#(edit: was typing this post up before I went to sleep and got interrupted by the vegeble man making his delivery

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: August 18

“Get Up” by Mother Mother

[angelic-sturniolos111]

Fresh Love Modeling 🍊

You never guessed that Chris Sturniolo would reach out for you to model his Fresh Love clothing brand. You had been following him on social media a while and definitely had a crush on him. What you didn’t know is that when Chris had seen your modeling portfolio he started crushing too. The two of you end up alone in his dressing room together after the photoshoot and things heat up.

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

entirely in Chris’s POV

warnings: cursing, flirty and smuttyyyyy

author’s note: writing this completely sleep deprived :) did not proofread lolz

I want to sit on his lap so bad in this pic

My Fresh Love brand is super important to me and I am so grateful that it has grown in popularity thanks to my fans. I want to grow this brand and reach out to creators and artists outside of the fandom in hopes that eventually Fresh Love Clothing can be sold in stores nationwide. A big part of Fresh Love, and any clothing brand, is the marketing which I take very seriously. I always want to have a diverse group of models, but ultimately they also should be attractive and have a cool aesthetic to be the face of the brand. I had sent out a model casting call last month, and my friend Tril and I were going through all the applications. Tril truly saw my vision and we were usually on the same page when it came to models we thought would work well for the brand.

Today was definitely a “work day” in the house— Nick was editing our recent car vlog, Matt was brainstorming video ideas, and Tril and I sat on the couch on our laptops going through hundreds of model portfolios together. We had been scrolling through applications for nearly two hours and I was honestly bored out of my mind. Luckily, we found a handful of models we like, but I still felt like one was missing. There was a certain look, a certain vibe, that I was looking for and I wasn’t sure what it was but I knew I’d know the second I saw them.

“Hey take a look at this one. I recognize this girl… I think she follows us on insta or something?” Tril says passing me his laptop. Damn. This girl was beyond fine. I scrolled through her portfolio pictures, and I really liked her modeling style. She didn’t look mainstream, which I liked, but she had a really unique look. “Do you recognize her?” Tril said interrupting my thoughts.

“No. I’d definitely remember her if I had seen her before.” I said. I went to the top of her application page, her name was Y/N.

“I like her portfolio and I think she’s a good fit for the brand.” Tril says.

“Absolutely. I really like her. I’m going to accept her application right now.” I said sending her an acceptance sheet back with the photo shoot information.

***

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I always have trouble falling asleep because I’ll have a thousand creative ideas that I bounce back and forth in my head, but this time I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of Y/N. Tril said she followed us, right? I grab my phone and open instagram and typed her name in the search bar, and her profile popped up. She was following Tril and I as well as my brothers, our group account, and our podcast account. Nice, she’s a fan! I went through her posts and God, she was stunning. I wanted to follow her, but I knew if fans saw that they’d get all sorts of crazy ideas and make assumptions so I decided I’d wait to follow her until the Fresh Love shoot would be posted so everyone knew who she was. I looked at some modeling shots she posted, laid back pictures with her friends, and I was unapologetically looking for any signs that she was dating anyone which from her profile she appeared to be single. I saw some of her swimsuit modeling shots she had done recently, and I zoomed in on all parts of her body. Her amazing body. She had these thick thighs that contoured perfectly with her cute ass. My thoughts wandered off, thinking of how badly I wanted those thighs wrapped around my head. I got hard at the thought of it. I continued to mindlessly stalk her instagram before I finally fell asleep… dreaming of her.

*** one month later ***

It was Fresh Love photoshoot day, or as I thought of it, the day I finally get to meet Y/N after crushing on her this past month. I got to the studio before any of the models were scheduled to arrive so I could talk with the photographers and mark out the spaces where I wanted to shoot. I get upstairs and see someone siting in a chair outside the photography studio. When they hear me approaching they look up, and my breath hitches in my throat, it was Y/N. My heart immediately started beating faster, but I knew I had to keep it cool both professionally and so I don’t utterly embarrass myself in front of her.

“Chris! Hey, I’m sorry I know the models aren’t supposed to be here for another hour. Honestly I was hoping to catch a moment alone with you before we shoot.” She says nervously with a big, beautiful smile on her face. She wanted to see me? Alone? I hadn’t realize I went silent for a moment while I was caught up in my thoughts until Y/N interrupted.

“Umm I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just such a huge fan of yours and your brothers, and I wanted to tell you that. Also to tell you I am so grateful and excited to be modeling for Fresh Love. I love your brand and own a few things from it already just from following you for a while now.” She says.

“Oh, no you didn’t scare me! Sorry, I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone this early. I’m happy to hear you’re a fan, and thanks for supporting my brothers and I, it means a lot. I really liked your modeling application and I’ve been looking forward to shooting with you.” I replied. I looked and sounded collected on the outside, but on the inside I was definitely nervous. I’m usually super confident talking to girls, even ones that I like, but Y/N had me acting different. She gave me a sweet smile before we walked into the studio together.

The other models started showing up as I led them to their dressing rooms where their Fresh Love clothing was waiting for them to change into. I stood in front of the backdrop for the first set of pictures and saw as the models rounded the corner all dressed in Fresh Love. Y/N wore the emerald green sweat set, and damn she looked good. The bright color just worked so perfectly with her complexion and brought out the color in her beautiful eyes. Seeing my own brand on her body drove me crazy. Man, this chick has me on a leash.

As time went by the photographers took group shots of all the models together, and some individual shots of each of them. When it came time for Y/N individual shots she was a natural. Her poses were relaxed, but strong and confident at the same time. She really wore the brand well and I was looking forward to seeing the results. She wraps up her individual shots and starts walking over to me.

“So, how did I look?” She says giving me a flirtatious look.

“Really, really great. I was thinking maybe we can get some pictures of just us two together for the Fresh Love instagram.” I said.

“Sounds great!” She says with a smile. She takes a step closer to me and leans in slightly, “Should I go change?” She asks but this time quieter so only I could hear. She makes me so nervous.

“Y-yeah. There’s, um, there’s a pair of joggers and a t-shirt in your dressing room if you want to change into that for me.” I said stuttering.

“Of course, anything for you.” She says confidently flirting with me. I think she can tell she made me nervous, and she was taking advantage of it. That’s so hot.

***

This time I was wearing the black hoodie and jogger set while Y/N wore the gray joggers and blue t-shirt. I sat on the couch we were using for the shoot, and she comes out of her dressing room to join me. She looked really great. I smiled at her and moved over so she could sit on the couch next to me.

“I’m thinking for the first few poses we just sit here kinda relaxed, looking at the camera. Then we do some where you stand behind the couch leaning over it while I sit here in front of you.” I said.

“Yeah sounds good!.” She says, and with that we start posing for the camera. The photographer has us scotch closer together, and I drape my arm behind her on the top of the couch. It was difficult to keep my eyes on the camera because all I wanted to do in the moment was to look at her. She moves off the couch to position herself behind it. “Like this, Chris?” She asks.

I turn around and see her bent over, arms crossed on the back of the couch. Fuck, her ass looks nice bent over like this. “Yeah, looks great.” I smile at her. I turn back around and the camera continues to click. We move around slightly to get different angles. She moves one of her hands to rest on my shoulder. I feel her hand slide up the back of my neck as her fingertips gently play around with my hair. The tension was palpable. I sharply inhale, a chill moving down my spine, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool much longer.

“Okay how about we call that a wrap for today. Great job everyone thanks so much for being here.” I blurt out getting off the couch, shaking a few of the photographers hands, before I quickly run into my dressing room without turning back.

***

In the dressing room I can hear the photographers packing up their gear and leave. The other models had gone home for the day, and I wasn’t sure if Y/N had left yet either. I found my answer when I hear a slight knock at the door, “Chris?” She says faintly, “Can I come in?” I’m frozen, I don’t answer before she comes into the room still dressed in her Fresh Love fit. “Are you okay? You seemed kinda frantic towards the end there.” She asks sincerely. I seriously debated telling her I liked her, but I knew that wouldn’t be professional of me.

“Yeah, I just get nervous shooting sometimes.” I lied. Y/N scoffs a little.

“You, nervous? I’ve never been more nervous for a photoshoot before. Having THE Chris Sturniolo sitting inches away for me all day long is something I had only ever dreamed of.” She laughs. “You definitely made me nervous today. God, I’m sorry I sound like such a stupid fangirl right now.” She says looking down.

“I never would have thought you were nervous. You seemed super confident today.” I say.

“Maybe. I tried to be confident so I could impress you.”

“Impress me?” I say a little surprised. She looks up and nods her head. I stand up and approach her meeting her in the middle of the room, “You’ve impressed me plenty, pretty girl.” I’m unsure of where this sudden boldness came from, but I could tell Y/N liked it when her body relaxed, and I could see her whole demeanor change. She looked up at me with seductive eyes.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she runs her hand up my arm before resting it on my chest, “I’m sure I can impress you in other ways too.” Her eyes flash from mine down to my noticeable, growing erection, and then back up to my lips. I can’t keep it in any longer. I lean down and kiss her soft lips, her hand meets the side of my face and my lips part for her to deepen the kiss moving her tongue across mine. We step back and my back hits the wall when her lips move from mine down to my neck bitting and sucking ever so gently.

“Fuck.” I moan softly. I feel her smile into my neck, and she moves a hand down to gingerly palm my boner over my pants.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you like this all day.” She says breathlessly as she pulls away from my neck to look me in the eyes.

“Oh yeah? What else have you wanted to do princess?” I ask suggestively. She smiles, and with that she drops to her knees. She hooks her fingers in the band of my sweatpants before pulling them down to my knees. She places soft kisses on my dick through my underwear, and the slight contact made me groan.

“Eager, aren’t we?” She says as she begins to pull my underwear down. My rock hard dick springs up and hits my stomach and her eyes widen while her mouth parts. She looks up at me and I begin to wrap her hair in my hand holding it back for her while the other gripped the chair next to me as I brace myself. She plants tiny kisses on my thighs on either side of my dick, and the teasing had my cock twitching with every kiss.

“Please, Y/N, please stop teasing.” I sigh. She runs her tongue from the base of my cock on the underside of my dick to the tip where she licks the precum from the slit. She swirls her tongue around my head a few times before pulling away and spitting into her hand. She spreads the wetness on my length as she pumps me a few times before wrapping her lips around my head and pushing her head forward. I let out a moan when I feel my dick hit the back of her throat. She keeps one hand tight at the base of my cock, pumping and twisting it as she bobs her head up and down on it. I’m a whimpering mess. My grip tightens in her hair as I help move her head at a steady pace. Her hand lets go of my shaft as she moves her head all the way forward, taking my full length into her mouth gagging slightly. I look down to see her already looking up at me with tears forming in her eyes. I felt my dick twitch in her mouth as I was close to cumming, but I tugged her hair and pulled her off my length before I could do so.

I move the chair I had been grabbing onto with one hand as my other reached for her chin and guided her to stand.

“Sit.” I demanded. She obliged and sat in the chair as I got to my knees and started pulling the sweatpants off of her. I caress her thighs with my big hands before pulling her thong off and I stare at her dripping wet cunt.

“Did I make you this wet?” I ask, and all she can do is shake her head. “I want you to use your words pretty girl.”

“Yes.” She whines out. “You always make me this wet.”

“Always?” I question. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” I ask. She nods her head again.

“Yes.” She says.

“Do you use your fingers when you touch yourself, princess?”

“Yes” she says. My fingertips move agonizingly slow up and down her folds spreading the wetness around.

“And who’s fingers do you imagine are pumping inside of you when you’re touching yourself baby.”

“Yours Chris. Always yours.” She moans out. Without warning I shove two of my fingers deep into her cunt eliciting a sweet moan from her lips. I pump my fingers in and out of her at a fast pace causing her to grip the back of my head roughly, my hair tight in between her fingers. I kitty lick her clit and curl my fingers inside her.

“F-fuck Chris.” She moans out. I continue moving my fingers in and out of her while I lay my tongue flat licking up and down her clit, sucking on it for a few seconds at a time. She pants, trying to catch her breath as she breathes heavier.

“Chris. CHRIS— I’m gonna cum.” With that I immediately pull my fingers out of her and raise my head.

“Not yet, princess. I want you to cum all over my cock for me baby.” I wrap my arms under her thighs and lift her off of the seat carrying her over to the makeup vanity counter across the room. I place her down and she stands facing me.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt to take it off, and I abruptly stop her grabbing her wrist tightly.

“Leave it on princess. I want to watch myself fucking you while you wear my clothes.”

My hands reach her waist and turn her around roughly pushing down on her upper back to bend her over across the counter. I look in the mirror to see her flushed face and eyes blown with lust. I had never been so sex hungry before. I ripped my hoodie off, and began to align my dick at her entrance. I slid the head of my dick in between her folds getting it nice and wet before I pushed in slowly making me groan loudly. Y/N gasps as I enter her, not ready for my size. I bottom out and stand still, letting her adjust to my length. Suddenly, without warning she begins to lean forward and back moving herself on my cock.

“Please move, Chris.” She begged. I smiled at her in the mirror. I started moving in and out of her with slow, hard thrusts. Her walls were warm and tight around my cock. We moaned together as I kept the steady pace.

“Chris?” She says.

“What is it princess?” I look at her in the mirror, half of her now messy hair covering her flushed pink face. She adjusts her arms to grab the front of the countertop. She lifts her chest up slightly, and the FRESH on her shirt is now visible in the mirror.

“Fuck me. Harder.” She pleads, and that was all I needed to hear. I went absolutely feral. I grabbed her hair with one hand making sure to pull her up enough that I could see her Fresh Love shirt in the mirror. My other hand laid flat just above her ass, pushing down so I could balance myself as I relentlessly thrust in and out of her tight pussy.

“Fuck. Fuck, Y/N! You feel so good pretty girl.”

“Chris, I’m gonna cum…” She whines breathlessly.

“Good girl. I want you to cum all over my cock for me.” I say back. We make eye contact in the mirror and I feel her walls clench around me sending a pulsating sensation through my cock, and I knew I was close too. Her face scrunches and she repeatedly moans my name. I feel her cunt tighten and relax around me as she comes all over my cock, and we maintain eye contact as she does.

Seeing her face while she came on my dick was what I needed. My thrusts got harder and sloppier as I felt my dick twitch inside her.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N! Oh, FUCK.” I moan loudly as I feel myself release my big load into her pussy, my cum coating her walls. I thrust a few more times riding out my high before pulling out seeing our orgasms drip out of her cunt. Y/N turns to face me, and tries to stand but fails as her knees wobble and she grabs the countertop as to not fall down. My hands grab her sides to help balance her.

“You’re amazing, princess.” I say to her. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I place a gentle kiss on her lips before moving my hands to the bottom of her shirt pulling it up. She raises her arms up as I lift the Fresh Love tee over her head. I crouch down and gently begin wiping her clean with the t-shirt.

“Chris! Not the Fresh Love shirt!” Y/N says surprised and in a concerned tone of voice.

“Baby, it’s my brand. I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” I smirk, earning a cute giggle from her.

**********

This was my first time writing smut and I think it’s kinda trash but lmk what your thoughts are.

- Kay 🖤

[bertytravelsfar]

Only Yesterday Part Two (WIP)

And of course, now I have realised that I wrote the whole thing longhand, so I have to edit and type it up at the same time. Hey ho!

A little more angst for your Sunday night, my lovelies?

Only Yesterday - My WIP being posted on Tumblr only until it’s actually finished when I will post it to AO3 (she said boldly!) No warnings other that John Watson being an angry man and a few non graphic injuries.

Part Two - A New World Order

“...and friction burns all down the left side of your torso and hip, concussion, severe bruising to your coccyx, ribs and left hip, two fractured ribs, abrasions to your brow, left cheek and jaw, you bit through your bottom lip but your teeth are okay, dislocated knee, hairline fracture to your right… wrist…”

Mike’s voice falters and he must catch something a bit desperate in John’s expression. Either that or he suddenly remembers that John is the human recipient of the lengthy list of injuries he is reciting. He winces a little and forces a smile and a more upbeat tone.

“So… how are you feeling?” He ruins the solicitousness by stealing some more of the grapes that he’d brought for John.

“Like I got hit by a bloody taxi,” John deadpans.

It’s bright in the hospital room and much too warm. John’s painkillers from breakfast are wearing off and lunch, and his next dose, are still an hour away. Mike Stamford has been in both days since he woke up here, jovial and chatty. Being a doctor has its perks - John has a private side room off the main ward, so he’s been able to get some sleep but between the pain from his injuries and the noise and hustle of a busy London hospital, he’s tired and aching, and people keep wincing when they see the tarmac burns across his face.He sighs and very gently shakes his head which turns out to be a bad idea.

“Tell me again what happened.”

“Again? Fine… fine. The lights went out. Everywhere. All over the world. Just for eleven seconds. Everything. Everywhere. Anything electrical just stopped. The media went absolutely mad for it. You missed all of that because…”

“...I was in here, unconscious,” John finishes for him. He frowns. It hurts, so he stops.

“And why did…?”

“No one knows,” Mike interrupts. To be fair they have been over this several times, but John feels like he’s missing something.

“Some people say solar flares, some say it’s magnetic north shifting or radiation or an EM pulse or just a coincidence. But it affected everything. You remember when the Y2K thing happened and they predicted pandemonium, that all the planes would fall from the sky as midnight struck? And then nothing happened? Well it was like that, but this time it really did happen.”

“Coincidence?” John asks, latching on to one word in the flood. Mike’s a good guy, and a good friend, but he could talk the hind legs off a donkey. “You know what he always said about coincidences.”

John waits for a moment of connection, of recognition and loss to flow between them. He doesn’t often talk about Sherlock but Mike was the one who introduced them; he was Mike’s friend before he was John’s.

“Who says what?” Mike asks, frowning. He looks around for a bin to throw the grape stalk away into, but there isn’t one so he carefully wraps it back in the paper bag and leaves it on John’s sheets.

“The universe is rarely so lazy,” John says in the best approximation of a deep baritone that he can muster when laying in a hospital bed with his bashed up lip threatening to split again and his ribs singing merry hell at him.

Mike smiles and again looks a little confused.

“Who’s that supposed to b… oh crap!” He catches sight of the clock and picks up his coat. “I’m late again… crap! I’ll try and pop in tomorrow. Take care of yourself - no picking fights with any Hackney Cabs!”

And with a quick pat on the shoulder (which hurts) he bustles off out of the room, a small whirlwind of geniality and grape juice stickiness.

“What do you mean, “who?”’ John calls after him, thinking he’d done a pretty good job of it,  but Mike’s already out the door and off to whatever it is he’s late for.

&&&

As a concept, the idea of a celebratory drink with his colleagues from work is a good one. In practice, it’s less so but John acknowledges that he’s not the world’s most sociable man and leaves it there.

The pub is a great choice (Molly’s), and one they know quite well from weekend catchups. It’s close to the river but doesn’t feel as surrounded by city as it is; a little patch of quiet while the rest of the world goes on around it.

John is glad to have been discharged from the hospital; he’s feeling stronger by the day, the evening is warm and still sunny and the company is pleasant -  there’s a small but choice group of colleagues from work but still John feels this sense of disconnection which he puts down to the painkillers and ignores.

He’s been working at Barts since he gave up his locum work. Mike had dropped John’s name into a few conversations when a part time position on the teaching staff had come up. Trauma medicine is something that John knows a thing or eighty about, and he was grateful for the opportunity. He’s surprised to have found that he genuinely enjoys interacting with his students - bright eyed, bushy tailed young things that they are, all convinced that they can make a difference. Being around them keeps his instinctive scorn and skepticism at bay, John finds. After all, this is where he is now and it could be a lot worse. It’s not where he belongs, of course, because that place was snatched from him on a cold day in April a couple of years back.

A handful of his friends and colleagues have turned up to celebrate his survival and liberation from a rival hospital, and although John isn’t exactly healed yet, the sight of his (slightly inebriated) co-workers gives him a genuine flush of warmth. In addition to Mike and Molly, there are Molly’s boyfriend Rob, Karen, who is a fellow lecturer, Diarmuid who works in admin and Marius, who is head of the teaching staff. They all cheer as he hobbles to the table they have bagged in the beer garden, Mike walking slowly and solicitously at his side.

There are backslaps and a couple of kisses and enquiries after his recovery. A round of drinks magically appears, which will later be followed by several more, no doubt. John will be sticking to soft drinks - his head stil aches slightly from the knock it took but he is touched by the enthusiasm with which he is greeted.

“Oh John! Your poor face,” Molly coos. “It’s not as bad as Mike said, but… How are you feeling?”

“A bit bashed up, but improving,” John nods to a chorus of encouraging noises.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Rob laughs and John tells him to piss off. Rob’s nice enough but he can be a bit much sometimes, something that John thinks Molly knows only too well as she often has to step in and distract from the latest boorish thing her boyfriend has spouted.

“We were just talking about the blackout. What do you think it was?” Diarmuid asks once everyone is seated and in possession of a full glass. He’s a nice guy with a soothing accent and a peaceful vibe. John has a lot of time for Diarmuid.

“I read online that it was a weapons test that had gone wrong,” Karen begins. “Some sort of foreign power’s satellite system that uses pulses of EM…”

“That sounds like bollocks,” Rob hoots. “They would know if it had come from a satellite and besides, an EM pulse wouldn’t have taken out electronics on the opposite side of the world. It was everywhere - the whole world - all at once.”

He gets a few nods of agreement but no matter how much sense he is making, his manner is dismissive and several people at the table take a sip of drink to cover their discomfort.

“What about sun spots or solar flares?” Molly says quickly. “Several scientists have suggested they might have had something to do with it.”

There are general shrugs around the table and Rob looks like he’s about to squash that idea too, but John is saved from acting by Mike who quickly puts in his own suggestion.

“Nobody’s clocked the obvious reason,” he says with a grin. “Aliens!”

Molly rolls her eyes good naturedly and sits back from the table. “Well it’s been over a week and they are no closer to having an explanation. Why not aliens? It’s aliens or it remains a mystery forever.”

“There’s only one person who could have worked out this one,” John says with a quiet smile that he’s still not used to even after all this time. He’s surprised when everyone turns to look at him expectantly.He doesn’t speak about him, but John knows they all know what happened - the twitch of an eyebrow when he’s introduced to new people as they recognise his name. He wouldn’t mention him now either but he’s been on John’s mind a lot (even more than usual) during his recovery.

 “Oh come on!” he says to the ring of watching faces. “He’d have loved this one.”

“Who would?” Mike asks, ready to laugh, a smile already quirking one side of his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘who would’? Sherlock, of course.”

There’s a beat where everyone just waits to see who is going to speak

Is that someone’s name?” Rob asks inevitably. “Odd bloody name if you ask me.”

John gives Rob a withering glance and takes a deep sip of his lemonade. His gaze flicks from one colleague to the next and every one of them is watching him, like they are waiting for a punchline. He puts down his glass, frowning.

“Sherlock Holmes? You remember him, tall, thin chap, bit of a dick but also the world’s only consulting detective?” John waits to be let in on the joke, whatever it is.

He watches as those who don’t look confused, smile politely and sip their drinks. They are all very careful not to make eye contact with each other or with him. It’s like they think he’s raving, they’re embarrassed by his words. They must think they’re doing him a favour by avoiding the topic of Sherlock - they’re trying to be kind but John’s a grown man. He’s a bloody doctor and a soldier! Yes, admittedly he was a mess at the time, but he’s had the therapy and he’s moved on physically and mentally to all but the keenest observer. John knows how to hold it together when he has to.

“Listen, I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to. He was a big part of my life for a while.” The understatement of the decade right there, rolling off his tongue.

More shrugs and headshakes greet his words.

“Sorry mate, not a clue who you mean,” Marius offers cautiously.

“Seriously? Sherlock!” John can hear his voice becoming strained and too loud. He blinks and waits again - this is a really shit joke and he is beginning to get suddenly very tired of it. He turns to Molly who had had a crush on Sherlock that had been visible from space, but she’s tapping away at her phone and doesn’t look up.

“Mike, you introduced us!” John insists, appealing to his friend.

Good natured and as gentle a man as you might ever meet, Mike frowns. “I don’t remember that… it’s a pretty distinctive name, I think I’d remember if I’d known anyone called…” He trails off looking disappointed that he’s let John down.

Shaking his head so sharply it aches, John sits back from the table.

“This isn’t funny you know. Stop taking the piss. I’m not concussed anymore, so you can just… give it a rest.”

The tense silence that falls is broken only a few seconds later by the arrival of Chaz, another colleague come to wish him well, who has her new girlfriend in tow.

“Sorry we’re late. This is Ash, Ash this is everyone. Can I get anyone a drink?”

The chorus of greetings and alcohol orders overcompensates for the awkwardness of before. Several of them head off to the bar and Karen leans over and asks him how he’s been sleeping, if the pain is keeping him awake and John realises that they are glossing over his outburst, that for some reason, they don’t want to talk about Sherlock or about John’s past, and for the life of him, John cannot think of why they are so clearly rattled by his behaviour.

He clears his throat and pushes on, not wanting to ruin a gathering thrown in his honour. He fills in the gaps as Ash is told the story of his misadventures with the cab. He accepts another drink - they’re beginning to pile up a bit now and there’s only so much lemonade a man can drink - and he puts the strange moment out of his mind for now. The sun on his head and the chatter of the beer garden is soothing after being in hospital and he decides to lets it all wash over him.

He doesn’t think about the weird moment again until he is back in Mike’s car and on the way home.

“You’re not being serious about not knowing who Sherlock is?” John asks, watching as the sunlight turns redder and the evening settles over them.

“Seriously, mate,” Mike says. “No idea.”

“You knew him, you introduced us a Barts. Posh guy, curly hair. Smart. Was in the papers a lot…”

“Sherwood what was it?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” John offers, but Mike just pulls a bit of a clueless face and shakes his head. “He was my friend, my best friend.”

Mike  glances across at him and looks as if he wants to agree, but clearly has no clue what John is talking about.

“When was this?” he asks carefully.

“When I came back from Afghanistan. I was in a bit of a bad place and he was looking for a flatmate. I ran into you one day in Postman’s Park and you introduced us.”

John stops to breathe for a minute when he catches Mike’s sad, worried expression. Why is he doing this - they’ve had their little joke. John’s certain it’s not him - he’s had all the scans and the tests they could throw at him in the hospital because of the concussion. He’s fine. He’s clear. Sherlock’s only been gone a couple of years - they could not possibly have forgotten him, even had it been twenty years. God knows, he wasn’t the kind of person that people forget. So it must be some sort of joke that the others are playing on him… but why? None of this makes any sense.

Mike signals and waits for traffic on the road they are joining.

“John, when you came back from Afghanistan Harry helped you find your place as far as I know. The first thing I heard about you being back was when you took the job at Barts. That was in the May of 2010.”

“What? No, I… we lived in Baker Street… and I did some locum GP work when we weren’t…” John trails off. This isn’t like Mike at all. He’s a kind man who wouldn’t know how to be cruel even if he wanted to.

“Listen,” Mike says, “you’ve had a hell of a week. They’ve signed you off for the rest of the term, so you should take it easy for a bit. A few days back at your place, a few good night’s sleep…”

And John can’t listen to this. It’s madness. It makes no sense. He feels fine. He is fine. But something like anger, like fury, is rising inside him and Mike doesn’t deserve that. He needs to get out of the car now. He doesn’t know if he’s going to be sick or fly into a rage or sob uncontrollably.

“Just let me out here, Mike,” he says, holding onto his temper by the thinnest thread.

“What are you talking about, man? We’re still miles from yours. What are you going to do? You can’t walk on crutches all the way back to your…”

“Stop the car,” John insists. “I… I need to walk…”

“I can’t do that! It’s getting dark and… John it’s miles!”

“Now, Mike!” John snaps,  one hand on his cane and the other already fumbling for the door handle.

“John… for god’s sake!” Mike gulps as John unbuckles his seatbelt. “Alright… just…. Alright!”

He indicates and pulls into the kerb abruptly, waving an apology to the couple of cars behind who lay on their horns and steer around them.

John already has the door open and is struggling out of the car, his head pounding and half mad with confusion. He plants his cane and gets his feet under him, then gritting his teeth, pushes up and out, using the momentum to hobble a couple of steps before turning to Mike who is leaning across the car and looking up at him.

“At least drop me a text and let me know you’re home safe,” Mike says resignedly, obviously seeing no softening of John’s expression.

John nods and mutters a graceless ‘thank you’ before swinging the door shut. He turns and starts walking without waiting for Mike to pull away again. He is a good way away from home, he recognises. His leg and back are both aching, reminding him that he’s due another painkiller and it will be nearly dark before he gets it, but John needs the quiet.

This situation makes no sense and as far as he can see, it’s not going to while people are telling him that they don’t remember Sherlock Holmes - a media darling, the newspapers were full of him and the cases he’d solved for months leading up to his death. And after he’d jumped it was as if there wasn’t another story in the world for a few days. John had loathed it, but then found it had been worse when eventually entire days would go by without a mention of him in the press or in his life. Even if he didn’t like to talk about it himself, he knew what debt the country owed Sherlock and he’d wanted them to acknowledge that.

He hadn’t been thinking straight for a couple of months afterwards. Perhaps that’s what was happening to him now. Perhaps the shock of his own accident was distorting his memories of his friend. John knew that PTSD could have some strange effects on memory recall but he’d never heard of anything quite so precise as misremembering someone that had made such a huge impact on your life.

As he walks, or limps, really, he passes the time by testing himself, and he pulls together an order of their time. How they met, the flat, Mrs Hudson, the cabbie, his job, the circus, Moriarty, the pool. It sounds like a film plot or a series of thrillers but each piece is bright and sharp in his mind - nothing wobbles when he pushes at it a little and the detail he recalls cannot be anything but something he lived. He adds in the few things from that period that were only his, smiling to himself when he recognises how few there were, and how much of John’s life Sherlock had inhabited. It passes the time and it keeps his mind off the ache that has become a shrieking pain leaving him feeling like there isn’t an inch of his body that isn’t bruised or abraded.

He’s almost sick with relief when he finally steps through his front door. He locks it behind him and hobbles to the kitchen, finds his tablets and pops two, washing them down with gulps of water from the kitchen tap and watching out the window as night begins to fall on the world outside.

His flat is at street level, but there are two others in this converted Edwardian redbrick house, one above and one below with a garden. They all have separate front doors, so there’s not a lot of interaction between him and his neighbours. The woman downstairs is in her mid sixties, a ceramic artist. It is she who looks after the pretty garden that John can see out of the windows at the back of his flat. His living space is one long room that stretches from the street to the back of the house with his kitchen at one end and his sitting room at the other. Across the hall there is a double bedroom which also overlooks the garden, a small, chilly bathroom and a tiny box room that John uses as a study. It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace, but when all John had wanted was to not be at Baker Street, expecting himself to blow in at any moment with a sly smile and a new case, this place without memories or ghosts had been perfect.

John half sits, half falls onto the sofa. He’s exhausted but his mind is still full of swirling coat hems and eyes that can’t decide on a colour, on dark chuckles and quick fingers on violin strings. He clicks on a lamp, pulls his laptop off the coffee table and wakes it up. He doesn’t often allow himself to revisit those times online, and without the filter of his own memory he’s found they hurt more than he can put into words. But tonight, with the hospital and the long walk and the weirdness he decides to search for what comfort he can find there.

He opens the browser and types Sherlock’s name into the search bar.

The first hits are all businesswomen who go by Sherl, then there’s an American country singer, an animated character and an IT solutions firm. It asks him if he meant to type ‘Shrek.’

 It feels like the world has lost all colour and sound instantaneously.John stares down at the keyboard and notices that his hands are shaking and realises with a tsunami of sweet relief that he must have made a typing error - Sherlock always did tell him he should learn to do it properly.He takes a calming breath to steady his hands and types the name again, watching each keystroke to ensure that the correct letter has been selected.The monstrous green face appears again alongside the LinkedIn profiles and Wikipedia entries and adverts.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks into the silence of the flat.He types it again, backspacing when his fingers stutter and stumble over the familiar letters. He tastes bile, opens a new page and types it again.

And again.

He scrolls through three pages, four, five. It’s impossible.

It’s too huge for him to grasp. He must be doing something wrong, but he can’t catch what it is. The country, the world, cannot have forgotten the greatest consulting detective who has ever lived. There are thousands and thousands of pages dedicated to his methods, his exploits, his wardrobe, his legacy, the rumours and the conspiracy theories - he knows there are. So why can’t he find them?

After a moment or two John realises that with his hands pressed to his lips hard enough to hurt, he’s hyperventilating, his thin, wheezing breaths sounding like an injured animal, keening and high pitched.He forces himself to breathe slowly. Opens another window.

S-h-e-r-l-o-c-k

Same results. He shuts it down.

H-o-l-m-e-s

A village in Cheshire.

A hotel.

A beer hall.

A footballer.

A company that sells air purifiers.

A seafood wholesaler.

A skip hire company.

A Shakespearean character.

It takes a moment for his brain to reboot and all the while, the keening noise is right there, trying to escape his lips, trying to scream about pain and loss and the wrongness of the whole fucking world until the very bricks and mortar of London are shaken down to nothing.

He types 221B Baker Street.

He types The Lost Vermeer.

He types James Moriarty.

Faster and faster, barely waiting for the pages to load before he discards them and tries something else.

The date of Sherlock’s death.

The Science of Deduction.

Barts Suicide.

Geoff Hope.

There is nothing even remotely connected to the man who made such a profound impact on John’s life that he’s been grieving him for the last two years.

Through the numb howling in his head a thought unfolds. He can barely type in his own password as he opens up his blog. He’d hated it when he’d started it on the advice of his therapist all those years ago. To begin with it had been a sporadic and bitter record of a man who hadn’t known where he’d fitted anymore but as he’d become involved with Sherlock and begun to write about the cases they had shared, he’d come alive, words pouring out of his fingers and onto the screen, bright and vibrant and mad and wonderfully, wonderfully real.

He should have tried this first, of course. He’d documented their life together first hand… well, a lot of it. Some had been classified, some had been tactfully omitted and some of it John still hadn’t found the words to explain and now most likely never would, but…

His most recent blog post pops up and he navigates his way back to before that day at Barts when everything had stopped. There are posts there - dozens of them, but relief sours in seconds when he begins to flick through them. Post after post, dates that should have been commemorated, not a single one of his posts is how he remembers them. A few lines each about London or his training or his new job - some of them have a couple of comments - none of them familiar. And not a single mention of Sherlock Holmes anywhere. No cases. No consulting detective. No snarky commentary by the man himself.

“No,” John says simply. He forgets (refuses) to breathe until the only other choice is unconsciousness, when he drags in a ragged, wet gasp. Then he does it again. And again, until his ears are full of  a whining buzz and there are dots in front of his eyes.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls for Greg’s number but it isn’t there. He doesn’t let this register for fear he will start hyperventilating again and instead pulls up a number from the internet for New Scotland Yard. He has to go through three switchboards to get to the right department where they at least seem to recognise who John is asking for. He then has to explain that although it’s not office hours, and he is aware of that, it’s vital that he speak to Lestrade.

“Who’s calling?”

“John Watson… Doctor John Watson.”

“And you say he’s expecting your call?” John has, in fact, not said this but he has implied very heavily that that is the case.

“Yes, it’s to do with what he’s currently working on. I’m from Barts.”

He doesn’t feel good, twisting things like that, but he hasn’t time to consider the moral implications of it right now.There’s a click and a muffled rumble of voices and a long sigh.

“Lestrade.”

John has never been so glad to hear a familiar voice, even one as weary as this.

“Greg, it’s John. Look I’m sorry to bother you… and that I haven’t been in touch lately but it’s about Sherlock.”

John doesn’t sound like a crazy person - he’s speaking fast and he’s a little breathless and thick, but he doesn’t sound crazy. He makes sure he doesn’t.

“Sorry?

”“It’s Sherlock, Greg. Something has happened and… I don’t know how to explain this really, but he’s… everything’s gone. There’s no trace of him anywhere online and it’s almost like he never… like he never…”

“Listen, Dr Watson is it? They said you were from Barts?”

John manages to make an affirmative grunt.

“You’re part of Dr Hooper’s team I assume? I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about and I’m not waiting on anything from you, so unless this has something to do with the poor bugger we’ve just pulled out of the Thames, then I suggest you dial 101 and give them the details of your… cat, is it? Your Sherlock or whatever and they can take it from there, okay?”

“No, you don’t understand…”The call goes muffled and John can hear Greg shouting to someone who shouts back even more faintly. There’s a couple of concise swearwords and Greg is back, his Estuary accent strained enough to sound Cockney.

“I hope you find her, mate but do me a favour and don’t call Serious Crimes unless it actually is one.”

For an indeterminate amount of time, John sits, mobile still in hand. It gets quiet outside as even the drunks make their way home to bed.And then John sniffs. He picks up his laptop, wakes it up again and begins to type.

[yougotthatbilly]

take care (m)

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: assistant!johnny | smut

→ word count: 15.9k (not surprised atp)

→ playlist: body talk x majid jordan, warm x majid jordan, BoRdErSz x zayn, moment x victoria monét

→ warnings: slowburn, indecisiveness, v  self-indulgent; unprofessional relations, big dick!johnny (ofc; don’t expect anything else), soft dom!johnny, begging (johnny’s a tease), subspace, oral; face-fucking, (and if you squint, ass eating), unprotected sex, squirting, praising, overstimulation, etc. 

↳ summary: your assistant just wants to take care of you

The heavy rain outside mocks you. You were supposed to be at your favorite bar across the street, but here you are sitting at your desk, staring out your window. And that’s how Johnny finds you after being granted entrance into your office.

Your arm is propped up on the arm of your seat, cheek in hand, lips pouted. Johnny does his best not to smile at the thought of you looking adorable as not to piss you off. He just sets your cup of tea down on the coaster on the corner of your desk. 

“How was the meeting?” he asks, taking a seat on the other side of your desk. 

You slowly spin to face him, looking at him with annoyed eyes as you take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature—a temperature Johnny took almost a month to perfect— and sweetness, and it instantly makes you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “Jiyoung didn’t get fired.” You have a three-strike policy; this incident is the second strike.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny corrects, grinning.

You tilt your head at his correction. “I care?”

Johnny just shakes his head, knowing you’re being petty because Jaehyun got his dates wrong and uploaded a post on a few new products a week earlier than the scheduled date, resulting in having to speed things up a little. It didn’t cause a major problem because you’re typically prepared for the worst case scenario, but you don’t like feeling rushed and when things don’t go as planned, so you were pissed. 

“What’s his punishment?”

“That’s between me and him,” you tell Johnny before taking another sip. Your lip curls in disgust at the suggestive look your assistant gives you. “Okay, let’s not be gross. He’s a child.”

“I didn’t know 23 was considered a child,” Johnny teases, mostly because the man of the hour has had a crush on you for the last year he’s been working for you and he’s been trying to get Johnny to talk him up to you. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to get fired in his place,” you say with a tight smile. Johnny decides to switch the subject.

“Mind me asking why you looked so sad when I walked in?”

You sigh once more, slouching in your seat.

“I wanted to go to the bar…” You point to the window beside you. Johnny follows your finger and watches the storm that hasn’t let up since it started half an hour ago. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”

You’ve either been in your office working nonstop or sleeping for the last week or so and you can feel a burnout creeping up. You were going to walk to the bar to get the fresh air you needed, enjoy a drink and your favorite wings because you deserve it—especially after the headache Jaehyun caused the moment you stepped foot into your office this morning—and indulge yourself. Now look at you, hardly munching on the fruit slices Johnny gave you this morning and almost finished with your tea.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going the way you planned today.” Johnny pouts. “On the bright side, you don’t have anything else on your schedule so if you wanted to go home within the next hour, you wouldn’t fall behind.”

“I’ll probably just take a nap on the futon once I’m done looking over the new plan again.” You shrug. 

Johnny wants to roll his eyes, but he catches himself. He’s sure you’ve already gone over it at least five times. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, so lifts himself out of his seat. “I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a call if something comes up or you change your mind.”

To both of your surprise, you actually head out and get yourself a candle you’d ran out of a week ago on the way home to treat yourself to a much needed bath filled with bubbles and essential oils. The scent of the candle reminds you of your assistant because it’s the scent he got you for your birthday, and it’s become your favorite. 

You send a picture of the candle at the end of your tub to Johnny, thanking him again for putting you onto greatness, as he worded it before when you first smelled it in front of him and your eyes practically rolled back. 

[18:14] John Suh: Are you actually relaxing???

You suck your teeth at his response, but you can’t blame him. He’s the only one that knows just how much you put in to get to the position you’re in, while you’re positive a lot of others just think it was handed to you by your mother instead of the school and endless hours work you went through and continue to go through. It’s very rare you give yourself the time to truly sit back and relax aside from when you’re on vacation. And even then, work never really stops. It just gets placed on the back burner for a little.

[18:16] you: Hush.

[18:17] John Suh: I’m just glad you’re taking care of yourself. Your dark circles have been snitching on you.

[18:17] you: Wow. You really wanna get fired today, huh?

[18:18] John Suh: Dark circles or not, you know you’re still beautiful. Now stop texting me and enjoy your bath!

When you find yourself smiling at your phone, you know you should do exactly what he says. Johnny’s always been a complimenter, though his usual kindness goes along the lines of telling you that you look nice. You’re no stranger to this specific compliment, you get it all the time on Instagram from your business partners and supporters. So why does this time settle differently within you?

[18:21] you: Nice save. 

You need a video of one of your popular social media influencer ambassadors using and reviewing your newest skincare products tomorrow—due to Jaehyun’s mix-up—but that’s not happening. She didn’t record it before going on vacation and didn’t think to bring the products with her on her trip. While it isn’t her fault times have moved around, you’re annoyed she didn’t bring the products with her when she’s supposed to be using them every day because she’s one of your main advocates for your products being oily skin-friendly. You have the videos of the other models with their specific skin types, and this is your missing piece. 

The weather is nice today, so you take a much-needed break from electronics and go to the roof of the building. Your peace is quickly interrupted by the body of a six-foot male in front of you, standing in the way of the sunlight you were basking in.

“I know you hate him right now,” Johnny begins, skipping over greetings to get to the point of his disruption. “But Jaehyun has oily skin, he’s been using the products you gave him for like three weeks, he really likes them, and he has a good following on Instagram.”

You take the phone handed to you begrudgingly and look at Jaehyun’s page. Thirteen thousand followers and quality pictures. You’re not blind, Jaehyun is conventionally attractive and looks like a model in the photos and boomerangs. Something is missing, though. “Eh.”

“‘Eh?’” Johnny parrots, confused. He doesn’t know a better last-minute model for you than Jaehyun.

“Something’s missing,” you explain with a shrug. You absentmindedly tap the profile icon at the bottom of the screen and Johnny’s Instagram profile pops up. The two of you follow each other, so it’s not like you’ve never seen his pictures, but it’s been a while since you actually paid attention to detail. He has eighteen thousand followers and apparently uploads his pictures following a color theme. There are pictures of himself, random people, and nature in a strategic flow. When you select a video to watch, you’re sold on the lighting, exposure, and the way he captured the woman’s features. “Sit.”

Johnny does so without any questions. You gently grab his jaw and study his face closely. His skin is supple and dewy, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Not that his skin was bad before he started using your products, but the texture and scarring have minimized quite a bit. Johnny doesn’t have the typical, bland model face your competitors love so much, especially with the slight stubble he’s got above his top lip and on his chin. 

“What’s your skin type, John?” 

“Oily,” he sighs, knowing what’s coming next. He was doing his job as your assistant, trying to make your life easier, but now he wishes he would’ve left this task to the social media department and stayed out of it. 

You thought so. “Will you do this for me instead?”

“Do I look like an influencer to you?” 

“Yes. I’ll double your next check and everything,” you promise him. “You actually have a personality and everything you post is quality. Women will love the eye candy and all types of men will take you seriously because you don’t have that annoying pristine, perfect look to you like Jaeyoung does.”

Johnny is here to fulfill your needs, so he knows you asking is really just you being polite. He doesn’t have much of a choice, especially with the lack of time you have. He is enjoying the warmth of your hand and the fact you referred to him as ‘eye candy,’ too. And who is he to say no to extra money?

“I’ll have it recorded and edited by midnight,” Johnny smiles, giving you the hope you need. 

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you sigh in relief, shaking his face side to side affectionately before letting him go to stand up. You feel much better now. “Send it directly to me.” 

Johnny stands up with you and leads the way, opening the door for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Always true to his word, Johnny emails you two links at a quarter-till, with a message attached: 

Good evening, 

I edited two videos for you, one short enough for a regular post on the company’s page and the other that could be used for my IGTV for my followers. I hope these meet your expectations, but if there’s anything you need me to fix or redo, let me know and I’ll get right to it. 

Sincerely, 

John Suh

You get comfortable in your bed with your iPad and tap the first link. You make sure the brightness and volume are high enough to get the full effect, then press play. The quality of the film makes you assume he used a professional camera instead of his phone, and he gets a point for that. 

“Hey,” Johnny starts with an awkwardly endearing smile. “I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I got scouted by the skincare goddess herself to be an ambassador for Surreal’s new line of skincare, Ethereal.”

You grin at the nickname and note that with him being in the bathroom, there’s no echo in his audio, and that gives him another point.

“I’ve been using the four of the five products I’m about to introduce to you everyday for around a month and before I do my skincare routine for you, I’ll show you what my skin looked like before I started using these products with dates so you don’t think I’m just trying to sell you on them just because she’s been writing my checks for the last year,” Johnny chuckles, then the screen shows a selfie Johnny took with the date of a month ago from today, some hyperpigmentation and small bumps dotting his cheek and jaw. 

Another point for including before and afters. You knew he’d meet your expectations without you having to say much.  

“I’ll get up close and personal at the end so you can really see the results,” Johnny winks into the camera, causing you to blink. 

You knew he’d have personality and that was one of the main reasons he was a great idea, and while in hindsight his actions are predictable, you shake your head. The fact that he’s actually charming makes you scoff, but you’re sure that the damn wink only worked on you right now because it’s almost midnight and you should be asleep right now. You won’t act like he hasn’t always been nice on the eyes, but he’s Johnny. 

You can’t deny that you do thoroughly enjoy the Johnny presented to you through the screen, though. 

“The first product is an oil-based cleanser because the SPF in this collection is oil-based as well,” Johnny explains, then proceeds to show the jar and small spatula that comes with it before he scooped some out, capturing the texture of the product well. 

And that’s how the rest of the video plays out, the unusually deep, gentle tone of Johnny’s voice explaining how well each product works for his oily and acne-prone skin, lulling you into a relaxed state against your headboard. He keeps things short and simple, the video just barely passing three minutes and as promised, his face comes a lot closer to the screen, showing the faded scarring and smooth texture of what used to be his problem areas. Johnny ends the video with a sweet smile and says goodbye. The shorter video is edited to where he’s hardly talking, mostly just demoing your products, just the way you like things to be on the company’s page.

You did great, John. Thanks again for doing this last minute. You can come in at 10 am tomorrow since I had you working overtime today. Rest well. 

Johnny is at your desk with your morning cup of tea at eight in the morning, a bright smile on his face as he tells you good morning. 

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s my job?” Johnny says, pretending like he doesn’t know what you’re referring to. You can read him well, though. You take the mug out of his hand before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you. 

“You’re either being hard-headed as usual, or you’re anxious about your video being uploaded. Which is it?” 

And that wipes the bright smile off of his face. 

“I slept three hours last night,” he confesses. “I’m not used to this kind of exposure.”

You take a couple of sips of your tea and quietly observe him, thinking. 

“Would you prefer we didn’t post it, then?”

Your assistant looks at you as if you didn’t just speak one of the languages he’s fluent in. You just blink at him and continue drinking your beverage, waiting for him to either say yes or no in case you need to make other plans, again.

“You’d do that for me?” he finally says after a while of staring at you like you’re crazy. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask slowly. “You’ve proven how far you’d go for me and I appreciate it, but I care about you as a person and anxiety is a bitch, so I wouldn’t want you to be panicking over Jaejoon’s mistake.”

The corner of Johnny’s lift curls at your continued pettiness, and maybe his heart does a thing at the fact that you care that much about him. It’s obvious to everyone that he is the closest to you out of all of your employees; being your assistant means you let your guard down a little with him. Along with the more serious side of your personality everyone else gets (especially recently), he sees your soft side. You’re not an overly strict boss, but Johnny gets to see you smile more and pout (he’d lose his job if he admitted to you how endearing your pout is to him). But even with the closer relationship the two of you have, Johnny would’ve never expected you to choose his stage fright over your baby; your company.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Johnny declines with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Thank you for considering my feelings, though.”

You shrug, not about to press him on the issue. “Alright. I need you to post the IGTV at 2 pm and tag our page in an appropriate caption. I’d suggest you turn your notifications off for a while because as soon as you post it, it’s getting posted to our story then I’m sure you’re gonna get flooded with DM’s.”

“Flooded?’” Johnny asks, head tilted. “I mean, all I’ll have to do is copy and paste the same message answering any questions they might have about the products. Easy.”

You’re the one to look at him like he’s stupid this time. You set your mug down, lean back in your swivel chair, and clasp your hands over your stomach. “You can’t be that dense.”

“‘Dense?’” he asks.

“Are you a parrot?” you tsk. “But yes, dense. You know good and well most of the messages will have nothing to do with my products and everything to do with you.”

Johnny has the audacity to still be confused after your explanation. 

“John, you realize you’re a good-looking guy with a likable personality, right?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t know that. Johnny’s always been a pretty confident guy, with both his looks and personality. His confusion doesn’t stem from being blind or too humble. It’s the fact you of all people are telling him this right now. 

“You think so?” he prompts, just to see how many compliments he can get out of you. This is a rare occasion.

“When you’re not being annoyingly happy-go-lucky and chill out, yes.” You reply. And now he’s pouting. That’s what he gets.

“I thought my cheerfulness brought joy to your days,” Johnny says with a dramatic hand on his heart, offended.

“What brings me joy is everything running smoothly and everyone doing their job,” you correct. He isn’t wrong, but you decide not to stroke his ego any more than you already have. And you’ve already said too much. “With that being said, you do everything I ask of you, and that brings me so much joy. You’re the perfect assistant, so don’t cry.”

“Is this your way of telling me to calm down?”

Your iPad buzzes against the wood of your desk and when you peek at it, you see it’s an email from Jaehyun with the subject: Today’s upload schedule.

“This is my way of telling you to get to work, honey.”

Johnny often finds himself slowly backing out of your office with his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the distinct differences between the two of you. He figures it’s why you work so well together and why he’s held this job position for over a year in comparison to the two assistants before him that both got fired before the six-month mark. Johnny’s also positive that you love his excessively positive nature (as Jaehyun has described Johnny’s personality before) somewhere deep down and that he brightens your day after dealing with idiots like Jaehyun. 

When your assistant is out of sight, you grab your iPad, respond to Jaehyun’s email, and find yourself rewatching today’s scheduled video. Maybe more than once. 

The video is up at 2 pm sharp and Johnny does as advised, turning his Instagram notifications off immediately. He even goes as far as taking his phone off of vibrate so he isn’t aware of any other notifications until he decides to look at his phone again. He’s got things to organize anyway, so the work he has to do takes his mind off of any anxiety within him. 

That is until you appear at the doorway of his office an hour later. This is a rare occurrence, so Johnny can’t be blamed for staring at you, and in the process, he appreciates the very fitted pantsuit you’re wearing. You took off the blazer sometime in between when Johnny left your office hours ago and now, and he thinks that the blush pink blouse compliments your complexion and red lips very well. But of course it does. Everything you wear compliments everything about you perfectly. 

Just one of the many observations Johnny has made in the past year.

“How do you feel?” you ask him. Your voice is always so calm and collected, even when you’re ripping someone to shreds because of idiocy. Johnny admittedly admires that about you.

“I’ve done everything under the sun to avoid my phone,” Johnny confesses with a weak laugh.

You nod. “Well, just know that I’ve had multiple companies and modeling agencies ask why I’ve been hiding you. So don’t be surprised if you have job opportunities waiting for you.” 

“Wow… this means I can finally quit,” Johnny hardly whispers with a victorious fist pump.

“I wish the hell you would,” you deadpan, breaking Johnny’s act and causing him to laugh loudly at the lack of expression paired with your response. “You’re mine unless there’s a tragic accident, God forbid, or you’re moving up in the ranks.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” you confirm, sending him a wink before turning on your heel and strutting back to your own office. Johnny licks his lips at the sight of the natural sway of your hips before shaking his head and getting back to working on the excel sheet staring at him.

“How is it that you all have the skills and training for the very simple tasks I ask you to complete, yet lack common sense and proper work ethic?” 

Everyone in the room, excluding Johnny, just looks up at you from their seats, pitiful expressions on their faces. Their eyes follow you as you slowly walk to the other side of the room. You’re trying to stay calm and be professional, so pacing around the room is your best bet. 

To Johnny, you look like you’re on a runway in slow motion, modeling the slim-fitting pencil skirt and red bottoms you’re adorning. Though still attentive to every word coming out of your mouth, Johnny lets himself get lost in each step you take because he’s not the one getting chewed out. 

Mark, one of the newest additions to the marketing department, leans into Johnny’s side to whisper into his ear. “How have you managed to not fuck up and be on the receiving end of her talks yet?”

You don’t hear anything, but you see whispering happening, and now is not the time for side conversations. Johnny doesn’t even have the chance to turn to Mark or tell him to shut up until the end of the meeting before you’re speaking again.

“Mark Lee,” you call as you make your way towards him, causing him to sit up straight. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds nervously. Johnny internally shakes his head at Mark not being able to think quickly and lie. “My apologies.”

“Is there anything anyone wants to say or am I just a narcissist who loves talking to hear my lovely voice? Should I sing?” you ask, standing next to Johnny at the end of the conference table, hand on your hip. “Y’all want a performance?”

Johnny bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Your sarcasm only intensifies the unsettled looks on everyone’s face and they all side-eye Jungwoo, their savior from the last time they got chewed out as a whole. Jungwoo raises his hand before saying, “There’s nothing we can say to excuse our actions—or lack thereof, but we will get right on it and do our jobs correctly this time. You won’t have to repeat yourself again.”

Johnny is impressed at how quickly your features soften. The ready-to-fire-someone look melts away as you nod at Jungwoo’s promise. You do have a bit of a soft spot for the latter, though, so it makes sense. 

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re dismissed,” you announce, waving everyone off. 

The room is empty, save for you and your assistant, in mere seconds. 

“You’re going to give them nightmares,” Johnny chuckles, gathering your belongings before opening the door for you to exit the conference room. He laughs once more at your responding yawn.

“How? That was me on my best behavior,” you retort, your heels clicking loudly as you walk to the elevator. “And what was Lee whispering about?”

“Your employees are just amazed that I’ve kept you satisfied for so long.”

You walk into the elevator once the doors slide open and lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. Your eyes are squinted as you give Johnny a once over. He has done everything right since he completed his training. “You think you can keep me satisfied?” 

There’s a challenging tone in your voice that causes Johnny to lick his lips. “I’d never disappoint you.”

Your response is a nod of your head paired with a drawn-out hum, and then you walk out of the elevator to your office once you hit your floor, walking ahead of Johnny without another word. You laugh at yourself when you replay the short conversation in your mind at the feeling you got in your gut at his response. And then you’re scoffing because, once again, it’s Johnny.

Johnny… Over six feet, amicable, charming, handsome as all hell Johnny. The scene of him licking his lips and saying those four words in that promising, deep voice in the elevator flashes through your mind once you’re seated at your desk. Your fingernail taps against the wood as you roll your lips together, stuck in your head. The ironic conclusion you come to before getting back to work is that you’re working way too much and just lacking male attention because there’s no other plausible reason for your goofy-ass assistant to have been on your mind so much for the last couple of days. 

“Really?” Johnny asks when he walks in and sees you slumped over your desk.

Your eyes flutter open at his voice.

“I was just resting my eyes” you yawn, waving him off. 

“What work is there possibly left for you to do at this point?” The products go on the market tomorrow, meaning all the work that had to be done in preparation for the launch was completed before everyone left today (the marketing department got their shit together quickly because they know about your policy and how unforgiving you are when the deadline is right around the corner). The only thing left for your marketing team to do tomorrow is look over everything once more and then you’re free to sit back and wait for customers to buy the new products and idly watch over social media if you really wanted to. It frustrates Johnny that you always find something extra to do. 

“I was doing some last minute, um”— another yawn —“touches on the-”

“Well, that’s enough,” Johnny interrupts your explanation, walking around to your side of the desk and plucking the pen out of your hand.

 You just nod and lean back in your ridiculously big swivel chair, blinking up at him slowly, because he’s right. There’s literally nothing else for you to do and you have the most full coverage concealer under your eyes; you need to rest. 

“Am I driving you home tonight?” He asks as he packs your belongings into the massive purse on the box by your feet then places it on your desk so he doesn’t have to bend back down to retrieve it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumble, thankful you spent so much money on the chair you’re oh-so comfortable in. 

Johnny puts his hands out for you to grab, and once you do so, he pulls you up. You groan and lean forward into him to catch your balance after not being on your feet for many hours, but then Johnny’s hand on firm on the middle of your lower back, and the pressure makes you stay. He’s just helping you steady yourself, a position you’ve been in once or twice before because you like to push your limits (says both your therapist and your assistant), but he smells good and he’s warm; his presence is comforting. It always has been, which is why he’s made the perfect assistant for you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking down at the top of your head that simply nods in response.

“Think I pushed my limit,” you admit, much to your assistant’s surprise. It’s not that you’re prideful, but you don’t exactly like showing weakness, especially in front of your employees.

Though tempted to just let you rest your head on his chest because he doesn’t mind the proximity at all and knows you’re somehow comfortable, Johnny makes sure you’re standing steadily by yourself so he can drape your coat over your shoulders. He grabs your purse and wraps an arm around your waist then guides you out of your office, all the way to the parking garage, saying goodbye to the confused cleaning staff on his way out. 

He presses the button on the handle of the passenger side’s door to unlock it, opens the door, then fits you inside of his car. Johnny leans over your body to buckle your seat belt, and when he’s back away, he catches you looking at him with a look he can’t quite decipher. 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and blink slowly. “I just really appreciate you, John.”

Johnny just nods to save face and closes the door before making his way to the driver’s seat. He’s not quite sure how to feel or respond to the soft-spoken, sleepy side of you since it’s been months since the one other time you’ve been in a similar situation, and he wasn’t as smitten as he is now. 

You’re fighting your sleep because even though you trust Johnny, you want to be as aware during this trip to your house. It’s a hard feat, though. His car is big and comfortable and the hum of the engine is trying to lull you into a deep sleep. 

Johnny looks over at you after getting on the main road and notices your internal fight. 

“You can fall asleep, you know.”

“You might take my organs.” 

“I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to,” Johnny humors you. His response brings a small smile to your face, and that keeps a smile on his own. 

“You have a really pretty smile, John.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says, figuring it’s just your exhaustion talking. 

“I’m almost jealous of how pretty your lips are,” you sigh, mouth not filtering your thoughts at this point of exhaustion (you’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last week, but no one, especially not Johnny, needs to know that). You don’t care enough to try to “correct” yourself because the pretty curl of his lips gets even deeper.

“Really?” Johnny asks, trying his luck again because he’s sure tonight isn’t like the other day in your office. “You think my lips are pretty?”

You hum and cuddle into his seat even more. After staring at his profile a while longer, you tell him, “I think you’re pretty.”

That makes him laugh again, taken aback at the string of compliments coming out of your mouth towards him of all people. It’s not that you’re mean or don’t applaud him for his great work, but this is a very different side of you that he’s seeing. He likes it.

“That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he says, taking a moment to look at you again before focusing on the road again. “Thank you.”

“Are you used to hearing ‘handsome?’ ‘Fine?’ ‘Sexy?’” You notice how Johnny’s brows lift. “Too far?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re good. I like you when you’re nice.”

“You like me regardless,” you say with a sassy scoff, pretending to flip your hair even though it’s slicked back in a low bun, the same as every workday.

Johnny nods slowly, contemplating if he should humor you or just laugh you off. It literally takes him 0.5 seconds to go with the former option because he’s been waiting for the day the two of you step out of professional talk and get into something more personal, specifically between the two of you. “You got me there. I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

Your eyes squint as you analyze him and process his words. There’s a subtle but still very noticeable shift in the air after his question, and while you’re sure it’s your fault for letting your exhaustion let you feel comfortable enough to open your mouth and start spewing out nice things to your assistant, his response is enough to keep it up. It also doesn't help that this is a far more intimate setting than work. 

“Be careful, you keep saying things like that and I’ll think you have a crush on me,” you tease him, chuckling at the snort he responds with. 

Before Johnny snitches on himself, he flips the script. “Says the one staring at my lips long enough to deem them ‘pretty’ and calling me pretty, of all things.” 

“Well,” you start as your gaze goes right back to his mouth at the mention of it. “It would be unprofessional of me to tell you that I think you’re fine as hell, so,” you shrug.

You and Johnny have always had a bit of banter between the two of you, and while this topic isn’t something that’s been covered before, it’s hard to really care when you feel comfortable enough to cross that line right now. If he hadn’t been playing along, you wouldn’t have said anything more than the simple compliment from earlier, but with the reciprocity, the logical voice within gets pushed away. Exhaustion isn’t much of an excuse at this point because that high from tiredness has passed. 

The timing of the traffic light turning red is a little too perfect. Johnny takes the opportunity to look at you again, and something lights up in his chest when he catches how your eyes travel up from his mouth to look into his own eyes at his attention. 

“It would be unprofessional,” he agrees with another nod of his head. “But I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

You hum and nod. “Good to know.”

“You must not be sleeping well for you to be throwing out compliments like that.” Johnny leans onto the middle counsel.

“I’m not saying anything I haven’t thought of for a while.” You tell him after a beat, choosing to reply honestly since you’re already here. Johnny quirks a brow to prompt you to elaborate, and you do so, mirroring his position and propping your chin in your hand. His face is a lot closer now, but you keep your eyes on his own orbs to avoid losing focus. “I hired you because of your experience and skill set, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye-candy around me. Pretty privilege and all,” you wave a nonchalant hand. “You were perfect until you opened your mouth.”

“You can never be nice to me for long, can you?” he snorts.

“You’re perfect tonight, though,” you add on, specifically for the quirk of Johnny’s mouth that comes from the praise. Yeah, you failed the challenge. 

“How so?” Johnny questions, quickly checking to see if the light has changed yet. It hasn’t, and for once in his life he’s grateful for a long light. He feels good about where this conversation could possibly get him after a year of silently admiring you, so good that he not-so-subtly gets even closer, definitely in your bubble, but nothing too crazy.

“You’re calm and collected and taking care of me,” you admit. The silent deep breath you take to calm yourself grants you access to the scent of Johnny’s cologne again, and your mind is so close to deciding that logic is unnecessary. A tiny voice in the back of your mind has been trying to get your attention and steer you in the opposite direction of the one you’ve decided to take, with how you tilt your head up to get just a little closer to him.

“You like being taken care of?”

“I love it,” you confess, and Johnny takes the chance to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he hums, content with your response. Definitely an excuse to test the waters and see how far he can go and how willing you are to really cross this line. You turn your face into his hand so he cups your jaw, but then there’s a horn sounding behind you because the light is green, and Johnny begrudgingly has to pay attention to the road. You blink, the trance you found yourself in with him so close but so far away dissipating, the situation becoming a lot more real now that he’s out of your space. You slump back into your seat and look out of the window, that voice becoming louder and grounding you as you take another deep breath. “But allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone like that? Yikes.”

He knows your defense mechanism is trying to kick in, but he’s not having it.

“Aside from me?” 

You hum. “Not quite…” 

You set yourself up. From that moment in the elevator to now, you’ve been digging your own grave, and Johnny has done nothing but assist you, encourage you to dig deeper. You’re not sleepy anymore, there’s no more foggy brain from earlier when he found you asleep in the office. Just desire you’ve done a grand job of ignoring up until the last few days. But unfortunately, you have to remind yourself you’ve been ignoring it for a reason.

Your assistant almost doesn’t say anything because he loves his job and you clearly switched the direction of the conversation for a reason, but so much (yet so little) has already been said during your time in the car and you’ve already said enough to get the gears in his head turning. 

“So you mean a different type of care?”Johnny asks. He pulls into your driveway and parks. He wants to get back to the space the two of you were at when stopped at that light, but you’re already unbuckling your seat belt and grabbing your purse, signifying that the moment is long gone. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Do you need me to walk you in?”

“I think I’ve got it now, thanks.” You need to get inside and get some sleep. Are you running right now? Of course. You’re a responsible person and the most responsible thing for you to do as the woman that signs his paychecks, is to get the fuck away from him before he persuades you, because you both know it’s possible.

“Let me rephrase that:” he licks his pretty lips and your fist balls up around your purse’s straps. “Do you want me to walk you in? I know you didn’t need me to do most of what I’ve done tonight, but you let me because you wanted me to.” His ability to read you so well is both a blessing and a curse. “Now would you like for me to continue taking care of you tonight or not?” 

You do. You absolutely do. You’re tempted to say yes in the case you don’t end up alone tonight, but you know it’s not a good idea. And you’re sure the atmosphere of this car ride will disappear by the time you wake up. At least that’s what you tell yourself because you know, ethics.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Johnny, opening the door and stepping out. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe.”

Johnny watches you walk up to your door, unlock it, then disappear into your house. He lets out a deep sigh before backing out of your driveway and driving home.

Tea, fruit slices, and avocado toast are set down in front of you the moment you walk behind your desk. 

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you calmly. “Your eleven o’clock meeting has been pushed back thirty minutes, so I’d suggest using the opportunity to get out of the building and get some fresh air. You know, get away from electronics and people to recharge.”

That’s exactly what you’ll do. You’re going to be monitoring the Instagram engagement and website sales for a while, even though you pay people to be on top of numbers, so a break will definitely be needed. 

“I love your brain, you know that?” you ask, looking up at him once your jacket and bag are off of your body, meeting his eye. The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. 

“I told you I’d never disappoint you.”

“And I’m holding you to that.” You ignore the fact that there’s definitely another meaning behind his words. You can’t say the tension that last night’s conversation produced has gone away completely, but it’s weak enough for you to ignore it and stick to the amicable atmosphere the two of you have built for the last year plus.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied you during your walk?” Johnny prompts after a moment of him just standing there, pursing his lips together to refrain himself from grinning at you. “There’s something I’d like to run by you because I trust your opinion as my boss and my friend.”

“We’re friends?” you joke, settling into your seat.

“Last time I checked,” he responds, unfazed. “We could be even closer if you let yourself be vulnerable with me.” 

And there it is.

“John,” you say after a brief pause. He’s got his hands in his pockets, face mostly void of emotion. Johnny doesn’t want things to go back to normal, and he’s decided to let you know in the most subtle, yet obvious way. Why ignore the feeling when it’s clearly mutual? 

“Yes, boss?”

“You can leave now.”

The grin on the male’s face falters. He examines you to see just how serious you are, and he knows this isn’t one of your playful banter moments. He tries to call your name, either to ease the situation and tell you it was just a bad joke or to apologize, but you just remove your attention from him and get on your iPad. 

And when he’s out of the room, the door closed behind him, you let out a frustrated sigh. Up until you fell asleep, if you weren’t thinking about your launch, you were thinking about him. If you weren’t thinking about the numbers from your last launch and the possibility of exceeding them, you were thinking of the way you felt and the words he said while you were in that intimate bubble before the horn honked at him. You had to take a couple melatonin gummies to shut your mind up and knock out. The sleep was amazing, the best you’d had in a while, but then when you were conscious again, Johnny was back.

You could have done without stepping into uncharted territory last night. To him, it may not seem as deep as you’re making it out to be, but there’s too much on the line for you. Your professionalism. Your pride. Your job, quite possibly. His job. You could pay him off if you decided to fire him, but you don’t want to deal with bribes making you feel like a shitty person. You don’t want a new assistant. You want Johnny.

At that very last thought, you pick up the phone and call Jaehyun to have him run the plan by you one more time. He thinks it’s because of his fuck up from before, and you just let him think that. 

Thankfully, Johnny is out of your way until later in the night. He didn’t try to accompany you on your walk, but he has no choice but to be here at the company outing taking place to celebrate your products selling out within 4 hours. 

All shots are on you, so your employees are taking advantage of this, recording  as everyone clinks their shot glasses together and downs the painful alcohol down. You’re two shots in and you mentally note that three is your limit for tonight. Maybe four. You’re already a bit of a lightweight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make a fool of yourself in front of your employees. Regardless, you’re having a pretty good time. As a gift, your best friend rented out the bar, so it’s empty save for your large group, and Joohyun’s presence is a godsend. She’s being friendly enough to your employees and for the most part she hasn’t left your side, being the comfort she doesn’t realize you need. 

“Congrats again, babe,” she says excitedly to you, pushing another shot in front of you as she scoots into the seat next to you. “Can we take that vacation in Bora Bora now that you’re free and even richer?” Her teasing smile makes you crack one of your own and sigh.

“You know that trip is for August. Be patient, Bae.”

She rolls her eyes but her expression doesn’t falter. Her gaze wanders a bit as she sips from her mixed drink and then she’s looking at you expectantly. You raise a brow to prompt her.

“How is it that all of your employees are hot as fuck?” she asks bluntly. “Even the women.”

You take a glance around like you don’t remember what everyone looks like. “I mean, I guess.”

“Especially a certain assistant.”

“Go for it,” you tell her, nodding in his direction. The said male is at the bar ordering something with his arm draped over Jaehyun’s shoulders, the two of them laughing about whatever the latter just said. 

“You know that’s not why I said that,” Joohyun scoffs, swatting at your arm. You may have mentioned to her a while ago that your assistant is very nice on the eyes and you sometimes enjoy watching him as he does his job. “Plus, Jaehyun’s more my type.”

You shrug. “I’m sure they’d be down for a threesome.”

Your best friend hits you once again. “What’s with your mood? You’re not acting like someone who just sold out in only a few hours.” 

Before she decided to bring a certain assistant up, you were doing pretty well. You’d been able to not look at him for too long or even have to speak to him much aside from a greeting and his congratulations before he was by Jaehyun’s side and Joohyun was by yours. But now, with him being mentioned, your eyes are having a hard time pulling away from his figure. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up right under his elbows and show off the tattoo on his arm. 

You rip your eyes off of him and down your shot. Yeah, you’re thinking four.

Joohyun’s incredulous laugh brings your attention back to her. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

She leans into your side to whisper, “You’re in a mood because of Johnny?”

You side-eye her because you don’t like how quickly she read you, and her smile grows wide. 

“Oh, my—you slept with Johnny?!” she continues to whisper-yell.

“No,” you hiss. “I did not. But I could have and that’s the issue.”

“Not seeing the issue?” She’s always been the little devil on your left shoulder. “The only reason I brought him up is because I’ve noticed how often you have his attention when you’re not even in the same area. And I know the difference between a look of concern and a look of want. He’s got a good ratio of both going on.”

“Okay, Miss Couple’s Therapist,” you mutter. “You ever heard of conflict of interest?”

And that shuts her up. Only for a few seconds, though.

“All I’m saying is I know you’ve thought about it… and you’re probably thinking about it now,” she giggles, making it hard for you to keep glaring at her. “I’m just trying to help you understand that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there is a mutual understanding between the two of you on what flies and what cannot and shall not happen regarding the matter. You’re both consenting adults and it’s obvious he’d be on his knees for you with the snap of a finger.”

You decide against telling her about last night’s situation nor do you let her know you’re considering her words. That you’ve been considering the whole thing for days. 

You change the subject instead, asking her about how her latest trip overseas went.

It lasts for only so long when Johnny and Jaehyun make their way over to your table. 

They greet the two of you and you give a nod, choosing now to be the perfect time to check your notifications, while Joohyun says, “Hey guys.”

“Why are you checking your phone when you should be enjoying your time?” Johnny asks right by your ear, his voice lacking excitement but instead low enough to almost make your thumb falter as you scroll. “Get off your phone and celebrate, please?”

You make the mistake of looking up. He’s too close to your face to use the music playing through the speakers in the bar as an excuse. His eyes don’t have their usual playful glint in them. They look down at you with a purpose, and you’re kind of embarrassed at how fast you comply with his request. You drop the device into your purse and zip it up for extra measures.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I got this for you two, by the way.”

Johnny slides a plate of your favorite wings on the table.

“Aw thank you, Johnny,” Joohyun coos, shooting you an annoyingly smug glance. “Are you gonna sit with us?”

“Is that okay with you, boss?” Jaehyun asks after sharing a look with his friend.

“Have at it,” you smile tightly, gesturing to the seats across from you. While they make themselves comfortable, you steal your best friend’s shot and actively ignore the way she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

Joohyun and Jaehyun fall into conversation easily after she compliments the watch he’s wearing. You nibble on some celery, actively ignoring how Johnny’s still too close. He subtly squeezes your knee to get your attention, and when he’s got it, he tilts his head in the direction of the bar. 

“I drank enough,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

“It’s not about a drink. I would like to speak to you alone, please,” Johnny explains in a whisper. A tiny voice in your mind says hell no because of what Joohyun has put in your head, but the rational voice reminds you that he is your assistant and you can’t avoid him forever. 

You tell your best friend that you’re gonna get a drink and that you’ll be back, and when she notices Johnny getting up with you she nods with a whisper of a smirk on her lips all without breaking the conversation she’s having. 

“What’s up?” you ask once seated on a barstool, at least a few seats away from everyone else.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was trying to make light of the situation and I took it too far. As for last night, it was wrong of me to make a proposition like, so I want to apologize for that, as well.”

You nod as he speaks, letting his words process in your brain. 

“I spoke out of line last night and gave you an opening, so that part was on me. I apologize and I hope we can move forward from it. Thank you for your apology.” You try to get up and make your way back to your table quickly, but Johnny gently grabs your hand until he knows you’ll stay in your seat. 

For a moment he wanted to just apologize so you can stop being distant with him and he can stop purposely avoiding you for your space, but your response rubs him the wrong way and now he doesn’t really want to drop it. He wants to talk about it because the topic clearly came up for a reason last night and he’s tired of denying how he feels towards you, especially now that he knows he’s not alone after a while of thinking there was no way in hell his little crush would even get him this far. 

“Can you not shut me out right now?”

You really don’t like his ability to see through you.

“I accepted your apology and gave you the one you deserved... how am I shutting you out?” you bullshit him anyway.

“I’m not gonna pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. I can’t,” Johnny tells you honestly. “Can I speak to you as a friend instead of your employee for a moment?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“As your friend, what I say cannot be held against me as your assistant.”

“Whatever, John. Go ahead.” 

“I want you,” he confesses, and there’s really no going back from here. “I am very attracted to you and when you spoke about wanting to be vulnerable and taken care of last night it only made me want you more. And if there’s anyone you can let your guard down with and that will take great care of you, it’s me, and you know this.”

All you can do is stare at him for a while. If you hadn’t had that conversation with Joohyun a while ago you would not still be in this seat, letting him know you’re truly considering his proposition. The dip in your gut at his confession confirms your feelings, but your brain and your body conflict. 

Can you separate business from pleasure in this instance? 

If you allow your desires to become reality and it’s nothing like what you imagined, you’d never be able to look at him the same, no matter how good he is at his job. You’d either have to fire him or become so distant he’d want to quit. Would a bribe really have to be offered for the well-being of your precious company? The thought alone rubs you the wrong way.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, you just know it wouldn’t be a bad experience because it’s Johnny. He’s calculated and good at anything that gets thrown at him. You truly believe him when he says he’d never disappoint you. But how will you go about seeing him five days a week without seeing him in a different light? You’re professional but there would definitely be a change in your dynamic.

“I adore you as my assistant, John,” you finally speak up after too long. “And I do consider you a friend. I just don’t want to compromise our relationship over lust.”

“It’s not just lust, though,” Johnny states. “I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you and want to take care of you the way we both know you need and deserve.”

He’s saying all of the right things and it’s almost as if the universe is rubbing him in your face. Your control is slipping and you don’t like it. You would love to be taken care of. You crave it. Running a business right before the age of thirty comes with so much stress and bullshit and you haven’t been taken care of in years, at least not properly. You’re content with being single because you give yourself everything you need and you love having your own space, but it does get lonely sometimes. And you can’t do everything yourself, at least not to the extent you need. Your eyes scan down from his face to his hands and your resolve gets a little weaker. 

“I’m not going to push you, okay? I just had to let you know that I’m here to help you in many more ways than in the office and that if anything were to ever happen, my lips are sealed. I’d even sign a damn contract if that meant I could have you for just one whole day.”

“A whole day?” you ask before you can stop your curiosity from being known. 

“I can’t elaborate on that. I can talk to you as a friend all I want but I know that too much detail can fuck up my job if you’re not down and I’m perfectly content with my job right now.”

He’s so vague, yet he’s said just the right amount. It’s easy to imagine what exactly could be in store if you release your inhibitions and just agree, but it’s not that easy. And Johnny understands that.

“Just think about it, alright?” He requests, and you nod slowly. “What drink would you like?”

“I’ve already had four shots—”

“No one said it had to be alcoholic,” Johnny laughs. 

“Hello?” Johnny’s morning voice grumbles. 

“Okay.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a while as Johnny wakes up and decodes your single word. When he understands, his smile can be heard through his next words.

“Would you prefer I go to you or you come here?”

“I’ll go to you.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Good,” you nod, even though he can’t see the movement.

“Alright. There’s a couple of questions I have before you come over, though,” he tells you, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than it was before.

“Okay, go ahead,” you sigh, curling into a ball on your sofa. 

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Of course you trust him. Johnny smiles at how quick your answer. “You know that.”

“Trusting me with your work and trusting me with your mind and body are completely different things,” he tells you matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did know. I just needed to ask.”

“I clearly trust you enough to be hours away from going to your place without thinking you’re gonna exploit or blackmail me.”

“And I appreciate it. As I said, I’ll sign a contract if you’re still in your head about it.” At the dismissive response you give him, he continues with his questions. “We’re not gonna be weird about this before, during, and especially after everything, right?”

“No, I won’t be weird,” you chuckle, knowing his ‘we’ translates to ‘you.’ “It would’ve took me way longer to give you an answer if I was still gonna be weird or standoffish.”

“What made you change your mind so quickly?”

You blink at the tree on the other side of your window blankly. It took less than a day to give him a response, and while he may have popped up in your dream last night, Joohyun was right. You want him and he’s not shy about letting you know how much he wants you in return, so why play this game of tiptoeing and faux unclarity?

“You’re asking too many questions now,” you deadpan. “I’ll see you later.”

The last thing you hear before you hang up is Johnny laughing quietly to himself, sounding endeared.

You’ve always been punctual, so when you knock on his door, it’s twelve on the dot. And Johnny was expecting this, with it only taking him a couple of seconds to unlock and open the door for you. 

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile and you immediately take in his appearance, having never been around Johnny in anything but formal wear. You take in how he looks in the comfort of his own home, his brown hair is parted down the middle in comparison to how he always has it pushed back, and his fitted white tee shirt and joggers are a stark difference from the button-downs and slacks he usually adorns around you. He looks good either way, you note. 

“Hey.” 

You walk past him into his home and take your shoes off, and while pleasantries are exchanged, it’s Johnny’s turn to give you elevator eyes. The grey color of your athletic wear draws attention to the curve of your ass and hips. Your hair isn’t in its signature style, but out and flowing about freely. When you turn back around to face him he notices you don’t have your typical red lipstick on, just a clear sheen covering your lips. He didn’t think you could look any better, but here he is, being proven wrong. 

You’re guided down a hallway and into his room, and the first thing you notice is a cute stuffed animal on his dresser. One you remember buying him for his birthday because that was his only request, seeing that it was limited edition.

“I still can’t believe you wanted this of all things,” you laugh fondly, picking it up and examining it.

“You gave me a budget and this fit in it,” Johnny shrugs, coming up behind you. His chest molds into your back naturally, causing you to look up from the plushie and up at him through the mirror in front of you. “There was no way in hell I was coming out of pocket for that myself when you were willing to spend big bucks on me.”

You relax into his chest, the vibration against your back a very pleasant feeling. “Touché.”

The last few days of building sexual frustration did nothing to prepare you for the suffocating blanket of tension that envelopes you once Johnny lifts your head up to the side and presses one of the gentlest kisses to your lips. Followed by another chaste one, and another until you find yourself chasing his lips.

“Feel free to bite into it when it becomes too much for you,” Johnny graciously offers in a whisper that tickles your lips.

You scoff, amused by his confidence. 

“I’m a grown ass woman,” you remind him. “I promise you there’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And I’m gonna hold you to that.” He nods, using your own words against you. You’re turned around by his hands on your hips until you’re facing him. A moment of silent eye contact translate to him challenging you before his pretty, soft lips slowly slide in time with yours. 

The longer he kisses you, the more your body melts into his. You find yourself being pulled forward, him walking backwards. The kiss interrupted when he sits down at the foot of his bed, but then you’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him to resume it. A hand on the side of his face prompts him to deepen the kiss, and your mouth instantly opens when you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, the wet muscle minty when it touches your own and you curl yours around it to get an even better taste. 

Your hands find his hair as his own grip your ass, pulling a muffled whimper out of you. And then you’re flipped onto your back, legs falling apart to give Johnny freedom to stand. He swiftly takes his shirt off and then he’s interrupted by your palms glide up his abdomen. You’ve never felt small around practically anyone in your adult years, but with how he hovers over you, you feel tiny. You know he and Jaehyun have been going to the gym frequently, but at this angle, you can really appreciate just how big and broad he is.

Originally, you figured you’d give him the reign to do whatever he wanted and you’d bask in being a pillow princess for once in your life, but in the position you’ve found yourself in, with his print in your face, you drag your hands back south and tug his waistband down. 

Johnny just watches you silently until he understands you’re doing more than just assisting him with stripping. Your hand grabs hold of his semi (your mouth waters at how hung he is and you briefly wonder how you never noticed before), his sweatpants forgotten halfway down his thighs. The way your eyes have tunnel vision and you lick your lips tells him your plan. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asks anyway, making sure he accessed this correctly. 

Your eyes fly up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You want me to?”

“You think I’d ever say no to you?”

His response goes straight in between your legs, so you focus your attention back on his dick, which has grown some during the time of your small interaction, and you might be a little more excited about this than you initially thought you’d be. 

You let spit fall from your mouth onto his tip, then spread it down with your hand. You flick your wrist up and down a few times and lean forward, licking a broad stripe up his shaft. At the deep exhale he releases, you glance up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him with his jaw tightened in anticipation makes you want to give him so much more, so you suck the tip into your mouth. 

Fingers move your hair behind your ear for you and if you still had any inhibitions at this point, they’re lost now. Your head bobs back and forth slowly as you continue to look him in his eyes; it’s hard to look anywhere else when you’ve never been looked at so intensely in this position. You gather spit on the tip of your tongue and spread it across his head, circling the wet muscle around it until he hums and you need to feel the weight of him back inside. 

“Tap my leg, okay?”

You furrow your brows at his words, but your silent question is answered when there’s a hand on the back of your head and the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat lightly as if in warning before his hips pull back then he’s back in your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs as he sets a slow pace to fuck your face, and when his head falls back the moment he realizes he can go as far as he wants, you close your eyes and prepare for the onslaught you know you’re about to take.

Johnny’s hips instantly pick up speed and roughness, and while he’s still in control of himself, he loses a bit of sanity. After a year of silent pining and thinking this would never happen, he’s fucking his boss's face, and of course, of fucking course you don’t have a gag reflex. 

You stick your tongue out flat to lick at the bottom of his shaft as he does the rest of the work and the feeling of spit bubbling out the sides of your mouth and making its way down your chin digs your fingers into his skin since you can’t clench your thighs together. Your hair is gathered for extra leverage, and the pull of your scalp is such a delicious feeling you moan helplessly just when your nose comes in contact with trimmed hairs. 

“Shit,” he hisses, picking his head back up to watch as he slows back down but thrusts in rougher. You clearly enjoy being used like this, spit traveling down your chin to the point of landing on your jacket and darkening the material. You’re a mess in the best possible way, and this is an image that will haunt his memory for a very long time. 

More of his resolve crumbles at the feeling of your hands curling around to his butt to press him even closer into you, even further down your throat. You haven’t even been touched, barely kissed, but you’re lightheaded and extremely aroused. While he contemplates if he should cum down your throat or wait until he’s buried in your pussy, you’re silently hoping he lets you taste him soon. 

Johnny drags his dick out of your mouth at an extremely slow pace, and how you wrap your lips around him and open your hooded, darkened eyes to look at him again shoots a shiver of pleasure up his spine. 

“Never would’ve thought,” he says around an amused exhale.

“Hm?” you prompt, releasing him with a loud pop. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. He grips his dick with his free hand and taps the tip on your awaiting tongue, amused and extremely turned on. Smearing fluids over your tongue and lips, he softly demands: “Play with your pussy for me.”

The smile you give him is a concoction of wicked and endearing. He releases your hair as you manage to wiggle out of your leggings. You soaked through your lace and leggings, you both notice, and Johnny stops you with a disapproving hum when you make a move to remove your panties as well. You squint, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Over your panties.” You roll your eyes but listen nonetheless, slipping your hand in between your thighs. The material is extremely wet to the touch, and the slickness helps with making the friction pleasurable when your fingertips find your clit and begin rubbing circles. “Slowly.”

Johnny finds your huff of frustration adorable.

The tip of his dick taps your mouth again to gain your attention. You suck spit up to the front of your mouth, then your mouth is stretched wide once again, hand back in your hair. 

Having your throat fucked with the additional pleasure on your clit, even with the slow pace you’re forced to go at, has you practically whining, the sound going in and out as he goes in and out your mouth. That vibration only spurs Johnny to grip your locks tighter and thrust in deeper to feel as much as your mouth and throat offer. 

“You were made for this, huh?” 

“Mhm,” you affirm, eyes rolling back at the way he pulls your hair to tip your head back and get a different, much better angle. 

Johnny honestly didn’t expect you to submit so easily to him. The visual of your face all messy, eyes hardly opened to look into his eyes and hair out of place while touching yourself sparks that feeling in his lower abdomen.

 “You want me to cum in your mouth?” You hum again and even with a mouth full of dick you manage to smile. You’re getting what you wanted. “Don’t swallow it until I tell you to.”

It takes a few more strokes for Johnny to fulfill your wish. The moment his head falls back again you use your free hand to caress his balls, and that does it. He leaves the tip in so that his cum pools onto your tongue and strokes every drop out. The groan he lets out causes you to unintentionally swipe at your clit faster, but he’s distracted anyway.

“Let me see,” Johnny says after collecting himself and stepping back. You straighten your head so none slides down your throat and open your mouth wider for his inspection. He smiles in approval, wishing he could take a picture of the sight before him. “Swallow.”

You lick your lips and wipe away all the spit that traveled outside of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket after doing so.

Johnny completely removes his pants before he leans down to kiss you again. His tongue languidly licks against the seam of your mouth for an entrance that you grant instantly. While it curls around your own and he gets a taste of himself, Johnny’s hand guides you to bend one leg and he caresses your outer thigh.

“Good?” Johnny asks for extra measure, lips just barely dragging across your cheek to press opened mouth kisses on your jaw. Your head automatically tilts to the opposite side to give him more real estate. You hum, your mouth a bit preoccupied with how your teeth have trapped your bottom lip. 

Your breath stutters at the gentle scrape of his teeth along the length of your neck after he unzips the high neck of your top to expose more skin. Whichever scent you chose to put on today has Johnny latched onto your neck for a while, kissing, licking, nibbling the skin to the point of your breath coming out a lot louder than before and the seat on your underwear getting uncomfortably wetter. You’re throbbing at this point and not being touched enough, so you claw at his sides and call his name quietly.

Johnny eventually spreads your legs more and maneuvers himself in between them. Both of your legs bend at the knee to accommodate his large build in the middle of them, and the hand that isn’t keeping himself propped up by your head kneads your hip. 

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

“How long?” you prompt, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Since the day you gave me a tour of the building,” he admits and slowly rises until he’s up on his knees. 

“That’s a long time,” you respond lamely, hardly caring when your pussy is practically screaming at you to be touched. He raises a brow, and when he looks back up at your face, your lip is back in between your teeth. 

If he doesn’t touch you soon you might explode.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, too,” you decide to confess, hoping it gets you somewhere. And it does. It’s almost like you’re rewarded for it by Johnny walking back on his knees until he’s far enough to settle on his stomach, face barely inches away from the apex of your thighs. He subconsciously licks his lips at the smell of you. He’s been wanting to taste you for so long now, but he refrains himself because he sees how you’re affected by the lack of attention to your heat. He promised he’d take care of you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But not before breaking you. 

“Wish you would’ve told me sooner,” he eventually tells you after having you hold your breath for way too long.

“You know I couldn’t.” The way Johnny looks at you, attentive to every word that comes out of your mouth while he smoothly scoops your legs over his shoulders to wrap his arms around your thighs, makes you continue speaking. “Seems like everything fell into place, though.”

Johnny nods, rests his head on one of your thighs, and looks up at you, brown eyes still watching your mouth intently, as he unhooks one of his arms to push your right leg further to the side. His fingers are soon on your center, gliding up and down your slit, bumping into your clit with each pass. 

“I guess it did.”

Before you can reply, he adds more pressure behind his touch, and your hips just barely lift to get even more. The smile you get in return is attractive as all hell but annoying. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you or he’s just really enjoying himself. Either way, you’re getting more impatient by the second, if the way your hips rise to grind your core against his fingers again says anything. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” You almost pout because you need more, but you promised to give him total control of the situation and you’ve done well thus far, so you press your ass back into his comforter. “There you go.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

The light pressure on your clit is soon gone and then the zipper of your jacket gets dragged down all the way. “Take this off for me.”

Sitting up, you do as told. You toss it where your leggings had been dropped and now you’re presented in front of the awe-struck brunet in just your matching set of underwear. You figured you’d wear something nice under your clothes, both for Johnny’s pleasure and for your confidence, and with how Johnny’s eyes settle on the way your breasts are trying to burst out of your snug lacy bra, you know you chose well.

A hand slides up your torso to grab one of your breasts and squeeze it. Somewhere in the midst of him fondling your chest and pressing teasing, yet promising kisses on your inner thighs your eyes drift shut again as you bask in the pleasure. One of your own hands comes up from your side to slide under the cup of your unoccupied tit and pull at your nipple. 

The tip of Johnny’s tongue drags dangerously close to your annoying-still-clothed heat and your patience is shot. 

“John…”

“Yes?” 

“I need more.”

He has the audacity to hum and give your clit a kitten lick. “Do you?”

You huff, stuck between just pushing his face into your pussy or doing what he asks of you, but you promised, so you suck in a breath and give him what he wants.

“John,” you say again, almost whining. 

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you expectantly. And when too much time goes by, it somehow hits you what he wants from you and you groan quietly to yourself.

“Please.”

“That was very convincing,” Johnny snorts. His nose glides across the inside of your thigh like he’s got all the time in the world. It tickles in the best way, but it’s nothing but teasing and you’ve been stimulated enough that if you go more than a couple of seconds more without his mouth giving you direct pleasure, you’ll go insane. So with a great amount of willpower, you try again.

“Johnny,” you whine, giving him your best pout. Addressing him so informally feels foreign, but the way his eyes light up encourages you to keep going.“Please?”

And of course a big smile takes up half of his face and you mentally prepare yourself for what’s next to come. He peels your panties off, both of you watching the line of slick that stretches then breaks in the process, and when you spread your legs even more for him, his mouth salivates. 

Johnny makes sure you’re looking into his eyes as his tongue licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. He wants to be smug at the gasp you let out, but the taste of you shuts his ego up quickly. 

You squeak when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach and your ass is lifted up into the air. With yet another broad lick to coat his taste buds with your essence, Johnny buries his face in your pussy. He uses the tip of his tongue to collect the puddle of wetness you’ve produced and smears it over your clit, soon digging  inside to directly stimulate the bundle of nerves. 

Johnny’s lips close around your clit and he sucks on it softly. As the moments pass he gradually sucks harder to the point of you not being able to fight the way your eyes flutter shut and hips push back. He’s nice about the movement, just grabbing your hips to keep you still, soon caressing and kneading. 

“Mm, that feels good,” you compliment. At that very moment, Johnny decides to roll his tongue in up and down motions and apply more pressure behind his hands. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He prompts you with a hum of his own. 

With how your moans start to get louder and your breath gets quicker and harder, not to mention the tingles you feel building in intensity, you know you’re already close. It’s a beautiful yet frustrating feeling because you don’t want this to end so soon after waiting so long. But you also want him inside of you so bad now.

Johnny comes back up to circle your entrance, and then he goes even higher.

“Are you— fuck,” you groan deeply. 

Your hands grip the pillow your face is buried in and your eyes have found the back of your head again. Johnny just hums at the way you react, the octave of your voice as you let out your sounds of pleasure go straight to his dick. His tongue licks filthily up and down, not leaving an inch untouched nor missing a drop of your juice. His fingers rub your entrance until he slides one in. One becomes two after a few pumps, then his thumb presses into your clit and your back is arched almost uncomfortably.

“Johnny,” you whine again, breath hiccuped. 

“Yes?” he prompts, lifting his head and looking up to see your face peaking around your body, smushed into his pillow still. 

“I wanna cum,” you tell him. It feels too good now. “Fuck, I need to come, Johnny.”

“Then cum for me.” His voice is so gentle yet commanding as his digits speed up. He tongues the skin between your holes sloppily and you try to curl into yourself, your mouth wide opened with no sound coming out of it, your walls clenching madly around the fingers inside of you, and your grip on the cushion is borderline painful.

Johnny helps you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible until your body begins shuddering due to oversensitivity. He gradually slows down to a stop, then removes himself from your body to let you breathe correctly. While he sucks on his fingers, he uses his clean hands to soothingly rub your back, waiting for you to calm back down. 

You’re a bit dazed during the transition of more kissing that leads you on top of him, straddling him once again. You vaguely remember the caresses on your waist or the pinch of his fingers playing with your nipples, but the feeling of your bare pussy dragging against his dick is very memorable because it sparks a desperate need within you to sit on it. 

Johnny’s hands on your hips move you to continue the friction, moving you back and forth on his dick easily. Foreheads connected as you catch your breath from the kiss you just broke away from, the two of you watch silently as his head reappears and disappears behind your lips, turning you both on until he’s fully hard again and you can’t handle him not being inside of you anymore.

You lift up on your knees to align his tip with your entrance. A silent look is exchanged where you ask and he nods once. He lets you take your time, enjoying the feeling of his tip directly rubbing against your sopping entrance.

Your labored breaths at the sensation bring his attention to your chest, and his mouth wraps around a nipple without a thought. By now, you deem his dick wet enough to press his head in your hole and press your hips down. The moment he slides in your head falls back because the stretch burns in the best way. It feels like time doesn’t exist as you work your way down his length, inch by inch. Your hips naturally find a slow rhythm as you lift and drop them to take in more until he slides in and out easily. 

When your features no longer show discomfort, Johnny begins moving with you. Every time he lifts his hips up a little to meet your thrusts his body slumps down the headboard. His hands are loose on your waist as you move your body up and down and he’s got the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your core while you’re controlling the pace and intensity. The muscles in your thighs start to burn, so you slow down to a stop and carefully slide your way down until your clit comes in contact with his pubic bone, resulting in your eyes rolling back, hips grinding on their own accord. 

“How the fuck do you feel this good?” Johnny groans deeply, hands gripping your ass to assist your movements.

His compliment, his hungry, intense gaze as they take you in from your eyes—which mirror his own—down to the trail of slick you’ve left behind on his tamed curls from the swivel of your hips, and the way his cock rubs against your g-spot send you over the edge within moments. Johnny soothingly rubs a cheek with one hand while the other caresses your arched spine, keeping his hips still to let you ride your orgasm out on your own. 

You slump into him, head on his shoulder, panting against his neck. A sigh of content slips out when Johnny hugs you tightly against his broad chest right before asking, “You alright?”

“Great,” you reply breathlessly. 

Johnny smiles at the positive response. He lifts his hips experimentally and gauges your reaction, which is a satisfied hum. 

“You want more?” he asks, hands moving to your hips to carefully grind against him. How could you say no? “Hands and knees, baby.”

You begin climbing off to the side of him then he follows your lead and lifts himself up so you can settle on your knees and bend until your face slides onto his pillow. Your hands grab the sides of it in anticipation. 

A deep groan sounds from behind you, so you crane your neck and see the way he stares down at how he can see everything you have to offer him at this moment. One hand goes to his dick while the other massages one of your cheeks. He runs the swollen tip of his dick along your slit, collecting what’s oozed out. You close your eyes and relax the side of your face into the cushion beneath it and take a breath, preparing yourself for the stretch and intensity this angle never fails to bring.

He slowly starts to breach your entrance. There’s a pause, then you hear him spit down before more of him slips inside of you inch by inch with each roll of his hips. He keeps his movements shallow for a while and your walls reaccept him easily. A particular thrust sends him deep inside of you, his tip just barely kissing your cervix. Your body’s first instinct is to run away from it. His hands on your hips stop you from fleeing, holding you still and rubbing the skin there to ease you. 

“I won’t go too deep,” he tells you, hips still as he kisses up your spine and makes you dizzy by the tenderness of it all. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You nod at his promises and take another steadying breath, then the pleasurable friction is back. You’d believe anything he told you with that intoxicating voice of his. 

A loud, embarrassing squelch comes out of your core when he’s sheathed inside that makes you bury your face into the pillow. There’s one last kiss at the top of your spine before the body heat from his chest is gone and he’s back upright. He finds his rhythm easily, and hands return to your backside, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt leaving behind white imprints. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck down into you at a different angle that allows him to speed up and rip an unrestrained moan from your throat. 

“You okay?”

You nod violently and sob, “Yes! Oh, my god, yes.”

Content, Johnny hums and you just know he’s grinning down at you by the sound of his voice when he asks: “Feels good?”

“So good,” you whine, unable to close your mouth or stop noises from coming out of it. You begin dropping your hips down to meet his thrusts, the loud smacks of skin against skin echoing and bouncing off of the walls of his room. “Fuck it feels so good, Johnny.”

“I know, baby” he groans. “And this pussy feels so fucking good—shit.”

The two of you get lost in the rhythm you’ve created and no more words are exchanged for a while, just the sound of groans that comes deep from Johnny’s throat and whines and pants that make you drool all while drying your throat out. The room has gotten increasingly hotter and your bodies now shine with a thin, sticky sheen that makes the back of your thighs stick to the front of his own every time he fucks back into you. Your sensitive nipples rub harshly against the sheets, stimulating you even further to the point of another sob ripping out of your throat and your walls fluttering around his girth. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Your divulgence prompts him to reach his arm under you to graze his fingertips over your engorged clit and then you’re repeating your words over and over again until your actions meet your words and you’re cumming all over him. Your essence drips down the insides of your thighs and his balls and his thrusts create wetter, louder noises. A swivel of your hips causes his dick to pop out and suddenly your body is vibrating. 

“There you go, baby,” Johnny praises you, sliding back into you and precisely hitting that spot within you a few more times until your pussy clenches again and he pulls out again, letting more wetness spray the sheets under you. 

“Look at you,” he continues with a deep chuckle. “Making such a big mess.”

You don’t know if he really meant for you to look but your curiosity gets the best of you and you lift your head and look in between your legs. There’s a dark puddle on his sheets and another whine leaves your body, your head falling back into the pillow. 

“Can you handle more?” Johnny asks you softly, slapping the top of your asscheek with his dick. 

You need more. You don’t know what the hell Johnny has done to you and your body but you feel empty and not satisfied enough. Your core is raw at this point but you want nothing more than to feel the velvety skin of his thick, long dick sliding in and out of you and hitting every spot in you that makes your body convulse again. 

“Please,” you beg, wagging your hips to emphasize your needs. “Please, Johnny.”

“I’ve got you begging now?” He sounds so turned on yet taken aback, another dark laugh vibrating your body at the nod of your head and movement of your body. If you were in your right mind, you would be ashamed of your behavior and submission to your assistant, but you’re not. And who cares when you’ve never felt this way before and crave to feel even more?

“I need it,” you confess without shame. “Need you back inside of me.”

Johnny doesn’t need any more convincing to be back, deep within you and instantly satisfying you again. Your breath stutters and it’s not easy to speak in coherent sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to voice your pleasure and appreciation to the brunet whose self-control only continues to dissolve the faster he slams into you and the higher your voice gets.

Both of your breath patterns get quicker, loud, more erratic, signaling the approach of his first release and your third? Fourth? You can’t keep up with it when your brain has turned into mush and you can barely remember your own name, only his own registering in your brain. His name rolls off of your tongue like a mantra, driving him insane behind you. 

“Where do you want me to cum?” he pants. It takes you too long to swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat and answer him, Johnny humming in question impatiently. 

“My back,” you manage to squeak out. You’re impressed with the amount of control he has, the slamming of his hips into your ass somehow speeding up and getting rougher. Johnny lacks the control and precision from before, and the way his tip kisses your cervix rips a yell out of you, eyes watering as you hold on for dear life. He releases a drawn out groan from deep within, and not too long later you feel ropes of cum land on your lower back and ass.

Your body is shaking. Tears leak out of your eyes, your breath is hard to catch, and quiet cries come out. You’re gently flipped over and pulled into strong arms, quickly finding comfort in the chest you settle into. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Johnny’s soft voice says to you, but you can’t open your eyes or your mouth to acknowledge him. You’re confused about why you’re reacting to this, but you don’t dislike it. Especially when you have Johnny to soothe you and help you calm down. “Are you hurting anywhere?” 

You shake your head and finally try to respond, but it takes a couple of coughs and harsh swallows of spit to do so. “No. I feel good. Everywhere.”

Your speech is choppy, unlike your usual way of speaking, but stringing words into sentences that flow well is too much work right now. Johnny doesn’t mind; he loves that he had that effect on you after you’ve had him under your spell for so long. He loves the fact he successfully kept his promise to you and now you’re boneless in his arms. 

He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand and hands it to you. “Are you ready for a bath?”

“Can I fall asleep in the bath?” you ask, wiping your face tiredly.

“Sure,” Johnny says softly before setting you down on the dry part of the bed. “I’ll come get you once it’s ready.”

That’s how the rest of the day plays out, you getting taken care of in multiple ways. Your favorite method is with his tongue and fingers as he made out with your pussy for what felt like hours in lieu of an apology for going so hard. And maybe Johnny purposely falls asleep next to you after you’re bathed, fed, and exhausted from coming, curled up into his side in the new sheets because he wants you to stay a little longer. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get to see this side of you again after today.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you. It’s eight in the morning the following Monday, and he’s got your avocado toast and fruit in his hands as he walks up to your desk.

You're rummaging through your bag looking for the bobby pins you threw inside of it this morning in your rush to get to work on time because believe it or not, you overslept. You give up in favor of looking up to greet him back, but your voice decides not to come out when your eyes lock with his. There hadn’t been any contact since you woke up in the middle of the night and he walked you to his door with a lingering kiss that quite literally took your breath away to close out the short chapter of your relationship you’d just created. You were still tired, but you definitely were not supposed to sleep over, so it was nothing. 

But now, seeing the same eyes that stared into your own while you came and cried his name multiple times, all you can do is blink. And then he licks his pretty lips. You knew this would happen. You’re not mad at it, though. How could you be when you’d never experienced someone like him before? In hindsight, there was no possible way to go back to normal after the intimacy, tenderness, and raw attraction you shared that day. No possible way to never want another taste. 

“You okay?” he asks unsurely, setting your plates down. 

And here it comes.

“Johnny,” you say lowly, setting your bag down. The quirk in his brow and the corner of his mouth lets you know he’s onto you. And that just makes things easier for you. “Lock the door.”

yikesssssss

[co-reborn]

Yacht Party

Jeongyeon & Sana x Male Reader

view on AFF

2,326 Words

Note: This was one of my earliest works and has not been edited since posting

It is quite a hot day, perfect for a day out in sea. My friend, Kyung Woo, is celebrating his birthday and has invited almost the whole class and a few others to his huge yacht for a party. I am not one that likes huge parties, but this one is an exception to me. The popular girls were coming.

Everyone broke out into their smaller groups after a while of interacting, and me being the introvert I am was sitting in a small room of the yacht alone. I just looked out the small one-way windows as everyone got their hands on water guns and started spraying water all over the place. I was glad that I’m away from the crowd as I didn’t like getting wet and that the windows were one-way so others couldn’t see me staying inside.

“Damn it Jeong, I told you I didn’t want to get my clothes wet.”

“If you said so earlier perhaps we both won’t be soaking right now. And what’s the difference anyways, you said you wanted to go for a dive later on.”

I looked over from the corner I was sitting at. Entering the small room was two of the girls from the most popular group of girls in school - Jeongyeon and Sana. While I saw them come in, they didn’t see me sitting at the corner.

Sana and Jeongyeon changed to their bikinis, putting their clothes aside to let them dry. I was shocked from the sight. Two gorgeous girls stripping and changing in front of me. I could see the cleanly shaved pussy and their large boobs from the side. That sight alone will probably be enough for me to jerk off to for the rest of my life.

I closed my eyes, fantasising what I would want to them. How I wish I could enjoy both their mouths on my dick. Or their boobs squeezing me tight. Or having their pussies ru—

“Hey Sana, there’s someone here. Do you think he saw us change?”

“Nah, he’s probably sleeping. Look his eyes are closed. Anyways, won’t it be hot that someone we don’t know...” Sana’s voice got fainter as the two girls left the room. That was a close call.

I waited for the water gun fight to stop before exiting the room. I went over to Kyung Woo and talked to him for a while. I thanked him for inviting me to the yacht and halfway through, nine girls came walking over, two of them in their bikinis, the other seven in slightly wet t-shirts and shorts. “Hey Kyung Woo, happy birthday, thanks for inviting us. Who’s this hot stud over here?” Sana asked. I think she remembered that I was “sleeping” in the small room earlier. “Hi, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” I winked at her, leaving her with slightly blushing cheeks.

I excused myself and walked off, removing my shirt and lying down on a nearby bench to tan myself. It felt weird being complimented by Sana, but then again, she was known around for being the playful type. Grabbing a cocktail from the waiter, I drank it as I watched tons of people around me dive into the surrounding water. As I said, I’m not exactly an active person.

I laid down for quite a while before deciding that I might as well have some fun since it’s the first time I’m on a yacht. Also, the hot girls changed into their swimwear and are preparing to take a dive as well. Seeing all of them in swimsuits and bikinis made me hard, although the sight of two naked girls earlier was better, but thank goodness no one noticed my raging hard on... or so I thought.

I have no idea why Sana keeps splashing water onto me, all I want to do is feel the coolness of the sea amid the summer heat. I retaliated, splashing it even harder to her. This is now war. Somehow in the midst of the fight, she came over towards me and I caught her in my arms. Within that moment, it felt likd we were a young couple madly in love, even though we barely know each other.

This moment was interrupted by up and down movements made by her. She was grinding against my crotch. My hand crept down, rubbing her through her bikini bottom and later on, directly.

“Ahem” I turned my head, looking at the other girl I saw naked earlier. Jeongyeon shook her head in disproval, but her tomato cheeks told me otherwise. I swam past her apologising, but also giving her butt a light slap. I swear I heard a whimper coming from her.

I got up to the yacht, drying myself off and going to a similar room to the one I went to before. “Damn Y/N, I didn’t know you got game.” Kyung Woo called me out. I shrugged my shoulder before I entered the room to change.

I left my wet trunks to dry on the small couch and went out to get another cocktail. When I came back with a drink in hand, the door seemed to be stuck. I used my body weight to force the door open and immediately after, I realised that was a bad idea...

Or a good one.

Sana was in the same room as me, intending to change into her now dry clothes. She nearly screamed when she heard the door opened, but I dashed up to her and covered her mouth with my hands.

“What’s wrong with changing with me around? You already did so a few hours ago.”

Her eyes widened and she tried complained against my hands, but obviously, I couldn’t understand. My hands began to rub her pussy just like earlier and soon enough, her muffled complaints turned to moans. I removed my hands, knowing Sana was not going to resist me anymore.

I untied her bikini, exposing herself once more for me. My fingers pinched her nipples and my lips attached to her neck, sucking hard to leave a hickey, marking her as mine. I pulled down my pants and boxers, unleashing my cock for her to play with.

I grabbed her hand and placed it on my shaft. Sana reacted immediately and pumped it up and down. While my hand felt great around my cock, Sana’s one was better by at least tenfold as she shot shockwaves up my spine.

“What the hell is going on here?” You left her delicious neck and saw Jeongyeon standing by the door. She tried leaving upon registering the madness in front of her, but Sana grabbed her, locked the door and shoved her to me.

“Y/N is giving me a good time, and I think he should give you too.” I too stripped Jeongyeon naked and she tried covering up her body. I slapped hands away as I knelt down to eat her out. Sana, on the other hand, stood next to Jeongyeon and kissed her deeply, hands fondling the breasts just as I was doing so moments ago to her.

Jeongyeon tasted great, better than the cocktail I had in my hand. She squirmed, body shaking as the pleasure coursing through her body affected her balance and ability to stand. I led her to the couch as I stood up, poking her stomach to tease and get her to beg.

“You can have this in you if you ask nicely.” She whined for my cock, now aroused and eager for sex, but I still didn’t hear her ask nicely.

“Jeong, just ask for it so I can get my turn.” Sana begged for Jeongyeon’s compliance as she inserted two fingers into herself.

“Please fuck m-OH” I didn’t wait for the full reply. I instead just penetrated her as fast and hard as I could and didn’t bother to let her adjust. Her cunt was so tight, not expecting an intruder to enter. But while she is wincing in pain, I’m groaning in pleasure.

Sana held my cheek and kisses me as I was fucking Jeongyeon, leading my hand to finger her slutty cunt so that it won’t feel left out. My fingers got drenched immediately and they pumped even faster in and out the cunt.

My other hand took my cocktail as I left the messy lip locking with Sana to take a sip. I then went to kissed Jeongyeon, dumping the drink into her mouth. She chocked slightly and moaned afterwards, pussy walls tightening around me. I went faster, guessing that she is close and I was right.

Her juices spilled out of her hole, wetting out crotches which now made our fuck even noisier. I too can’t take it anymore and pumped my own cum in and on her. She was fucked tired, leaving her lying on the couch eyes half open, mouth still left wide open as her saliva slowly dripped out.

I turned to the other girl next to me, ready for some action with her as well. I did the same with my cocktail, taking a sip before engaging in a make out to transfer the drink from my mouth to hers. Knowing what exactly is happening, she doesn’t flinch but instead moans in approval. Seeing that she loves what I had done to her, I decided to bring it up a notch. I took the small cocktail glass but didn’t drink it this time. Instead I took the glass and poured the remaining onto her body.

I sucked on every inch of her body, enjoying the texture of her skin on my tongue as well as the taste of the delicious drink and her sex-drunk body. This time, she moaned even louder than when I fed her the cocktail. Once I was done cleaning her up, I shoved her body against the one-way window. Sana’s breasts pressed hard against the window, and it was pressed even harder when I inserted my dick into her cunt and rocked my hips back and forth.

“Won’t it be hot that someone you don’t know saw your naked body? Saw that you are taken brutally by someone you just got to know? I’m pretty sure that’s what you said when you saw me in the room earlier, right?” Sana didn’t answer, or couldn’t answer, but just let out another moan as her cunt tightened up. Similar to Jeongyeon, I went even harder to push her over the edge and soon, we both came together, bodies growing limp as our energies were temporarily expended.

Upon recovery, I saw the two still eager girls kissing each other. Their tongues were circling each other as their hands went on to different areas of the others’ body. Seeing as this is the prime opportunity to live out my fantasy earlier, I jerked off my cock to get it back to hardness, before presenting it to them by putting it right between their mouths.

Their attention turned to me and their tongues serviced my cock instead of duelling each other. I petted their heads like they are children, and they doubled their efforts, turning it into a competition on who is better. Jeongyeon went first, engulfing my cock and bobbing her head up and down. She deliberately gagged on my cock, the vibrations of her throat sending shivers throughout my body. Sana then came next, using more tongue action then Jeongyeon did. My tip was attended to more and although she did not take my cock fully into her wet cavern, her hand was also twisting around the exposed version of my dick.

When they were both done, they both looked at me like small girls, eyes open and presented to me as if looking for approval. I could not decide who did better and decided to go down their bodies. “Your mouths are both good, I can’t decide. How about use your breasts together instead.”

They sat upright, breasts held in their hands. My cock was then sandwiched between the two pairs, being pleasured from all 360 degrees. It was so satisfying to feel soft flesh pressed against my dick, but what got my blood flowing through my groin was the sight of the two girls’ breasts pressing against one another. I brought my hand down towards the mess and gave pinches to all four nipples.

“Your mouths and boobs are good, now for the final act. I want your pussies rubbing against my dick.”

They got into position, legs spread open to accommodate the other. I sat on the floor and they begun, moaning from the contact of my rod of flesh with their sensitive lower lips. The lubrication from their cum as well as mine that was dumped earlier in them made the feeling better. My dick was massaged and I could not take it anymore. I felt the biggest load of the day flowing out of balls and I needed to cum soon.

“We want your cum on us.”

That was the triggering paint for me and I pushed them to lie down next to each other. Each spurt of cum flew out and I alternated the streams between both girl’s bodies. I painted their torsos and their breasts with white and they stayed there as if they are masterpieces being appreciated, which they are to me. They each scooped up whatever cum they had on their bodies and consumed it. If I had more energy, I would proceed to fuck them one more time each.

They thanked me for the session and kissed me on the cheeks. I dressed up and left the room, smiling like an idiot from what has happened within the past hour.

*Bonus*

“You guys are so horny, why didn’t you invite us to join you guys?” Seven other girls pouted and whined as they entered the room after hearing a commotion from a particular room on the yacht.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Sweatpants SZN (Angel Edition)

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel goes out dressed like a hoe. Inspired by this post about my frustration by the boys wearing jeans when they sleep.

Warnings: it’s long 3k worth 😬 and a whole lotta filth

A/N: Here’s another series for my Mayan men! I already have plans for Nestor, EZ, and Miguel.

A/N 2: Special dedication to @starrynite7114​ thank you for always indulging me and being a wonderful friend

To check out more here’s my masterlist and if you want notifications here’s my taglist.

Photo cred: @starrynite7114​

When you first found out that Angel sometimes wore jeans to sleep it boggled your mind. You were the type of girl that took off her bra, kick off her shoes, and take off your pants as soon as you got home. So, to see Angel sleeping in his jeans was lowkey traumatizing.

As a dutiful girlfriend (and also a partly selfish girlfriend) you bought Angel some gray sweatpants. You wanted him to be as comfortable as possible and looking good at the same time. What you didn’t count on was that everyone else could appreciate the goods.

You were pouring yourself a cup of coffee of when Angel came home. He’d left early this morning before you woke up. “I’m back, querida.” You could hear him setting down bags on the table.

“Good morn-ingg,” the cheerfulness dropped out of your voice when you saw what Angel was wearing. A plain white t-shirt that was getting too tight, because of all the working out he was doing which made him almost as cut as EZ and a pair of those damn gray sweatpants you had bought for him.

“What?” Angel asked, confused at your sudden change in mood. “Do I got something on my face or clothes?” He started swiping his face and body, trying to clean the imaginary dirt off him.

“Nah, you’re good. Did you really wear that to the store?” Angel was genuinely confused. He didn’t see anything wrong with his outfit. “Yeah. Does it not match or something?”

“You really went out like that without me?” It finally dawned on Angel. He heard hints of jealousy. He didn’t know why he didn’t hear it at first, because he was so used to asking this same question. Angel did his best to keep his smile to himself, you were gonna pop a gasket when he told you where he went after the grocery store. “Yeah, you were sleeping. I doubt you wanted me to wake you up to go to the store and Vicki’s place.”

You almost spit out your coffee when Angel mentioned Vicki’s place. “YOU WENT WHERE?!” Angel began putting up the groceries because if he didn’t, he would’ve burst out laughing at you. “Vicki’s. Bishop called when I was at the store and asked if I could drop some things over.”

He was fucking with you. He was avoiding eye contact with you for a reason. “Angel!” He stopped putting the cereal on top of the refrigerator and turned towards you. He didn’t even last thirty seconds of you staring at him before he started laughing. “Screw you, Angel!” It didn’t even bother him that you were angry, your jealousy was cute to him.

Too enraptured in aggressively washing out your mug, you didn’t notice Angel walking up on you until he wrapped his hands around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder. “C’mon you can’t really be mad, can you? Remember I’m a grown man and can wear whatever I want.” He threw the line you used at him the many multiple times when he didn’t agree with the outfit of your choice.

Damn it! You couldn’t think of a great comeback. “Its not the same!” Angel’s laugh vibrated throughout your body. “Someone sounds jealous.” He sung into your ear. You elbowed him off of you and started putting up the rest of the groceries. “No! You not even all that cute to be doing all of that for.”

“Oh really?” He arched his eyebrow at you before he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Angel just made you eat your words. It was like you had a golden god standing before you and the only appropriate response would be to get on your knees to worship him. Thankfully, you had a modicum of dignity and only salivated at the man in front of you.

You were so spaced out that you allowed Angel to pick you up and set you on the counter. “What you staring at, baby?” Angel nudged his nose against yours then ran it along your neck.

“Nothing,” you pouted. Angel kissed your nose then your lips. “You sure?” He took one of your hands and ran it along his body. “Because it seems like you were appreciating my arms, my abs,” his voice got lower as your hand went lower, “my dick.” He emphasized the k. “You feel that? That’s all yours, mami. No need to be jealous, ok?”

“Okay.” You resigned your jealousy and tried to kiss Angel, but he pulled away from you. He reminded you of your agreement last night. No sex today until you and him were finished with cleaning the house, and he knew if he let you kiss him then he would end up fucking you right on the table.

Reluctantly you got up, but at least you were motivated to clean the house faster. Angel took on your shared bedroom and bathroom while you had the front of the house. There were stolen kisses between switches of cleaning supplies and smacks on the butt whenever you passed each other (which Angel pretended he didn’t like when you did it to him.)

You had just finished cleaning your part of the house when you finally allowed yourself to watch Angel cut the grass in the backyard. Grabbing two glasses of sweet tea, you went to stand in the doorway and watch Angel work. Even though they were gonna be trouble those grey sweatpants were a gift from god. They slung low enough on his hips that you could appreciated his Adonis belt. The sun beating down on him made him sweat and if it was possible you would pay an insane amount of money to be one of the sweat droplets rolling down his body.

He finally cut off the lawn mower and smiled at you perving at him. “Thank you,” he took the glass of sweet tea and chugged it down, some of it getting into his beard which made you think of other ways to get his beard wet. “All done cleaning?” He asked, backing you into the house. “Yeah,” you pulled him by the drawstrings until his phone started ringing. “Angel, no,” you whined, knowing it either wouldn’t be a short call or it would be call for him do club business.

Unfortunately, it was the latter. Angel apologized for the inconvenience and jumped in the restroom for a quick shower. Before he left, he apologized again and promised to make it up to you after the party at the clubhouse.

Angel dressing like a thot, being denied sex twice in one day, and being left alone to your own devices was not a good combination. You were doing a good job with keeping your brattiness tucked away, but when you were looking for an outfit for the party, your brattiness in the form of dark Kermit was bubbling up. In the end Kermit won.

As Angel predicted, you made it to the party before him and you were wearing the skirt, he specifically told you not to wear without him present. “Y/N, I’m begging you. Please, please go change.” The last time you wore something this risky at the clubhouse, Angel shoved you into EZ’s trailer and screwed you into tears on his bed. “Chill out, I brought my own car tonight. No one is going in your trailer.” That calmed him down only a tiny bit because he knew once his brother saw you, he was going to lose it.  

“He’s gonna kill you, Y/N.” Gilly told you while glaring off anyone thinking of trying to talk to you. No one was gonna approach his friend’s girl while he was around. “The only thing he is gonna kill is,” EZ quickly interrupted you, “Please do not finish that sentence.”

Outside Angel and Coco had just arrived from across the border. “Hey man, y’all got some honeys down here.” Paul from the San Bernardino chapter ran up on them. Coco entertained him while Angel listened. He honestly hasn’t paid attention to any other women since you’ve came in your life. “Then there’s one chick, mannnnnnnn. If Gilly wasn’t acting like some damn guard dog I would’ve talked to her already.”

“Gilly got a girl?” Angel asked, opening the door. “Not to my knowledge.” Coco responded stepping in after his friend.

“Oh, there she is!” Paul pointed out to you talking to EZ and Gilly. “Man, it look like she got some good dick sucki-,” Abruptly Angel grabbed Paul by the collar. “I dare you to finish that fucking sentence.”

Paul saw the fire in Angel’s eyes, and he knew he made a big mistake. “Shit, Angel! My bad! I didn’t know she was your old lady. I won’t even look in her direction.”

“Keep it that way!” Angel pushed Paul away and made a beeline towards you. First, it was EZ that noticed him. Suddenly, the prospect was really into keeping the glasses clean. Then it was Gilly who walked away from you in mid conversation, leaving you confused until you felt the familiar mold of Angel’s body against. “You got ten seconds to walk to the backseat of your car or I’m throwing you over my fucking shoulder.” He whispered into your ear harshly while deceiving everyone else into thinking he was just giving you a hug and whispering sweet words in your ears.

The ten seconds started once he released you and you wasted no time. When Angel got like this it was better to shut up and listen. Angel ignored the ‘hellos’ and ‘what’s up, man’. He was on a mission and nothing would stop him. You were just about to open the car door when you noticed that your car was parked in front of the clubhouse. It was close enough for everyone to hear all the ungodly things Angel was about to do to you. “Aren’t you gonna move the car?” You asked when he was still behind you when you opened the back door. “Get in the got damn car,” he ordered through clenched teeth. You scrambled to get inside, from his tone you knew you didn’t want to press your luck. Once inside, Angel wasted no time. He folded you in half like a table, moved your panties to the side and dived in.

Usually when Angel ate you out, he’d warm you up. A kiss here, a kiss there, small slow torturous licks, but right now all that was thrown out the window. This was as brutal as to all the actual rough fucking he would do to you.

His teeth ran across your clit and it felt like he hit every single nerve. “Angel!” You shout out, reaching out to grab his hair, but he slapped your hand away. “Did I say you could touch my shit? Keep your hands to yourself.”

“But Daddyyy,” you whined, still making grabby hands. “What the fuck did I just say?” Angel grabbed ahold of your wrists in one hand and choked you with the other. “To keep my hands to myself.”

“Then do that shit,” he growled. He released you and went back to work. You had to settle for the handlebar by the window because Angel wasn’t easing up. In fact, he added two of his fingers furiously pumping into you. “Look at you creaming all over my fingers. You don’t even deserve them. What did I fucking tell you about this damn skirt?”

“Not to wear it.” You whimpered about to reach for his wrist, but then you remembered his warning to keep your hands to yourself. “Then you understand why daddy’s pissed. Especially when I got brothers from other chapters talking about how fine you are and how you got some good dick sucking lips.”

“I’m so sorry, daddy.” He hovered over you to give you a quick peck. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll make it up to me by screaming my name.”

Still keep his fingers in you, Angel suckled your bud. The combination of his cold rings in your heated core and his tongue flicking your clit, your orgasm hit you like a freight train. “ANGELLLL, FUCKKKKKKK!” You screamed, beating on the surprisingly strong window.

“Keep cumming.” Angel’s voice was muffled by your pussy in his mouth, but you heard him clearly.

Finally, you calmed down but now you were jonesing for Angel’s dick. You went for Angel’s belt but he back away from you as far as the car allowed you to. “Daddy, I need you to fuck me please.”

“I needed you to be a good girl and listen, but we all can’t get what we want.” Angel felt bad when he saw your dejected little face. He decided to give you a little something else also you didn’t say his name enough for him to let everyone know you belong to him. “If you promise to be a good girl, I’ll give you something to hold you over.”

“I promise, I’ll be good!” Angel laughed at how quickly you agreed to it. He slid your panties off and scooted you closer to him. He grind his clothed groin against your bare one. The friction of the fabric of his jeans on your sensitive clit had you on the verge of tears. “Nah, don’t start that shit,” Angel slapped you. “We still have a party to attend.” Was this man fucking crazy? He expected you to face everyone after this?

Angel proceeded to dry hump you as if he was actually fucking you. “Oh my god, Angel! Just like that. Keep fucking me just like that daddy.” He bent down and wrapped his hand around your throat. “Yeah? You gonna cum all on Daddy’s jeans like a good little slut, huh?”

“Yes, please. I need it so bad, daddy.”

“Ok, just for you.” Angel pressed down on your hips and pummeled into you. “Angel, Angel, Angel,” you chanted his name over and over again while you came for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.

Angel enjoyed your shuddering underneath him, but he couldn’t enjoy it for too long. You two had a party to get to. Taking your panties, he rolled them back up and then fixed your skirt. “When we get out of here you stand in front of me since you made a mess on my jeans, ok.”

“Ok,” Angel pulled you out of the car and smoothed out your clothes. While he did that you tried to clean his face since it was soaked with your juices, but he wouldn’t let you.

The two of you came back in the clubhouse, where the lights illuminated Angel’s face. Gilly was outside when everything happened and when he just saw Angel’s face he shuddered in disgust and called Angel a nasty fuck.

After Gilly left, Liza, head of the Angel Reyes fan club walked up to you two, but she completely ignored you. “Heyy Angel. You looked really good this morning. Sweatpants season suits you very well.” With no shame she dragged her eyes all over his body but was disappointed when you were blocking his crotch.

“Yeah, my girl got them for me. Thanks babe.” Angel turned to you, gave you a kiss, and allowed you to take advantage of it. You took control and basically were swapping spit with him in front of this girl. “Mmm, you taste just like me.” Swiping your thumb across Angel’s bottom lip, you collected some of your lip gloss and juices, and then put it in your mouth. Liza stomped off and Coco called y’all sick fucks.

Just like Angel said, he used you as a shield. The entire night you were stuck like glue. His beer got empty and when you attempted to get up to get him another, he slammed you back down on his lap and yelled at EZ to bring him another. Soon, you figured it had less to do with his now dried and stainless crotch and more to do with your short ass skirt.

The evil bastard also did it so you could constantly feel his erection. It was so bad that you would zone out and think about how great Angel would feel inside of you. You were so deep in your thots thoughts that you hadn’t realized Bishop came and asked you a question. The men around the table laughed at your confused huh and Bishop repeated his question. Quickly you recovered and gave him a smart answer.

“Can’t focus, mami?” Angel smiled against your neck and thrusted his hips, causing more friction between your legs.

Fucking tease! Two can play at that game. The rest of the night you would grind in his lap, making him lose his concentration. You were the reason he lost poker twice that night. Eventually he got tired of your antics and you two finally left the party.

“Imma hit the shower and get all this desert off me. How about you sit and get ready for daddy, hmm?” Angel didn’t wait for your answer and began stripping, leaving a trail of clothes from your bedroom to the bathroom. While he showered you put on your canary yellow Fenty lingerie set. It was one of the few Angel didn’t rip because he loved how it complimented your skin.

Usually Angel came out in a towel or butt ass naked but this time he came out with those damn sweats on. And just like that all the pumping up and the shit talking you did was gone. At this point you were gonna let Angel ruin you.

“Fuck querida, you’re beautiful.” Still standing, Angel bent over, buried his hands in your hair, and kissed you to the point that you almost forgot your own name.

When he ended the kiss, you could feel the energy shift. Daddy Angel was back in the building. He backed away to sit in the chair, but never turned his back on you, so you could keep an eye on his dick print. “Come crawl to Daddy, hermosa.” He crooked his finger at you.

As you made your way to him, he pulled his dick out. You wanted to get to him faster, but that wouldn’t be sexy at all, so you paced yourself. Angel didn’t make it easy for you though. He took his dick out and started stroking it.

Fuck that slow shit, you sped up some more causing Angel to chuckle. “Grab it.” Angel took his hand off of himself and you quickly replaced it with yours. “Feel that, mami? That’s all because of you.” It felt amazing to know you could cause this type of reaction out of Angel.

Normally, Angel would slap his dick in your face, but since he gave you free reign you did it yourself. You enjoyed the hiss that came from you slapped it on your tongue. “See that’s your dick, baby. Now suck it like it yours.” Angel laced his hands behind his head as you went to work.

Keeping your eyes on Angel, you swirled your tongue over the salty mushroom head and kissed the underside. “Stop teasing, querida.” Fluttering your eyes, you tapped his dick against your pursed lips. “What do you mean?” Taking a chunk of your hair, Angel pulled back your head. “You know what I mean. Start sucking or I’ll fuck your throat until no sound can come out of that smartass mouth of yours.”

It really shouldn’t have, but that little threat turned you on more. Behind your back you grabbed opposite elbows, you were gonna make Angel lose his mind with no hands. Easily (thanks to much practice), you took all of Angel in. Bobbing your head up and down you made your man squirm underneath you. “Fuck, just like that baby.” Angel was close, you could tell by the hitch in his voice. So, you played the dangerous game and backed off, only to give him slow, long licks.

“Y/N,” he growled your name in warning. “What?” You asked innocently while unhooking your bra, letting your breasts fall out. “Keep playing this game if you want to. You won’t think it’ll be funny in a little bit.”

To appease your man, you wrapped your tits instead of your mouth around his cock, stroking him that way while occasionally licking the head. “Shit, shit, shit.” Angel abruptly pulled away from you, lifted you from the ground, threw you on the bed, and ripped your panties off. “Angel!” He shoved his sweats off and pumped his cock while he climbed into bed. “I’ll buy you another set. Fuck I’ll buy you all the sets.”

Just like in the car Angel had your ankles by your ears, but this time he actually had his dick inside of you and your orgasm was automatic. “Damn, already? Who’s making you cream like this, mami?”

“You are Daddy,” you whined, clutching onto him. “Mmhmm that’s right. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!” You screeched when Angel’s fingers found your clit. “And whose dick is this?”

“Mines,” you yelled as Angel kept hitting that golden spot. “Then start acting like it! Ain’t no other bitch about to take it. This all your dick.”

Pulling Angel by the back of the neck, you kissed him. “Keep fucking me just like that, Daddy. I wanna cream all over my dick.”

“Yeah?” Angel tilted your chin and nipped at your lips. “You like when I fuck you like a whore?” Angel drew back, almost pulling all the way out and then snapped his hips against yours. “Good fucking pussy. Can I cum in my pussy?” You nodded your head furiously. “Yes daddy, fill me up please.”

With a couple of more snaps of his hips Angel had both of you screaming in ecstasy. Each of your orgasms prolonging the other’s. It felt like hours before either one of you caught your breath.

“Sooooo, is it a good or bad thing that I bought some more sweats?” Angel asked, already going down on you, not waiting for an answer.

“Good, definitely gooood!” You shrieked when you felt the first lick.

Thank god for sweatpants season.

Tags: @starrynite7114​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @richonne4life​ @readsalot73​ @chaneajoyyy​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @angelreyesgirl​ @marvelmaree​ @strawberrywritings​ @blessedboo​ @sadeyesgf​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @woahitslucyylu​

[dork-empress]

Singing In The Dead Of Night Ch 2

Harley and Barman set up a playdate for their wards.

forgive the long post, i'll edit and clean it up when im home. chapter can also be found on my ao3, url in the description.

Harley made it back home, which was actually the manor of some billionaire who only really used the house for tax purposes. Harley had taken it over when Lucy came to live with her, deciding she needed more room, and they quickly changed it to suit their needs.

“Luuuucyyyy, I’m hooooome,” Harley called out to the manor, heading through the living room/gymnasium.

Lucy was balancing on the beam by her hands. “Never heard that one before.” She went into the splits and stayed on one hand.

Harley looked over her form. “Point your toes more...there ya go.” Lucy did as recommended. “I got candy for dinner!” She dumped her stolen lollipops on the table.

“I already ate, Aunt Harley,” she said, “I made extra pasta if you want.” She pointed over to the kitchen, before switching hands and flipping herself over.

“Oh,” Harley said, going over to make a plate, but feeling like ants were crawling in her skin. “You know, you don’t have to call me your aunt when it’s just the two of us,” She said, swirling her fork through the noodles.

Lucy shrugged, “Force of habit. Plus it’s a good idea in general, ya know, in case someone’s secretly listening in or we mess up some other time.”

Harley shrugged her shoulders. “Makes sense,” and it did, but it still kind of hurt. “You can have the lollipops for dessert though. You like cherry?” She tossed her the red candy.

Lucy looked down at the wrapper a second. “Can’t, I’m allergic to the red dye.”

“Oh,” Harley said, silently cursing herself. That was something that mothers should know about their kids, allergies and crap. “Well. Lemon then?”

“Sure!” They traded the lollipops, and Harley sucked on hers between bites of the pasta. Sweet and savory combined, delicious.

Lucy swung her legs as she sat on the beam. “Does...my father have any allergies?”

Harley blinked at her. Did Joker have any allergies? It was hard to say. Even now, Harley didn’t know a lot about the Joker. That’s how he liked it. “Best not to talk about it,” she said instead, “In case of those listening things or whatever.”

Lucy hummed, but didn’t seem satisfied. “Hey,” Harley said, trying to distract her from the ‘dad’ talk, “You wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

Lucy brightened, jumping a bit, “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno,” she said, “Go lookin’ for trouble. Let the trouble find me. Punch out a couple people but only if they REALLY deserve it!” And maybe if they only kinda deserved it, Harley thought.

Lucy hummed again, thinking. “I dunno. I think violence often begets further violence, and while it is occasionally necessary, efforts should focus more on the community building and personal improvement area.”

Harley blinked at her. Right, she was a reader, Delia had mentioned that. Not unlike Harley at her age, really, although Harley had focused on psychoanalysis instead of philosophy. “Ah, of course,” she said, “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Lucy thought for a second. “Well, there was this girl I wanted to go inspire to fight her eating disorder.”

“Oh,” Harley said nodding. It was a noble cause, really, but...also seemed really, really boring. “I...sure!” she smiled.

The truth was, when Lucy came out to live with Harley full time, she had really thought they would be a lady dynamic duo, a proper partnership mother/daughter team. But Lucy wasn’t much like Harley. Or, she was but, she was different, a goody two-shoes. Or, a goody tutu. Ha.

More than that, she followed a strange sense of logic that was oddly reminiscent of...Harley didn’t even finish the thought.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Lucy asked.

“Hmm? Of course I do!” Harley said, “I’d do anything with you sweetheart,” she gave Lucy a wink, then went to the kitchen to hide her facial expression.

She didn’t see that Lucy had followed her until she was directly behind her. “Oh, Jesus!” She said, clutching her heart, “Gotta look out there, sweetie. Almost brained ya!”

“Is Dad like me at all?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

Harley blinked at her. She felt like her bones were shaking inside her skin. “Why would you ask a thing like that?”

Lucy spun a little in place making her tutu swish. “I’ve been reading about him. People think he’s crazy. I mean, he says it. But that’s not what your records say.”

Harley frowned, backing away as though physical distance would get her out of the conversation. “What’re you goin through my records for? What, are you a snoop?”

“They got published after one of your arrests,” Lucy said, “Other people were more interested in the little notes you left in the margins, but--”

“Alright, stop.” Harley said, hand clutching her lollipop stick so tight it might break. “Look, Mr...your father is mean and cruel and manipulative, and nothing like you! He wants to drive other people crazy, and for some people, self included, he succeded. But I grew out of it as best I could and now...you don’t need to worry about him, ok? He ain’t ever gonna know about ya, and he ain’t ever gonna find ya. Got it?”

Lucy hesitated a second and there was something strange in her eyes. Something familiar. “Got it,” she finally said.

Harley lightened, smiling at her. “Why don’t we play a game or somethin? You like Monopoly? I make up my own rules!”

Lucy smiled, “That sounds nice,” she said, all bright again. As they set up the game, Lucy said, “You don’t have to come with me tomorrow, by the way. I can take care of myself.”

“You sure?” Harley asked. Lucy nodded. For the rest of the evening, Harley felt like something was…off.

She slipped the burner phone out of her pocket. She typed, ‘Wanna set up a playdate?’

“She called it a WHAT?!” Damian said, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Aww,” Tim said, over by the batcave computer, “Little Damian’s got a plaaayydaaate.”

“I will end you, Drake.” Damian snarled, fingers twitching for his sword.

“Enough,” Bruce interrupted the both of them. “Damian, if it helps you can think of it as a mission.”

“I thought I was forbidden from Robin duties for the next two months.” Damian said, arms crossed.

Bruce groaned. “Harley has taken in a ward, her niece Lucy. She has some petty crime charges, but from my recon, she’s not a villain. Harley wants her to spend time with someone her age, and I need someone who will watch over her.”

“Watch out for her, or watch out because of her?” Damian asked, scowling.

“Oooh, good question,” Tim said, still at the computer. “Hey, how come you didn’t set me up with vigilante kids?”

“Because you found them on your own,” Bruce shot back, “Look. Damian, you just have to spend the day with her. Follow her around, help her out as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Don’t let her get killed. Invite Jon if you want.”

“Uggh, Jon’s off world with his Dad,” Damian said.

“Oh right,” Bruce said, massaging his temple. “Why do interdimensional crises have to happen at the worst times?”

“Why is it we need a plural for interdimensional crisis?” Tim asked.

Bruce gave him a side glance to let him know he was coming up on the line that breached from ‘annoying’ to ‘problem Bruce will deal with.’ “Damian…”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, “But I won’t be her friend by you forcing us.”

“Fine.”

They met up with Harley at a neutral location downtown on top of a party goods store. “Hiya Batsy, Hey Bird Boy!”

Despite himself, Damian liked Harley. She was usually of a like mind about which villains did or didn’t deserve to live, but he didn’t tell Batman that. “Harley,” Batman said, “Where’s your niece?”

“Just doin some high-wire practice.” Harley said, “Lucy-goosey!”

From the side of the building, a girl faulted up from where she was hanging on the flagpole. A girl wearing a tutu and white paint. “Nice to meet you, Batman,” Lucy said, “Aunt Harley’s told me….a lot of mixed things.”

“YOU!” Damian said, before he could stop himself, and all three of the others turned to him.

Lucy trotted forward on her tiptoes. “Have we met?” She asked, tilting her head, and looking him up and down.

Damian swallowed. “Uhh….”

“Blackbird!” Lucy said, and swooped him up into a hug, “Oh, I knew you were a Robin, why’d you lie to me?”

“Blackbird, huh?” Batman said, and he couldn’t see, but he knew there was a very pointed eyebrow being raised at him.

Damian, still being swung like a ragdoll by Lucy, tried to gain his balance. “I didn’t...I mean I wasn’t…”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Batman said, “You kids go on, I have something to talk about with Harley.”

“Kids?!” Damian said, offended, especially that he was going to be left out of whatever this conversation was. But in doing so, he left himself vulnerable as Lucy pulled on his cowl to the edge of the building.

“Come on, birdy, whatever color you are. The city awaits!” And she jumped from the roof, grappling on outcroppings to reach the street safely. Damian grumbled, but eventually followed.

Harley looked to Batman, and her face fell. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”

Batman gave one slow nod.

Lucy skipped everywhere. It was very irritating, because it was faster than walking, but slower than running, so hard to keep pace. Also,it was just very perky, which made it hard to sulk.

Lucy claimed she had deliveries to make around town. Something about girls who were bullies in high school and were treating others poorly, but it was only because of the societal pressures that were put on young girls of America and...and thats about where Damian lost interest.

She carried a cartfull of boxes like a damn girlscout, and left them on the girls doors. Damian could have followed in his sleep...except there was something about one of the boxes….

“What’s in that one?” Damian asked as she brought it to the next home.

“Huh?” Lucy said, “Same thing as in all of them, some cookies, a letter, balloons of course and--”

“It’s beeping,” Damian said.

“What?”

Damian didn’t wait any longer, he grabbed the box out of her arms and tossed it as high into the sky as he could, tackling her to the ground. The box then exploded.

Lucy gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Birdy, look at it! It’s fireworks!”

Damian growled, jumping off of her and taking out his sword. “I knew it, I knew you were up to no good.”

Lucy tilted her head. “Whatcha talkin about, Birdy?”

“You--” He pointed to where the box was still smoldering. “You were going to put a BOMB on that girl’s doorstep!”

“I didn’t put that there,” Lucy said, getting up with no care of the sword pointed at her.

“You-” Damian stammered. “What?”

Lucy bent down and picked up a scrap of paper from the ruins. “Change of plans for the evening, Birdy!” Lucy said, “We’re going puzzling!”

She tossed the paper at him and he grabbed it quickly. It read ‘I’ve the tallest of trunks and thickest of stumps, a switch in the breeze, but I’m no tree. What am I?’”

They came quickly to the elephant pasture at the zoo. Damian couldn’t help it, he held out his hand for the elephant. She reached out her trunk and wrapped it around him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Her baby came forward this time, trotting on new steps. He was already the size of a small horse, but he stole Damian’s heart all the same. He tried to bowl Damian over like a large puppy, and Damian couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t know you could laugh, Birdy,” Lucy said, kneeling over a shady patch in the enclosure.

Damian’s scowl returned. “Stop calling me ‘Birdy,’” he said, “You can just say ‘Robin,’ if you want.”

“But aren’t there other Robins?” Lucy said, fiddling with something, “I’d love to call you something unique to you.”

“There’s already a Blackbird, you know.” Damian said, continuing to pet the baby elephant.

“There is?” Lucy asked, “Picking a superhero name is HARD. I’m still trying to get Commedia to stick. You know, like, Commedia del arte? But I’ll end up getting called ‘Tutu girl’ or something if I don’t watch out.”

Damian gently pushed the elephant away, seeing what she was doing. She was hands deep in another box like the one they’d found in her cart. “Careful, it could be another bomb.”

“Fireworks,” Lucy corrected, “and I already diffused it.”

Damian leaned down, looking. She had indeed done so, quite efficiently. “How did you know to do that?”

Lucy smiled, “An uncle of mine taught me. You’ll meet him.” She dug further into the box. “I wouldn’t mind some more fireworks, but I don’t want to scare the elephants.” She pulled out another slip of paper.

“This has all the hallmarks of The Riddler,” Damian said, “We have to be careful. He might have bombs all over the city.”

“Fireworks!” Lucy corrected again, “And, probably. See, we already have the next clue!” She waved the paper and read out “Can you hear me make a sound, only when you are around.”

“Of course you can only hear things when you’re around.” Damian said, frowning.

“But only when someone’s around does it make a...Oh!” Lucy said, jumping to her feet, “An echo! We have to go somewhere there’s an echo!”

Damian sighed, “I have an idea.”

Technically they weren’t IN the Bat cave. They were at a far entrance to it, another end of the cave system. So he wasn’t breaking any rules. “Hey, is that Wayne Manor?” Lucy asked. “I tried to break in there once, but they have some crazy rich person security system.”

“Funny that.” Damian said, trying to seem completely ordinary.

Lucy stood at the edge of the cave and yelled into it. “ECHO!” listening for the echo in return. She skipped into the cave, humming all the way, the sound bouncing off as she went.

“Lucy?” Damian said, following her, “Don’t go too far, there’s all sorts of--” He heard a squeal and rushed forward.

He stopped short, his flashlight falling on Lucy. She waved at him to put it down, squinting. “Look here!” She brushed aside some dirt to find some rusted over metal. “Isn’t it fascinating! This cave system must go on for miles! Maybe people hid treasure there!”

“It’s just the old mining system,” Damian said, truthfully. “It’s all blocked off.”

“That can’t be hard to undo,” Lucy said, intrigued by whatever lay beyond.

Damian grabbed her hand before she could continue. “We have to catch the Riddler. There has to be another package here.”

Lucy sighed, but nodded. She took his arm with the flashlight and swung him around the cave. “Ah! There.”

She took the package and skipped out of the cave. “Careful!” Damian urged. “Come on, just diffuse it.”

“Nope, not these ones.” She tossed the package high in the sky, and Damian saw the fireworks light up.

He felt his phone buzzing, no doubt Tim could hear an explosion out here, not to mention Alfred. They’d come investigating fast enough. He leaped up, grabbing the fallen slip of paper, and grabbed Lucy again to pull her along. He read it quickly and passed it to her as he made his way away. “Even in the city scape, nature comes to take its place.” Lucy read. “It must be the park!”

l,

“No,” Damian said, still pulling her, “I mean, yes, that is the answer to the riddle, but that’s not where we’re going.” He texted the police to inform them of the location of the hidden package so they could diffuse it, and dragged Lucy away.

The original Gotham Ice Cream shop was one of the oldest remaining buildings in Gotham, although was clearly closed for the night.

Damian saw a flash of green from the kitchens and rushed inside, finding none other than the Riddler standing there. “Stand down, Riddler,” Damian said, holding out his sword, “We’ve got you now!”

Riddler snarled, backing into a defensive stance. “Robin! How did you possibly find me?”

Damian smirked, “The beginning of each clue was clearly spelling out your final location. I-C-E. I didn’t need to follow 5 more clues to figure that out.”

Riddler cursed. “Those clues weren’t for you! They were for--!”

Lucy came skipping up to join Damian. “Hi, Uncle Eddy!”

“Lucille!” Riddler said, immediately warming. “I had so many sights around Gotham for you to see, why’d you go skipping to the end?”

Lucy skipped up to him, and Damian was once again left dumbfounded. “My friend Birdy here isn’t much for riddles, I think,” she said, “Although he enjoyed the elephants! And he knew about the mining carts in the caves, I want to explore those later.”

‘Uncle Eddy’ hugged Lucy, and Damian came to his senses, “THIS is your uncle?!”

Lucy shrugged, “I mean, that’s what I call him. I met him when I was visiting Aunt Harley a few years ago.”

“I heard you had moved to Gotham full time,” Riddler said, “I wanted to be sure you saw the sights. But the bat-brats have to ruin everything I suppose.” Riddler glared at him, and he glared right back.

“I don’t-” Damian started, but cut himself off, “You can’t just be leaving BOMBS around the city!”

“Fireworks!” Lucy and Riddler both corrected.

“Whatever! They’re explosive and they’re dangerous!” Damian hated having to be the safety one. It felt wrong.

Riddler rolled his eyes. “He’s just as much a barrel of laughs as the big one.”

“Aw, he’s sweet, really,” Lucy said, coming over to Damian and linking their arms. “Aunt Harley and Batman set us up on our own little playdate.”

“It is NOT!” Damian said, squirming away from her, “It is NOT a playdate.”

“Uncle Eddy, can my friend Birdy have some Ice Cream too?” Lucy asked, ignoring him.

Riddler and Damian glared again. “Fine.” He pushed his own bowl of ice cream towards Damian and went to get his own. “It’s MYSTERY flavor!”

Damian looked at it hesitantly as Lucy sat down to enjoy. Riddler went back to the kitchen. “It’s coconut,” Lucy said, “But Uncle Eddy likes to think it’s a mystery, so I let him.”

Damian frowned at her. “You’re really weird.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said, patting the seat beside her. “Come on, even you had to admit you had fun today.”

Damian thought about the elephants, and skipping around with Lucy, and watching the fireworks at the mouth of the cave, and seeing her all excited about mining carts for some reason. “Fine,” he said, “But it’s NOT a playdate.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said, digging into her ice cream. “Just a regular date then.”

“I--” Damian started, his head exploding with so many protests that he ended up just short circuiting. Lucy continued chowing down on ice cream like she didn’t say anything of importance. So, Damian just sat beside her, and ate his own.

[transsergio]

Emily's Top Surgery (Read on AO3)

Penemily / Gen / 4038 words

Emily has top surgery and their loving, perfect, beautiful girlfriend Penelope is their caretaker.

Notes: I refer to Emily as Penelope's girlfriend intentionally; Emily is a non-binary lesbian and in this particular story, is comfortable with the gendered term "girlfriend". However, if you see Emily referred to as she/her at any point, that's an editing mistake on my part and I mixed up their pronouns with Penelope's. I went through this a couple times to make sure I gendered them correctly, but one might have slipped through the cracks!

Also feels important to say that Dr. Dolan is a totally fictional doctor and not a reference to any real life surgeon

-

Surgery Day

Penelope has seen her team through too much already. Kidnappings, stab wounds, bullets – their jobs aren’t exactly arts and crafts. Yet, she thinks this might be the most nervous she has ever been. She’s been rapid-fire tapping her heel for the last hour and forty-five minutes, and trying to distract herself with her cell phone. Morgan texted a couple times to check in (once on behalf of Reid), but otherwise, radio silence. The few messages mean more than she can say; she is intimately familiar with how busy they are on a case. But she really wishes any of them were there to squeeze her hand right about now. She’d even take Strauss.

In the middle of Penelope’s billionth Candy Crush level, a doctor materializes in front of her. She startles and fumbles her phone trying to click it off. “Is it over? Can I see them now? How’d it go?”

As the doctor peels his surgical mask off, she sees he’s laughing at her. That’s good, right?

He says, “Everything went just fine, Ms. Garcia. Emily’s in the recovery room now, and we’ll let you back there about twenty minutes after they wake up. They’re going to be a little groggy and maybe nauseous. It all depends on how their body reacts to the anesthesia. They’ll most likely sleep for the rest of the day, but make sure to keep up with their medications, alright?”

Penelope nods fervently. “Absolutely, Dr. Dolan. Can do. Will do! And I’m sorry to ask this again but I really have to make sure, the whole operation was totally fine? Nothing went wrong? Everything…chopped off okay?”

The doctor stifles a chuckle. “Yes, Ms. Garcia. Everything went exactly as planned, no complications as of yet. We’ll see you tomorrow for Emily’s one day post-op appointment to check the surgery site and switch out the bandages for a binder, and then for their first week post-op. Okay?”

Penelope smiles back, still nodding along like Emily’s health depends on it.

The doctor shakes her hand and ducks back into the surgical ward, leaving Penelope to update the group chat.

“Emily’s out!!!!!! Doc says all good!!!!!! Will be with them soon 😍💖🥳”

She types almost as quickly as her heart is beating.

Penelope makes it through another few rounds of mobile games and desperately refreshing her Twitter feed before she risks checking the clock. It’s been half an hour. Shouldn’t Emily be awake by now? What if they never wake up? Could someone be permanently anesthetized? Reid would know. Maybe Penelope should call Reid. No, she can’t do that. They’re all off in Texas trying to catch a serial killer and she doesn’t need to distract them, not when they’re already down two team members. Kevin Lynch is pretty good, she hopes. She’s seen his work and it’s adequate. Nothing like the multi-tasking Penelope pulls off, but in the same ballpark. His boyfriend, Grant Anderson, vouched for him. It was unnecessary, and maybe Kevin shouldn’t have sent the person who got Elle shot to sing his praises, but at least they knew Grant. Kevin was a stranger from another department. A back-up.

“Penelope Garcia?” A nurse calls as she emerges from swinging double doors.

“Yes, right here!” Penelope chirps. She leaps to her feet and scurries over as quickly as her heels will allow.

The nurse walks her through the recovery ward and the steps to Emily’s post-op instructions. Emily has four different prescriptions already filled and two cannot be taken at the exact same time while one is an antibiotic and the other is just for nausea which they might not need and –

“This is all written down, right? Sorry, my head’s just like, woo, swimming right now,” Penelope says. Her eyes are wide and darting frantically between the curtained beds. She hates the fluorescent lights. Her skin is buzzing with all the sour electricity. The nurse assures her they’ll send them home with physical copies along with phone numbers in case of emergency.

They round the nurse’s station and finally, come to Emily. They’re shifting slightly in their bed, leaning forward and sipping at a dixie cup of water. They're groggy and slow, with the IV still in their arm. Penelope’s glad they don’t have a mirror – their bangs are scattered over their forehead in three wispy chunks, a way Penelope knows Emily hates.

“Hey sweetheart,” Penelope coos. She leans over the bed's plastic siding to kiss the top of Emily’s head, and run her fingers through their dark hair. Emily leans into the touch.

They croak, “Hey,” and cough to clear their throat, wincing all the while.

“That’d be because you were intubated,” the nurse says. “Take plenty of cough drops and you should feel much better.”

Penelope assures the nurse they will while Emily drifts in and out of focus.

“Did it work?” they ask.

“Did what, Em?”

“M’surgery.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally. You’ll see in a little bit. You’re just sleepy.”

“M’kay,” Emily says. Their head lolls back into their pillows as the muscles in their face tighten.

“Emily, what would you rate your pain out of ten?” the nurse asks, coming closer with her clipboard at the ready.

“Uh, five? Maybe six.”

Penelope looks to the nurse. “Is that bad? That sounds bad. I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt right now.”

The nurse jots down a few notes before she answers. “It’s not unusual. We’ll up their pain killers before we remove the IV.”

Penelope plants herself firmly at Emily’s side in the meantime. They’ve redressed Emily in their own clothes, an oversized button-down and sweats. Well, Penelope assumes they put Emily’s bottoms back on. The blanket is still tucked tightly around their body like they’re some kind of soft, hot mummy. They stay like that for another fifteen minutes, Penelope working her nails through Emily’s scalp as they try to relax.

When Emily rates their pain at a four, then a three, Penelope helps the nurse settle them in a wheelchair. They roll a few feet into the hall before Emily claws for Penelope’s arm.

“Where’s the barf bag?” Penelope asks. She has her hand out and ready for the nurse to pass it over, and swings it into Emily’s face.

Emily, thankfully, does not puke. Their slow, steady breath crinkles the blue plastic bag, but all they fill it with is air. They keep a tight grip on the thing for safekeeping, even as they’re helped into the passenger’s seat of Penelope’s car.

“You ready to go home, lovebug?” Penelope keeps her voice low and sweet, like dark honey. Emily nods and Penelope grants her wish, starting the engine and turning out of the parking lot.

-❤-

One Day Post-Op

Penelope holds her breath as the nurse unwraps the medical bandages. She wonders if Em is doing the same. While she’s watching them, Emily’s eyes flit between her and the floor-length mirror fastened to the exam room wall.

The nurse is talking, and they’re both supposed to be listening, but who could expect them to? Emily has spent a couple grand (after insurance) and something like four years waiting for these next seconds. Penelope is just as invested, if not more, in Emily’s happiness. She’s not going to get the camera out, but wonders if she should just in case Emily cries.

Their eyes follow the final bandage as it unravels from Emily’s form.

And Emily’s mind goes quiet. They have two, deep red swoops where their chest used to bulge. Above and below, their body is nothing but smooth skin. They thought this would feel like shock. Like disbelief that they were finally here. Instead, it just feels right, as if this is the way it’s always been and some crappy daydream is over at last. They giggle, and Penelope glows like the sun has risen.

“Wow,” Penelope says, soft. She’s wrenched with admiration.

The nurse is smiling in the corner. She takes out a roll of Steri-Strips and measures them against Emily’s new scars. Scars! Emily finally has scars!

“Now the bruising should lessen in the next three to four weeks,” the nurse says. Oh, bruising. Emily almost hadn’t noticed. Their body is splotched with patches of yellow, green, and purple as if it’s trying to camouflage itself, but Emily’s not hiding from anything anymore.

They’re given more practical information, like how often Emily should be walking to avoid blood clots, how high they should lift their arms, how much they should be carrying – most of which tells them to stay reclined, arms down, to sleep as much as possible, but get in ten minutes of walking every few hours. Penelope hears more of this than Emily does, and again, they’re given written instructions just in case.

Emily takes one last look before the compression vest goes on. This will be the most uncomfortable part of the process, thank god. Emily chose a surgeon who used a tighter suture method rather than the typical drains intentionally. Still, the fit of the binder is exciting. Emily’s never had something lie flat on them before. Their body now falls in one fluid line without anything, even nipples, to interrupt.

“Em?”

Emily snaps to Penelope, who is standing and holding the door for them.

“Oh, right,” Emily says with half a laugh and a daze in their eyes. They thank the nurse, and the receptionist, and a passing surgeon that isn’t even Emily’s on the way out. This is the most gratitude Emily’s ever contained in their life, and they need to flush it through their system.

“And especially you,” Emily gushes as Penelope helps buckle their seatbelt. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’re taking time off for me, or that you’re not stir crazy already. Thank you.”

Penelope grins like she might burst, and can’t answer just yet. She gets them safely onto the highway for home first. “Of course I’m here for you, dumb-dumb! Not only because you literally can’t do anything for yourself right now, or because the hospital said you couldn’t have the surgery without having a caretaker, but, well – okay, maybe half for those reasons too. But because I love you. I’m so happy for you, and how happy you’re going to be, and that this is so good for you. I love you so much.” Penelope sniffles.

“Maybe you should have said all that before we left?” Emily asks. “You’re gonna cry the whole drive back, babe.”

Penelope swats at them. “I know, I know! But you’re on a strict schedule, my lovely angel, and you need your meds in like, thirty minutes.”

Emily laughs and catches Penelope’s hand in their own. They squeeze it tightly and press their lips to Penelope’s fingers. Emily only releases when Penelope tugs their grip toward the steering wheel.

“Next stop, Recoveryville,” Pen jokes.

-❤-

Five Days Post-Op

Emily is more or less comfortably laid on their couch. They have an arsenal of pillows stationed behind them, under their arms, and at the bend of their knees, and Penelope’s militant care routine keeping them afloat. For the last four days, they’ve done nothing but watch French art films together, eat ice cream, and order takeout. It’s been a nice break, Emily realizes. One they didn’t know they needed.

Penelope emerges from the kitchen with a bag of Doritos and a bright blue DVD in her hands.

“This looks like a bribe,” Emily says with a wry smile.

“That’s because it is. I am in no place to object to your choice of movies, especially after I promised I wouldn’t make fun of the accents anymore. But I was sorta hoping this would be a good opportunity to manhandle you into watching a real classic.” Penelope blocks the television in her pink pajama pants and Emily’s Yale hoodie. Penelope is well aware that Emily loves when she wears their clothes; she has to be doing this on purpose. And it’s working.

Emily bobs their head from side to side, considering the offer. “Alright, shoot. I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

Penelope slaps the movie cover over her face. Mamma Mia! (2008) Dir. Phyllida Lloyd.

“Oh, god.”

And Penelope reemerges, scowling. “Hey! I didn’t complain when you made me watch that sad movie about the woman with the dead family. This time, no one’s dead! And they’re in Greece! Okay, admittedly no one wants to hear Pierce Brosnan sing, but if you ignore him and focus on Meryl Streep the movie gets a lot better!”

This is not the first time Emily has heard argument on behalf of Mamma Mia! and it likely isn’t the last, either. Movie night in the Garcia-Prentiss household is in a state of constant debate and usually decided by a fair and unbiased coin toss. Emily considers it a miracle that Penelope’s lasted this long without putting up a fight, and considers it part of her generosity as their caretaker.

Emily scooches themself into a more upright position. “Trois coleurs: Bleu is a beautiful movie and you said you liked it, first of all. And I thought we were watching my movies because I’m the one healing.”

Penelope hesitates. “…Yes, but I may have also been doing a little eensy weensy bit of work at the same time because they’re also like, really slow and boring and Kevin needed the tiniest, tiniest bit of help on the Texas case.”

“Traitor!” Emily is aghast. “What about the deal?”

The deal, of course, was the promise they made each other after their third movie night. Emily was texting throughout The Muppets Take Manhattan and not entirely invested in Kermit and Miss Piggy’s wedding. Penelope was hurt, Emily was confused, and didn’t fully get it until Penelope fell asleep twenty minutes into Deux ou trois choses que je sais d'elle. From that point on, they agreed to compromise more on movie selection and to pay undivided attention to the films they did pick.

“You passed out! I thought the deal was void if you weren’t awake during your own movie!” Penelope said.

“Why didn't you wake me up?” Emily argued.

“Oh, yeah, I’m going to wake up the person who just had surgery so they can pay attention to the third sad foreign movie of the day. You need your rest, and Kevin has maybe half of my inimitable skills!” Penelope’s words were jumbling together as she went up an octave. “I know I’m on vacation but the team needed help and I didn’t want to abandon them with some computer monkey who doesn’t know the first thing about my system, much less the way the team works, and isn’t even a regular assist on cases like me and—”

Penelope is cut off by three short raps at their front door. A welcome escape.

“Pen!” Emily calls after her. “We’re not done here!”

“I think we are!” Penelope shouts back. She passes down the hall and peers through the peep hole, though, she really doesn’t need to. She recognizes the voices on the other side.

“We’re not too early, are we?”

“It’s two in the afternoon, genius.”

“I mean in days since Emily’s operation. They might not be up to company.”

“Then we’ll say hi to baby girl and head out, no big deal.”

Penelope swings the door wide open. “Definitely say hi to me, definitely do that!”

Morgan and Reid stand in their building’s hallway, Derek carrying bags of Chinese food, and Spencer juggling some sort of gift basket. Their eyes are tired and Derek’s stubble is looking rougher than usual, but they perk up in the light of their friend.

“Hey, there she is,” Morgan says. He comes in for a tight hug as he and Reid crowd themselves inside. “How’s everyone holdin’ up?”

“Peachy keen,” Penelope says. She squeezes Derek’s shoulder and leads them back to Emily by Reid’s hand. “Look who missed their favorite co-workers!”

“Hey, guys,” Emily says. Their heart warms at the sight of them. “What’re you doing here?”

“Now how’s that any way to greet a friend?” Morgan laughs. He lowers their takeout food to the coffee table and dives onto the couch beside Emily. “You been good to Garcia so far, or do we have to put the hurt on you?” He playfully punches Emily in their arm, and they cower in mock pain.

“Hey, no roughhousing!” Penelope scolds. “If anyone pulls any sort of muscle in the next twenty minutes, you’re all in timeout.”

Emily and Derek snicker in their seats and launch into the most recent case details. It’s a lot of the gory, icky stuff that Penelope doesn’t want to know unless she’s in her bat cave, so she takes Spencer and his basket into the kitchen.

“Doritos, huh?” he notices the bag Penelope drops on the counter. “You were trying to get something from them?”

Penelope answers with her head stuck in the fridge as she paws to the back for Spencer’s La Croix. “I may have wanted to watch one of my movies today, and I may have offered chips in payment.” She fishes a couple cans of LimonCello out, and huffs. “So what’s all this?”

“It’s from JJ. She wanted to come herself but didn’t think bringing Henry over was the best idea,” Spencer explains. He holds his drink gingerly with both hands and peers into the basket. It looks a lot like the one Penelope used for JJ’s baby shower, and is also definitely the same basket. Inside are a few bags of beef jerky, chocolate, a backscratcher with a little pink hand at its end, and an airline neck pillow with the Texas flag patterned over it.

“Awe. I’m definitely baking her cookies,” Penelope says. She leans back against the counter and eyes Spencer up and down. “Tough case?”

Spencer shifts from side to side and looks into the dark pit of his La Croix can. “Not much worse than usual. It was just… long. And Emily would’ve been a big help. None of us speak Spanish.”

“But you didn’t want to call right now,” Penelope guesses. “It’s all over though, right? All good? Everything wrapped up with a bow for good luck?”

Spencer nods and purses his lips. He looks over his shoulder to the living room, where Derek is describing something with his hands and Emily watches, wide-eyed and entertained. Spencer says, more to himself than Penelope, “It’s always good to be home.”

-❤-

Two Weeks Post-Op

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss!”

Emily freezes with one arm reaching desperately above doctor-recommended height, and another gripping the cabinet door like their life depends on it. They press their forehead into the shelf, groaning, “That’s not my middle name.”

“I can make up whatever name I want! You know what Dr. Dolan said, and this is so far out of bounds!” Penelope stands in the kitchen threshold with her hands on her hips. She sighs and tugs Emily away from the cereal cabinet by their waist. When their arms are safely lowered to their sides, Penelope puts on her serious face, with her seriously furrowed eyebrows, and her serious frown on her lips. She asks, “Do you, like, want to injure yourself? Is this your new favorite hobby?”

Emily is petulant. “No, I want breakfast, and it’s on the third shelf. Let’s just pretend you got it for me, okay?”

Penelope grumbles her frustrations under her breath as she pulls down the family size box of Lucky Charms. She flurries around the space until she’s collected a bowl and spoon and settled them on the other side of the kitchen counter, where a bar stool and carton of milk wait for Emily.

“Sit,” Penelope orders. Emily complies with a glint in their eyes.

“Thank you,” they say, saturating their words with genuine love.

“Oh, stuff it.” Penelope pecks a kiss to their cheek regardless. She tries not to think about how cute Emily is when they’re smug, but it’s a losing battle. The way their nose scrunches, the smirk; not helping. Instead, Penelope picks a smidgeon of a fight.

“Your hair is greasy.”

And Emily’s face falls flat and exasperated. They let their spoon rest in the pool of marshmallows. “Can we do this after I eat?”

“Oh, lovebug. Absolutely not,” Penelope smiles knowingly. “You haven’t washed it in like, four days, which tells me that it’s not as easy as you said it was. Y’know, I was wondering who said washing your own hair was too much work immediately after having an operation? It would have to be someone super smart and beautiful and funny and—”

“It was you, Penelope. We all know it was you.”

“Funny; it was, wasn’t it?”

But Penelope lets them finish their cereal. She was about to eat her own Eggo waffles, after all. Once the dishes are rinsed and in the washer, she marches Emily straight into their bathroom. The tub thankfully doesn’t share a wall with the toilet, making it easier for Emily to scoot in next to the faucet. Penelope folds Emily’s towel (the towel that is dark purple, and not spring green, which Penelope keeps carefully out of the splash zone) (unlike Emily, who does not mind if their towel is damp long after it should be dry, and probably growing some type of mold) (okay, it’s not growing mold, but Penelope insists that it will eventually become mold-ridden if Emily doesn’t start hanging it up more consistently) along the side of the tub. Emily fits the towel under their neck, and Penelope guides them into position.

“Your hair is so thick,” Penelope comments.

Emily says, “You tell me that once a week.”

“Because it is. Now close your eyes.”

Penelope detaches the removable showerhead and lets the water warm her hand. When it’s a comfortable temperature, she douses Emily’s head. She maneuvers carefully around Emily’s forehead to avoid hitting their face, though Emily’s eyelids flutter when they worry the stream is near. Penelope thinks with their long eyelashes, they look like butterflies about to take flight.

She works the shampoo in with a gentle, but thorough touch. It’s when she rubs the lather into Emily’s scalp that Emily lets a soft moan break, and Penelope smiles. She takes pride in her work, whether she’s at her desk or in her soapy bathroom.

The shampoo swirls down the drain as Penelope rinses Emily free. Emily opens their eyes and tries to sit up, but Penelope pins their shoulders to the tub.

“Hold on! I haven’t conditioned yet.”

“Isn’t shampoo enough? We’re going to be here again in three days. It’s a hassle.”

Penelope does not think so. For the low price of two-thousand dollars and the risk of post-op complications, Penelope’s seen her girlfriend relax for the first time in, maybe ever. She’s going to drag it out as long as she can. Which, for right now, means dumping a handful of conditioner into her palm and rubbing it through the tips of Emily’s hair.

The final rinse is cleansing, like the weight falls from Emily’s shoulders. Penelope swipes the towel from Emily’s neck and cocoons their hair inside. She manages to keep their shirt dry, for the most part. Emily sits up with a pain in their shoulders, and does their best to hide it.

“What’s wrong?” Penelope prompts. Their best is not nearly good enough, not when Penelope has the analytical eye of someone who loves them. Penelope plants Emily on their shared bed for the first time since their surgery, already grateful to have a little of Emily’s smell in the room again. She sits behind them and overlaps their legs with hers. Penelope digs into the knots wound through their back as if she's torturing for information.

“It’s almost like you have a stressful job or something,” Penelope says.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, something like that.”

Penelope massages her way down until Emily feels looser under her fingers. She leans her head into the crook of Emily’s shoulder and presses a kiss to their skin. “We could ask for more time off,” she offers.

Emily slouches against Penelope’s body. “We could. But we have to go back at some point.”

“Let’s pretend we don’t.”

Emily exhales. “Sounds good to me.”

[aestheticallyholland]

NEVER NOT | THE PARTY . . .

❃ PAIRING tom holland x fem!reader

❃ DISCLAIMER i do not own the artists (and the reader) that are going to portray the characters, but i do own some of the their names. the plot of the story is inspired to the book and movie 'to all the boys i've loved before' but with changes. the gifs and photos used in this series are edited by me but i get credits to the originals. also, this series is first posted in wattpad by me. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST IT SOMEWHERE ELSE !

❃ WORD COUNT 3.3k words

WANNA BE ON THE TAGLIST? feel free to comment on this post if you wanna be added to this series' taglist to get notified for updates !

NEVER NOT MASTERPOST | LEI'S LIBRARY

"Say it before you run out of time. Say it before it's too late. Say what you're feeling. Waiting is a mistake." - anonymous

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[ november 07, 2015 . . .]

IT WAS A SATURDAY MORNING and Y/N had woken up early in the morning to make her very own chocolate cupcakes.

It was her mom's very own cupcake recipe that was written in the 10-year old notebook. As Y/N and her older sister were growing up without their mother, they have learned to cook and bake but Y/N was more on the baking side, and Aria was more on the cooking side.

As Y/N was pouring in the cupcake batter into the cups, Aria was going down the stairs, her hair still a mess from waking up. She saw what her younger sister was doing and smiled to herself.

"It's early in the morning, Y/N." Aria suddenly blurted out that caused Y/N to startle and almost poured too much in a cup.

Y/N stopped and glared at her sister with her poker face. "Morning."

Arian walked towards the countertop and sat on the high chair. She watched Y/N as she continued to pour the remaining batter. "Take your time, Sis," Aria said that made Y/N chuckle.

Once Y/N was done, she placed the cupcakes inside the oven and closed the door, and set the time. She took off her apron that was around her waist and placed it down the table.

"How're things going on in school?" Aria asked as Y/N sat down beside her.

"Different," Y/N answered and wiped her sweat. "Ever since you graduated, I only got to hang out with Erika."

"You still never change. You have to socialize more with people, you know?" Aria said and Y/N just rolled her eyes at her sister's statement.

"People I meet are mostly not my type of people, except for Erika of course," Y/N said and Aria just laughed. "What?"

"I just miss being schoolmates with you. It's different too when you're going to college already." Aria said and looked out the window that was in their kitchen.

Y/N stayed silent for a while, didn't know what else to talk about until she remembered about Aiden and Aria.

"How are things with A-Aiden?" Y/N asked trying not to make her voice shake. Aria looked at Y/N and smiled.

"Great. There were things I knew about him that he didn't mention when we were just friends. You know he's making a song dedicated to me? I can't believe that guy is so talented." Aria said. Y/N felt a pang on her chest as she was listening to her sister. She loves her sister so much but she just can't help the pain that was still on her chest. It may not be as painful as before but it was still there.

"Are you okay, Sis?" Aria asked and at made, Y/N blink, and her thoughts faded.

"Y-yeah. I'm alright. I'm happy for you guys, really." Y/N gave a smile and her sister sighed in relief. Aria suddenly stood up and wrapped her arms around Y/N. Y/N placed her head on her sister's shoulder and hugged her back.

A doorbell rang inside their house and both sisters pulled away from each other.

"I'll get it. Check your cupcakes first." Aria said and walked going to the front door and Y/N went to the oven to check the cupcakes.

She tested the cupcakes by sticking a toothpick and to see if there were still anything sticking to the toothpick and there was. She closed the oven again until she heard her sister from the door.

"Y/N! How come you didn't tell me that you have a boyfriend in school?" Y/N's eyes widen as soon as she heard that. She immediately remembered who it was and she ran going towards the front door.

Why was he here on a Saturday?

Y/N saw Tom standing by the doorstep while her sister was holding the door.

"T-Tom! What are you doing here?" Y/N asked nervously and went closer to Tom and gave a kiss on his cheek. Tom didn't expect that from Y/N and she saw him smile.

Why the hell did you do that, Y/N?

"Just wanted to see if you're up for Harrison's party tonight," Tom said and before Y/N could answer, Tom interrupted her. "Erika is going to be there, don't worry."

Y/N looked at him for a while and he gave her that look of you-have-to-come-with-me-it's-on-the-contract. She gave a smile and finally answered. "I'll be there, babe."

"I'll pick you up by 5 pm." He turned to her sister, who was just there in their entire conversation. "It's nice to meet you, Aria."

"You too," Aria said and Tom waved to them as he was walking away and Aria closed the door.

"How come you never told me that, Y/N?" That was the first question she asked the moment she closed the door.

Y/N sighed as she knew she has some explaining to do but she can't tell the truth.

Let's do this.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It took almost the whole day to explain to her sister about Tom and more of her school life that she hasn't mentioned to Aria.

It was already almost 5 in the afternoon and she was getting ready for the party that Tom mentioned.

"What the hell should I wear?" She asked herself as she looked at herself in the mirror. "Why does it take your time to figure out what to wear, Y/N? It's not like Tom's gonna care." Y/N continued.

Would he?

After several minutes of talking to herself and looking for clothes to wear, she decided to wear a blue floral printed jumpsuit and a denim jacket. She grabbed a blue scrunchie and tied her hair into a high ponytail. She collected a bunch of scrunchies since she was a kid and her mother would always give her one.

She smiled at the thought of her mom until she heard an unfamiliar honk from a car outside their house.

She quickly grabbed her phone and a small purse and ran downstairs towards the front door before her sister will open it again.

She reached downstairs and looked at the living room where she saw her sister sleeping soundly on the couch. The TV was still on and Y/N smiled at her sleeping sister.

She opened the front door and revealed the curly brown-haired boy. Also known as her boyfriend. Pretend boyfriend to be specific.

He wore a denim jacket and blue shirt below it. His pants were also dark blue denim and he wore sneakers. He had a smile on his face as soon as she opened the door which also made her smile back.

"Hey, babe." He said and that made her feel her cheeks heat up.

"Don't call me that. My sister is sleeping so you don't have to pretend." Y/N said and that made Tom chuckle.

"Right." He said. "Is your father home?" He asked.

"He's still at work," Y/N answered.

"Good. I'm not ready to face him, yet." Tom said and grabbed Y/N's hand. "Let's go?"

"Wait." She said and let go of his hand and went back inside the house to get something in the kitchen. Tom looked at her confusingly until she came back with a box in her hands. She let her hand intertwine with Tom's hand and smiled at him.

"Let's get going." She said. They walked together hand in hand until they reached Tom's car. He opened the door for her like a gentleman and she said thank you before going inside.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"What's inside the box?" Tom suddenly asked as they were waiting for the red light to go green.

"These are the cupcakes I made this morning," Y/N answered.

"No wonder why something smelled good this morning when your sister opened the door." He said and that made Y/N chuckle before speaking.

"This recipe came from my mom's notebook. Basically, I have been baking ever since I was little. My sister is better at cooking though and she also has my mom's notebook on that." Y/N said when the green light suddenly appeared in the traffic light. Tom drove straight before talking again.

"How come your mom is never home?" Tom asked.

Pain suddenly filled in her chest when he asked that. It has been almost ten years but she still could feel the pain inside.

"She's gone now," Y/N answered but smiled at Tom. Tom glanced at her when she answered and suddenly felt guilty for asking.

"I-I'm sorry for asking, Y/N. I didn't know." Tom said.

"It's been ten years, Tom. It's okay. At least she's in a better place now and I have something that will remind me of her." Y/N said. It has been the first time that she and Tom are having a deep conversation.

She looked out the window when she suddenly felt Tom's hand on hers. She looked at him and his eyes never looked away from the road. "I'll be here for you, Y/N. Not just a pretend boyfriend but also a friend." He said and smiled.

She smiled and was glad that she and Tom are friends now.

"I trust you, Tom."

Do you really?

Yes.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom parked on the side of the house of his best friend, Harrison. He turned off the engine of the car and got out. He jogged towards her side and opened the door again for her.

"Thank you, again." She mumbled and got out of the car and heard the door closed afterward.

The loud music can be heard outside of the house and could feel the ground shaking because of the people dancing inside. This was her first time going to a party with someone she didn't really know.

Y/N and Tom walked together inside the hall where no one is and Tom stopped his tracks to face her.

"Give me your phone." He blurted.

"Why?" She asked him confusingly.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

Of course, she did so she got out her phone from the pocket and gave it to Tom. He opened the phone and went to the camera app and took a selfie of his face.

Y/N laughed at his action. He gave the phone back and said, "Make that as your wallpaper."

"What about you?" She asked.

He took off the scrunchie from her hair and placed it around his arm

He got his phone out as well.

"Hey!" She exclaimed. The phone camera was facing her.

"Smile," Tom said.

She rolled her eyes before giving a smile to the camera.

"You can't lose that scrunchie. That's my favorite one." Y/N said.

"Of course I won't, love." He replied.

After, Tom looked at the picture and appreciated how pretty she looked before making it into his wallpaper. He showed it to her and that made her chuckle. He kept his phone and grabbed her hand and pulled her going inside.

"Let's go." He said.

"Maybe I should just go home-"

"Nope. You agreed, love."

Both of them went into the room hand in hand and the loud music burst to their ears. Not a lot of people were dancing but most of them were just sitting and chatting with one another with red cups in their hands.

They walked towards the table with people shooting ping pong balls to the red cups. A familiar blond-haired guy was there and looked up when he saw Tom walking towards them.

"Hey, mate!" They did a bro hug with each other and gave one ball to Tom to let him shoot. He aimed for the ball and of course, it went in one of the cups. The boys cheered and went to Tom and all that Y/N could do was giggle at their action.

After that Tom went towards you and asked: "Want anything to drink?"

"Just juice, please. Not really into that alcohol drinks." She answered and smiled at him. Tom gave her a smile and walked away with Harrison to get some drinks.

She was left alone and looked around to see her best friend but she couldn't form the number of people inside the room. She decided to sit down on the couch that was empty and wait for Tom to come with their drinks until she saw her least favorite person in the world.

"Oh hey, Y/N. Didn't expect you to be here." Camille said with her friend beside her. "Mind if we sit down?" She asked.

Y/N motioned her hand to let them sit on the other couch and rolled her eyes secretly. She didn't want to encounter them here. Not now. Not ever.

"So." Camille's friend suddenly spoke and looked at you. "How did you and Holland get together?" She asked.

Y/N was star-struck by the question and glanced at Camille's face who was just rolling her eyes at her.

"It's a long story," Y/N said as she tucked her hair to her ear and faked a smile.

"Oh, we have time-"

"Elise, stop," Camille said to her friend. "They're still a new couple so I don't think she's comfortable talking about that." She continued and Y/N could hear the sarcasm in her voice.

"That sucks."

"Hey, babe." Tom suddenly appeared out of nowhere with drinks already in his hands. He kissed Y/N's head before sitting down beside her until he saw who was sitting near them.

"Hey, Camille. Didn't expect you to be here." He said as he placed down the drinks and looked at her. Y/N was just looking at Tom.

Camille looked at both of them and gave the fakest smile to them.

"Don't worry. We're just leaving." She said but Y/N could sense the curiosity about her but she was forced to go with Camille. They both stood up and went with other people.

Tom sighed and Y/N could still feel the sadness in Tom's face but he shrugged it off and wanted to enjoy his time with Y/N instead. He took off his phone from his pocket and opened it to the camera.

"Let's take a picture together." He said and held the phone up. Y/N adjusted herself closer to Tom and smiled with him. There was also one pose where Y/N pressed her lips to Tom's cheek and he smiled and took a picture of it.

"You're doing it." He said as he snapped the picture with a big smile.

"They really are together," Elise said to Camille as they were standing in the corner with drinks in their hands. Camille's grip on the glass was firm when she looked at the couple and she could feel her head getting hot.

"Whatever."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom excused himself from Y/N and went inside the restroom to wash his hands and face. He removed the scrunchie that was in his arm and placed it beside the sink. He smiled when he saw the scrunchie and thought of Y/N. He was happy with how much time they're spending together. He knew he will never regret his decision.

His thoughts were interrupted when someone went inside the restroom and his eyes widen when he saw who it was.

"Oh, hello Tom. Didn't see you go in." Camille said in a fake way and Tom could sense that. He always does.

"I was just washing my hands and I'm leaving." He said but before he left, she noticed the scrunchie that was on the sink and suddenly grabbed it.

"That's Y/N. Give it back." He said.

"Among all girls, you chose her. How?" She asked and was twirling the scrunchie around.

"She's-" Tom stopped and could not think of anything that would describe Y/N. They have been just pretending and getting to know for almost a week.

"She's different, Camille." He said and that stopped her from twirling it and just looked at him. "I'm sorry, Camille but I can't deal with you right now."

Did he really just said that? Didn't he want her back? Why is he talking to Camille like that?

Camille just looked at him in disgust. "Alright then." She said and tied her hair using the scrunchie. "Have fun with her. But you'll soon regret this, Tom." Those were her final words before she walked out of the restroom.

She was the one who broke it off with him so why does it bother her so much?

Tom shrugged it off and fixed his hair before going out of the restroom to meet Y/N again.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"It's weird that I didn't see Erika and even Harrison that much in the party today," Y/N said as Tom was driving her back home.

"They were probably together somewhere," Tom said.

"That's weird. She always tells me stuff like this." Y/N said. "Maybe because it's Harrison."

"Haz didn't tell me anything about them," Tom said and turned left and parked the car outside her house. "We're here." He said.

"I just realized that I left the cupcakes inside your car," Y/N said. "I'm just glad they aren't ruined or something." She got out of the car with the box in her hand again. Tom closed it and just chuckled at her act.

They walked silently towards the front door. "Thanks for tonight, Tom. Didn't know that it would be fun to attend a party despite people getting in the way." She said and Tom chuckled again because he knew who she was talking about.

"I still can't believe we lasted a week. I thought we wouldn't because I thought you hated me." Tom said and scratched the back of his neck.

"Same feeling." She answered. "It feels nice to be your girlfriend. Camille just wasted a great guy."

Tom smirked at her and said, "You think I'm great?"

"Take that as a compliment, Thomas." She said.

"Don't call me that." He argued.

"Yes, I will." She said and Tom just rolled his eyes playfully.

"I should head home now. My mom would kill me if I'm home by the morning." Tom said.

Y/N noticed the box of cupcakes that was still in her hand and decided to hand it to Tom. "Here. Let your mom taste it. She will love it. I guarantee you."

Tom received it and said, "She will. Thank you."

Y/N opened the front door and looked back at Tom with a smile. "Good night, Tom." She said.

"Night, darling." He replied with a smile and walked away going to his car. She watched him walk away until he closed the door to his car and started the engine.

She closed the front door and locked it before going up to her room. She dropped her purse as soon as she reached the bedroom and collapsed herself to the bed. Many things have happened today which are good and bad ones. She thought of Tom and that made her smile until a vibrate came from her phone. She grabbed it and saw a notification from Instagram:

[Instagram]: tomholland2013 tagged you in a post

She looked at it with confusion and decided to check it out and as soon as she saw it, she smiled widely.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

She commented on a kissing emoji on the post and waited for how many seconds until Tom replied her back with a heart and a kissing emoji. She placed her phone on her chest and smiled. She didn't know what this feeling was but she felt happy about it.

❃ TAGLIST @allthisfortommy @kait4073 @lovebittenbyevans @l0ve-0f-my-life @spiitfiires

[sapphirelass]

What family is all about - Weasley FamilyxWeasley!Sister

Hiiiiiii!!! It’s... been a while. Again. Let’s face it, I’ll never be able to post as often as I’d like. I just don’t like rushing stuff, or posting anything I’m not happy with, so...

Anyhow, I LOVED writing for the Weasley family, and I’ll most likely do it again soon. Bill and Charlie are both underrated characters in my opinion and I had a ton of fun letting them ‘shine’ (despite this being a sort of sad story, but that always seems to be where I end up... XD)

Also, I might have to edit this once more, but it’s late, I have not posted in about two weeks and I just want to go to sleep XD That being said, take it for what it is, and I’ll try to correct any grammatical errors later. Good night! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: ≈ 2800 (they just keep getting longer, don’t they? XD)

Warnings: Light swearing, blood, angst

Enjoy! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s what family is all about 

“How big did his tongue get?”

“It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!”

The sound of laughter was heard from the kitchen as Elwira Weasley entered her childhood home. She worked as an arithmancer, and had been stationed at a research-facility in the northern parts of Sweden for the past few years. Her work took up most of her time, but she had just travelled home to go see the quidditch final with her dad, older brother Bill, twin brother Charlie and all their younger siblings.

“It isn’t funny”, her dad shouted. “That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard-muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of muggles, and my own sons-”

“Are just a wee bit too daft to understand that!”

She walked through the door and found her entire family, plus two other people she didn’t know, all sitting or standing around the kitchen table.

“Ellie?!”

Her older brother and twin, with whom she had always been extremely close, both made their way across the room and pulled her into a hug so tight she could barely breathe.

“Blimey! ‘ello Bill, hey Charlie! Long time no see, huh?”

“Certainly!”, their mother exclaimed while pushing the two oldest sons to the side as she tried to get a good look at her grown-up daughter. “Not a single visit since Christmas, Elwira Weasley, we’ve had to do with owls for six months?!”

“Sorry, mum, there’s been a lot of work to do… I thought I’d stay for the rest of the summer though, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, dear! Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I’m famished!”

Mrs Weasley went off to get another plate, and Ellie, after greeting everyone and being introduced to Harry and Hermione, took a seat between her dad and youngest brother.

“So Ronald? Had a good term?”

“Err.. Sure? Nothing interesting except for the stuff I wrote to you about, though.”

“Well you’re going into your fourth year now - almost halfway through!” She paused for a moment and turned to her father. “You good dad? You seem a bit… tense?”

Arthur looked up from his plate and sent his daughter a kind smile.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. Hosting the world cup comes with a great deal of problems all with the need to be solved. Admittedly, it’s not really part of my job, but the entire ministry becomes quite chaotic when something like that is days away. I’m a bit stressed, that’s all. How are things up in Scandinavia?”

“They’re… somewhat slow to be honest. There’s so much work to do between like October and February, but in the summer it’s mostly filing and other boring bits of paperwork.”

“Elwira?”, Hermione asked. “Sorry, I’m just curious, what is it that you do? Ron’s never told us…”

“That’s probably cause Ron doesn’t understand what I’m doing”, she smirked, “but of course, I work with, and study, arithmancy which, as you might know, is part of what’s called ‘natural magic’.”

“Great!”, mumbled Ron quietly, making sure only his friends and older sister heard. “Hermione, there are four rules in this house, okay? One: Don’t ask Charlie about dragons, Two: Don’t ask Percy about anything, Three: Don’t ask dad about muggles, and Four: Don’t ask Ellie about her job. Break either and you’ll be stuck listening to a five hour lecture.”

 Hermione didn’t seem to be bored though, so Ellie ignored her brother’s comment and continued. 

“It’s the type of magic that has been studied and worshiped since ancient times and has a very strong connection with nature. The natural phenomena with the strongest affiliation with magic is, while they in themselves have what the muggles would call a ‘scientific explanation’, the northern lights. Meaning it’s only when they’re visible that we can make any significant progress.”

Ellie paused and glanced at the younger girl, trying to see whether she had caught on or not, and was happy when realizing that she had.

“And... “, questioned Hermione, “the northern lights are only visible north of the polar circle and b-”

“Between September and March, exactly… Meaning there’s sadly not that much advanced research that can be done during the rest of the year…”

“It’s still a fascinating subject though. I only started last year, but I love it.”

“I’m glad! At least some people appreciate the wonderful art that is arithmancy, Ronald!”

Ron looked up at the mention of his name and met his sister’s gaze. 

“I just don’t find it interesting”, he said.  

“Right, because you ha-”

Ellie didn’t get to finish her sentence before being interrupted by her twin brother.

“Hey, Ellie? Must have been fun watching the Nordic versus Germany, huh?”

“Oh shut up, Charlie!”, she groaned while putting her head in her hands. “Holy Merlin…” The Nordic National Quidditch team, of which she had become a huge supporter in the last few years, had suffered a HORRENDOUS loss against Germany, and it had certainly not been a fun night. 

Her brother, however, did not shut up, but instead burst out laughing.  

“Charlie, it’s not funny!! You should have been there though… You’d have done a much better job than the stand-in seeker we had.”

“What were the results again? 700-20?”

“... 520 actually”

“520 to??”, Bill said mockingly

“You’re idiots both of you… 520-0, happy now?”

Ellie hadn’t realized that everyone else around the table had been listening in on their conversation, but was made aware when Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Arthur began laughing loudly.

“Why is this so funny to everyone? England lost badly too, and neither Romania nor Egypt even qualified to compete?!”

“Yeah...”, began Fred.

“But none of them lost with 520 points.”, finished George, earning himself a furious look from his older sister who stood up and shook her head.

“I’ll go see if mum needs any help…”

~~~~~~

Ellie loved her family, and therefore all her slightly annoying brothers, beyond everything, but being away from them for months and then meeting them all at the same time was TIRING! Having no desire to sleep through the world cup, she decided to go to bed early the night before, and she had barely closed her eyes before she fell asleep...

~~~~~~

“3, 2 ‘shhhh, quiet!”

Ellie took notice of the obnoxiously loud whispers, but it wasn’t enough to fully wake her up.

“We’ve got one more chance, 3, 2, 1, ELLIE!!!!”

She woke up instantly and sent a blast of blue sparks towards her older brother, barely missing him by an inch.

“What ‘ru doing, El? You can’t just go attacking people?!”

He tried to sound angry, but failed miserably, a heartwarming laugh escaping his mouth.

“You bloody idiots?! Why’d you scare me like that? You’re 21 and 23, not five?”

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it? Do you remember-”

“Yes, I do!”. She rubbed her eyes slowly, “‘85, look can you two please let me sleep?”

“Sorry, sis”, said Bill. “We’re leaving in half an hour. The kids and dad left ages ago.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to be late do you? Not when you can cheer for a team that might not loo-”

“Charlie, I swear!”

~~~~~~

The match was fantastic! Ellie would never admit it to her brothers, but it was nice to watch an even one for once. Watching and cheering with her family brought back fond memories of childhood games at the Burrow or Hogwarts, and she realized just how much she had missed actually playing. They stayed up late discussing players and tactics, but eventually their father ushered them all off to bed. 

~~~~~~

“Ellie?”

“Ellie??”

She stirred slightly and pulled the sleeping bag tighter around her.

“Ellie! Damn it, wake up!”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw her twin brother bent above her. The sight made her sigh.

“Charlie”, she mumbled. “We see each other once- or twice a year nowadays, do you really feel obligated to wake me up every time you get the chance?”

“Elwira, I’m serious! Get up!”

This caught her attention. Sure, the twins often used their full names when messing with each other, but it didn’t sound like Charlie was joking at all. She sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned loudly.

“What’s going on? Wha- Charlie? It’s still dark out? Why’d yo-”

“Ellie, c’mon. We have to help dad. Someone’s attacking the muggles.”

He threw his sister a jacket and pulled her out of the tent. Arthur, Bill and Percy were all waiting outside.

“Dad?”, she asked. “What’s happening? Charlie sai-”

“We’ve got to help the ministry!”, he said while frantically trying to count everyone and make sure they were there. “Fred, George, you make sure the others are safe. Go wait in the woods and I’ll come for you when the situation’s under control. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ellie, let’s see if there’s something we can do.”

Nobody questioned Mr Weasley’s instructions, and immediately left in different directions. There were people everywhere though, and the two directions quickly became three, four, six. Spells and curses were fired left, right and centre and Ellie found herself disarming and stunning at least a few death eaters. There weren’t that many of them, roughly thirty or so, but the insane amount of witches and wizards fleeing the campsite made it difficult to fight back. She couldn’t risk hitting any random bloke.

While duelling a tall man in a black mask, Ellie suddenly stumbled forward, a particularly nasty curse having hit her straight in the back. Falling to the ground felt way more painful than it should have, and her wand landed well beyond her reach. She groaned as a burning pain spread through her lower back, but made an effort to get back up anyways. She did, however, not make it very far before the sharp end of a wand dug into her throat.

The death eater behind her sniggered and pulled her up by the collar of her shirt.

“Well, well, well… Why’re you trying to ruin our fun?”

He stood way too close for comfort and Ellie felt his breath on her neck. She tried to answer, but the curse that was shot at her must have hit its intended target, as all that came out when she opened her mouth was a strained cough and warm blood.

The bloke holding her let out a dark chuckle and threw her to the ground. She could barely keep her eyes open, and a thick, red liquid oozed from the wound in her back.

“Not so high-and-mighty now, are we?”

Ellie lacked the strength to fight back, and to the death eaters that seemed to take all the fun out of the situation. They set off back towards the campsite, leaving Ellie on the ground next to a few pines. She tried her very best to sit up, but ended up passing out…

~~~~~~

“Charlie?!”

Bill ran up to his younger brother and pulled him in for a quick, one-armed hug.

“Charlie, you okay? We’ve got to get back to the tent. Where’s El?”

“Wha-, I-I thought she was with you?!?”

“What? Last I saw her you were together?”

The brothers shared a lock of utter terror.

“Bill, we have to find her!”

“I know… Dad went to get the kids and Percy’s back in the tent waiting.”

“There’s no time to waste then. Let’s go”

~~~~~~

They had been running around the camping grounds for half an hour, and there was still not a trace of a living soul - let alone the special one they were searching for. At first, they had been shouting her name at the top of their lungs, but were now walking silently. That was, at least, until a shout made both of them turn around.

“Bill! Charlie! What are you doing? I told you to stay in the tent?”

Arthur Weasley came running towards them, with Harry, Ron and Hermione following close behind.

“Dad!”, Charlie shouted. “Have you seen El? We can’t find her?”

“What?”, asked Arthur. “But she was with you, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, at first, but we must have gotten separated… Dad, is that? You know?”

He threw a dark glance at the skull and snake decorating the night sky and said, “Yes. Yes it is. Look, I’ll take Ron, Hermione and Harry back to the tent, and I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes, okay? Don’t go too far. Come on kids!”

~~~~~~

Just as the brothers were about to give up, go back to the clearing, wait for their dad and hopefully find both their sisters safe and sound, Bill noticed something. A glimpse of red in the moonlight…

“Charlie? Get over here fast!”

The younger brother followed Bill’s gaze and immediately set off through the forest when his eyes found a mess of ginger hair sticking out from behind a rather large pine. Bill followed closely behind.

“ELLIE!!!?!!”

Charlie stumbled to his knees and turned his sister around, trying to get a better look at her. He pressed his hand to her wrist and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse.

“She’s alive”, he mumbled. “Bill, she’s alive!”

“Good. I- Good.” Bill was lost for words too and mumbled a quick “Let me see”.

He pushed some hair out of her eyes and searched for any clues to what had hit her. He was a curse-breaker after all, but that usually meant working with curses placed on things or places, not people. 

“Charlie, I-I don’t know what that is… it’s not a curse I’m familiar with and I’m no healer… You want to carry her?”

“Of course”

Charlie brought his twin into his arms and picked her up, her bruised, limp body threatening to fall unless he held on tight enough. The brothers walked back to the clearing where they’d promised to meet their dad, but kept a close watch on their sister. They would apparate, though at the moment none of them felt like they had much time for ‘Deliberation’. It wasn’t very far anyways.

~~~~~~

“DAD!”, Bill shouted as soon as they noticed Arthur in the clearing where they were supposed to wait.

“Boys! Didn’t I tell you t-”

“We’ll take that later, Dad, you’ve got to help her!?”

Arthur Weasley was speechless, which had most likely never happened before, and Charlie felt so helpless. This was worse than his worst nightmares, and there was nothing he could do. Had it been a wounded dragon, sure, he knew loads about them, but this?

“Dad?”, asked Bill. “What can we do?”

“Right. Er… I suppose there’s no use trying to get you to wait here?”, he said while looking at Charlie who frantically shook his head. “Right, Bill could you go back to Percy and the kids? Fill them in on what happened? Then Charlie and I’ll take Ellie to St Mungos, okay?”

Bill didn’t look too happy with the idea, but nodded nonetheless.

---

“Charlie sit down!”

“Fred, he can’t”, said George. “Hey, I think you missed a spot over there, Charles”

“Shut it both of you! Honestly, why am I the only one that’s worried?”

Arthur stood up and put an arm around his son.

“Listen, we’re all worried, but walking back and forth isn’t helping anyone. Just sit for a moment, huh?”

“No, dad, you don’t understand! It’s my fault. We were supposed to stick together! I let her out of my sight...I-”

“Charlie, we all-”

“No, Bill, you don’t get it either, I should-”

“-let your sister sleep for once? That’d be greatly appreciated, thank you.”

The entire family turned at once, and found the oldest daughter struggling to sit up.

“EL!!”

Charlie stumbled over and put a hand on his sister’s back, trying to help her up, but unfortunately placing it right where the curse had hit her.

“Auch!”

She moved away from his touch and he pulled his hand back immediately.

“Blimey, Ellie I’m so s-”

“Charlie, it’s good. Don’t worry about it.”

Ellie pulled her brother into a hug, though he was now extremely careful, and she looked over his shoulder at the rest of her family. Her eyes met Bill’s and he sent her a kind smile. She gestured for him to come join them, and eventually the whole family found themselves in a loving group hug. Molly did her very best to wrap her arms around all her children, desperately trying to convince herself that they were all there - safe and sound and loved. 

Because if there was one thing the Weasleys had a lot of, it was love and that is, after all, precisely what family is all about.

~ L

Masterlist

[permanentconundrum]

9/26/21

8:31am Woke up after a couple dreams. I’m going to watch church from home this morning, I’m still not ready to go in person. Feeling a little anxious about just watching online but still looking forward to it. I did the quick breathing exercise through Headspace this morning and it was alright. I also watched the beginning of the video called the wake up and it was about mindfully using technology. The action I made after watching was to turn off notifications for some apps, like Facebook. I’ll look forward to their Sunday Scaries podcast today.

8:38am I’ve been enjoying and seeing benefits from breathing exercises. I think it helps me relax and practice mindfulness. Mindfulness can help me manage stress and anxiety and learn self awareness about how I think. I’m learning to study how it feels to breathe. I might come back to thinking about this

8:43 am going to turn on Sirius XMU. Tenderness by Jay Som was on when I turned on the radio. I find this radio station to be nice to listen to because the DJs are chill and interesting and know their music. Don’t mean to turn this into an ad, but it’s ok, this is just a journal entry. Calling this an ad is a bit excessive, just noting that I found a radio station I like.

8:50am Kind of looking forward to the day. Momentarily felt a bit stressed out. Journaling does help. I kind of want to learn more about the benefits of journaling so I can better make use of the practice. I currently mainly use it to catalog my thoughts, but it would be nice to dig deeper into stuff and maybe find some material for art.

8:55am I can tell I’m conscious that I’ll be posting this online. I kind of wish that wasn’t the case and I could just share my thoughts but it’s ok, it’s a learning experience to share like this. Anyway, it’s time to get set up for church online.

12:05pm Ate some leftover pizza this noon, I was hungry but now I feel better. Bible class after church should be interesting this year, about the book of Revelation. I’ll be interested to learn about it.

Started listening to XMU again just now, a good Sunday activity. I’m going to try reading Refuse by Julian Randall. I’ve been looking forward to reading it but expect it to be kind of intense. Thinking about going to get a coffee in Minneapolis before the Vikings game. We’ll see what happens, I have chores to do too.

12:44pm Read a few poems from the beginning of the book. I put it down and am still listening to the radio. Clairo is on, the song Sophia. It’s kind of an intense book and I wasn’t really feeling affected by it very fully, but maybe I don’t have to in the first reading. Yeah, I really like listening to the radio as a Sunday activity, I find it relaxing. Texting my mom now. She’s preparing for teachers conference today and going to watch the Vikings play. She reminded me of exercise and going to the gym. That would be a good self-care practice too. Maybe I’ll go for a walk. I think I’ve decided I’ll go into Minneapolis for that coffee before the game. Now listening to Rae Street by Courtney Barnett. I like the song.

3:55pm watching the Vikings game and it’s on commercial. I did end up getting coffee in Minneapolis. Feeling a little tired. I should do some chores while I watch.

7:23pm While watching the game, I did a few chores which was productive. I also went on my phone during the game and explored the Headspace app. One thing I did was learn about chronotypes. It is defined in your DNA and determines your best schedule for productivity throughout the day. I am a bear which is the most common of four types. I could still learn more about what it actually means. It is mainly related to a sleeping and eating schedule. I’ll get the name of the guy who talked about this in a book I haven’t read called the Power of When. The guy is Dr. Michael Breus for what it’s worth. Kind of interesting to me. Related is my experience trying to be more mindful about how I have settings in my phone. I took off notifications for a few apps including Facebook which has been nice. I haven’t cared about Facebook alerts in quite a while. Related to Headspace, I also listened to the Sunday Scaries podcast episode from today. It’s a short podcast with a short breathing exercise and helpful tips for the coming week. This time was an introduction basically to the work I’ve been doing using the app for working through anxiety. It’s just the start, but it’s encouraging to think about how far I’ve come in that Headspace program. I still have a ways to go to get mindfulness to help even more with anxiety, and using breathing exercises as well.

One other thing I did during the game was start shopping for a car which is not a task I enjoy really. It’ll be fun to update my ride lol but also used car prices have risen and it’s uncertain if they’ll go back down. I’ll try to keep looking regularly for several weeks.

Listening to the radio again while journaling. That thought interrupted my line of thinking about the Headspace app, and I’m trying to navigate how much of this journaling will be stream of consciousness. Sometimes my thoughts can get somewhat scatterbrained which isn’t helpful for a blog. Normally in my private journal I let the thoughts be scatterbrained because that is true stream of consciousness and it’s fun to see how the stream of consciousness works. I think I’ll experiment with and without editing related thoughts together in different posts and see what feels better. I found the need to organize placement of topics here a bit, while maintaining integrity of the writing for the most part.

Lying in my bed rn and journaling on my phone. That’s my normal setup. This song by PJ Harvey is kind of hot lol. It’s called Rid of Me. Self conscious that I’m basically an ad for this radio station but also the songs in this blog post could be a decent playlist so there’s that. On that note I’m excited to listen to the new collaborative album between Sufjan Stevens and Angelo de Augustine. I like what I’ve heard by way of introduction so far.

I went for a walk after the Vikings’ win. It was nice getting outside. I momentarily felt anxious about the coming week, but remembered to return my focus to the present moment which helped. It is now 8:00 so I’ve been at this a while.

8:50 My phone died so I took the opportunity to watch CNBC Street Signs (Asia) and fold clothes, I was surprised by my energy to do a chore. After I finished that, I realized it wouldn’t take long to clean the bathroom so I did most of that quickly too. Quite pleased I could get those things done. I also got laundry done today too, so pretty productive. Cleaning your space can be part of self care, so it’s good to do that. Exercise is part of it as well, so it’s good I got a walk.

9:02pm I should do the next Headspace exercise. They have been relaxing this past week.

9:24pm I finished the tenth and last session in part two of the course on managing anxiety. I do feel a sense of accomplishment even though it took a while to get through it. I was consistent in the last week or so and the sessions went well. I’m looking forward to the next ten sessions. They’ll talk about framing the exercise to get the most out of it.I think I’m going to leave it here and watch some of the Circle on Netflix which is a show that makes me laugh. I didn’t do much more with art/poetry today but I managed to stay in the present moment pretty well and not worry about the coming week. I hope any readers have a good night and start to the week.

[mytinyislandofcalm]

Day 7 - Saturday July 25th - Free choice. Be creative!  Fan art, videos, edits, fics - anything you like to celebrate Keenler!

Last but not least - A Keenler FanFic! Enjoy :) @keenlerweek @aussieokie @alyblacklist

2 Days. It's been 2 days since he took her from him.

He didn't know where she was 

And he blamed himself for it. 

"Uncle Donnie, I can't sleep...!" Agnes pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Come on sweetheart I'll tuck you in." He picked her up and carried her into the bed.

"Uncle Donnie... Where is Mommy?" His heart stopped for a second. What should he tell her? Hey Agnes your mom was kidnapped because of me?

"I actually don't know Munchkin" he said "But we are trying everything to find her, I promise you she'll be back soon"

"When is she coming back.. I miss her!" 

He knew he had to change the subject

" Aha little Miss, So you don't like me, hm? I get it know!" he started tingling her

"Nooo Nooo" she started giggling "You are my favourite Uncle!"

"I most certainly hope so!" he said while looking at her

She looked just like Liz, she had her eyes, her hair and her laugh. Almost everything reminded him of her and how badly he wanted her back.

He was up all night trying to find another way to save her, bring her back to Agnes. Bring her back to him but he couldn't think clearly. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her.

Next Morning he dropped Agnes of at school and went to the Post Office.

When he arrived he saw Reddington arguing with Cooper.

"I have to tell him" he thought. He said No Cops but Reddington was not a cop and he was the only chance to save Liz.

"If you hear something from Elizabeth, anything- I want you to call me, I will get her out myself" Reddington said while putting his  fedora hat on.

He walked towards Ressler and noticed he had something to say.

before Ressler could say anything, Reddington pulled him in the elevator: "Not here, Donald"

"Talk "he said while approaching his Car.

Ressler took a deep breath: " There was guy a partner I worked with.

We were really good friends until I discovered that he was corrupt. He took the Money from the Myers Syndicate who we were investigating at that point of time. I reported it and we breached his apartment. He had his friends from the Kartell over and then a shooting started." 

As He looked over to Reddington, he was calm ,waiting for him to continue. 

" In that shooting his wife was killed and he blames me for it... His name is Ma-"

"Marcus Hale" Reddington sighed.

Ressler was confused,"How do you kn-"

" He is a Blacklister. Did he reach out to you?"

"Yes, he wants the List of the agents who were with me that day. I am supposed to text him on this number" He showed Reddington the number. " But I don't have access to that file."

"Thank you Donald, That’s all I need to know" he pointed at the door" You may leave now"

" You know where she is don't you?" 

" I may have a slightest idea." 

"No, No" Ressler laughed sarcastically." I'm not going anywhere. You know where she is and I am going with you, there is no Way I am leaving now, She is my partner"

"Are you sure that’s the only reason you want to come Donald?"

Ressler never wanted to admit it. Deep down he always knew, that what he felt for her was more than just friendship. Now that she is missing he is starting to see things clearly. He is in love with her, he always was and now she is kidnapped because of him.

"Donald? Donald! Are you even listening?"

"Yeah, Sorry You were saying? 

"I said text him that you have the file"

"But I don't have it"

" Oh Donald always so stiff. Have you ever heard of the Word lying? That's something you do whe-"

"Don't push it Reddington." Ressler took his phone and started typing. "What if it’s too late? „he thought. "What if they've  killed her already? „ That thought sent a shiver down his spine.

The message was sent.

"What now" Ressler asked with a shaky Voice. He hated that he was so weak.

 He hated that she made him weak. Ressler needed to be strong. for her. 

"Now ? Now we wait!" Reddington said.

Not even five minutes later his phone rang.

Ressler looked at Reddington.

"Pick up and put it on speaker"

"Ressler? He answered the phone.

" Oh Don, I knew you would make the right decision. She is quite important to you isn't she?

"Where is Elizabeth Keen?" He asked. He knew he couldn't show too much emotion.

" Bring me the file and you will get her back"

" I need to know if she is alive. Let me talk to her"

" Fine Donnie"

A few seconds later they heard a heavy breathing from the phone : " Ressler?"

Her Voice.  Hearing her voice knowing that she was alive took a little Pressure of his chest. But hearing the pain in her Voice made him want to scream.

Red and Dembe were also relieved.

" Thank God Liz!  Jesus are you alright ?! Did he hurt you?!"

" Ressler" she said. Her voice broke. " Don't give him the file. He will kill me any-"

" Uh Oh I am afraid Times up Donnie" You want to see her? BRING ME THE GODDAMN FILE" 

" But where the hell are we going to meet Marcus?"

"You will find out soon enough!" Marcus said and hung up.

"Damn it ! Damn it! DAMN ITT!" Ressler shouted.

" Calm Down Agent Ressler!" Dembe said

" Calm Down? CALM DOWN!? Did you hear her? She is going to die because of me!"

Liz had been kidnapped often before but this Time. This Time he promised he would protect her. He was her island of calm and he let her down. Reddington remained silent. He was extremely mad and afraid of losing Elizabeth, because he knew. He knew what revenge could make a person do. And Marcus Hale needed that Revenge. Badly. 

" He texted!" Ressler interrupted his thought.

" What does the Text say?" 

"It’s an address: 5483 Pickford Road. D.C at 6 pm, What are we going to do now?"

" You Donald, are going home. There is still plenty of time left." 

" And you ? What are you going to do?"

" Me? I am going to get that file. Goodbye Donald! 

At home Ressler couldn't sit tight. He picked up Agnes from school. He had to bring her someplace safe before their meeting with Hale.

"Aram Mojtabai?"

"Hey Aram ? I need a favour."

"Agent Ressler? Sure What is it?"

"Could you watch Agnes for tonight? I have an important meeting"

"Sure! I will pick her up, Uhm Agent Ressler? Is it about Agent Keen? Is she safe? did you find her? 

"Not yet. But I hope she will be soon..."

Shortly After Aram picked up Agnes.

Ressler got a phone call from Nick's Pizza.

"Donald, Its Time. I am in front of your apartment. Get there." after that he hung up.

Ressler immediately made his way to Reds car.

" Reddington, Did you get the file" 

" Of Course I did well it’s not exactly a file its an USB Stick, Dembe ? Did you call Baz, Chuck and Morgan for backup?"

"Yes Raymond I did. There are all in position." 

Ressler was a nervous wreck inside. He must have looked that way because Reddington said:   " We are going to get her out safely."

Ressler remembered the first time that he thought she was dead. His whole world broke apart back then. He didn't want to no; he couldn't lose her again.

Dembe suddenly stopped the car.

“Agent Ressler, you have to go alone from here”

“ Donald there is a listening and tracking device in the Stick, so we will be knowing what is happening and where you are going. Good Luck”

Ressler took a deep breath and went to the meeting point. After a few minutes a guy with sunglasses came towards him. “Agent Donald Ressler? Come with me.”

They went into a Warehouse. Ressler looked around and then he saw her. She was wearing a dress. A dress which looked familiar to him. There where 5 to 10 men surrounding them but he only had eyes for her.

“Liz..” he whispered again. But this Time he finally had her in his arms. He gently stroked her back. She started crying and Ressler felt so helpless but  he finally had her back. He kissed her eyes, her cheek and her forehead. A little embarrassed by his outward affection he pulled away and his eyes dropped to her dress. He couldn´t stop thinking about the dress which looked so awfully familiar.

“Donnie! My dear friend ! Long Time No see huh? “. Ressler protectively put himself in front of Liz.

“ Do you have the File? “

“ Listen Marcus. This is how its gonna go. I will hand  you the file and you will let me and Elizabeth go. You hear me?”

“Fine, and now give it to me.”

“I don´t like this. He agreed too fast . Dembe call the others we have to move.”

Marcus looked at the file. Then he nodded. Two guards came from behind and grabbed Ressler.

“ I’m sorry Don. Change of plans” he took Liz by her Arm. She would fight, but she had no power.

“GET YOUR FRICKING HANDS OF HER OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL-“

“You will what? Kill me? I think this will be a little hard in your.. Position” Marcus laughed.

“Donnie, what I have been meaning to ask you… Does this dress look familiar ?

“Take. Your Hands. Off.  Her”

“Yeah No. I am not gonna do that. But remember this dress? This is the dress, my wife wore when YOU KILLED HER! And I am going to the same thing to her what you did to my wife. What you did TO ME!

It was those words that made ressler pause. Hanging in the hair were the words that defined how he really felt for Liz. The same value of Marcus's wife.

Ressler’s Heart stopped. They were going to kill her. Another friend of his was going to take the Life of the woman he loved.

“ No. Please! Marcus! You can´t do this ! Please! Take me! She has nothing to do with this please!”

“No; No killing you will not give me the satisfaction . I want to see you suffer.”

Ressler made attempts to wriggle out of the guards’ grip. But he failed. He screamed, he shouted, he begged. But nothing helped.  Tears came out of his eyes. I realized, that this was the moment he could lose her. She couldn’t go without knowing.

“I LOVE YOU, LIZ” he said under tears. “I love you. I love you: I LOVE YOU” he repeated like his mantra.

In between her tears and struggles Liz stopped at his words. Her eyes caught Ressler's and her eyebrows furrowed. She'd never seen him like this.

Liz wanted to say something but suddenly there was a shot. One of the guards that was holding him fell to the ground. Soon after the other one went down.

Ressler reacted fast. He took the gun and shot two other guards.  As he looked back he didn’t just see Reds Team. Harold and Park were standing there backing them up. Only Marcus was left. But he held a gun on to Liz’s head.

“Well If I am going to be arrested anyway, I can still do the thing I was planning to do. Any last words; Agent Keen?”

Liz cried. Ressler had never seen her this vulnerable.

“ Ressler, I lo-“ A shot.

 Marcus fell on the ground. Dead. Liz fell on to her knees sobbing and crying. Ressler told her that he loved her. She couldn´t even say how long she wanted to hear him say that. He came over to her and hugged her. “Shhh, Its gonna be fine. I am right here.”

“ I -love..” she tried to say. “ I lo…”

“I know. I know. It’s okay.

“ Donald. There is an ambulance outside. Get her checked and drive her to your apartment. She can’t be alone tonight.”

After getting checked. Ressler drove her to his apartment.

“Where is Agnes?” Liz asked while taking her coat off.

“She is with Aram” They looked at each other. Not saying anything.

“Look what I said earlier I-“ He was interrupted by her lips. She stopped thinking in that momemt. His lips were warm and soft. She felt safe. A feeling she didn’t have for a while. Ressler was still in shock. 

Realizing what was happening, Ressler responded the kiss. His was hand was cupping her neck while his arm was pulling her as close as possible. She pulled back just to look at him again. His eyes were vulnerable, but relieved, you could see how badly he wanted her.

Ressler broke the kiss again but before Liz could start protesting, she felt his lips kissing her jawline down to her neck. Her Hands moved into his hair when she pulled him up to kiss him again.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do this” Ressler said between the kisses.

But just as he said those words he realised what a long day it must have been for Liz and resisted kissing her more.

“As much I would like to continue this Liz, you have to go and rest. You can use the shower, or the bathtub.”

“Thank you."

Her face was flushed and she pulled back a lock of her hair from her face. Before she walked away she added, "Oh and Don? I love you too”

[stevie-kd]

“Feral”

Part 5

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

::in which Bakugou and Kirishima are closer than ever, quite literally and figuratively. Bakugou messes up, plans are definitely NOT cancelled, and there is a maybe date happening::

P.S. IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO POST. It was a loooong week. I’ve gotten a promotion though, so that was cool! Anywho, I’ll try and be quicker with the updates since I have a lot of my one-shots already half finished:)

P.P.S. I wrote out the whole chapter and apparently it’s exceeded a word count or something so I had to split it into two chapters. I just have to give it a quick edit and I’ll have it up today, hopefully in the next couple hours.

+++++++++++++

Aizawa kept Bakugou for one more night just for observation. He was allowed back to class Tuesday morning.

Kirishima waited outside of his dorm for Bakugou to finish getting ready. He played a game on his phone and leaned against the wall opposite of Bakugou’s door.

He’d only been waiting a few minutes before the door opened and a fully-uniformed Bakugou Katsuki stepped out. He looked well rested and much more like himself than Kirishima had seen him in days. He still had his usual grumpy look, but it put a smile on Kirishima’s face to see it. He’d missed Bakugou so much that having him back felt like a hole had been filled in his chest.

Kirishima didn’t think about what he did next until Bakugou pulled away. The redhead looked down at their hands, dawning on him that he’d just tried to hold Bakugou’s hand. The movement felt so natural, almost like an instinct.

“Oh!” he said, surprised by himself. “I’m sorry, man. That was weird of me. I didn’t even think about it—”

“It’s fine, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou interrupted him. “Here.”

Kirishima watched as Bakugou laced their arms together at their elbows. He had a weird scowl on his face, but he didn’t say anything about it and opted to tug Kirishima along to get him moving. Together, arm in arm, they descended the hall until they reached the elevator.

They didn’t say a word the whole ride down. Kirishima was too lost in his racing thoughts to come up with the right thing to say.

Was Bakugou touch starved? He wasn’t ever the type of guy to initiate any sort of touching. Though, he hadn’t been able to get near anyone in days. On average, at least a few times a day Kirishima would lean on him or put a hand on his shoulder or sometimes even throw him into a surprise hug the blond didn’t see coming. Bakugou had adapted to Kirishima’s fondness. This—having Bakugou as the initiator—was so foreign, Kirishima couldn’t wrap his head around it.

They didn’t let go of each other until they reached the kitchen. Kirishima tossed Bakugou ingredients and utensils as the explosive boy whipped up some egg drop ramen for the two of them.

He usually made more food to include the Bakusquad, but he never bothered with breakfast. The other three were never up early enough.

As it turned out, Kaminari was right: Kirishima had missed Bakugou’s cooking. He wasn’t sure where the blond learned to cook so well, but Kirishima would have given his pal a five star review on Yelp if he could have.

“What did I miss in class?” Bakugou asked after they’d sat down. He was twirling his chopsticks around in his bowl to pick up some noodles.

“Don’t know,” Kirishima answered through a mouthful. He swallowed before continuing. “I didn’t really go to class yesterday.”

Bakugou frowned. He glared at his ramen like he’d just witnessed it murder his cat. “Let’s ask Ponytail for her notes. I’m not asking shitty Deku. His notebook is a fucking mess.”

“Good idea,” Kirishima agreed. “Hey, did you wanna do some extra training after class? The gym is free today. We could work on our special moves like last time.”

Bakugou seemed to be thinking it over. After a moment of considering, he set his chopsticks down. “What if we went to the movies?”

Kirishima stared at him. He’d said it in such a soft voice, Kirishima knew he was being serious. “The movies? Over training? That doesn’t sound like you.”

He glared in return. “Do you want to or not, Shitty Hair?”

He laughed. “Yeah, totally! Was there a movie you had in mind?”

Bakugou picked his chopsticks back up and was using the utensils to play with his food. Kirishima couldn’t help thinking he looked shy. His cheeks were the slightest hint of pink. “There’s that action movie… I know you like those.”

Kirishima perked up at that. “Really? You’re talking about the one where those two guys have to duel for the dojo after their master is killed, right?”

“The only cheesy-as-hell action movie in the theaters right now, yes.”

“Dude, I’ve wanted to watch that forever! It didn’t do great in the box office, but I think it looks great! You really want to sit through that for me? That doesn’t seem like your kind of movie.”

He finally stood to take his bowl to the sink. “I just want to get out. I’ve spent the last four days staring at white walls.” He nodded his head to Kirishima’s empty bowl, who got the message and passed it over.

“I’m down for the movie, one-hundred percent! And, hey—maybe this weekend we can go hiking? That should help get you out of your own head.”

He hummed in response. “There was that new trail we could try.”

“Oh! Yeah, I remember that. We wanted to go last time, but it was getting too dark so we didn’t get the chance. How’s your schedule look? I’m free all weekend!”

He finished up washing their dishes and deposited them onto the drying rack. “Let’s go Saturday. My shitty aunt is in town this weekend, so I can avoid her at least then. I have some stupid family dinner my parents are making me go to on Sunday if… uh, if you wanna go.”

Kirishima cocked his head. “To your family dinner? You want me to go? Would I be intruding?”

Bakugou leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “No. If you’re there I might actually act ‘civil’ is how my old hag put it. You can sleep over too, if you want.”

Kirishima’s eyes sparkled. A sleepover? At Bakugou’s house?! He’d been over a few times, and he loved being able to spend the extra time with his hot-headed friend. But a sleepover? His heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

“Hell yeah! You usually head home Friday nights, right? What time should I be around Saturday to head on the hike?”

“Just come home with me Friday. Then we can leave early.”

Holy. Shit.

Two whole nights with Bakugou. He felt like his brain was about to short circuit.

His moms wouldn’t like him not visiting over the weekend, but they would understand. He talked pretty highly of Bakugou to his parents, so they would know how much this meant to him.

He pumped his fists together. “Alright! A guys’ weekend! This is gonna be great, man! We can watch movies and play video games, and I’m gonna get you to stay up past eight-thirty!”

Bakugou snorted. “Then I’ll make sure to wake you up by six in the morning.”

“No!” Kirishima gasped. “That’s just cruel, man.”

Bakugou smirked and grabbed his book bag, then headed for the door. Kirishima jumped up to follow.

Class was extra boring today, and Kirishima couldn’t pay attention to a word of his lessons. The day dragged on, probably because he had the movies with Bakugou to look forward to.

Finally, the bell rang for lunch. He and the squad moved out while Bakugou stayed back to collect the homework assignments he missed yesterday. He’d catch up with them after.

They were all seated at their usual table, Ashido chatting everyone’s ears off. Kirishima zoned out staring out the window at the lawn when the pink-haired girl brought him back down to earth.

“Kiri? Babe. Earth to Kirishima.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. My head is all over the place today.”

He hadn’t even realized Bakugou sat down beside him. The blond was giving him a weird look as he popped open his bento box.

“So!” Kaminari exclaimed, catching everyone’s attention. “I had this idea—”

“Oh shit,” Bakugou muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Kaminari glared at him while everyone else laughed. “Anyway. Wouldn’t it be such a good idea if we challenged Bakugou and Sato to a cook off? Our class chef versus our class baker. It'd be epic!”

“I love it!” Ashido announced.

Sero looked into the distance dreamily. “Think about all the leftover food.”

“I don’t bake,” Bakugou stated. “I don’t do sweets. And Sugar Freak is a shit cook. Wouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

“Well, we can have you both whip up something as a main dish and then a dessert to follow,” Ashido suggested. “We could vote whose meal was better.”

Bakugou didn’t look impressed. He stuffed a chunk of beef into his mouth and ignored the rest of the conversation.

“What if we did it tonight? Everyone’s free, right?”

Kirishima whipped his head up from his meal to face Kaminari. “Not tonight, man. We’ve got homework to catch up on, and Bakugou and I were going to catch a movie.”

Everyone’s eyebrows scrunched. They stared between the two boys like this was weird behavior of them.

“The movies?” Ashido asked, her expression shifting to something more mischievous. “Like, just the two of you? Alone?”

“You annoying shitsticks aren’t coming, so don’t even ask,” Bakugou said in his grumpy voice.

Kaminari raised a devilish eyebrow. “So… is this like… a date?”

Kirishima felt his ears grow hot. “No! No, it’s not like that! We’re just two bros going to the movies! Right, Katsuki?”

He looked over to the blond, who had a death grip on his chopsticks. His face read pure rage, but there was a blush crawling up his neck and cheeks. It seemed to worsen at the use of his given name. The chopsticks snapped in his grip.

“KATSUKI?!” Ashido practically screamed. “He lets you call him by his given name?”

The other two boys were dying at this point. They clutched their stomachs as they busted out laughing, tears sparkling in their eyes. Sero slapped a hand on the table. “Oh my god! I can’t breathe!”

Bakugou slammed his own fists against the table and stood. “FUCK YOU GUYS, WE’RE OUT OF HERE! COME ON, SHITTY HAIR! LET’S GO.”

Kirishima stood on wobbly legs, his meal forgotten as his mind reeled. He chased after Bakugou, a million questions racing through his brain he couldn’t seem to vocalize. Was this a date? If it wasn’t, wouldn’t Bakugou have corrected them? If it was, why’d he get so defensive?

Bakugou turned around and grabbed Kirishima by the elbow to speed him up. They must have been too loud, because half the cafeteria’s eyes were watching them as they left.

They made it back to the classroom, and Bakugou’s grip hadn't let up. He finally let go when he moved to his desk and sat down heavily. He crossed his arms and turned his face away from Kirishima.

“Uh,” Kirishima tried to form words, but he wasn’t sure what to say. “Should we talk about this?”

“No,” he answered quickly.

“Well, that seemed to really bother you back there. If you were thinking—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Eijirou.”

Kirishima could see the angry blush on his face when he glanced back at the redhead. Kirishima settled into the desk beside his. “Alright. You still want to go though, don’t you?”

He huffed. “Yeah, we’re still fucking going.”

His lips spread into a smile. “Glad to hear it! I can’t wait.”

The two broke out their homework after that, attempting to get caught up before the rest of the class slowly trickled back in. To Kirishima’s surprise, it was Bakugou who was having trouble focusing.

Class started up again, and Kirishima had to migrate back to his own desk. A worksheet was passed out by Midnight, and they were told to fill out what they could. Kirishima was only a few questions in when he glanced Bakugou’s way out of habit.

Midoriya was leaning forward, whispering something to Bakugou, who looked his usual amount of annoyed. It was when the green-haired boy reached out to tap Bakugou’s shoulder that chaos ensued.

Kirishima shot from his desk and across the room before most students even noticed anything was wrong. Everything happened so fast, even Kirishima’s brain had to play catch up.

Bakugou had snapped. In an instant, he’d had Midoriya pinned to the floor, slashing at his face with the claws that weren’t there. Midoriya was obviously caught off guard, but he was still fast enough to hold his arms up to shield his face from Bakugou’s attacks.

Kirishima tackled Bakugou off of his rival, using his hardening to pin him down. Bakugou was uncharacteristically hissing like some wild animal. Sero and Tokoyami were out of their seats now too, ready to help if they could.

“Katsuki!” Kirishima yelled, trying to snap the blond back to reality. “Katsuki, stop! It’s me! It’s Eijirou!”

Midnight stood above the boys, her hand resting on her sleeve and ready to tear it to put Bakugou to sleep with her quirk. Kirishima quickly shook his head at her. “Don’t! That won’t help.”

Bakugou’s movements became sluggish and he was blinking hard, quicly coming back to his senses. Kirishima watched as realization dawned in his eyes. He looked between Kirishima on top of him to Midoriya on the ground a few feet away. “Shit,” he cursed.

“Kacchan, I’m sorry!” Midoriya apologized. “I didn’t know the quirk hadn’t worn off yet. I shouldn’t have touched you. Kacchan, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t fucking apologize to me, damn nerd!” he shouted in return. He growled in frustration. “I thought this shit was over.”

“It’s alright, man,” Kirishima sighed, relieved to have Bakugou back. He slid off of the blond and sat on the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “Midoriya, you okay?”

“I-I’m fine!”

“Ahem,” Midnight cleared her throat. She had her hands on her hips and an unimpressed look on her face. “Could someone tell me what’s going on?”

“After effects,” Todoroki was the one to explain to Kirishima’s surprise. “It seems the quirk hasn’t quite worn off.”

“I’m fine now,” Bakugou grumbled. “It’s gone.”

“I highly doubt—”

“It was a fluke!”

“Guys!” Kirishima raised his voice to get them to stop. Bakugou glared at him for his interruption. Kirishima ignored the look and turned back to the other student still on the floor. “Midoriya, why don’t you swap seats with me for today?”

Midoriya nodded, finally pulling himself off the ground. “Good idea.”

Bakugou caught Kirishima’s wrist before he could stand as well. “I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“I’m not babysitting you,” the redhead fired back. “My quirk is best suited to stop you if it happens again, which I doubt it will. Just a precaution, man.”

Midnight was tapping her foot, arms folded as she stared the two down. “Are you boys sure this is such a good idea?”

“Yes,” they said in unison. They looked at each other, and Bakugou bowed his head to allow Kirishima to finish. “He’ll be fine. It won’t happen again, and I’ll be there to stop him before it could happen again.”

She clicked her tongue. “Alright. I’ll allow it. Don’t make me regret it. And there had better not be any more interruptions.”

Everyone migrated back to their seats and the light chatter died off. Kirishima and Midoriya collected their things and traded seats. Once he was seated, Kirishima noticed a folded up piece of paper on the corner of the desk.

He opened it as quietly as he could, but Midnight seemed pretty preoccupied by the romance novel her eyes were glued to. It was definitely Bakugou’s handwriting, all caps and angry penmanship.

THANK YOU EIJIRO. YOU’ RE A GOOD FRIEND

Kirishima smiled. Bakugou really had grown so much in his time since coming to UA. Kirishima was so proud to be the explosive boy’s friend.

It’s cool ! Don’t sweat it man . Still wanna see that movie tonight ??

He tossed the note over Bakugou’s shoulder, who jumped a little like he was surprised to see it return. Kirishima could hear his pencil scrawling out a reply.

He passed it back, his eyes on Midnight to avoid being caught passing notes.

STILL THINK IT’S A GOOD IDEA?

Totally !! I wanna spend time with you dude

He chewed on his lip. Maybe that was a little too forward. He ended up erasing that bit and starting over.

Yeh man I think it’d be good for you to get out . Being cooped up for days isn’t good for ya

Bakugou held onto the note for a few minutes, maybe contemplating what to say. Kirishima tried to focus on his assignment, but it proved impossible and he ended up circling random answers.

Bakugou twisted his arm behind his back and held the folded note between two fingers. Kirishima plucked it from his grasp and unfurled it again.

COME TO MY ROOM AFTER YOU’RE READY TO GO. WE’RE GONNA GET DINNER FIRST SHITTY HAIR.

Kirishima giggled, and a few heads turned his way. He was too excited to care about the prying eyes or the blush that rose to his cheeks.

He couldn’t help but think about how date-like this seemed. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but… well.

He couldn’t help it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Hope you guys liked it, and thanks for the read !!

Read part 6 here

8/31/2020

[r3almellow]

Make It Official (Kiro x F!Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts since last year and its been a while since I’ve written anything Kiro related so here you go! You know I got a typo problem so I apologize for that! Please enjoy! 

Warning: No warning! 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You enjoyed the days you and Kiro got to spend time together at home. You got to lay around in your pajamas for most of the day and do nothing but enjoy each other’s company.

Today was no different. You were lazily laying on top of Kiro in the couch while he was looking through his phone. 

It was a rare moment of silence for the two of you, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

“Soooo...” You heard Kiro’s voice break through the silence. 

“The award show in the US is coming up.”

That’s right. Kiro was supposed to be leaving for America for a big award show and he was being presented a prestigious award in front of millions. 

“It is! You’re not nervous about it, are you?” You weren’t sure if Kiro ever got nervous, but you knew it was only natural if he did.

“No way! I was just thinking...” He trailed off for a second as if he was hesitant.

“I was thinking about it being a shame that my girlfriend won’t be joining me on such an important night.” You knew what Kiro was getting at and while the idea of accompanying him to an award show excited you, you knew the potential problems that may come along with you being there. 

You looked up at him with a small frown.

“Kiro, I don’t think your PR team is ready to break the internet.” Dating Kiro came with a lot of rules. Rules that you had to learn to get used to. Like not being able to publicly admit that you were his girlfriend. You understood the reason. Kiro was the ultimate heartthrob that everyone wanted and fantasized about. There was no telling what would happen if people found out he was off the market. You’ve heard the stories about celebrities who lost everything because they were in a relationship and about how territorial fans could be.

Kiro groaned in annoyance.

“We’ve been dating for months and its not like we’ve been subtle.” He countered.

Its true that the two of you have been anything but subtle about your relationship. You both tried to hide it. You more so than Kiro, who posted pictures and videos of the two you on social media every chance he got. Savin stopped reprimanding Kiro about it after the first month. He quickly realized whatever he said was going to fall on deaf ears. Aside from that, many of Kiro’s followers suspected it and were all for the relationship being a real thing.

Most of the comments went along the lines of: 

“You guys are so adorable.” 

“Omg there’s a video of them doing karaoke!” 

“She bought him a limited edition Batman figure?! That’s best girlfriend right there!”

“Someone please tell me they’re dating!”

While the both of you neither confirmed nor denied the rumors, your relationship was as clear as day. You wanted nothing more than to confirm the dating rumors, so he wouldn’t have to lie or evade questions whenever he was being interviewed. Unfortunately, Kiro wasn’t some random person who could get away with having a girlfriend. 

“Kiro, I’m all for us going public, but I don’t want this to tarnish your career. Give it some thought and talk to Savin about it, okay? Whatever you decide I will support you.” You leaned up just enough to give his cute pout a kiss before laying on his chest again ready to enjoy a quick nap. 

Kiro didn’t say much after that and you knew this was going to bother him for a while, but there was nothing that could be done. He had to do this the right way. 

After a few minutes of silence you heard a soft click that sounded a little too much like a camera. You lazily opened your eyes and looked up at Kiro, who was scrolling through his phone. 

“What are you doing?”

“Typing.” He said casually. 

You eyed him suspiciously for a moment then returned to your comfortable sleeping position. You were ready to be whisked off to dreamland when the sound of your phone buzzing interrupted your efforts. You chose to ignore it the first few times knowing it was just messages, but after a few minutes the noise got to you. 

You reached for your phone that was on the coffee table. 

Why was your social media page suddenly getting followers? Scrolling through you noticed you had been tagged in something by Kiro. It was a picture of you sleeping on top of him, mimicking the position you were in just a few moments ago with a caption under it.

“My adorable Miss Chips is fast asleep. Should I wake her up with a kiss? <3” 

You blinked at the picture a few times, not exactly sure what you were looking at. Then the realization hit you and a blush made its away to your cheeks.

“What did you do?!” You scrambled to get out off of him, but Kiro held you against his chest with a vice like hold. You could feel the rumble of his chest as he laughed.

“You said my PR team wasn’t ready to break the internet, so I did it myself.” 

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The life of a superstar is a tough one, but I like the idea of Kiro doing what he wants when it comes to you. Hope you guys liked it and check out my other MLQC stuff here!

[nervous-ninja]

Untitled (for now)

Kind of a part one of a one-shot. The second part of this is currently locked on a bricked coputer that I am hoping to be able to recover before I start rewriting it. 

Forgive me, I have not written like this in a long time. This is entirely for fun so not to be taken too seriously. 

Mew was trying for very hard to convince himself everything was fine. It wasn’t fine. 

“Cut!” Pique, the director, called out. “Again please.”

Another take. Mew took a deep breath and exhaled slowly though his nose. The scene that should have easily been done in two takes had somehow dragged into double digits. There wasn’t anything complicated or difficult about it. A short and simple shot of Tharn and Type at home in the evening. Type was supposed hold Tharn’s face, “I missed you” he would say, then cue a kiss. Nothing overly intense or complicated. A scene of domesticity punctuated by a kiss to communicate the particular sense of comfort and familiarity, the way messy and clumsy passions of early relationships ebb into something more deeply rooted, familiar, uncomplicated….

“Goddamnit!” Gulf cursed and let go of Mew’s face.

“Cut!” The director called again and an audible collective grunt of frustration resounded through the set. “OK everyone, let’s take five.”

Gulf slumped over, his face buried in his hands to muffle a flurry of mild curses, his right leg rapidly tapping the ground.

“Hey…Nong” Mew began, instinctively reaching a hand to rest on Gulf’s back, but his next words stuck in his throat as Gulf recoiled from him and abruptly stood up.  Without thinking Mew grabbed his wrist. “Gulf!” he exclaimed, his voice a lot louder than he meant it to be.

The younger man hesitated. He stared at Mew’s hand on his wrist as if at some strange animal. It occurred to Mew then that the whole set had gone quiet and were conspicuously avoiding looking in their directions.  “Let go please, Phi” Gulf said stiffly without meeting Mew’s eyes. His tone so uncharacteristically cold that Mew, startled, complied. He watched wide eyed as Gulf stormed off towards Mame and Pique. 

---

For three days Mew tried to convince himself there was nothing wrong and that he simply needed to stop overthinking things. When Gulf’s responses to his LINE messages became unusually short and perfunctory, single word answers, punctuated by long, painful waiting for any reply at all that sent Mew’s stomach into knots, Mew told himself it was fine. They were busy after all. Busier than they had ever been. More and more they were each branching out on their own. Between that and the shooting starting for season 2 they barely had time to catch their break. Mew himself had been more tired than usual. That’s all it was. It had to be.

When every call made went to voicemail and every attempt to do a video chat was rejected with a polite reason through text, like:

-- Sorry Phi, still at dance practice; Sorry Phi, dinner with family; Sorry Phi, need to sleep -- Mew told himself these were all perfectly reasonable excuses. Reasons, rather. They were very good reasons.

Don’t overthink it, he told himself again and again, even as found it harderand harder to eat. You know him. You trust him. He kept reminding himself as he compulsively shut down and restarting his LINE app just in case.

If something was wrong he would tell you. He tried to convince himself even as the lump in his throat became a rock in his chest and kept him awake and tossing into early hours of the morning.  

Calm down. He urged himself even as he rewound days and weeks in his head looking for clues to what he might have done to cause this. Terrified he missed something crucial. Terrified he messed up...again. Three whole days of this.

Last night as he lay awake at 2am he tried to convince himself it would all be fine. It was just that they hadn’t seen each other in far longer than any other time since they start their roles as Tharn and Type. He missed Gulf. He was looking forward to the next few days of shooting. They were scheduled to be on set together the whole time.  Once they saw each other finally things would be like before.  He couldn’t wait to fall back into their familiar patterns: their teasing and laughter, the way they always knew what the other was thinking with a single look, the easy way they fell into and around each other and how those moments felt like home. There were other things he looked forward to, things he often stopped short of dwelling on because these thoughts lead to rooms in Mews heart he wasn’t strong enough to go looking in, like:

The way they sometime abandoned themselves to their roles until the roles just became convenient excuses for….

Gulf’s over eager, hungry kisses that Mew relished and reigned in with reluctance before he lost himself completely and….

The way his Nong shyly broke eye contact after an intimate scene because the feeling overwhelmed him and it was all Mew could do not to…

He shook his head to clear it.

It was nearly 4 am by the time he finally fell asleep. Though calling what he did sleep would be somewhat generous.

In the morning Mew dragged himself to set. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this tired. For a moment he thought only of finding Gulf and taking him into his arms. This eagerness was quickly replaced by dread when he finally found him, but instead of coming to meet him, Gulf turned around and walked out of the room. 

When they were finally all but forced to be face to face because that is what the scene called for, Gulf greeted Mew with all the warmth one might show a store clerk. Yet still, Mew told himself that he was reading too much into things.  He tried to ignore the way his head ached, and his jaw tightened and his heart lurched when Gulf stiffened the first time Mew tried to touch him. 

Whatever flimsy wall of denial Mew had tried so desperately to build up till now had crumbled into a pathetic heap as pulled away from him with again.

 Something was wrong. Undeniably, unmistakably wrong.

“Wait!” Mew shot up and quickly closed the distance between them, interrupting the conversation Gulf was having with the director and Mame. He saw them both notice the way Gulf stepped back from him when he came close and it was all he could do not to panic. “Um, can you give us a second?” He asked politely of the two seniors.

“Will you tell me what the hell is going on?” Mew demanded, as soon as he felt they were out of earshot. The pleading in his own voice surprised him. “Would you look at me, please?” he added, fighting to restrain the tremor in his voice as he fought the muscle memory to reach out to him. 

Finally Gulf raised his eyes and for a moment Mew thought he saw Gulf’s face soften before he seemed to recover himself.  

“Nothing is going on. I asked if I can have a few minutes with the acting coach.” Gulf replied with feigned ease. Then, as if remembering, “You did great today.” he added and made such a poor attempt at a casual smile that Mew would have laughed if it hadn’t felt like a punch to the gut to realise Gulf, his Gulf, was lying to him. Mew opened his mouth to speak but could find now words.  Before Mew could protest, Gulf turned and walked off the set.

“Mew?”

It was P’Mame. She looked concerned.

“You ok?” She asked “I’ve been calling your name.” She said. “You’ve just been…standing there for a solid minute.” She added carefully. 

“Oh. Sorry. Yes I’m fine.” Mew gave a quick bow. “What’s going on?”

“Did N’Gulf tell you already?” She asked.

“Tell me what?” Mew asked, running a shaky hand through his hair. He was beginning to be very tired of being confused.

“We are not going to do any more takes of this scene today. He asked if we could shoot this one tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch “Since we don’t have a lot of time left today for anything else, P’Pique wants to do a few pickup shots of you from Scene 14. Is that alright?”

Mew looked at her for a moment, his mind turning over the last few minutes, waiting any of this to make sense and for the rushing pounding of blood in his ears to subside.

“N’Mew? Are you sure you’re ok?” She asked gently, putting a hand on his arm.

“Yes. Fine. Of course.” Mew stuttered a reply.  

When Mame narrowed her eyes at him and did not let go he tried again. 

“I’m fine. Really. Just…you know…. “ He trailed off hoping she would fill in the blanks and flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He couldn’t be sure, but her expression suggested that whatever he looked like, reassuring was far from it. 

“Really. Just tired.” He said awkwardly. “I’ll go change now.”

“OK. One of the PAs will get you in five minutes for makeup.” She said, resigned.

Mew was grateful that these were only pick up shots. He tried to focus on the work and fought the urge to keep looking around or checking his phone every chance he got. Gulf never came back on set. As soon as Pique called it a day Mew catapulted off, rushing through his thank you’s, apologies and goodnights. He caught one of the PAs as she rushed passed him.

“Excuse me, Phi. Did N’Gulf go back already?” he asked her.

“I don’t think so. He was back there with P’Mame watching the dailies last I checked” She replied,nodding in the direction of the editing room. When Mew got there, the room was empty. 

There were no messages from Gulf and for a moment Mew reached for anger to try and dull the ache that was quickly becoming too steady in his chest. It hurt less to be angry. It worked for only a moment. When he saw no sign of Gulf’s things in the dressing area either, the anger he was holding on to gave way to simple, clear, sharp dread.

He paced the room as he dialled Gulf’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. Fuck. Mew thought

-- Mew: We need to talk.

He quickly typed into LINE and watched the message status change to read. He waited. Deciding suddenly to sit down before standing up again almost immediately. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

-- Mew: I can’t make it right if I don’t know what I did.  He added when he could no longer bear the wait. Seconds felt like hours.

The “read”  confirmation hung there, mocking him.

He was about to send a more colourfully worded message when he saw the indicator that Gulf was typing a response.

-- Gulf: Can I stay at yours tonight?

Mew blinked in confusion and reread the message. “Gulf.” he groaned with annoyance.

-- Mew: We. Need. To. Talk.

He replied. This time the answer came quickly.

-- Gulf: Not like this. Tonight. Can I?

Well, Mew thought, at least they were getting somewhere.

-- Mew: Yes. Fine. Where are you?

-- Gulf: In the car. I took your keys.

Mew shoved tomorrow’s call sheet into his bag and all but ran towards the parking lot.

To be continued....

Update: part 2 now available here

[alimpson]

Aspenvale AU part 3a

The Events of AdventureFriends- Activities Subcommittee edition:

Today, you went to class. You were a little late- just a minute or two, because one of the people in the other rooms had an accident. (Vomit. In so many places. You hope it was an accident.) 

Aria had the idea for a student fundraiser, but Jaania got the credit. She’s not the only person who can have good ideas, you know.

At the same time, it seems like it wasn’t Jaania’s idea to take credit. She still did, though.

We’re split into groups. I’m not fully sure why, but we are. (Of course, it’s probably to try to get things done, you know. If we don’t split up to do more things, we probably won’t make the fundraiser. Then, we won’t have the end of year QuestVenture. Which will be bad.)

You joined the Activities subcommittee.

Aria had the idea for a petting zoo. It seems she’s got a pretty decent grip on things, let’s go with it. 

Ash says he’s not too great with the whole ideas thing, but it’s nice. He’s nice to be around, you know?

 We spent the rest of the afternoon brainstorming ideas for the fundraiser. Then we go home and get some sleep.

---

Apparently there are transfer students today! You’re in the last month of senior year and there are transfer students.

(Probably the new initiative that Professor Warlic mentioned. He got interrupted before mentioning anything else.)

The next day, we get to meet the transfer students. 

Alz’ein seems to be the Cool New Kid type. Pretty chill, is chewing gum. (1)

Yashta has so many muscles and it seems like he is a person with very few words. He probably uses one word where three could be used in real life (and in his papers).

You back Aria up when she says ‘Welcome to Aspenvale Academy’ by echoing her when it seems like no one else will. 

Ms Kara has a point, the QuestVenture will be only one quest among many. But it’s a start to them all, you know? Which is probably what Ash means by ‘there’s nothing more important than the QuestVenture.’

You really hope it’s what he means, anyway. (2)

Alz’ein joins our subcommittee. It’s fine, we have room for more people. More people may mean more ideas.

She’s a little intense, and easily bored. She seems to like to fight, seeing as she wants to fight the petting zoo animals. However, Aria doesn’t want that. 

Aria is willing to compromise on ideas, but not ideals.

Despite appearances, Ash is a pretty good student. (He has a bit of a rumpled appearance. It’s fine.)

Also, he’s willing to help organize the sparring tournament. 

Again, Alz’ein is a bit intense. She gets a little carried away. 

We go home and get some sleep. Well, they probably get sleep. You don’t get very much sleep. The people in the next room are loud tonight, for half the night. You eventually figure out how to muffle the sounds they’re making. 

---

The next day, someone’s missing! But no one’s missing. The heck? There’s been some oddities (Yashta believes someone is missing, so does Ro Victoria)

Ash understands being homesick. (3) He has heart. 

Victoria has some issues. 

Maybe you should have spoken up. But no one is missing. Everything is fine. Ash’s right, we’re imagining things. Probably because of stress.  (It’s senior year, there’s finals, and maybe we won’t have a QuestVenture this year. It’s a stressful situation overall.)

After class, our group gets back together.

Ash and Alz'ein are very competitive! … and now you want to see Alz'ein bench press Ash.

Ooh, he uses polysyllabic words when more into things!

Aria’s just into their competition (who’s the better hero) for the entertainment. 

We should get back into things, however. Who’s going to catch the petting zoo animals… if Ash and Alz’ein are too busy to catch them? Aria and me, that’s who. 

You back Ash today. Alz’ein looks a little… deflated, but despite the fact she’s pretty cool I’ve known Ash a little longer.

Maybe if you got to know her more you’d have backed her.

We go home and get some sleep. It seems the people in the next room are sleeping soundly, for once.

---

Robina seems to have taken Tomix’ place as class delinquent, and is easily bored. Wait. Wasn’t she Victoria yesterday?

Why is his name not wording

Gah. And suddenly she’s Victoria again, and back to normal. Maybe her royal blood helps resist reality changes?

Which is confusing.

You back her, it seems boring? Maybe? We read and study. You understand the fact they’re trying to prepare us for post-questness, but maybe we could do a little adventure too?

We still learn a lot today, despite interruptions.

During the committee, we’re working together, like blending crunchy peanut butter to get creamy. We’re starting to smooth out!

We caught a MEGA - fluffy tog! It was some work… You and Alz’ein brought it in!

We put up posters for the sparring tournament all over the school! Which means people will come! 

-

What. What the heck. Alz’ein just VANISHED! And neither Aria nor Ash remember her! 

Is it my fault for saying ‘nothing could go wrong’?

Then Ash vanished, and the Aria did, and then the world went black….

Probably because you did too. Bet there’s a help wanted sign back up in Serenity’s inn

Like, we got erased or something.

You ——- -——

Then suddenly we’re in our first day but it’s really weird?  Glitches everywhere? And then it was just a dream? The heck?

And the end of time wants us to go to sleep probably never to wake up. It’s safe here. Cozy. But we should wake up stay for a while.

And then you wake up. Well, Alz’ein wakes you up, which is nice.

Apparently we were all knocked out. You woke up last. It looks like Aria was worried about you! You’re glad that she’s concerned but sad that she was concerned. Glad because we made friends that get worried about us because they care for us! Sad because she needed to be worried.

… will everything come crashing down? Are we dead? 

Ash is nice. But we’re a little out of our league here- there’s only blackness outside. darkness. You stare, and nearly fall out the window. Aria threw a pencil outside, and it just kept falling. It’ll probably fall forever. We’re surrounded by black on four sides, but maybe not up or down.

Ash didn’t check the ceiling before, so...

You get to see Alz’ein lift Ash up to the ceiling.(4) But then Alz’ein slipped, Ash fell, and we fell through the floor….

Onto a giant fluffy tog? Oh yeah, the one we caught earlier. Also, Alz’ein’s eyes glow in the dark a little. Which is neat.

The tog brings us to light that seems… to be coming from a doorframe. How, when there’s no door, did Alz’ein throw it open?

Aww, Ash wants to go on the QuestVenture with us. Once we know we’re safe. 

And then you wake up? Was this all a dream? Was this NOT a dream? 

——————-

Footnotes

We have GUM??? Why didn’t we get any gum:( I really want to ask her to source us some gum.

(2) There’s lots of things more important, like being alive.

(3) And now I want the story behind that, of course I do.  I really want to know what home he’s missing. I want to know more about him.

(4) So she REALLY can bench press Ash! She wasn’t exaggerating. Wow.