissed, placing your hands on the table, “if you want to ask a question, just ask it. Stop being weird about it.”

“Should we cut the cake?” Emma interjected, trying to prevent a fight.

“I think we should,” Penny agreed, getting up from her seat. She called your name, causing you to look away from Bradley. “You made the cake, so you get to set up the candles and everything. Come on.”

With one last look over at your brother, you got up from your seat and walked into the kitchen with Penny and Emma. And that left Jake at the mercy of both Bradley and Maverick. Once the three of you were out of earshot, Bradley turned to Jake with a dark look.

“Are you messing around with my sister, Bagman? Because I swear to—”

“—I’m not,” Jake muttered, glaring over at Rooster. Anymore, at least. “Is that good enough of an answer for you?”

Rooster glared right back at Jake, practically screaming that no, it wasn’t good enough for him. Even though they had come a long way since the mission, it was near impossible to just get rid of years of resentment and tension in a moment. And anyone who knew Rooster well enough knew that messing around with his little sister was a sure fire way to be at high risk for getting a fist to the face.

“Bradley,” Maverick cut in, causing Jake and Bradley to turn to him, “drop it. Your sister is old enough to take care of herself.”

Maverick and Bradley had their own staring contest for a moment until Jake excused himself from the table, needing to cool down for a second. Walking down the hall and into the bathroom, Jake shut the door and let out a breath. Running a hand down his face, he sat on the toilet cover and stared at his hands.

“What the fuck did you get yourself into, Jake?” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re a real big fucking idiot, you know that?”

Sighing again, Jake got to his feet and turned to walk out of the bathroom when he accidentally kicked the small trash can over. Cursing under his breath, Jake kneeled down and hurried to clean up the mess. Picking up a plastic wrapper, Jake was about to toss it back into the trash when he caught some of the text on it. Frowning, Jake smoothed out the wrapper to read it.

And he nearly passed out when he read the plastic cover.

Prenatal Vitamins

Well, that sealed the deal. Especially when he thought about Rooster’s comment about how you were throwing up all the time lately. And then he remembered the full wine glass in front of you at dinner. And well, three coincidences didn’t seem that likely. And he couldn’t exactly say that the two of you were extremely careful every time with any sort of conviction.

Jake sat there and just stared at the plastic wrap, his whole world just exploding in front of him.

Meanwhile, out in the kitchen and slightly hidden behind a half wall, you were holding your hands to your face, trying to remain calm while Emma placed the candles on the cake and Penny gave you a supportive squeeze.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” Penny whispered to you, urging Emma to hurry up with the candles. “We’re just going to eat cake and Jake will leave and it’ll all be fine.”

“Why the fuck is he here? Of all fucking days,” you cursed, letting out a breath. “And I’m going to fucking kill my brother if he keeps asking stupid questions.”

“Just hold onto those thoughts for now. Focus on getting through this dinner, okay?” Penny coached you, giving you another squeeze. “You’ll be fine. You will get through this. But it is a good reminder about some conversations that you need to have, okay?”

“I know, it’s just,” you sighed, feeling a wave of nausea hit you, “they’re all going to freak out. I know it.”

“You can’t control them. Only you. And you are holding way too much on your shoulders right now. You need to tell them. Or at least one of them,” Penny whispered, causing you to nod in return.

“I know. I’m already starting to show,” you mumbled, resting a hand on your abdomen. Letting out another breath, you turned back to Penny, “Let’s just get this party over with.”

You, Emma, and Penny walked out of the kitchen with the cake and candles all set up. Singing the birthday tune for Maverick, you sat back down in your seat. You were a bit surprised that Jake wasn’t there but he seemed to slowly make his way out of the bathroom and back to the table as the song wrapped up. You laughed and clapped with everyone else as Maverick blew out the candles, though you felt Jake’s gaze burn into your back.

“Thank you, thank you,” Maverick chuckled, waving the smoke away. “We’ll, what are we waiting for? Let’s eat cake.”

“I should go,” Jake suddenly spoke, causing everyone to turn to him. He seemed to stumble over his words for a moment before adding, “Coyote texted me. I guess there’s some problem at the house.”

“Well, we don’t want to keep you if you need to go,” Penny stated, knowing that it was best to reduce the tension in the air.

Jake bid his awkward goodbyes, almost acting like he was a puppet being controlled by some higher power before he left. He didn’t or couldn’t look you in the eye about it. Feeling a bit taken aback by his sudden change, you whipped around to shoot Bradley a death glare.

“What the hell did you say to him?” you demanded, causing Bradley to scoff.

“Nothing. Why do you even care anyways?”

“It’s my apartment. If you want to pick fights with people, do it at your place, not mine,” you deflected, causing Bradley to roll his eyes.

“Don’t mess around with him. I’m serious,” your brother warned you.

“And we’re cutting the cake!” Emma interjected, walking over with small plates.

The conversation was effectively over for now, but you still couldn’t help but let your mind wander. What the hell did Bradley say to Jake to freak him out like that?

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fluffyfantasticducky · 7 months

Text

Focus on the Good

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki is overwhelmed dealing with being accused as a traitor, although this time he's innocent. But this time, he is not the man he used to be, and he has you by his side.

☆ Word Count: 5,110

☆ Notes: The relatively awaited part two of Smile for me. Sorry I took so long to post this, I had a creative block and had trouble deciding what to focus on. The traitor plot twist is anticlimatic but I chose to focus more on Loki and his feelings.

☆ Warnings: Loki dealing with self hatred, insinuations and caresses that aren't spicy per se but are a bit more intimate and flirty but it's all sfw.

Frustrating. How else could he call it?

His first mission as a leader was a complete disaster. You had gotten hurt due to his own incompetence. And add some insult to this pathetic situation, now he was being investigated for treason to S.H.I.E.L.D. despite that he was completely innocent.

It must have been some sick twisted joke of fate. He spent years playing with Asgard like a fiddle, getting away with so much, to the point that where he committed treason everyone realized only when it was too late. And now that he had a reason to make things right, be transparent and honest, now he was investigated as if he was some traitor.

The most offensive thing of those implications was that it suggested that Loki was either using you or lying to you. When in reality he would die for you, he’d walk through fire if you asked him. Or that you were complicit of his ‘crimes.’ You, you who were the kindest, sweetest, most righteous person he had ever met.

Every day or two days at most they come to either interrogate you, him, or inspect your shared room which always left them a mess to clean up.

At least the people he cared about knew he was innocent. Thor was constantly arguing with Fury, going over and over about how this was nonsensical and even offering Loki to flee to New Asgard for a few days until things calmed down. Valkyrie had offered him an extra room if he needed. Bruce, while he wasn’t as passionate about defending Loki, agreed that it made very little sense that Loki would betray them now with all he had accomplished. Even the great Tony Stark agreed between sarcastic jokes that he would’ve believed if he hadn’t seen how down bad, he was for you.

You… what would he do without you? You not only got into mad arguments and made abundantly clear your distaste for this decision, but you were his biggest source of support and peace after all the draining routine he was being put through during the suspension from missions. You were a risk taker by disobeying direct orders from Fury by asking Thor, Bruce, Nat, Clint to trade with you during missions as to make a strike until they decided to reintegrate Loki to his normal duties. And for the first week of interrogations, whenever it was your turn… Norns, he felt a bit bad for the director. You were quite loud and fierce when you wanted to be.

But most importantly, all the support he got from you after all the interrogations and room inspections that hurt him more than he’d ever admit.

“I’m sorry…” he sighed, resting his head on your lap.

In between the inspections to your shared bedroom one of the agents had broken a little figurine you collected.

“It’s just a toy, I’ll get another one…” you assured him.

Loki could sense a lie. But he also remembered how excited you had been when you got it, saying it was rare and it had taken you a huge effort to get it.

“You darling prince…” you spoke softly, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay. We know you’re innocent, soon all of S.H.I.E.L.D. will see it too. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

“What did I do so right to deserve such a pretty angel such as you?” he chuckled. “You are unfairly good to me.”

“You keep saying that baby.” You spoke gently, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear. “You sound like a broken record.”

“I might be one” he shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Yeah?” you giggled. “Then I’ll just have to fix you.”

“I thought you said the I can fix him was a toxic mentality in romance” he said cheekily.

“Oh, now you remember my movie rants” you laughed. “But the I can fix him trope is toxic when—”

“…It is used by the abuser who manipulates them into staying as a rehabilitation center. A partner should be part of your support group but never the responsible to fix you, but a motivation and helping hand while you fix yourself.” He opened his eyes to look up at you as he finished repeating your old rant word by word. “I always remember the things you say.”

“Is that so? When is our anniversary?”

“June 9” Loki smiled and noticed you opening your mouth to retort. “And our 1,000 days together is on March 5th year. And yes, I knew you were going to ask that.”

“Smart pants” you smiled.

“You love me like that.”

“I do” you smiled and kissed his lips softly. “Guess you don’t need fixing after all.”

“Glad we agree, I am the most perfect man” he grinned, relishing the way you cringed and smiled at the silly joke.

“I don’t know about that.” You smiled, “But you are perfect for me.”

You pecked his lips and made him smile.

“I don’t deserve you…” he smiled.

“Oh, that’s it!” you laughed and soon your hands where all over his sides.

And sooner than that Loki was laughing his head off.

“Hehe- hey!” he protested between laughs.

You had an annoying charm. Tickling him silly as a pseudo-punishment. It was your shared secret how much Loki enjoyed being tickled. You stopped soon enough, smiling at him, caressing your thumb across his cheek.

“It’ll pass before you notice…” you whisper. “They will see exactly what you truly are. Just like I do.”

Loki chuckled softly.

“I hope not, you are a handful already” he smirked at the offended look on your face due to his comment.

“Oh, you want to talk about a handful…” you growled as you flipped to straddle him. “Let’s see how much of a handful I can be…”

Loki gulped, unable to fight a smile.

“Ahah…” he huffed, “darling, d-don’t… d-dohohohon’t!”

But your hands were already attacking his sides, your fingers skillfully scribbling along his skin, prodding his ribs, drilling along each crevice in the most maddening way.

“Is that enough handful for you, huh?” you asked in a faux anger. “Eh? Is it?”

“Thihihihihihis is cruel!” Loki protested. “And thahahahat doesn’t mahahake sehehense!”

“Mmm, it might have just been excuse to get my hands on this hot bod of yours” you smiled.

Being tickled was already a vulnerable moment for Loki. To the point where only you could tickle him without any resistance. Anyone else would need to overpower him physically or just restrain him. You, on the other side, he would barely fight back. He’d simply squirm in his place, rolling over to the side or on his stomach. Which it gave you more of a sensation that he just wanted you to focus on other spots. Not that he'd ever admit… you had tried.

“Ehehehe! You ahahahaha— wait no!” he protested as your fingers reached his stomach, giving it little pinches and pokes. “Lohohohove, stop!”

“Alright, alright.” You smiled and kissed his forehead as you stopped the tickling. “Is your mood better?”

“Ihi— if I say yes will you stop torturing my stomach?” he smiled at you, holding onto your hips. “You know I can’t take it there.”

The way you leaned against his chest to kiss his lips never failed to drive him wild. And this wasn’t the exception.

“I am aware” you hummed against his lips. “That’s why it’s my favorite spot to tickle.”

“I am, unfortunately, also aware of that” he chuckled.

“If you really minded it, you’d actually do something to stop me instead of just laughing your heart out.”

“I love it when a beautiful mortal has their hands all over me, is that something to be ashamed about?” he grinned cheekily at you.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “It wouldn’t be if you were still single. But you are stuck with me now and forgive me if I’m not good at sharing my boyfriend. Unless you’d share me with others.”

“That is out of the question. You are mine, and mine alone.” He said solemnly as he held you in his arms. You lifted your eyebrows, expectantly as he felt his cheeks warm up under your gaze. “As… I am yours; I suppose.”

“Was that so hard to say?” you smiled.

“Terribly so” Loki smiled. But then, his face adopted a serious, melancholic expression. “I’m sorry… I should not be dragging you into this disaster. You deserve better, and I fear you will realize that. It would be best for you, but… I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Lucky for you, that’s not something you have to worry about” you assured him, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I am perfectly happy with you.”

One thing that Loki loved about your relationship was that despite knowing you said stuff to made him feel better, it never came off as dishonest, as if those two concepts weren’t mutually exclusive. You said the kindest, most loving things, and he could tell you honestly felt every single one.

It made his heart soar. That honest and kind heart of yours was exactly what he had been craving for. You were what he had been looking for.

It made him want to open his heart to you. You were kind and listened to him without judging or thinking the worst of him.

“What am I going to do?” he sighed. “If I can’t go on missions, soon I will not be allowed to go outside, and then I will be going back to being a high-class prisoner.”

“Actually… you can’t leave the building given you’re under investigation” you said apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Lovely…” he groaned, throwing his head back, rubbing his face with his palms. “I am back to being a prisoner. Might as well get inside a cell.”

“Yes, we could tie you up, and torture you until you confess” you purred, trailing kisses along his jawline, as your hands made their way to play with his hair.

“You’re making it sound appealing” he hummed, relishing the feeling of your lips against his skin. “Mmm~ Keep touching me like that and I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Mm, what a good boy” you giggled, kissing his lips.

He laughed along with you, but mostly because your hands had found his ears and were tickling behind them.

“W-Whahahat are you doing? T-That tickles!” he laughed.

“I told you I would torture an answer out of you” you giggled, tickling the back of his ears. “Now confess, you war criminal!”

“Nohohoho, stohop it!” he squirmed underneath you. “How is thahahat spot so bahahad?”

“Right?” you chuckled, pressing loving kisses along his face. “I found out the other day while we were kissing.”

He grabbed your wrists. “Oh really?” he smirked, and trapped your wrists in one of his hands as he began tickling your ear shell and behind it. It took absolutely nothing to have you giggling like a kid.

“Ehehehe! L-Loki!” you giggled. “Hehehe! I-It tickles!”

“It does, does it not?” he chuckled.

He traced along the outline of your ear. He relished the way you laughed against him, you never tried to get away nor asked him to stop. You loved that closeness as much as Loki did.

“Mmm, that laugh of yours is so lovely~” he hummed as he stopped, tucking a few streaks of hair behind your ear. “It’s my favorite sound in the whole world, you make me so happy.”

“Cheesy” you chuckled, kissing his lips.

“I mean that, darling” he smiled. “Without you I would have gone mad by now. Or worse, I would be a prisoner.”

“You can’t believe that…” you spoke softly.

“What else am I supposed to believe?” he sighed, “what I did to New York is unforgivable. I should be locked up for life, I was going to be… It’s what I deserve. It took me too long to understand it.”

It broke your heart to hear him talk like that. It was a shame that he still punished himself so badly. You appreciated that he recognized his error, but the fact that it haunted him was painful to watch. He was already working on getting better.

“Loki… Your beef with Earth had its particular and complicated circumstances, it wasn’t 100% your fault.” You assured him. “But even if that was, there are other ways to atone for your mistakes… Punishing yourself but you were helping Earth, compensation is another way of redemption. Being an Avenger is a way to redeem yourself.”

“How do you do it?” he chuckled, “How do you manage to look at all the awful things I have done and still somehow see the best in me?”

“Because I’ve also seen how much you regret it, and I’ve seen you trying to prove to everyone, prove to yourself that you are doing better.” you spoke lovingly. “That means a lot, to me, to Thor, to everyone.”

“But why?” he asked. “What I did is…”

“Fucked up, yes. Tony and Bruce created a genocidal robot, Clint was an international criminal prisoner and retook as an assassin, Steve and Natasha were literal war criminals, your brother before you nearly started a war—”

“That I provoked him into.”

“Would you do it again?” you asked.

“For the sake of entertainment—” Loki pondered.

“Loki!” you giggled.

“I’m jesting, love!” he laughed. “Earth is no good in wars like Asgard, we fight to settle disagreements, make alliances, or get respect. But never to destroy.”

“We’re not so bad…” you smiled.

“Not all of you, no.” Loki agreed. “You for once are a wonderful mor— human. Smart, beautiful, funny, kind… It’s the people on the higher power that worry me.”

“It’s as they say, absolute power corrupts absolutely” you shrugged. “That’s what we fight for. For those without power, and against those who abuse it.”

“You say that as I remain locked in here, simply training and withering away” Loki sighed.

“Well… we can find something interesting to keep you occupied—”

“Reindeer games, out now!” Tony banged on the door.

“Not now Stark!” Loki called annoyed.

“You’ll want to see this.” Tony spoke through the other side of the door.

You stood up and Loki followed right after. Everyone was headed to the meeting room so that’s where you went to.

Bruce and Thor had one of the younger cadets, Philip. He was struggling against the two. His blonde hair was a mess and he looked like he had lost a fight.

“We found our traitor, brother.” Thor said firmly, even a bit prideful. “The little rat sabotaged our missions.”

“A double agent?” Steve asked.

“Self-sabotage” Bruce clarified. “He informed the base you were going. Who and when. And exactly how to take down a god. We found a report of the mission sent to an unknown address.”

“I found it.” Natasha stated.

“You?” Clint raised an eyebrow.

“We” she corrected herself.

“With my technology, that is.” Tony added. “In case anyone was wondering.”

“No one was wondering that, Tony” Steve smiled lightly, amused by the genius’ ego.

“But why? You were the only non-Avenger agent Loki chose personally” Thor asked. “My brother trusted you. And it was a wonderful opportunity for you.”

Fury looked… well, furious.

“Philip Crowe, you’re immediately and effectively removed from all S.H.I.E.L.D. work and installations, permanently for treason, espionage, and sabotage to an elite strike agent.” Fury said firmly.

“Elite?! He’s a monster!” the young man protested, struggling to break free from the arm lock. “It’s a time bomb! It’s in his nature! You’ve seen what he’s capable of! It’s a matter of time before we have New York part two! You’ve read myths, what guarantees that there won’t be a Ragnarök on Earth?! He—”

SMACK! He had been cut off by a slap in the face by you. If the stinging in his cheek was not enough to silence him, your cold glare silenced him.

“Take him away.” You said. “I want him rotting in a cell for a really long time…”

“Oh, he will be locked in the dark for a very long time” Fury agreed, “for espionage, and sabotage… And being an asshole as a whole.”

Thor was about to take him away. He was struggling to break free.

“Don’t.” Loki spoke up. “I’ll use a spell to delete his memories, about S.H.I.E.L.D. about the Avengers. Everything will be gone from his mind. He can live a normal life not remembering being an agent.”

Loki walked and looked down at him. Placed his hand on his forehead as the blond struggled. Loki let his Seidr flow and Philip’s body went limp.

“When he wakes up, he’ll be normal, he can have a normal life, he won’t be a risk for S.H.I.E.L.D.” he sighed and left the room.

Flowers bloomed under him as he sat by the lake. Just enjoying the familiar view. But not even that brought him any joy.

“Loki, there you are, honey.”

“Hello mother” Loki smiled. “I was just… thinking.”

“I thought you would be happy to get your naming” Frigga said. “You were excited this morning to receive your title.”

“God of Mischief, mother?” he asked. “Does that mean I’m supposed to cause trouble?”

“Is that so bad?”

“Will father get upset at me?” Loki asked. “Besides, you like annoying your brother.”

“Pranking Thor is different. Why could I be the God of rain, wind, or something, then Thor and I could be gods together.”

“You can’t revolve your personality around Thor. Your godly title is meant to reflect your personality, not your brother’s” Frigga smiled at him gently. “Your father gave you a title that would fit you.”

“Does father think I’m a bad son?” he asked.

“I think your father thinks you’re creative, smart, with good abilities to get away with what you want” Frigga assured him. “All qualities you do have. And you are quite cheeky.”

Loki chuckled weakly. Frigga smiled and picked up a purple flower and wiggled it against Loki’s face. Causing the young god to scrunch up his nose and swat the pretty flower away.

“You know, son. I think it’s time for you to start learning magic” Frigga said.

“But you said I had to wait until I was 500 years old” Loki asked.

“I think you’re ready” Frigga said, “You’re 250 years old already, and you just got your title. You are a big boy now.”

With a few elegant movements the violet on Frigga’s hands turned into a purple frog that jumped out of hands and into the pond. Loki giggled as his mother’s arms trapped him into a hug as she tickled his sides.

“Pretty memory” you looked at him as you sat next to him. “Your mom is pretty.”

“Most beautiful woman in all of Asgard” Loki agreed. “Do you know what Orvokki means?”

“Uhh, it’s a violet, right?” you said looking at the flowers around the lake.

“It can also be interpreted as little orphan. How ironic that it was my favorite flower as a child…” Loki grumbled.

He flicked his wrist and the illusion of his memory vanished. He was no longer in Asgard, he was sitting on the rooftop of the compound’s main building. He wasn’t with his mother. And his eyes were red from crying.

“That was really nice thing you did back there” you congratulated him as you rubbed circles across his back.

“Not bad for a monster, huh?” Loki huffed out, in a failed attempt to fake out a laugh. “Did you see the way he looked at me? The fear in his eyes…?”

“Don’t listen to him…” you said resting your head against his shoulder. “He never gave you a chance to prove how good you really are. That’s his problem, not yours.”

“I can’t blame him… I would not trust me either… I am a monster, I was a monster to my people, to my home…” he sighed.

“What? No, Loki…”

“My birth father abandoned me to die, I was raced by a kingdom that thought my kind were monsters…” Loki sighed, “and I caused so much pain and death to a Realm that could’ve seen me as something quite literally divine.”

You looked at him and squeezed his hand.

“I thought… I hoped I had a second chance, I wanted to believe people were already accepting me. I thought that if I could have at least one agent to trust me… How foolish of me…”

“Stop that…” you scolded him, giving his hand a gentle and loving squeeze. “You’re not a monster. No one sees you as a monster.”

Loki laughed bitterly. While you weren’t lying in the literal sense, you were being too kind, blinded by your affection for the young Asgardian to acknowledge the recent events.

“I mean it!” you said. “You’re so focused on one person thinking you’re a monster, that you fail to see what everyone else did because they believed in you. They all helped in their own way to prove you were innocent. Either tracking conversation, providing resources… Gosh, even director Fury trusted you were innocent.”

“I…” Loki recapped the events from earlier. You weren’t wrong.

“Besides, you know how picky I am when it comes to dating” you smiled, “I wouldn’t date just anyone. Is that not enough for you?”

Loki was silent for a moment, for once he didn’t even have a smart reply for that.

He had seen you turn down a couple of agents or staff members before the two of you started dating. Philip among the lines of the rejected. In fact, he remembered that during that time where the other Avengers noticed his feelings for you, some of them tried to discourage him from courting you, because “you didn’t date.” In fact, they had brought it up, on his face to prove it so. You were, in fact, very picky when it came to dating. Which just made him value your relationship even more. It gave him a huge confidence boost, and the security of not being replaced or overshadowed he so desperately had been needing.

And once again, you were that source of comfort and security. You were his sweet little balm.

“I… um…” he stuttered.

You chuckled and kissed his cheek.

“Tongue tied?” you teased him, making him groan in frustration as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Just… don’t give him power over you, if he didn’t bother knowing you, he shouldn’t deserve such a space in your mind.”

“Thanks, love” he smiled softly. “For… looking after me. And… helping me see that others look after me.”

“Heh… I’m glad I helped” you spoke lovingly as you rubbed your nose against his neck.

He chuckled rested his cheek against the top of your head.

“Should we head inside?” you asked, rubbing your own arms, as you stood up “it’s a bit chilly out here.”

“You can go inside, love” Loki offered. “I need some time alone.”

You looked at him worried, but a gust of cold wind made you shiver, making the idea of going inside more and more appealing. But he saw the hesitation in your eyes, the way you didn’t want to leave him alone made him smile.

“I promise I’ll meet you inside later” he assured you. But you didn’t look too convinced “Make some tea for us, and I’ll meet you in our room before you’re done putting on your pajamas.”

You gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher but you nodded and made your way inside.

He relished the fresh air. But as he mentally prepared to be burdened with his failure, he surprised himself smiling. His mind wasn’t clouded with the young spy that betrayed him.

All he could think was that all the original Avengers, those he had cursed himself for unintentionally helping assemble to defeat him… now had stood up for him. And it didn’t stop there.

His mind was filled with happy memories.

All the times he had gotten a pat in the back from Tony and being called his new favorite for teasing Steve’s righteous stiffness and the way Bucky and Sam snickered at it. As well as his training contests with the super soldiers to test their serum with Loki and Thor’s godly nature. How he beamed with pride at the blond’s praise after a mission. The way Natasha and her little sister acknowledge his ability to infiltrate and swoon targets and even required him specifically. How Clint and his little new protegee had gotten really happy when Loki gifted them his old Asgardian bows for them, despite the teasing when they saw right through his “I don’t even use them” excuse and treated for dinner after. Bruce acknowledging his observation capabilities during some of his experiments. Thor… who despite all the awful things they had gone through never abandoned him, and still saw Loki as his baby brother, and despite they refused to admit it, both still adored each other.

And you. You had stolen his heart from minute one. He had been hopeless before the first kiss or even a declaration. Your eyes brought him to his knees, and he had sworn to be at your mercy for the rest of his existence when he saw you smile. And with that power you had over him done nothing but nourish him. Your payback when he pestered you was always fun and harmless. You made him laugh. You listened to everything he said and always encouraged him to keep talking until he was hoarse. You gave him the attention he had been craving for so many years. You treated him as the most important being of the universe.

Honestly, he didn’t realize when his thoughts had set him in motion. But by the time he was aware of his actions, he was already turning the doorknob of your shared bedroom.

“Liar” you scoffed, throwing a teddy bear to his face as soon as he set foot inside the room. “You said you’d be here before I was done putting on my jammies, but it’s been 5 minutes since I got in bed, and you weren’t here.”

Loki couldn’t help but smile. For a secret agent, you were terrible at hiding your feelings… at least from him.

“I apologize for not keeping my word, love” he apologized as he took off his shirt and searched through his drawer for the pajama he wanted to wear. “I lost track of time.”

“Did you drink?” you asked him.

“I did not. I trusted my favorite thing to make me tea” he responded with an innocent look as he put on his pajama shirt.

“It’s on your night table” you responded with the slightest pout, knowing you it was because he saw right through you.

He walked to the warm mug and took a sip. Of course, you had prepared his favorite tea… and with extra honey, just the way he liked. Everyone always complained there would never be enough for everyone if you kept spoiling Loki with his favorite all the time. You always got more, but it just meant starting the cycle again.

“Thank you, dear” he smiled as he kneeled on the bed to reach and cup your face to kiss your cheek.

Oh, how he wanted to tackle you and cover you in kisses at the way you fought and lost against the smile that appeared on your lovely face along with a light shade of pink.

“So adorable…” he chuckled.

As he was taking off his pants, he saw the way your blush turned even darked. He rushed to put on the pajama pants and dove in the bed, wrapping his arms around you in a loving embrace with his chest against your back.

“You’re in a lovely mood” you smiled as you reached to caress his cheek. “What gives?”

“I just thought about a lovely little mortal” he hummed pressing soft kisses on your nape, “that makes my darkest days bright and cozy.”

“Do you have a fever or something?” you touched his forehead.

“No, I mean it!” he laughed. “I stayed back to think… and all I could think about was your love, your kindness, and this hot body of yours…”

As he spoke that last bit, he reached to caress your sides, making you giggle.

“Loki…!” you giggle swatting his hand away. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“You know I am” he whispered, resting his face against your shoulder. Taking in your scent, closing his eyes as he relaxed. “Norns, what would I do without you?”

“Probably snuggle your pillow tonight” you smiled. “But you’d be fine.”

“I would not…” Loki choked up, as he felt tears forming in his eyes. “I would be lost; I would be absolutely nothing without you. A monster…”

“No, no, baby…” you spoke softly, turning around to face him. “You’ve worked really hard to be better… That’s all you, you are utterly and undoubtedly wonderful…”

The way you always made him feel better was almost scary. Your word was law. If you said he was so good, then… perhaps he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“I love you…” he whispered. “Thank you…”

“What for?”

“For being my second chance… For believing I was more than the man that caused so much pain to your people…”

“Second chances are earned, Loki” you said. “You’ve earned it.”

He laughed softly when you rose up to sit on his waist, straddling him with your legs as you gave him a pseudo-menacing look.

“Now speak poorly of my sweet cuddly honeybun and you will be sorry…” you said in the worse threatening tone he had ever heard.

He cringed and laughed softly at the overly cheesy pet name.

“Oh gods…” he muttered with a shaky smile as his lips twitched upwards, amused by the situation. “You goofball.”

You let out an offended gasp and started tickling his sides, immediately making him giggle like a child.

“W-Wait! Dahahaharling! I’m sohohohohohrry!” he whined between laughs.

“Nope! Sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time, you insult me, you insult my prince… you deserve being chastised” you said playfully as you tickled his belly, which always made him hysterical.

“NAHAHAHA! STOP! STOP! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” he cackled, soon wheezing. He was so ridiculously ticklish that had had no chance fighting back or think about anything else but the tingles that made him howl with laughter.

But he wouldn’t change this kind of silly fun with his darling for the world. And if he was honest with himself, this was a great thing to focus on.

| MASTERPOST |

#marvel tickles #marvel fluff #loki laufeyson #ticklish!loki #ler!loki #lee!loki #ticklish!reader #ler!reader #lee!reader #loki x reader #loki tickle #loki fluff #ducky writes tickles

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burntheedges · 3 months

Text

Notes on inclusivity in x reader fic

I’ve seen a lot of posts about this this week so I wanted to share the things I think about when I write and how I try to be more inclusive. I’m not saying I invented these – I definitely did not. This is also not an exhaustive list. I’m just good at organizing information (thanks, grad school) so I thought it might be helpful for others to list out what I'm thinking about while writing. I’m completely open to feedback on these! And I’ll add to the list as I learn and think of more.

Notes on hair, skin tone, body type/size (and clothes), language, and gender below the cut.

Hair

The main thing to avoid here is having fingers run through reader’s hair. That’s not possible or desirable for a variety of hair types. Things I like to do instead:

Hand on the back of the neck

Hand on jaw, side of neck, or cheek (especially hand on side of neck with thumb caressing cheek)

Fingers tracing face, cheekbones, lips

Kisses at the hairline

Skin tone

I think we all know about avoiding blushing at this point. I like to use:

Cheeks heated

Felt heat rise in your cheeks

Face felt hot

Your cheeks were warm to the touch

You could feel the heat in your cheeks

But there’s also other considerations, like wind chafing (which can cause redness, but only on some skin) and effects of actions like clenching your fists or what happens when you’re feeling faint:

Windburn, raw skin, dryness, chafing, peeling instead of redness

Not using “white knuckles” to emphasize clenched fists or a tight grip on something

Not having the reader “turn white” or pale when they’re shocked, feeling faint, sick, etc.

Instead, try: looks sick, ill, shaky, weak, trembling

Body type & size

Clothing

I try to only specify clothing, footwear, and/or makeup when plot relevant:

Going out on a date? Try “your favorite outfit” or “the new outfit you bought” which allows the reader to fill in something they would want to wear in that situation.

If I need reader to have a pocket, I might specify jeans, but not what type.

If I need reader to be comfortable, I might say they’re wearing their most comfortable clothes, but not what they are.

If I need reader to be wearing a top and pants, I’ll just say that without adding details.

Another note here - it’s possible to add descriptors that can be relatable and add to the vibe without adding specifics. For example:

“You were wearing your favorite jeans that fit you just the way you liked.”

"You were already uncomfortable because your only clean pants were the ones you hated, with the broken fly."

“You slipped on your most comfortable clothes that you liked to wear around the house.”

“You found a top in your closet that you hadn’t worn in ages, and felt perfect for the moment.”

If needed, specify without over specifying:

In Maintenance Request, there’s an important, plot-relevant scene where reader spills coffee on her white blouse. So I said she was wearing a white blouse, but nothing else about her outfit. That allows you to picture whatever you want (and whatever type of blouse) with just that one detail.

You can say, for example, that reader is wearing lingerie and it has lace, without adding so much information that the reader can't picture themselves in it.

Body size and weight

In terms of reader’s size, one thing to think about is writing that the other person lifts the reader or carries them anywhere. That’s not inclusive of plus-size bodies (like mine). But it’s possible to include similar physicality without that particular detail:

Throwing a leg over a shoulder

Tugging on hips (on the bed)

Pushing into a wall and crowding in

Pulling someone down on top of you

Height

Not everyone is shorter than these love interests we’re writing about. Try:

Leaned in for a kiss (instead of up)

Brought your lips to theirs

Angled your head for a kiss

Reached for them (instead of reached up)

Language

You don’t have to speak a language to imagine that your reader might. Instead of implying that dialogue in another language is “incomprehensible” or saying reader doesn’t understand, try:

You didn’t hear what he said (let’s the reader decide if they understood)

Include the dialogue but mark it as being in the other language (possibly in italics?)

Talk to one of the many fans on here who speak that language!

Check out and bookmark helpful posts like this one about sexy talk in Spanish from ali @urmomsgnocchi

Gender

Label whether it’s f!reader, gn!reader, m!reader, nb!reader, etc.

Note about tagging

But like anything else, the most important thing to do is tag! If you want to have someone lift the reader, for example, you can do that – just tag for it, or specify that you’re not tagging for everything. That allows people to choose how to engage. ETA: It’s not possible to be inclusive of every reader’s experience in every fic, but tagging allows everyone to know what’s going on.

I like to add a note on the main fic post about any details I’ve added to reader’s backstory, see this one as an example.

Note about learning

Like anything else, we do better when we learn more. I learned a lot of this from reading fic and reading others’ helpful guidance and suggestions way before I ever started writing. But I also learned some from editing myself, which gets easier the more I practice. For example, I originally had a detail in to know the light about reader's skin turning red and irritated from cold wind – but I caught it, and changed it to be more inclusive. I caught it because I’ve been purposefully editing and monitoring my own writing for inclusivity. It gets easier with practice.

I hope this is helpful and I’m also happy to add any other suggestions or link to anyone’s posts. Also happy to have feedback. <3

Here are some posts that helped me learn and do better: About inclusivity and language from @flightlessangelwings

#writing #x reader fic #inclusivity #inclusivity in x reader fic #x reader inclusion #x reader #writing x reader #i don't know what tags to use #about writing #writing resource

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legend-the-dumb-jock · 6 months

Text

Rick was always getting bossed around. Not only in work but his personal like too. So much so that he felt like he had no control over his own like anymore. He just finished his grocery run when his phone buzzed. An email from work demanding that he complete something else for work. Even though he wasn’t salary ! All he did anymore was work and it was beginning to take a told on him. When he got home he found strange looking lamp sitting outside his apartment. Picking it up he took it inside where he had to start cleaning the apartment from the mess his dog left on the floor. Opening the door hollow was wagging his tail happy he was home and jumping on his legs begging to be held. Tears welling up is his eyes he didn’t know how much more he would be able to take from everyone. He picked up his dog and held him close. It was getting to the point where he didn’t even feel human anymore. He felt treated like an animal. And everyday the situation didn’t improve. But then I just one wish was all it took for Rick to find out how quickly life can change. He started to polish the lamp only to rub the lamp three times, causing thick purple smoke to pour from the vessel. In his kitchen stood a genie. One of fairy tales. He couldn’t believe it at first but the genie spoke quick.

“You get three wishes. Make sure they county for something good”. Rick didn’t even know how to wish for sweet release form his stresses finally life. The genie retreated back to his lamp waiting for the wishes to be made. For the first time in a long Rick was excited. He went to the bathroom and begin to take his work clothes off. He could have anything in the world. A smile appeared on his face for the first time in what seems like years.

Rick didn’t want to waste his wishes tho. He wanted to make sure they were precise and would make him happy. Another email came from his boss. Demanding that he needed to get something done or else. Rick slammed the phone on the counter of the bathroom. He was done with this. He stormed into the kitchen and rubbed the lamp and the genie appeared before him. “Genie I want to be happy! I wish I could be happy !” The genie smirked and said granted!

Everything went black.

Rick woke up in his bed. He surrounded by blankets and was finding it hard to het up. He could also feel someone else in his bed with his which made him wake up all at once. Something felt off. He felt some weight shift off the bed and when he finally got untangled from the blankets he was shocked to see his own hairy body sitting on the edge of the bed.

What’s was going on!! Who was this that looked just like him and why was he finding that he was looking up. The he looked down. And he seen paws. In the mirror across from the bed he seen that he was in his dogs body. At that time a dogs yelp could be heard from the bedroom.

And hour later.

The genie had appeared and seen that both ricks dog and himself were having some issue adjusting to their bodies. He snapped his fingers and it gave Rick the ability to speak in his dogs body and he gave his dog the ability to use the speech locked away inside that human brain of the body he was in.

“What did you do!” Rick demanded. The genie just responded that he granted the wish. Rick wanted to be happy and his dog was always happy. So therefore he swapped their bodies. His dog was still trying to catch h go to had happened. Rick wished for the genies to undo what he had done. But the genie just laughed. “You’re not the controller of the lamp. He is “ and pointed to his human body. “Only a human can posses the ownership of the lamp and he now has two wishes”

His dog just looked at the genie with puppy dog eyes. “You have to wish for him to fix this !” Rick demanded. “I can’t be in your body and you can’t be in mine! I’m the human!”

“Why are you so loud!” His body finally spoke “if it’s not moping around about life it’s yapping about something! Genie can you make him stop talking!” Instantly Rick’s pleas for being human turned into barks and whimpers. “That’s a lot better. I have two wishes ?” He asked and the genie responded yes. He picked up Rick in his dog body. Rick was whimpering not sure what was going to happen.

Looking directly into his eyes he said to Rick who was slightly wagging his tail. Rick was so happy he was going to wish this undone. “Genie. I wish for you to make this swap….” Rick was wagging his tail. Come on just say undone.

“Genies I wish you to make this permanent. Make me a human for the rest of my life !!” Instantly both of them felt a shift. As if somehow they had cement in them. The dog who was now Rick for good just grinned. “You see Rick. We are stuck like this now. And I’m going to enjoy my human life. Genie for my next wish I wish to be the most extremely masculine version of this body that this body can take !” Instantly a heat wave hit the rick. His feet expanded slightly and his dick swelled and thickened. His abs became more defined and his muscles pumped up even more.

It wasn’t long before the new Rick quit that office job. Taking on his new life as an only fans model. His dog ran away shortly after being stuck as a dog for good but it didn’t matter. He was Rick now. And he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

#dogtransformation #body swap #hairy #maletransformation #male body swap

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once-upon-an-imagine · 5 months

Note

Saw you are taking 9-1-1 requests. Would you maybe write one with Eddie x reader where she is preparing some food for Christmas (maybe desserts to take to Bobby and Athena's) and she manages to cut herself. Eddie helping clean it and assess the damage before deciding she needs stitches. Buck comes over to hang out with Christopher. Maybe some fluffy cute stuff while they sit in the waiting room and then with the reader trying to walk Eddie through finishing the dessert when they get home because she can't really use her hand.

hello, love! this was so cute! sorry it's past Christmas but hope you're still in the Christmas spirit and like this little story 😊 Happy Holidays everyone! Warnings: reader gets cut and is scared of needles; I think that's it, this is also my first time writing for 9-1-1 and Eddie Diaz so, I hope you loves like it! I have a few more in my inbox Disclaimer: I don’t own 9-1-1 😊 gif isn’t mine 😁

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Christmas Cookies

“Would you please just let me help you?” Eddie asked for about the twentieth time.

“No, I’ve got it” you insisted. “Besides, you can go take care of our guest-”

“Buck is not our guest. He’s practically our other kid” Eddie laughed.

“I heard that!” you heard from the living room where Buck was playing video games with Christopher.

“I meant you to!” Eddie said, before looking back at you and smiling at you covered in powdered sugar. “What is that?” he asked as you put a tray of cookies in front of him.

“Chocolate Peppermint cookies” you shrugged. “They are Athena’s favorites” you explained. “For tonight's Christmas party?” you said, when you got no response.

“I thought you were making brownies” Eddie said confused.

“I am” you told him. “Chimney loves brownies” you continued.

“What else are you making?” he asked, leaning on the counter and looking at the endless amount of ingredients.

“Well, gingerbread cookies for Bobby, lemon bars for Maggie, Linzer cookies that Hen and Karen love” you smiled, pointing at the tupperware containing them. “And chocolate chip cookies with M&M’s” you said, grabbing one.

“Oh, yeah, those are Chris’ favorites” Eddie said, grabbing a few M&M’s.

“Yep… all the kids love them” you smiled.

“And…?”

“Buck and Al” you added.

“There it is” Eddie chuckled. “Sweetheart, you did not have to do this many desserts” he insisted. “Athena literally asked you to bring one dessert” he said.

“Don’t worry, I have your buñuelos too” you rolled your eyes.

“No, love, that’s not the point” he chuckled.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?”

“That? Just make one dessert” Eddie said as you started chopping some walnuts for the brownies.

“Yes, but if I make one dessert, I still have to make enough for everyone, so I thought it would be best to have a little bit of everything knowing that there’s something that everyone enjoys” you explained.

“Look, I know you’re the one who owns a small bakery-”

“Small?”

“Those are your words” he defended himself. “But I still think you are spoiling everyone by bringing a hundred desserts” he continued.

“It’s not a hundred” you said, looking back at him.

“Sweetheart, you’re overworking yourself-”

“I’m not-!”

“Yes, you are, I mean, you are making about ten different kinds of desserts, and none of them are even your favorite” he said, walking closer to you.

“I like all of these desserts!” you insisted.

“You are allergic to nuts, and you don’t like gingerbread cookies. Or Linzer cookies” he reminded you.

“Ugh, look if you’re just going to be all rational about this, and keep bugging me, why don’t you just go play video games with Buck and Chris in the other room?”

“Oh, I’m bugging you? You’re kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Yes, Eddie, I am kicking you out of your kitchen because you’re distracting me, and you’re gonna make us late-” you stopped when you felt a sharp pain on your hand. Eddie’s smug smirk disappeared when he saw the expression on your face and you both looked at your hand. Your hand, which was now entirely red thanks to the spot you had just cut. “Shit” you muttered under your breath.

“Baby, are you okay?” Eddie asked, running over to you.

“Why is it bleeding so much?” you asked, getting a bit more anxious. You had cut yourself before at work, but it was never this big of a deal, usually a bandaid would cover it.

“Stay calm, okay?” he said, gently grabbing your hand. “Let me look at it” he said, walking you over to the sink.

“What happened?” Buck asked coming into the kitchen with Christopher on his back. “Whoa!”

“You’re bleeding a lot” Chris pointed out.

“Oh, honey, I’m sure it looks worse than it is- OUCH!” you complained as Eddie cleaned your wound.

“Sorry” he said, with a small smile. “It does seem it’s as bad as it looks though” he said. “It’s pretty deep, love. I think you need stitches” he instructed.

“W-what?” you asked, feeling your heart stop a little.

“You sure? Let me see” Buck said, putting Chris down and walking over to the two of you. “Oh yeah, you definitely need stitches” he agreed.

“N-no, I don’t” you chuckled nervously. “I’m sure I can just clean it up and put on a bandaid” you said, trying to take your hand away from Eddie.

“Sweetheart, you need stitches” he repeated.

“W-why?”

“It’s too deep” he insisted.

“B-but I don’t want stitches” you said.

“She’s afraid of needles” Christopher said from his spot.

“What? No, she’s not” Eddie chuckled, looking at his son and then back at you. “Are you?”

“Don’t look at me as if I’m crazy for not liking someone stabbing me with a needle” you glared at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked” you shrugged.

“How come Christopher knows?”

“He asked me!”

“Okay, let’s just go” he said, putting something to apply pressure on your hand.

“B-but my desserts-”

“Sweetheart, you need stitches, you can’t even move your hand at this point and you’re bleeding a lot” he said worriedly. “Let’s go!”

“Yeah, don’t worry, we’ll finish up in here” Buck said.

“Don’t touch my desserts!”

“Don’t go near my kitchen!” Eddie yelled out at the same time as you.

“Okay, fine. Geez, you try to be helpful for once” he rolled his eyes as Christopher laughed at him.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Hey” Eddie said, holding your good hand and making your leg stop shaking once you were in the waiting room. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise you won’t even feel it” he smiled encouragingly.

“Easy for you to say. You practically see and do these kinds of things every day at work. Plus, you have tattoos. You are clearly okay with someone stabbing your skin with a needle-”

“Nobody’s stabbing your skin with a needle, okay? You will just feel a small pinch, I promise” he said, kissing your hand. “How come you hadn’t told me about this?”

“About what?” you frowned.

“You not liking needles. I mean, Christopher knew” he pouted.

“I don’t know, it’s not something that comes up a lot” you shrugged. “It’s not like spiders where you can just find one randomly crawling around somewhere. It’s easy to avoid needles. I told Christopher when he was having nightmares and I said everyone’s afraid of something, so he asked what I was afraid of” you explained. “Plus, it’s… kinda dumb” you said, looking down.

“What? It’s not dumb” he insisted.

“Yes, it is. You and everyone at the 118 face so many things every single day which are a lot scarier than a dumb needle-”

“Bobby’s scared of needles too” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Yeah” he smiled.

“Bobby? Your captain, Bobby? Captain Robert Nash?”

“Yes” he chuckled. “He suffers every time he donates blood” he explained. “Apparently, he has a rare type of blood that can cure pregnant women and their babies of rhesus disease” he continued.

“Honey, I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but you’re honestly making it worse” you pouted.

“What? How?”

“Because of course, Bobby can power through it and still donate blood! How does this apply to me?”

“You can too!”

“Edmundo, I am certain that you are not comparing me to your captain. He’s like the bravest person that I know!”

“Hey!”

“Aside from you!” you insisted.

“Look” he said, squeezing your good hand. “I know that you’re brave. Not Bobby brave, according to you, but you are” he insisted. “Plus, I’m going to be here and I promise to hold your hand the entire time, okay? You can squeeze it as hard as you need to” he said before kissing your temple.

“Thanks” you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder.

“And besides, you’re right. Everyone’s afraid of something. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?” he said, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Okay” you smiled, still a little nervous. “So… what are you afraid of?”

“You know that” he chuckled.

“No, no. I don’t mean a meaningful fear, like something happening to Christopher, that’s rational-”

“Something happening to you is on the list as well-”

“I mean a dumb fear, like needles” you ignored him.

He sighed, looking away and then finally caved. “If you tell Buck-”

“My lips are sealed, love. I promise” you smiled.

“Snakes” he muttered.

“What?” you frowned.

“Snakes” he repeated a little louder.

“Hold on, is that why you squished my hand when Buck told us about that girl who was being strangled by her own snake? That he later hooked up with?”

“Well, yes!” he said as if it was obvious.

“Well, that’s a little bit more rational” you insisted. “I mean, snakes can be venomous and- ouch!”

“What is it your hand?”

“Yes!” you said, ungluing your good hand from his. “You’re squishing it!”

“Sorry, love” he apologized.

“It’s okay” you said, pulling him closer and kissing him again. “Thanks for letting me know” you smiled. “And thank you for being here for me” you said, kissing his cheek.

“Always, sweetheart” he smiled. "I love you" he kissed you.

"I love you too" you said, resting your head on his shoulder again.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“OH MY GOD! You are doing it all wrong!” you yelled as Eddie glared at you.

“I cannot believe this is the thank you I get for trying to help you!”

“This is not thank you. This is the opposite of thank you! You burnt my cookies!”

“That was Buck!”

“Hey!” Buck said, pointing the fire extinguisher at the oven. “You didn’t tell me they were ready and I was busy over here doing the stupid lemon bars that nobody even likes!”

“Maddie likes them!” you argued.

“Well, if you don’t like it, you come here and do it!”

“She can’t move her hand!” Eddie, snapped at Buck, as Christopher laughed at the whole scene while he ate chocolate chip cookies.

“Yes, I can!” you insisted. “And obviously, I have to if I want to bring something tonight” you said, trying to grab one of the trays, but Eddie stopped you and carefully grabbed your bandaged hand.

“Out of my kitchen, love!” he said as you glared at him. "You are on mandatory rest until I say so" he reminded you.

"I hate you" you said, rolling your eyes and going to sit next to Christopher on the counter.

"I love you too" he smiled, kissing your forehead.

“How are you two firefighters, and you have burnt down half of my desserts!?”

The End

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A/N: I hope you liked it :D

#9-1-1 imagine #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz drabble

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radiant-reid · 2 years

Text

Worry-Free

a/n: the dialogue is from both JJ/Spencer scenes in 13x22 (i did cut some out because i'm lazy) and we're pretending 14x01 never happens and everyone just goes to Rossi's for a party once they get the messiah. sorry not sorry, i want happy spencer

request: JJ comes up to Reid and says “you’ve been keeping secrets again, tell me everything’s okay”. Could you do something with that but it’s just that he’s been seeing you?

Summary: After the issues of Spencer’s past year, JJ is worried for him, until she finds out an incredibly interesting piece of information

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Content Warnings: it’s spicy for a second

Word Count: 3.2k

JJ's concern peaks after Spencer fills everyone else in on the case he'd been secretly working on and when she finds it's where he was when he told her he had something to do and couldn't see his godsons.

She has good reason to be worried, too, because the last time something like that happened, he was purposefully ambiguous about where he was, not a week later she found herself sifting through the drawers of his desk, trying to figure out what he was thinking while Rossi, Emily, and Luke flew down to Mexico to see him high out of his mind and in custody.

She's worried enough to know she won't be able to focus on the case if she doesn't speak to him, so she dashes out of the room to get him alone.

"Hey." JJ gets his attention just as he walks out of the glass doors, and he turns to look at her, slowing up his pace as he keeps walking to the interrogation room. "Tell me not to worry." She implores.

"About what?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the unease in his friend's voice.

She raises her eyebrows, giving him a second to work it out himself. "You got an email?" She questions like she had a few minutes ago when she reminded him that he hates email. "Okay, maybe I'll buy that. Maybe..."

The next few questions she asks about the case are much easier to explain than the email he suddenly acquired, which he's not going to tell her he needed to book a hotel.

Her questions change direction from being about the job to about him. "You're keeping secrets, okay?" She reminds him, focusing back on the point. "And when you keep secrets, I get nervous because the last time-"

Spencer cuts her off so she doesn't have to say it, turning around to look at her. "I went to prison for a murder that I didn't commit." He fills in flatly. It felt odd that it was just a fact now, void of a burdensome amount of emotion, but it was nice. He finally felt like he wasn't in panic mode.

"Yeah." She agrees. "So...tell me not to worry." She implores again, bracing herself for some bad news, but hoping he would say something to put her mind at ease.

Spencer tackles the questions about Owen Quinn first because it does feel better telling the truth, even if he's only going to lie about something positive.

"...Now you know everything." He finishes.

His eye contact is good, he's not slouching or shifting his weight on his feet, and his hands are steady. He even nods, but JJ has known him for over a decade: she knows when something's wrong.

And, lately, she had learned to voice those questions if she wanted to prevent bad things from happening.

"Everything?" She confirms, giving him another chance to come clean.

He nods again, doing his very best to convince her. It feels wrong, and he feels terrible for betraying the trust he was gaining back, but now is not the time. "Everything." He assures her.

She believes him, figuring she was just being paranoid. "Alright."

So they go about working on the case, uncovering the facts, putting together the puzzle pieces, forming hypotheses, and as a result, saving future victims from a cult.

Spencer sets the alarm bells off in her head again when the case is over, and Rossi invites everyone over. Bars are a 65/35 social event for him, leaning in favor of going just to spend relaxed time with the team, but Rossi's was almost always a yes. He's only turned an offer like that down once, back when he was being mysterious about his whereabouts like he was right now.

Part of her feels like she shouldn't pry, but she can't help remembering the guilt she felt every moment he was in prison because she knew, deep down, that something was different, and she has the same feeling now.

"Tell me not to worry." She says, feeling like a stuck record, playing the same tune over and over with her need for reassurance.

"Don't." He assures her, shaking his head, mirroring the movement he made when he told her the same thing earlier. "I'm good. I'm really good."

Spencer cringes as the words leave his mouth. It sounds like an oversell and he knows she's going to pry. He would if their roles were reversed.

Maybe it's unfair because he's overtired and therefore letting his well-guarded secrets slip, and because it's against the team rules, but she profiles him.

He distracts her thoughts with a hug. Granted, it's a hug he wanted to give her followed by thanks she more than deserves, but it's allowed to serve more than one purpose.

That's what he tells himself anyway.

It's when his phone chimes with a text message while he turns back to his desk to pack up his things that he's sure she's going to try again with questions.

JJ doesn't. Well, not with questions about what's on his mind since she has those answers.

Answers that came quickly when she recalls the body language of a Spencer Reid that's in love.

Instead, she asks one. "Who is she?"

Spencer stops what he's doing for a moment too long, and he desperately tries to cover his shock up as confusion, plastering on a frown. "What?" His voice betrays him, an octave too high for anything he says to be convincing.

"Or he?" She amends, holding up her hands to guarantee she's not judging.

"Her name is Y/n." He says in just a whisper, although it's quiet enough to be properly heard by her since they're the only two left in the bullpen.

"Y/n," JJ repeats playfully, and he can hear the smirk in her voice without looking at her.

He raises his eyes to look at her, shaking his head while grinning stupidly. "Jennifer." He tries to sound firm and scold her, but his face betrays him when he hears her name.

"No, no." She shakes her head, sitting on the edge of her desk. She looks like a kid having to wait for her Christmas presents even though she can see the big pile under the tree. "Please keep going."

"I'm going home." Spencer resolves, putting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

His cheeks are tinged red, he's avoiding eye contact, and she's so grateful she uncovered a secret that's not life-endangering. "No, wait, come to Rossi's. Bring her to Rossi's." He doesn't look convinced. "Pretty please. We want to meet the girl Spencer Reid is in love with." He still shakes his head, so she resorts to a threat. "Penelope will kill you if I tell her you're keeping a secret this important."

Spencer weighs the pros and cons, but he's more concerned about Y/n, who needs a say in the matter too. He also, ideally, would have more time to prep her.

"I'll call her." He decides. "No promises... and you're not allowed to tell her I love her. She still doesn't know."

"Okay, I'll go distract Pen, but I better come back to an answer." She warns, pointing a finger at him as a faux threat.

He has no choice then. He should have known JJ wouldn't let it go. It did seem like she'd given him the final push, and he didn't push back because it seemed like time.

"Hey, baby." He says into the phone, a dopey smile still on his face.

"Hey." She replies, swinging her feet off the arm of the couch and sitting up straight. "Finished your case?"

"It went well." He informs her, fingers silently dancing on the top of his desk nervously.

Y/n could tell there was something he was holding back. "What's going on?" She asks cautiously.

Spencer takes a deep breath before blurting it out. "JJ sort of found out about you, and now she's making me call you to ask if you want to come to Rossi's party tonight." He explains.

"Are you going to?" She asks with a little smirk. She explains when he doesn't reply, figuring he was frowning. "Ask me."

"We really don't have to go." He assures her, kind of in favor of a night on the couch together with takeout.

"Spencer, don't be obstinate." She scolds playfully. "Ask me."

He sighs loudly, knowing there's no way he can convince her not to go. "I think you're the one being obstinate." He's only joking, but before she can make a retort, he obliges her request. "Would you like to come to a party with me at Rossi's?"

"You had me at baby." She jokes, accepting the invitation. "I'd love to." The self-doubt hits her when he doesn't reply enthusiastically. Actually, he doesn't reply at all. "Do you think it's a bad idea?"

Spencer's sigh worries her. "No. I mean, I want you to meet them. I just..."

"I promise to be on my best behavior and exceedingly charming." She swears, still teasing him.

"I know, and they'll love you. They can just be...a lot." He warns her, and he loves the team, dearly, but would they really be a family if they didn't annoy their little brother sometimes. "And I spend almost all of my life with them."

"Nope. We're going." She decides, adding to her resolution before he can argue. "We've got to do it at some point unless you want me to be your dirty little secret forever."

She's teasing him, giggling at the end of her sentence, but he takes it too seriously. "You know I don't think about you like that."

"I know, I'm joking." She reminds him. Neither of them said anything for a moment. "Okay, so you can pick me up soon. Bye."

The phone hangs up, but he continues talking anyway. "Yeah, bye."

JJ is there a second after he's put his phone away, and she's grinning, clearly hoping for one specific answer. "So?"

"Yes." He nods.

"Oh, you're coming?" Penelope asks, rushing in.

"Yeah, I just have to go to my apartment and...pick up a, uh, book, a book Rossi wanted to borrow." He lies because he knows if he told her the truth, they would never get out of the building due to her bombardment of questions.

Y/n's just finishing getting ready when he knocks on her door. "What do you think?" She asks, motioning to her navy blue silk dress. It's been waiting in the back of her closet for a while and now it was going to have its moment.

Spencer doesn't verbally answer. He just presses his body against hers, cups her cheek, and pushes his lips to hers strongly, forcing her to step back into her apartment as he slams to door shut behind him. She quickly reacts, kissing him back.

She barely has time to kiss him before he's trying to sneak his tongue past her lips. She giggles and tilts her chin up, breaking the kiss. Spencer's lips immediately attach to her neck as he pulls her hips against his, and she knows what he's doing.

"Spencer Walter Reid." She singsongs as his lips get more aggressive against her skin. When that doesn't do anything but get him humming against her, she pulls his head back by his brown curls. "You wouldn't be trying to seduce me so we don't have to go to dinner, would you?"

"Can't help it when you look so fucking good in this dress." He mumbles, right against the shell of her ear, sending chills down her spine. His hand wraps around her thigh at where the slit of the dress sharts and he moves it up, bunching the fabric up. "Could just fuck you against the wall in this."

He's really trying, and on any other day, like a regular date between them, she would let him, but it's not. "You're such a whore." She jokes, tightening her grip on his hair, so he can't keep kissing her skin. She's not going to admit it, but it will always work on her. "If you behave, I'll let you do that thing to me when we get back." She assures him.

His eyes widen at what she's referencing. "Are you bribing me?" He asks, feigning surprise.

"No, I'm offering you a reward in the near future if you can behave." She rephrases.

"Deal." He agrees, holding out his pinky finger to lock hers since he figured it was more romantic than shaking her hand like they were doing business.

She obliges before fixing his hair. "Let's go then." Spencer offers her a hand while she steps into her shoes. "Thanks, handsome." She grins, grabbing her purse before leaving her apartment with him.

Spencer's already briefing her before they're at the car, stopping to open her door for her before getting in the driver's side. "And whatever embarrassing stories Emily tells you, they're not true."

"Hey." She says, placing her hand over his on the center console. His rambling is about something more than just a few blush-worthy anecdotes. "I like you. There's not a lot that can change that."

He's been forthcoming about everything, namely the fact he was in prison less than a year before they met. Y/n never cared about it. Even after everything he'd been through, he still wore his heart on his sleeve, and that's how she knew he was good.

Spencer squeezes her hand appreciatively, not needing words to express his gratitude.

Rossi's isn't much of a drive since it's after rush hour traffic. Y/n's grateful for it because her nerves started when they left her apartment, and they've only been amplifying.

She fixes her dress when she gets out of the car, tugging it down and pointlessly readjusting it. "Stop." Spencer takes her hands, holding them together in front of her body. "You look perfect."

"You've, uh, got some lipstick." She realizes, reaching up to swipe what remained of their makeout session off his lips.

He nods, licking his lips. "Thank you."

He holds her hand as they walk to the door, making sure she's okay, but his hands are the ones sweating. He looks to her, almost for approval, before knocking.

A blonde throws open the door, grinning widely. She's wearing a blue dress that perfectly compliments her eye color. "Ah, you must be the mysterious girlfriend!" She exclaims excitedly, ignoring Spencer as she pulls Y/n in for a hug. "I'm JJ."

"Y/n." She introduces herself. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too." She agrees before stepping aside. "Come in. Everyone's going to be so excited to meet you." They follow JJ through the house, and Y/n takes a minute to gawk at the luxury of it. "I didn't tell them, of course. Otherwise, there would have been competition to open the door. But they will be excited once they know who you are." She continues, wiggling her eyebrows at both of them.

Spencer scoffs at her playfully. "Are you saying I'm not interesting enough alone for you to have competition to open the door?"

JJ looks at Y/n with a smirk before answering. "Absolutely."

"I like you already." She decides, reaching out to hold Spencer's hand as they near the patio.

"It'll be chaos for a moment, but they'll love you," JJ assures her, and it is comforting, despite the fact she's never been in the situation, and she got lucky with the team knowing Will before they started dating.

Spencer pulls her closer protectively, wrapping his hand around her waist while leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "They will love you." He repeats JJ's sentiment, desperately wanting to add because I do.

JJ opens the doors with enough theatrics for everyone's attention to be on them, and they notice, expressions ranging from Rossi's raised eyebrows to Penelope's dropped jaw.

"Everyone, this is Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is everyone." He introduces them.

She doesn't get a word out before Penelope rushes around the table, engulfing her in a hug. "You're gorgeous." She exclaims, earning a laugh from Y/n and the rest of the group before she turns to Spencer. "She's gorgeous."

He nods with a laugh. "I know."

Once she's been introduced to everyone individually, Spencer gets them drinks before spending the rest of the evening glued to her side. He's never had anyone else to do that with and always longed to be the Rossis, JJs, Morgans, and Hotchs of the world, who have partners to bring to nights out, someone always by their side.

Y/n wasn't sure what she expected. He loves to touch her at home, hands always on her in some way, but she also knows he's private, as proved by her not meeting the team until now. She doesn't mind, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with demands of constant physical contact, but she's pleasantly surprised when he gives it to her, in spades.

His hand is on the small of her back when they stand around having drinks and talking with the team, then her thigh during dinner, and around her shoulder as they sit on outdoor couches around the firepit.

It's not close enough for him, though, and he drags her onto his lap, arms wrapping around her waist while he rests his chin on her shoulder. It's so easy and perfect, and he loves that it's his life. For once, he doesn't have to be envious of other people in love because he's the one in love.

He knew it before but watching her chat with his friends, easily accepted into his family, confirms it. She's had enough to drink that she's giggly and consequently, finding his jokes funny. She's charming them like she promised she would, but he had no doubt about that.

He simply feels an unexplainable warmth inside.

Penelope has had much more to drink and splits away from the group to mess with Rossi's record player, insisting on dance music, and she finds dance partners in equally drunk and definitely-going-to-regret-it JJ, Emily, Luke, Kristy, and Tara. Rossi follows them to make sure she doesn't break it, and Matt and Will go along to make sure their wives don't break an ankle.

Then it's just the two of them, and he shifts her slightly so he can look at her, their faces an inch apart. "Hey."

"Hi, handsome." She says, lazily tracing the shape of his nose with her index finger. She tips her head to the side when he doesn't reply with a predicted answer. "Are you okay?"

"I love you." He blurts out without thinking about it. Maybe he's also had a little bit too much to drink, but it isn't a confession he's going to regret when they're sitting in front of a warm fire, looking up at the pitch-black night sky. It probably couldn't have gone better if he had planned it.

Y/n feels her heart sore, tenderness filling her. "I love you, too." She says, cupping his cheek and leaning forward to kiss him, sealing the deal.

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#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds oneshot

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topazy · 3 months

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Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader, Maggie Greene × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 5.07

“Why can’t Maggie be in here?”

An older woman with auburn hair named Deanna smiles at you. She was in charge of Alexandria, and she would be deciding if your group would get to stay or not. You didn’t mind talking to her initially, but what made you uneasy was her videoing your conversation and not allowing your sister to sit in the room with you.

“I won't bite,” she smiles. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable; I just want to ask you a few questions.”

When your group first arrived in Alexandria, everyone was made to hand their weapons over, and now being asked personal questions... it felt intrusive. Deanna straightens out old-fashioned flora curtains before wiping her finger along her bookcase, which was fully stacked. She smudges the dust between her fingers, then turns to you and asks, “How long have you been out there?”

“Uh, I’m unsure. Two years maybe.”

She sits down in the chair across from you and asks, “How did you all find each other?”

“When someone got shot, they were brought to my family's farmhouse so my dad could help save them.”

She looks intrigued. “Is your father a doctor?”

“No, he was a veterinarian.”

“Smart man. I’m assuming because you’re referring to him in the past tense, he’s no longer with us.”

“I lost my dad not long ago.”

“Have you lost anybody else?”

“I lost my big brother Shawn, mom, and cousin Arnold all on the same day. Walkers attacked them. My dad and sister were killed by people.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says, sounding sincere. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Deanna shakes her head and says, “You are far too young to have lost so much. I truly am sorry. So, as far as I’m aware, Rick is the leader of your group.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“How do you think he does?”

You thought you could handle a few more questions, but tears began to swell. You didn’t like being asked anything because it brought everything you'd been through back. “Rick is a good person; everyone in our group is. We’re a family.”

—

Your group was given two large houses to stay in for now, but so far everyone has just gathered into one and is taking turns cleaning up. Being in the walled-off community felt like being in a TV show where the rich housewives live in the suburbs. The only thing you felt was normal was Daryl cutting open a possum while sitting on the porch. Your eyes widen when Rick walks outside; he has showered and shaved off his beard, making him look like a completely different person.

But then again, you looked different. After showing Rosita how to braid your hair, a nice blonde woman named Jesse dropped off some clean clothes for you to wear, along with toys for Judith.

“Has anyone been there yet?” You point to the house next door.

“I don’t think so,” Carl says, looking up at his dad. “Can we go check it out?”

Hesitantly, Rick agrees. “You can go look; just be quick and stick together.”

—

The house next door was nearly identical, aside from a few decorations. Growing up on a farm, you’d never dreamed of living in a modern home built like this. Carol had come with you to check it out; she was now leaning out of the kitchen window, talking to the people who live in the house next door.

When you hear a thumping noise coming from upstairs, you jump and grab Carl’s wrists. “Shit, sorry.” Feeling heat rush to your cheeks, you let go. “I’m just on edge.”

“It’s fine.” Carl offers you his hand. “I get it; I’m scared all the time too.”

He loosely holds onto your hand as you walk up the stairs, and when you reach the room, the noise is coming from Carl. He pulls out his knife and waits for you to do the same before pushing the door open. The room looks like a typical teenage hangout spot; the floor was covered in magazines, comics, CDs, and weirdly designed pillows with posters of bands you’ve never heard of before pinned to the walls.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Carl says, “These are probably things we would have been interested in if things were different.”

“Not me,” you sigh. “I would never have been allowed magazines with half-naked women on the cover. Shawn was grounded for two months when Maggie found a magazine with a woman wearing nothing but a bikini under his bed.”

Carl laughs while kicking a dusty blanket aside to see what’s underneath it. After a few moments of silence, he says, “You never talk about your brother much.”

A fleeting smile tugs at your lips. Being the youngest, Shawn completely doted on you, and as a child, you would follow him around like a shadow. He always had time for you. His death hit you so hard because you thought he would always be there to protect you, but he died trying to save your mom from walkers.

“Hope? You okay, you kind of zoned out there.”

Hearing Carl’s voice, you snap out of your thoughts and back to reality. “Yeah,” you say, smiling at him. “I was just thinking that my brother would have really liked you.”

—

You bite the insides of your cheeks to stop yourself from laughing. Judith looks so confused as an elderly couple. Natalie and Bob Miller fuss over her. It was clear there weren’t many kids around, and this was the first time anyone had seen a baby in years, so they were all excited to see Judith.

“Is that Jesse?” Carl asks quietly.

You look up and see his dad talking to her, “Yeah, she’s nice.”

“My dad seems to like her. He says we’re to go to her house later and meet her son, Ron.”

It was weird; the idea of being a normal teenager was starting to freak you out.

—

After showing you around his home, Ron led you and Carl up to his bedroom to introduce you to his friend Mikey and girlfriend Enid. You were still trying to wrap your head around the idea of returning to school in the afternoons, which was held in a garage, when Carl nudges you with his elbow to gain your attention.

“Sorry, what?”

Ron chuckles. “I said cool bracelet; where do you get it?”

“Em, Carl found them,” you mutter.

“Neat, kind of like a souvenir of the apocalypse.” He pushes his bedroom open. “Enid, Mikey, this is Carl and Hope.”

After an awkward introduction, Ron lists the different things that they do while hanging out, such as reading comics, playing video games, and playing pool. The fact they had electricity from solar panels was mind-blowing enough, but seeing all the stuff they had was leaving you speechless.

You smile at Enid as you sit on the edge of Ron's double bed, while Carol joins the other boys in playing video games. You thought it was a little bit in bad taste; they were playing a zombie video game, but don’t mind watching until a particular scene happens: one of the players finds a sword and begins decapitating the undead.

You and Carl exchange a look before you excuse yourself. “I gotta go; I need to help Maggie with something.”

—

Rick isn’t the slightest surprised when he enters Carl’s new bedroom and finds you in it as well. You were staring out the window in his room that overlooks the woods outside, watching as walkers gathered on the opposite side of the wall. While Carl lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Rick sits at the edge of the bed, asking, “How was Ron’s house?”

“What do you think of this place?” Carl asks him.

“Well, I think it seems nice.”

“Yeah, I like it here. I like the people, but they’re weak. And I don’t want us to get weak.”

The people here don’t have a clue what it’s like on the outside, and if the walkers broke through the wall, most of them would be dead in five minutes.

When Rick leaves, you go and sit on the floor with your back against the bed. You pick up one of the comics Carl found earlier, place it in your lap, and start to flip through. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you look up and ask, “What?”

Carl looks as if he’s struggling to say something; after a moment, he swings his arm lower and links his fingers with yours.

#the walking dead #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes/reader #carl grimes fanfic #Carl Grimes x you #carl grimes x reader #Carl Grimes/you #carl grimes #teen spirit #teen spirit 5.07 #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction

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iamyoubutcuter · 1 year

Text

marks // Kylian Mbappe

warning: english is not my first language :’)

Kylian was in training today, or rather they had already finished it. He and Hakimi were returning to the locker room from the field. He noticed that Kylian was yawning during the entire training session, and besides, he was late for it. Although often came before everyone else.

When Kylian yawned again, Achraf got tired and decided to ask: “What did you do last night?” – your boyfriend was drinking water at that time and choked after this question. Achraf tapped his back, laughing.

"Why do you think so?" – Kylian couldn’t look into his eyes, because he didn’t like to talk about things like that. For Kylian, personal life is too intimate. Plus, he didn’t like the prospect that the person to whom he would tell something would begin to represent you in a non-friendly way. So he tried to stay away from it. Especially to keep you away from it.

"You're late for training, and you've been yawning all day, which is already annoying, to be honest," – he said and hit Kylian on the shoulder. Kyky also laughed and simply shrugged his shoulders, pretending not to know.

He went to his seat in the locker room and began to take off his jersey. Hakimi raised his eyebrows at his back. Your boyfriend's back was covered in scratches. Of course, he put two and two together and understood everything. Achraf looked around, everyone was busy with their own affairs. Someone was on the phone, someone was also changing clothes, and someone was in the shower. He abruptly turned Kylian back to the wall.

"Bro what are you doing?" – Kylian smiled and sat down, he saw that Hakimi was worried about something. He sat next to Kylian. He just moved closer to him.

"You know that your whole back is scratched, as if you got a kitty and fought with it all night yesterday," – Hakimi said, Kylian covered his face with his hands, then also looked around at everyone. He took out his sport bag from under the bench, which contained a clean white t-shirt, and put it on. He didn’t know you left it there, but he felt a burning sensation all night, and in the morning he forgot about it.

"This is the reason why I didn't get enough sleep. Kitty, yes," – they both laughed at it and nothing else. For this he loved Achraf, no unnecessary questions and jokes.

You were supposed to pick up Kylian after training because you agreed to eat something unhealthy together. You arrived a little earlier and went outside to get some air. It was very hot, so you were wearing a tank top and shorts. You saw how everyone was leaving, Kylian and Achraf were coming towards you. You waved at them and they waved back.

"Hello, long time no see," – you crossed your arms over your chest. Kylian put one arm around your waist and kissed you on the lips. He stood next to you.

"I agree," – Hakimi smiled and continued. "How long are you waiting?"– he automatically glanced at your hands and saw a couple of bruises on the wrists and on the right shoulder. Kylian followed his gaze and closed his eyes, sighing.

"Not really, I thought I would make it on time because I woke up late," – Kylian and Achraf looked at each other and laughed out loud. You frowned and hit your boyfriend in the stomach with your hand.

"What’s so funny?" – he just shook his head, grabbing your shoulders.

"Let’s go, I’m hungry," – Kylian began to turn you around to the car and said goodbye to Hakimi.

"Are you aware that my back is covered in scratches? – your shook your head and looked at him. "Here I am, not until Achraf told me about it," – he finished the sentence and began to rub the bridge of his eyes.

"And…? Ohh, that was the point,"– you giggled. "I'm sorry, babe, I honestly didn't mean to," – you ran your hand over his shoulder. He looked back at your hands.

"I understand it's summer and it's very hot outside, but if someone sees your hands, they will think that I'm hitting you," – you noticed them when you put on makeup, but you didn't have any terrible thoughts, since they are not a lot and not very visible. At some point, a frame appeared in your head that Achraf saw them when the three of you were standing.

"Everyone now knows your horrible secret…" – you said in a whisper. "…that you slept with me," - you’d said it out loud and jokingly clutched your heart with your hand and looked at your boyfriend. Unable to bear it, you laughed as the expression on his face showed how badly it was played.

"I won't do it again, I promise," – you said, keeping both hands on the steering wheel. Kylian took your hand in his.

“I'll be glad if you do it again tonight,” – you gave a theatrical gasp and turned your head briefly towards him. "Are you thinking about taking acting classes?" – you both laughed and he brought your hand to his lip and gently kissed.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe imagine #mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian #kylian mbappe one shot

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mrghostrat · 2 months

Note

dude. that reverse bnf fic sounds SO fucking good… the ideas u have cooking up in there… i’m excited just thinking abt it ASKFNKF

YAAAS THANK YOU

i had more thoughts today... thinkin of the ask i got about the "i'll always know the stain was there" scene and how i've never written that before. which. ofc. turned into more ace porn.

Aziraphale spills wine on himself at Crowley’s place. He’s resigned to throw the shirt away. Crowley, Mr minimalist clean freak, rolls his eyes and takes charge of cleaning it off. Aziraphale hesitates then takes his undershirt off too, and Crowley bluescreens. Aziraphale half-asks him, “I’d hate for it to be stained too. It might be an undershirt, but I’d always know the stain was there.” Crowley takes it as well, leaving Aziraphale shirtless in his house.

While they sit around and he scrubs on his homemade stain remover, Aziraphale sits a little shyly, clearly affected. His nipples are hard. Crowley gathers the courage to ask him if it turns him on. “What, you cleaning??” “No. Being exposed like that. The air on your skin.” Aziraphale hesitates because he thinks Crowley is calling him out on some kind of abnormal kink or fetish, so he deflects, “Is that some ace thing as well?” not expecting Crowley to say yes. Crowley sits next to him.

“For me anyway. It’s not the person who turns me on, it’s the touch. So, sometimes, that touch comes from unexpected places. Cold tile on my skin after a shower. Satin sheets.” Aziraphale noticeably shivers.

“S’why I like, personally… Being teased. Light touches; Chasing after it. That anticipation adds to the sensation.” He grazes a hand over Aziraphale’s bare arm and Aziraphale gasps. Crowley laughs at him.

“Ffs. No wonder you struggle getting off if you’re watching the same porn everyone else does. Probably Google Imaging boring old pin ups of girls in fancy bras—“ Aziraphale gives him a LOOK, so Crowley adjusts, “—Or, Boys in skimpy briefs. What good’s that going to do if you can’t imagine how they’d touch you?”

Aziraphale is momentarily perplexed. “You know, I can’t think the last time anyone assumed me anything other than flamingly gay,” but it somehow doesn’t feel avoidant of the topic, he’s just so caught off guard by it.

Crowley’s suddenly a little annoyed, mostly at The World, but a little bit creeps in towards Aziraphale. “Assuming doesn’t help anyone. It only gets people confused about the boxes they’re meant to fit into. Bloody useless things, boxers. Er, boxes.”

His fingers have been dragging idly up and down Aziraphale’s thigh the whole conversation.

He stops when he realises Aziraphale’s hands are strategically placed in his lap. Crowley stops. Apologises, didn’t realise what an effect he was having, he just wanted to make a point—

But Aziraphale hasn’t felt like this in such a long time. He’s worked himself off, but nothing’s compared to this feeling of anticipation and bone deep arousal. He somehow finds the words to ask if Crowley would keep going. Show him what kind of touches he likes, maybe it would be informative. Crowley gets him off on the sofa, teasing and working him to a climax that has him death gripping Crowley’s arm and whimpering into his neck.

-------

Later, hours or days later, Aziraphale is watching Crowley move around the house, maybe in his pants or a towel or something, but being totally innocuous. As innocuous as Aziraphale’s voice when he pipes up, completely unprompted, “I don’t think I’m asexual, Crowley.”

“This again?” Crowley’s exasperation is fond.

“No. Sometimes the sight of you makes me want to… Pin you against a wall or something.”

Crowley freezes, a mental ngk that takes a few minutes to reboot him. He tries and fails to sound casual and unaffected when he says “Maybe you’re demi,” and keeps folding his laundry like Aziraphale hasn’t just shoved a hot poker into his brain.

“Mmm,” Aziraphale agrees, even though Crowley knows he doesn’t know what that means, but he’s too busy leching to follow up and ask.

#ask a rat #reverse bnf #bnf au #ratwips

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acciocriativity · 4 months

Text

THE U IN US - ATEEZ SERIES - CHAPTER THREE

Summary: You weren't really the lonely girl™ of campus, but it does feel like it when you look around, and there's no one by your side when everyone else are talking and whispering between each other. You did have "friends", more like "group projet friends" that you managed to get for yourself, but they were the ones that were real close, you were there only when they had an extra empty seat. But it seems like the gods above took your nonchalant facade as a challenge. Oh, you don't think you need friends to survive through college? Bet.

Pairing: Non! idol OT8 ateez x reader (platonic)

Tags: college! au; hybrid! au; ateez! au; fluff (a whole lot of fluff and wholesomeness); angst; hurt/comfort; mentions of loneliness and insecurities; mentions of hybrid mistreatment and abuse

WC: 3,4k

N/A: It's finally here and a thousand words longer than the previous chapter! Please reblog my work and let me know if you want to he tagged in the next chapter <3

TWO MASTERLIST FOUR

You were always an early riser. The sun was breaking its first lights on the horizon as you got ready for the day, but there wasn’t a single bone of excitement in you.

Your room reflected the mask you were trying hard to wear early in the morning, spotless and perfectly organized, that was until anyone noticed how messy your bed still was.

You feel asleep early for any college major, but somehow slept a total of 4 hours only. None of them knocked on your door, and you didn’t hear a single peep or saw any lights on from your own slightly open door. They were capable of managing themselves well, you knew that, so you closed the door and were left to your own thoughts for the rest of the night.

Your brain wouldn’t stop running to all the things you needed to do while waiting for a more appropriate hour of the day to actually do them. It was a suffocating feeling, and you hated to feel so impotent. So you cleaned everything you came across at 12 A.M. trying to be as quiet as possible, too restless and tired of all the toss and turn you did already.

You walked out of your room, and it was almost like every single worry you had all night was just in your head. The cop, the plan, your father, they’re now living with you, the shopping you need to do, the paperwork you have to get, their legal documents you have to find wasn’t splashed on the beige walls and the cold porcelain of the floor, so maybe you could just ignore it before your coffee.

“Good morning”, Seonghwa said as you reached the 3/4 of the stairs, now sure that you could see him on the couch and he wouldn’t scare you. Still, he did notice how you grabbed harder on the handrail and had a hard time trying not to smile, but his ears twitching could give him away. “I’m sorry”.

“It’s ok”, you chuckled. “Have you been up for a while?”, you asked as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“No”, he looked over to the windows, the sunrise clear on the horizon. “I did not even notice how early it was until I came up here”.

It was partly true, there were no windows on the basement area, instead a huge glass door that lead to the pool on the other end of the corridor. He did not see the sun rising and did not take notice of the time, he just did not sleep at all.

“Want some coffee?”, you said as you went around the living room to the kitchen.

“Sure, thank you”, he said, but made no moves to follow you.

Seonghwa was enjoying the quiet to put his thoughts in order, something he couldn’t do lately. The last week took a toll on the whole pack to the point their scents changed a little due to stress. Nothing was planned and neither him nor Hongjoong wanted to put their trust and safety solely on your words.

Your presence on itself was something he couldn’t decide how he felt about it yet. It was annoying how submissive and fake most of them got in your presence, including Jongho, which was a shocking sight back on campus. It was in Seonghwa’s nature to be attentive and caring towards others, he was aware of it, but he only offers that to his pack and pack only. There were no humans left that are worthy of that, Jongho himself said to him once. Yeah, he saw you before. All of them ended up on the hybrid protection department at least twice until now. You were just a human child bored out of your mind. What’s so special about it?

“Here it is”, you left the mug on top of the coffee table, eye smiled at him and then left.

Seonghwa was paralyzed on his spot. He did not hear your steps nor your closeness to him. Now the only thing he could hear was his own-scared heart.

There was a dark cloud on top of Seonghwa’s head, so you give him his coffee quick and left him alone on the couch.

Now, you had at least a whole hour until you had to leave to take the subway. It was enough time to make a small breakfast for yourself and revise your notes for today, but not to make a decent meal for 9 freaking people.

You went to grab your coat near the entrance, even though in less than an hour it would be boiling hot outside.

“Can you tell the other boys I’m grabbing food for us?”, you raised your voice as you looked over Seonghwa, at least 10 feet away, still on the same spot as you left him starting at the wall.

He winced because of your loud tone, and you signed, now aware of your mistake.

“It won’t take long, sorry”, you just left, it felt like the best thing to do.

Perfect, you said to yourself.

Perfect, Seonghwa said to himself.

He knew some of the others could mess up this new arrangement out of guilt for searching around your father’s office, but he couldn’t let it happen.

Yunho was the first to walk downstairs, the both of them needed to have a little chat.

You could only hear the click and clack of the cutlery hitting the porcelain plates. For a table with 9 people, it was quieter than when you eat on your own.

The house was always just that, a house, a balance between a safe place for you to rest in and someone else’s property that you had no control over, but never you felt so uncomfortable in it.

The night before you noticed how proper Yunho and Jongho were, but now, looking at all of them, it seemed forced. It was, because it was. Of course, they were trained to be.

“You are really serious about food, aren’t you?”, you couldn’t take the silence anymore.

Most of them nodded, a small chuckle giving a little bit of life to the table. It was true, call hybrid instincts or whatever, but they meant business when it came to food, but they knew very well there was more than that to the atmosphere in the room, and it was best for you to stay unaware of it.

“It’s just that good”, Mingi said suddenly, as he took another bite of the fresh croissant. “Melting on my mouth”, he mumbled more to himself than anything, still a little shocked at how good it was.

Your neighbors glaring at you as you left with four filled bags out of the small bakery three blocks away was worth it.

“You should have it as a sandwich later”, you said, more than happy to have an actual conversation.

Mingi wanted to hear all about your best recommendations, while San, Yunho and Hongjoong had a staring contest.

Wooyoung, San and Yeosang, a trio you never imagined would work well together, but somehow it did.

On the way to university, you found out, actually, the three of them were dance majors, not just Wooyoung. To your surprise, Yeosang did most of the talking for them this time.

In all honesty, Yeosang just wanted to hide in a hole and disappear. Never in his life he thought he’d want Wooyoung to talk more or that he would wait for a miracle, but at that moment, he caught himself doing both.

Every single loud noise made him jump out of his skin, from the sound of the rails to the loud people talking on the phone. It was all too much all at once. Your attention on him and him only was new, his face was all red, and he couldn’t look into your eyes. His hands hugged his bag against his own chest, but the weight wasn’t enough. If it wasn’t for two hands on his thighs, a clear sign of protection and sureness, he wouldn’t be talking at all.

Bless your heart, you gave every bit of encouragement and reaction to every thing he said, but it was not helping.

“S-so, we were trai-”, Yeosang already small voice was interrupted by the announcement of the next station. The doors closed, and you held tighter onto the pole as it started to move again.

“Training for what?”, you asked as you did your best to maintain the space between you and San’s body.

“There is a performance at the end of the year”, Wooyoung said it, faster than Yeosang could think.

“That’s so cool, so there’s a date already?”

She thinks am I cool? It was unconscious how all of them perked up at the compliment. Wooyoung tail seemed like it had a mind of his own, swaying left to right. Yeosang turned even more red in the face, his fluffy gray ear covering the sides of his face as he recoiled between the two bodies on each side of him. San cleaned his throat as he looked the other way, he was not comfortable with how much he enjoyed it hearing such a small compliment from you.

Yeosang was a few beats late when he noticed you were still waiting for an answer.

“Oh, hum, no, I d-do not think so, right?”, he looked over to the other boys, who agreed.

“We’ll let you know so you can come see us”, Wooyoung said as he rubbed Yeosang’s back slowly.

“I’d love that, thank you, but are you sure it’s okay for me to come?”, you asked him, then glanced at San, who was already looking at you.

“We want you to come”, San said.

He said a ‘we’, when you were looking for an ‘I’.

It was a painful and awkward silent the rest of the way, until the three of you could breathe again.

“It’s not here”, Seonghwa said a second time since coming back to your father’s office.

He was already tired due to a sleepless night, now he had to spend all his energy to look for papers that weren’t even there.

“Then look again, it has to be here somewhere”, Hongjoong was loosing all his patience as he analyzed every single paper they found left on his desk.

Seonghwa took a deep breath. Hongjoong was being unreasonable, all of them already knew that, including Hongjoong himself.

“You know there’s no reason for why he would leave that behind, and it’s clear he hasn’t been here in a good while, so why are we doing this again?”, Seonghwa put the old box down on the table, all of it was useless anyway.

“This might be the only lead we get, do you just want to give up on him?”, the last two words barely a whisper as Hongjoong took a step closer to Seonghwa, the papers left scarred inside the drawer.

Both of them did not want Yunho, Mingi or Jongho to hear what was going on up there.

Standing so close to each other like this, eye to eye, they could almost touch the emotions swirling in the room. It was frustrating to Hongjoong. They had a goal and a chance, so why would they fail Yunho now? His anger, resentment and fear towards himself more than anything filled the room and suffocated both of them. Seonghwa looked nothing but empathetic and warm and welcoming to Hongjoong’s fears and worries, even when he could only feel the opposite, Hongjoong’s presence almost physically pushing him out.

It took Hongjoong only a moment to give up, which furthered Seonghwa’s worries.

“We’re going to figure it out”, Seonghwa whispered as he kneeled by Hongjoong’s side. He collapsed on the office floor, now holding onto himself. “We always do, don’t we?”

Hongjoong’s eyes seemed unfocused looking down to something on the ground, Seonghwa’s words barely registered in his mind.

When Seonghwa touched his shoulder, Hongjoong looked up to him.

“We always do, don’t we?”

“We do”, he sighed.

Seonghwa wished to say much more at that moment, but Hongjoong in that state would not hear it.

So he only did what he should do, offered a helping hand for Hongjoong to stand once more.

By the end of the day, you did all you could to not go back.

You called Jongho to tell him to get the food delivery when it was close enough to the house. He was surprised, jacket already on hand to buy lunch himself, but it was too late for a polite decline.

The bell rang and you hung up.

You did not come to eat with them, even though you had over two free hours in between classes, but they did not know that and even if they did, would they really call you out on it? It was more comfortable for them that way, so they could be free to behave like they wished to.

You stayed to study on the library after class, which you never did, you rather the comfort and quiet of your room for that, and it was barely 4 p.m.

The list was your salvation to skip dinner. This time, Jongho had time to thank you for the meal in the name of them all.

“It’s not a bother, don’t worry”, you said as you walked out of the second store, bags in hand and the phone tight between your shoulders and left cheek.

“We can cook for ourselves, you know. Don’t you trust us?”, he had that pouting voice through every word, and it took a small smile out of you.

“Of course I do, but you’re my guests and there’s a clear rule, guest don’t do any work around the house, so get used to it”, those words hit him like bricks when you thought it was a string of fresh water.

It was silent on the other side of the line, and you thought the call ended.

“Are you alright?”, his question caught you so off guard, you stopped walking in the middle of the busy street and a woman bumped into you with full force.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”, you smiled to her, but the woman didn’t look back to see your apologetic self.

Your voice was sincere, so Jongho allowed himself to stay calm.

She does not know, she’s not mad at you, he kept repeating to his stupid mind. Of course, you did not know and were not avoiding them on purpose because of it, but he felt his heart heavy still.

“We were just worried, you didn’t say anything so… but you’re safe then?”

“I’m coming soon, alright? Don’t worry about me, I’m just shopping for some stuff I need”, you walked faster, now feeling guilty to left them without a proper warning.

The moment Jongho hung up, the other 7 were waiting for an update. The winter night and the neighborhood made it seem later than it was. It was only 6:28 p.m., but there wasn’t a single soul outside and barely any noticeable noise.

“She’s coming soon”.

Mingi plopped on the couch, relieved. He barely talked to you, yet your presence and actions warmed him, and maybe he was getting too comfortable too fast, but just the thought of you leaving them now made him want to sob.

Yunho sat beside him and Mingi’s gray ears turned to him instinctively, but he had nothing to say. He knew Mingi well enough to know this meant something else to him, it was the possibility of another person abandoning him, and he was ashamed as it was of it. So Yunho did not point it out how that mentality wasn’t good for him at that moment, just offered his arm, that Mingi was elated to accept and cuddle with.

“Do not forget what we talked about today, can you do that Mingi?”, Seonghwa’s toned softened as he talked to him, a bit different from the actual conversation they all had.

Mingi only nodded.

It was a reminder for Yunho and Yeosang as well, no matter how they felt about the topic, they’d do their best to keep the roof on top of their heads.

Before you could grab the keys in your purse, the door suddenly opened.

You watched with your heart on your feet as a yearning Wooyoung took all four bags out of your hands and disappeared inside, too stunned to say anything.

“Uhm, Wooyoung, were you waiting for me?”, you asked as you stepped inside and closed shut the door behind you.

He hummed instead of answering you.

Beside him, there was no one in the living room, and the lack of noises was enough for you to assume they wanted to keep to themselves.

He carefully laid down your bags on the couch, then stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you?”, he stood there shy and small in front of you.

“Yes, there is actually, but can we talk for a bit first?”

The contrast of his behavior from yesterday evening to this gave you whiplash. Is this Wooyoung, or that was Wooyoung? You need to stop trying to figure them out. They carried huge baggage with them, and maybe you’ll never get to see even a small percentage of it, that was clear to you. Still, it is hard to be the one that had to pretend and ignore the elephant in the room.

Wooyoung’s tail stopped its course in the air and his smile faltered, he nodded.

Both of you sat slightly turned to each other, but Wooyoung could not hold your stare, so he looked at the painting on the wall instead.

He thought his minds was playing tricks on him, but you seemed much nervous than he was. Your body was screaming to get out of there and run just like his. What could they’ve done for you to be so tense? Surely, you were not scared of him if you weren’t even scared of Hongjoong or San.

You took a deep breath. Your own mind exhausted you the whole evening and night because of this very moment, you were tired of overthinking every single thing they did.

“I just want to make it clear, so we can stop walking on eggshells around each other”, your voice was barely a whisper, still Wooyoung flinched at the reminder of his own confusing behavior towards you, just like the others he’s been hot and cold to you for no reason, when you’ve been nothing but nice to him. “I want you and the others to be here, and you do not have to do anything because you feel like you have to please me in return, can you understand that?”

He nodded.

“I am also not mad at you by any means because of yesterday”.

That made him look at you, because you deserved at least that level of respect, even though your face was a bit blurry through his tears. He knew your kindness was undeserving, and he would do anything to compensate for it, no matter what you say.

You wished to hug him, and maybe he read your mind, because a second later, Wooyoung launched himself into your arms.

It was a silent cry at first, you were stunned in place, surprise by the trust and vulnerability he was showing to you, then you heard his sobs and the sound broke your heart, you never heard before and never wanted to hear again.

You held him tight through the soft tears, loud cries and slurred words he muttered under his breath on your shoulder. Even when your arms stared to hurt, he did not let it go, so neither did you.

It was comfortable to be near you like this, for the first time Wooyoung understood why San liked you so much, and that did not leave a bitter taste in his mouth this time. You were warm and kind and really soft, almost better than his favorite blanket.

“Wooyoung”, you broke your little bubble, and he hummed into your neck. “Can you call the others for me, please? I bought some clothes for you all to try on”.

He was perfectly comfortable in that position, leaning into your side and the last thing on his mind was to move away, but the moment he looked at your soft eyes and pretty smile, he got up.

He should not be understanding San in this way.

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