#I love everyone in this bar type energy

[trombonechurchill]

So part of my 2025 resolutions was to embrace 'cringe' and let myself be enthusiastically involved in interacting in fandom spaces (commenting, reblogging, following, talking to strangers etc) and posting my own work and it's definitely scary at times but I cannot express the sincere joy I've been having in just the past month so far.

Maybe it's just how close knit folks are on the bucktommy side of fandom space that make it feel so welcoming and rewarding but seriously I cannot recommend it enough I know it sounds obvious but fandom really is what we make it and the difference between passively and quietly enjoying my things and loudly and joyously engaging is night and day I'm having so much fun 🥰

[prismkith]

arcane req teehee

any arcane characters you want (women+ please) with a partner that's a little weird/otherworldly. just a bit of a strange person ygwim

“Don't mistake me for the wind when she blows” 

Arcane women with a weird/otherworldly partner!!

Pairings: Caitlyn, Jinx, Vi, Sevika

Caitlyn:

-Finds it absolutely adorable. 

-With all the shit she has to deal with, being an enforcer and detective, and now practically one of the leaders of Piltover, your strange habits and anecdotes help bring color back into her world. 

-Loves coming home from a stressful day of work to find you in your own little world. Her shoulders immediately drop and her face softens, wrapping her arms around you and asking you what you’ve been up to, ready to listen to you go on and on about your strange little adventures.

-Once looked outside her window to see you barefoot with your pants rolled up to your knees, standing ankle-deep in a pond. Eyes closed, face blank and arms crossed just standing there in the water. When she asked you why you were standing dead still in a pond for thirty minutes you just replied “felt stressed” and shrugged your shoulders like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

Vi: 

-Was a little weirded out at first. She didn’t really understand what you were talking about half the time, and definitely labeled you as an airhead before she got to know you.

-Eventually, she began to slightly match your energy. You say some odd shit like “I wish we were two birds so we could sit on a branch together and sing all day” to which she’d reply “Type shit” and nod in agreement. 

-This girl is a WHORE for physical touch, not even sexual touch. Just any contact of your skin on hers. One time you decided to take a nap while she was sitting next to you on the couch, and without saying anything you put your feet on her lap so you could spread out but still be touching her while you slept and she literally melted. Girlie's heart exploded on the spot. 

-Loves to join you on little adventures. One time you asked if she wanted to join you in the woods to look for a really good stick. Like one of those big smooth sticks where you see them and go “damn that’s a nice stick”. She obviously said yes on the spot. 

Jinx: 

-Your twin flame. Absolute soulmates. 

-Didn’t question your quirks ONCE. In fact, she almost out-weirds you sometimes. You walked into her hideout to find her attempting to balance a stack of crackers on her forehead while in her underwear once so needless to say you’ve met your match. 

-Not super huge on physical affection especially at first, but loves it when you do the thing where you lay on her chest but you crawl inside her hoodie/t-shirt so your basically cuddling while connected to the max. 

-You two are never sitting where you should be and everyone else has coined it as “your thing”. Like for example, if you two are hanging out at the last drop you are both sitting on top of the table, rather than in the chairs or on bar stools and everyone just accepts it. You two regularly hang out on the ceiling rafters wherever you are, and If you knew each other before Silco’s death you definitely startled him more than once by doing so. (when he first saw you and Jinx together his first thought was literally “Jesus christ theres two of them”.

Sevika:

-Gonna be totally honest, she thought you were fucking annoying at first. 

-Like to be fair she had to deal with Jinx’s antics for years, so when you came along shawty was drained. 

-Nonetheless, you captured her heart anyway. She doesn't make fun of you per se, but imagine that one meme that goes “Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something we don't know how to hear anymore?” “I just want you to stop saying odd shit”. That's your dynamic. (secretly finds your quirks adorable but would never ever admit it) 

-God forbid anyone else say anything even slightly condescending to you, though. She does NOT play about you, you're literally the light of her life, and as much as she gets sick and tired of your habits, she is the ONLY one allowed to feel that way. Has beaten multiple people to a pulp for saying slightly passive-aggressive things to you. 

-Despite her slightly detached and no-bullshit personality, you know she loves you no matter what. She may not verbalize it much, but the way she shows you off is enough for you to know. Whenever you're out together she always has an arm around your waist or has you sitting on her thigh. Anything to proudly show off and announce that you're hers and only hers.

_______________________________

A/N: LOVVVVED THIS REQUEST! As a certified "interesting critter" myself i luv a good weird partner headcanon. Also this was my first time ever writing headcanons so go easy on me TT im still finding my bearings writing for characters lol. constructive criticism always appreciated!!

[planetpiastri]

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader [no faceclaim] summary: you're a meme rapper with a cult following on youtube, and oscar is always in your comments, but it isn't until you release your first single that everyone puts two and two together. notes: this is one of the very first requests i ever received, and finally FINALLY it is done!! we are so back

liked by oscarpiastri, patriciooward, and others

ynusername guys if i wrote a song about dino nuggets would you unfollow me be honest

view all 1,458 comments

username1 yeah

ynusername 😔

oscarpiastri no

ynusername 😁

username2 maybe

ynusername i'm getting mixed signals

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, and 502,876 others

oscarpiastri Oscar goes outside: Japan edition

view all 8,482 comments

username3 you're not even outside in any of these pictures oscar what

landonorris who are we getting dinner with, young man? 🤨

oscarpiastri My mum 😊 landonorris yeah right

username4 omg any yn fans in the comments?? mother liked the post 👀

username5 yeah they follow each other lol i don't think they've ever met though username6 they've definitely interacted, but yeah i think they're just like online acquaintances haha

ynusername nice berries mate

oscarpiastri Thanks, I've heard that before

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri, and 251,876 others

mclaren Happy Birthday Oscar! 🥳

view all 7,654 comments

username7 guys why's oscar kinda...

username8 WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??

oscarpiastri 😁😁😁

ynusername happy birthday. oscarpiastri Ok that's a lot of negative energy please step back username9 help these interactions are always so random??

username10 oscar's waist looking SNATCHED omg

username11 guys is this a safe space for me to confess something?

landonorris no, keep it to yourself

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and others

ynusername finally releasing a single woohoo!! 'bark bark' coming out april 19th on spotify and apple music ^-^

view all 1,874 comments

username12 OMG YESSSS

username13 WHAT YN THIS IS SO EXCITING!!!! CONGRATS!!!!!

oscarpiastri What's it about

ynusername you have to stream the song and find out silly oscarpiastri Is it about me ynusername oh my god

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others

ynusername the type of face you'd go to war for (look past the camera, he's shy)

view all 2,054 comments

landonorris shucks, i'm blushing

ynusername i am so obviously not talking about you

username14 NEW MUSIC WHEN??

ynusername the single JUST came out CHILL!

username15 the last slide??

username16 new music hint? ynusername no that's just me talking about oscar and lando landonorris ....which one am i? ynusername i literally called you a slut nine times in suzuka username17 so oscar is lust???? oscarpiastri Thank you Barbie!!

liked by mclaren, ynusername, and 516,392 others

oscarpiastri Busy busy week, but glad the secret's out. My girlfriend is cooler and funnier than yours, by the way.

view all 7,990 comments

ynusername you're so hot i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

ynusername the hair?? the smile?? the grabbable waist?? WOW!!

ynusername gonna write another song about you

ynusername if i saw you in the street i'd catcall you

ynusername i want you.

oscarpiastri I love you too

username18 FKSDHJGLKHDJG IM SO HAPPY YN CAN BE UNHINGED AND CRAZY NOW GOOD FOR HER GOOD FOR THEM!!

request: hiiii babe! i love ur account! i was wondering if u could do an oscar piastri x meme rapper gf with an @addy_kate fc. like shes actually really funny and her music is oddly good (like tmg).

tagging: @thearchieves @sheridamn @nikfigueiredo @charlig123456789 @ilove-tswizzle @aandreea2005 @sideboobrry @vellicora @eire-the-egg @marymustdie @cocote1410 @taygrls @koalapastries @vroomvroommuppett @nichmeddar @d3kstar @333kiki @ririyulife @resident-swiftie @zimm04 @jupiter-je-taime @ever_bizzare @blue-isnt-avaliable @iifloweringnightsii @graciewrote @formulaal @m0cha-bunny @marvelsimps @mehrmonga @elliegrey2803 @theblueblub @gwginnyweasley @sltwins @f1kenzzz @alexmarie29 @donttouchthegnote @clemswrld @hollieeelol @leireggsworld @luvvtrent @maddie-naps @lilcowboy0 @tygecjjd @skepvids @bwddermilch @pnkwhskyprncss @notawc @landossainz @janegxi @chaotic_version @lookatitlaterlol @cometsrodrigo @lizzypiastri @nixisracing @lavviee @yaesflorist

if you want to be added to any of my taglists, fill out this form

[dearsnow]

YOUR REAL BOYFRIEND

- you go on your first date with your “bar boyfriend”, who seems a whole lot nicer than the guy that tried to pick you up earlier. (bob floyd x fem!reader, fluff <3, you don’t necessarily need to read part 1 but it provides some context)

PART 1

word count: 1,686

a/n - i did not expect part 1 to do so well, omg 🥹 thank you all for the love. if i had the writing stability I would’ve turned this into a series, but there is still time for that yet lol. enjoy this fluffy part 2 <3

You sit in your small apartment anxiously. Your first text to Bob has just gone through, and in the heat of the moment, you threw your phone across your bed and smothered it with a pillow. It was a simple thing, just saying “Hey! I’m Y/N from the bar :)”, and you really have nothing to be scared of, but your breaths are uncomfortably quick in the early morning. It’s like you just took a five mile run. You pick up the book on your bedside table and flip through a few pages, failing to read a single word.

You only put down your fruitless attempt at calming yourself down when your phone gives a muffled buzz from underneath your pillow. You grab it quickly, seeing his just-saved name flash across the screen.

Bob: Hello, Y/N from the bar! I was a bit worried you weren’t going to reach out, but I’m really glad you did.

You: Of course I reached out. You’re a nice guy, I would be stupid not to.

You internally groan before hitting send. He makes your insides turn to mush just by typing on a screen. At this point, you’re scared of professing your undying love.

He is a nice guy, and a polite guy, and honestly an everything-you-could-ever-want guy. You barely spent thirty minutes with the man and you already find yourself wanting to slip a ring on his finger. He’s different, a really good kind of different.

Bob: I’m flattered.

Bob: This might be too soon, but would you want to go out sometime? I know this nice place by the beach where we could get to know each other better.

You: I’d love to!! Lmk the details and I’ll be there <3

As you fling your phone across your bed again to kick your legs, you almost feel bad for it. The man of your dreams is asking you out, and you can’t physically handle the joy that’s pouring out of you right now. You can just imagine his quiet, smooth voice talking away while his eyes light up. When you get the date plan, you eagerly type it into your calendar.

Saturday, 5:30 PM, Ocean’s Cove Seafood and Bar. It’s perfect.

You don’t know how you can get through the rest of the week with the date looming in your mind, but, somehow, you’ll have to find a way to manage.

Your management ended up being text conversations with Bob so frequently it felt like you were always checking your phone for a new message. For the first time in your pitiful dating history, he was the one reaching out often and matching your energy. Talking with him is like a breath of fresh air. It’s almost better than than the fresh air you’re breathing now, walking through the open entrance of Ocean’s Cove. You immediately notice a very handsome man sitting at the table you’re directed towards, with his sandy hair styled perfectly.

As you walk over, he stands and pulls out your seat for you, only sitting down himself when you’re situated. His cheeks are tinted pink. “Hi.” He offers, clearing his throat. “You look really beautiful.”

“Thank you, Bob. You look amazing too.” You say, reaching out to brush against his blazer’s collar. “You always do.”

His face grows impossibly redder.

Just like the first time you met, you fall into the rhythm of conversation easily. It’s awkward, at first, as things often are, but it quickly becomes one of the best talks you’ve ever had. Your food is eaten between giggles and playful comments.

“He seriously made you do five hundred push-ups for someone else’s mistake? Man, you must hate this Hangman guy after he pulled that.”

“Oh, everyone hates him. In a loving way, mostly. Just be glad you’ve never been around him while he’s drunk.” Bob’s eyes are lit up, and the sight is better than you could’ve ever imagined.

You wipe your mouth with your napkin gently, trying to not rub your makeup on the soft cloth. “Wait, what’s he like drunk? He’s gotta be a character.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, and you engrave the sound in your memory. This is amazing. “He gets so competitive, but he’s too drunk to throw the darts straight or hold the pool cue proper. It’s really funny, because he thinks he’s doing well until the darts end up pinned through Maverick’s uniform.”

“Oh geez,” you laugh. “That reminds me of my old friend. She drunkenly spilled tequila down the front of our boss’s suit while trying to impress our coworker.”

“It seems like we’ve got a lot in common.” He smiles. He’s about to say something else, but your waiter stops in front of your table before he can get the words out.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, sir, but we have another couple waiting for your table. We have a three hour policy.”

Three hours? You’ve been here for three hours? You check the dimming light and realize that what you thought was forty minutes was, in fact, a hundred and eighty. Bob pulls out his card and signs the receipt, seemingly a little embarrassed that he also didn’t realize the time. “Here. Sorry for the trouble.”

The card is whisked away before you can even request a separate check. “I would’ve paid for that.”

“No can do.” Bob says, placing his hand over yours gently. “It’s my treat.”

You try to formulate a response to his kindness, but your mouth falls dry. All you can do is whisper a “Thank you,” as the waiter comes back with his card and ushers you out politely.

The outside air is heavy and chilly, cut with the smell of sea spray. As the sun dips below the horizon, you shiver. Without a word, Bob drapes his blazer around your shoulders. You turn to him, eyes slightly wide. “Are you sure?”

The question is about more than just the blazer. It encompasses everything you’ve wanted to say to him, everything that you’ve been worried about from the beginning. Is he sure that he wants to do this? That he really actually likes the person he just so happened to save at the Hard Deck?

“Always.” Is his simple reply. Your hand finds his, and he entwines your fingers like it’s natural. “I apologize if this is overstepping-“

“Do you want-“

You both start and stop at the same time. “Continue.” You say, a smile working its way up to your eyes.

“No, you go.” He insists. He swings his arm a bit, taking your hand with him. You can feel his blazer dip past your hand and onto his, as the sleeves are too long for you.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go down to the beach with me. It might not be good for our formal clothes, but I really like you, and I want to spend more time with you. As much time as possible, actually.”

This time, it’s his eyes that widen. “You read my mind. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

You laugh, a sound that’s music to his ears. It’s perfect, like everything about you. Like your humor and your storytelling ability, like the slope of your shoulders and the softness of your hands. He could spend his whole life drowning in you. “Then let’s go, before we miss the entire sunset.”

You pull him along, your thumb smoothing over his own, and he thinks he’d let you lead him anywhere. “Look, the beach is so pretty at this time of day! It’s like something out of a magazine.” You exclaim, expensive heels digging into the sand. You can’t bring yourself to care about washing the sand off, not right now.

“It’s almost as pretty as you.” Bob breathes. He doesn’t expect you to hear it, but you do. You turn around and slide your palm over the smooth fabric of his shirt, playing with the collar, before kissing his cheek softly.

For once, you take initiative in your movements. You can’t let him slip away; you think you’d be devastated if you didn’t see him again, if you never told him exactly how you feel. “I’d say it’s nowhere near as pretty as you.” You can tell your face is warm, and his definitely is. “We need to do this again.”

“For sure.” He murmurs. His expression is conflicted, and you feel a small bit of insecurity bubbling up. Does he not want this as much as you do? He takes a small breath of air, eyes flicking up to the sky for a brief moment. His glasses slide down his nose just a bit, but he doesn’t push them up. He’s only focused on the words timidly making their way out of his mouth. “Please stop me now if you don’t feel the same way.”

“If ‘feeling the same way’ means wanting to continue talking, I wouldn’t stop you for the world.” You can feel a hint of anxiety in your tone. Bob takes both of your hands, and the small butterflies are eaten by larger, rougher butterflies. Think atlas moth sized butterflies.

“In that case,” he almost whispers, “would you let me be your boyfriend? For real this time. And I won’t hold it against you if you say no, or want to wait, because I know we’ve only really been talking for a week, and-“

You cut him off with a kiss. His lips are soft and don’t demand anything from you. He reaches for the back of your head, cradling you like you might break. When you finally break away, his glasses are just a bit crooked. You reach a hand up to fix them. “Yes. Yes, I’d love it if you were my real boyfriend.”

“Awesome.” Is all he can manage to say. You giggle anyways, placing your hands on his chest.

“Next time, if a creep hits me up in a bar, we won’t have to lie.”

He places a sweet kiss on your forehead. “If I’m there, I hope he wouldn’t even think to try.”

Taglist: @seitmai

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Nikolai (Long Drabble) Author's Notes: There was a poll past this picture. Don't scroll if you don't want spoilers. And also since I have y'all here, thank you for all of the support on this little series of mine! Warnings: MDNI, Sexual Themes, Angst

So, no, things were not fine.

Especially when the only person who gets an ounce of your kindness these days is Nikolai.

When the only person that is allowed in your office to “do work, because the rest of the place is too gloomy” is Nikolai. 

When the only person who is allowed to ask you about your well-being and actually get an answer is Nikolai. 

When all the 141 can do is watch.

Was this their punishment? To see you get closer with someone else right under their noses.

No, this was not their punishment.

Although you are constantly in their mind, Johnny, Kyle, John, and Ghost were hardly in yours these days. Maybe a few months ago, they were. Maybe when you saw a good piece of art, or smelled something really good, or touched something really soft, or heard a beautiful piece of music, you used to think of the boys. Maybe when you laid in bed at night and needed a quick release, you used to picture their bodies on top of yours to get you to that high point - maybe it was just one of them or all four at one time.

But, these days, they just exist how you exist in their minds: co-workers with no obligations to one another. Just a group of people who only need the other to get their job done and that's all. If that's what they wanted, that's what they get. If that's how they'll treat you, you'll treat them the same.

So you being friendly with Nikolai was just you matching his energy. He's friendly, so you are too. There was no ulterior motive here, because doing anything out of spite means you care and honestly you didn't care (that much) anymore.

All you cared now was your work and earning your ticket out of here.

But, to your dismay, it seemed like Nikolai had his own ulterior motives.

The last time Nik was here, which was around your second month with the 141, he noticed the way all of the guys looked at you. He knew that they liked you, probably before they did even. So now that he's back, he wanted to play matchmaker.

And honestly, this was the perfect scenario for the team. All 4 of them dating the same person. They were a unit, a package deal, a team. None of them were able to hold down a partner on their own... he's seen it with his own two eyes. But together, they would be unstoppable. And it seemed like you had more than enough love to give so honestly this was a win-win for everyone. But, things weren't exactly where he wished they were.

That's why when the current mission was over, Nik decides to take matters in his own hands.

After wrapping up on the final reports for the latest mission, Price calls for a celebratory bar trip. Nik is right behind the rest of the guys when he notices you falling behind.

"Aren't you coming?" he calls out. The 141 freezes while you look up like a deer caught in the headlights.

"No, I actually have--"

"Nonsense! We can't celebrate without you. Right Captain?" Nik looks at Price for support who only looks at the ground. Nik didn't take John to be the shy type. And not just John as everyone else looked at either the floor or the walls. Wow, this might be more work than he expected.

After begging for 20 minutes, Nik eventually wears you down. He would not take no for an answer.

But now as you sit with the 141 and Nikolai, you really wished you had told the Russian to fuck off. This was just painfully awkward. The only person that's talking is Nik and he just got up to get the next round of drinks. You would try to make small talk but they wouldn't even bother looking at you.

Thankfully, Nik comes back quick with 6 beers. After handing each guy a beer and taking one for himself, he slams the 6th one in front of you.

"We're here to celebrate, so drink with us!" he cheers as he tries to pull your soda from your hands.

You pull back and admit that you don't drink. The rest of the guys still at that.

Nik lets out a hearty laugh. "What do you mean you don't drink? The last time I was here I saw you down 5 tequila shots like they were water."

"Well, I stopped after... a bad night. I don't want to make the same mistake twice," you say before taking a sip out of your soda. Nik backs off and happily takes the beer for himself. The rest of the team just sit in silence. John and Ghost immediately down their drinks in an attempt to push down their guilt. Johnny starts to bounce his leg as he fights the urge to say something. And Kyle watches the condensation runs down his beer as his mind races.

A moment passes before Nik starts the conversation up again. He calls out your name and asks if you were interested in anyone on base. Everyone chokes on their drinks.

After catching your breath, you asks Nik why he would ask such a question.

"Oh c'mon, you're telling me that no one has caught your eye. Not even these big guys?" he quips while signaling at the 141. Their eyes widen at Nik's question. Wanting to know if you were interested in any of them, they finally look at you.

They wished they didn't, because your face twisted in utter disgust.

"Nikolai, I am here for one thing and one thing only and that's to do my job. I have no time nor desire to pursue anyone on this base and less this team," you got up from your seat and dropped some bills on the table.

"Wait, I didn't mean to offend or anything," Nik cries. He reaches for you. This is not where he thought this conversation would go.

"Of course, no one ever does. Everyone just talks and talks and assumes that I won't take it to heart. Well guess what, I'm done," you finish up your soda. "So I need you, and everyone else here, to get it together, because starting Monday, we are starting that joint mission and I refuse to look like a fool because you guys can't be professional" And with that, you leave the bar.

Nikolai is gasping for air. What the fuck happened? He looks at the rest of the team and is met with guilty faces.

What did they do?

Word Count: 1107

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader who has never gotten drunk and doesn't want to touch alcohol due to personal issues x Nanami who drinks her shot for her to avoid awkward situations

Honestly this hits 100% home. I don't drink alcohol at all and always get insulted by some dumb people I don't even know that well when I'm out here in my hometown. I'd love to have a supportive Nanami by my side :(

In Quiet Understanding

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: At a lively work party, you're cornered by the pressure to drink - a personal boundary you’re not ready to cross. Just as the moment becomes unbearable, Nanami steps in, quietly taking the shot for you. In his calm, understated way, he shows that sometimes the loudest support is silent.

Warnings: Fluff fluff fluff, my man is the greenest flag on earth, you just gotta love him

The bar buzzes around you, a steady hum of conversation blending with the clink of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Warm lights cast a dim glow over the crowd around, softening the edges of faces that surround you. It’s supposed to be a casual night out, just a few jujutsu sorcerers celebrating the end of a particularly long week, but the drink sitting in front of you feels like a barrier more than anything else.

A shot glass, small but potent, sits in front of you. The liquid inside glistens, clear and harmless to anyone else.

But to you, it feels like something heavier. You’ve never been one to drink, and not because you’ve never had the opportunity. It’s more complicated than that. There are reasons, personal ones that don’t make for easy explanations in a casual setting like this. But now, with everyone gathered around, laughing and sipping their drinks, it’s hard not to feel the unspoken pressure to participate.

You glance down at the shot again, the tension in your chest tightening. You’ve managed to avoid alcohol for this long, always coming up with an excuse or dodging the question when it came up. But tonight feels different. The way people keep sliding glances at your untouched glass makes you think someone will say something if you don’t take it soon. It’s just a matter of time before someone asks.

The last thing you want is to be the center of attention for that.

You steal a glimpse at the others sitting around the table, hoping to avoid any prying eyes. Most of them are too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice your discomfort, their attention focused on the drinks in their hands and the jokes being thrown around. A few have already gone through two or three rounds, faces flushed from the alcohol and laughter. Especially Gojo, who you thought isn’t even able to get drunk, starts to talk with a numb tongue. You shift in your seat, trying to blend into the background, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the glass but not lifting it.

That’s when you feel it: the presence beside you.

Nanami Kento sits quietly, just as he always does in these types of settings. He doesn’t participate in the loud chatter or the easy-going atmosphere as much as the others. His energy is different - steadier, more reserved. You’ve always appreciated that about him, the way he manages to be a grounding presence without saying much. It’s comforting, even if you’ve never told him so.

Nanami is not the type to drink heavily, either. He has a glass of whiskey in front of him, sipped slowly over the course of the evening. It’s as if he’s participating just enough to be polite, but not so much that he’s truly in the middle of the scene. You imagine that he already noticed your untouched shot glass, though he hasn’t said anything. He’s too observant not to notice details like that, right?

You’re trying to work up the courage to find a way out of this situation when, without warning, Nanami moves.

His hand reaches across the small table, fingers curling around the shot glass in front of you. You blink, taken off guard by the sudden action. He lifts the glass effortlessly, not making a show of it. But before you can say anything, he downs the shot in one smooth motion, setting the empty glass back on the table with a quiet clink.

You stare at him bamboozled, a mix of surprise and confusion flashing across your face.

“Nanami-san…”, you start when he cuts you off with a calm, measured response.

“You didn’t seem like you wanted it. I thought I’d save you the trouble” he explains briefly.

His words hang in the air between you, simple and humble. There’s something about the way he says it, so quiet, without judgment, that catches you off guard. He doesn’t ask why you weren’t drinking, doesn’t press for an explanation or make a joke out of it like others might have.

He just… helps. Without making it a big deal.

You feel the tension in your chest ease, the knot of anxiety loosening as you process what just happened. The relief is almost overwhelming, the weight of the situation lifting in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t even realize how badly you needed someone to step in, to save you from the awkwardness of having to explain yourself, until Nanami did exactly that.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended.

Nanami simply nods, his expression unchanged.

“It’s nothing.”

But it isn’t nothing to you.

For a few moments, the noise of the bar fades into the background, the laughter and voices becoming a distant hum as you focus on the man beside you. Nanami returns to his usual posture, resting back in his seat with his glass of whiskey, his eyes drifting over the crowd. He doesn’t expect anything from you, doesn’t expect a conversation or even a thank you beyond what you’ve already offered. He’s just… there, in the quiet way he always is.

“And it’s Kento for you”, he adds after a long pause.

The group around you starts to settle down a bit as the night wears on. The initial excitement has given way to a more comfortable rhythm, the laughter still present but less harsh. People are leaning back in their chairs, enjoying their drinks at a slower pace now. The pressure to keep up, to drink shot after shot like the others has lessened, and you’re grateful for that.

Nanami saved you from having to participate in that part of the night, and now, with the glass out of your hands, you feel more at ease. You glance at him again, catching the way his expression remains calm, unreadable to most.

But you know better. You’ve worked with him long enough to notice the subtle shifts in his behaviour, the tiny flickers of thought behind his eyes that most people miss.

He’s always been like that: quiet, composed, but aware. Aware of the little things, the unspoken discomforts that others might ignore. It’s something you’ve come to respect deeply about him, even if you’ve never found the right moment to say it aloud.

As the night progresses, more rounds are ordered, but no one pressures you anymore. The group is too absorbed in their own drinks and stories, too comfortable in the haze of alcohol to notice that you haven’t touched another shot. You blend in easily now, sipping on a glass of water you quietly asked for earlier, content to just be part of the atmosphere without feeling the need to explain yourself.

“Are you feeling better now?”

The raising of his voice catches you off guard and leads to you almost choking on a sip of water. To be honest, you always admired that man from afar. So far away that you always made sure he doesn’t catch the way your eyes follow each and every move of his well-toned body. So far away that you never dare to say a single word to him, not even when he’s sitting right next to you. So far away that he isn’t able to tell that you have a huge crush on him.

“I do…Thanks to you.”

Instead of answering, he simply nods while taking another sip of his whiskey.

“You’re welcome.”

Eventually, the group begins to wind down. A few people are noticeably tipsy, their voices louder, their movements less coordinated. Others have begun to check their phones, signaling that the night is nearing its end. You find yourself feeling a sense of relief, knowing that you’ve made it through without any awkward confrontations or unwanted attention.

As the table starts to clear out, Nanami stands up, finishing the last sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down. He glances at you briefly, catching your eye.

“Ready to go?”

With him? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, palms already starting to get sweaty. Does he…really want to take you home?

When he gives you another look you finally nod, grateful for the out. The two of you say your goodbyes to the group, exchanging a little chit-chats as you leave the bar. The cool night air hits you as soon as you step outside, a welcome contrast to the stuffy warmth inside and your burning-hot cheeks. You take a deep breath, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders now that the evening is over even with your long-time crush by your side.

Nanami walks beside you in silence for a few moments, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He’s not the type to fill the air with unnecessary conversation, and you appreciate that. The quiet between you is comfortable, familiar.

“About earlier…” you begin, breaking the silence.

“I just wanted to say thank you again. I didn’t-”

“You don’t need to explain,” Nanami interrupts, his voice gentle but firm.

“I didn’t do it expecting anything in return.”

You stop walking for a moment, turning to face him fully. There’s something in his expression, something softer than usual.

“I know. But it means a lot. I just… I don’t really drink. And I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

Nanami meets your gaze, his eyes steady and understanding.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Not about that, or anything else.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. He’s not just talking about the shot glass anymore, and you know it. There’s a depth to his understanding that goes beyond the surface, beyond the simple act of taking a drink for you. It’s the kind of quiet, unspoken support that feels rare.

You offer him a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you, Nanami. Really.”

“It’s Kento, (y/n).”

The second his tongue pronounces your name so delicately, you can feel your heart almost burst in sheer excitement.

“Right…Kento.”

He nods once, and without another word, the two of you continue walking, the city lights casting long shadows as you move forward together.

In the end, it wasn’t about the drink. It was about the quiet understanding between the two of you, the kind of connection that doesn’t need words to be felt.

And as the night fades into memory, you can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the person beside you - steady, reliable Nanami, who always seems to know exactly what you need, even without asking.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr

[the-tarot-witch22]

Profession of your future spouse - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

Note : This reading is based on my intuition and channeled messages from tarot cards.

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Pile 1

The cards I got for you - ace of wands, 3 of cups, 3 of pentacles, the chariot

1. Creative jobs (Graphic Design, 3D, interior, photography, anything to do with creativity they might be into art too.) In which they have to use their hands, they can be good with their hands as well.

2. Event planner, wedding planner, some sort of celebrative type of occupation like a DJ, or they might own a bar.

3. They can be a teacher/leader/boss/ higher or upper position than you, project manager, they are very well respected in their work.

4. Leader, medics, a politician? something to do with ethical hacking or computer.

Pile 2

(The cards I got for you - 6 of cups, 3 of swords, 4 of swords, the star, or hierophant)

1. I feel daycare teacher, or babysitter in their free time, taking care of children's and animals, they might teach younger childrens.

2. Sports or athletic

3.Nurse, surgeon, therapist.

4. Teacher again or own an institute or teach somewhere online (they might know two languages)

5. Manager

Pile 3

(Queen of wands, The magician, two of pentacles, knight of swords)

They find hard to balance between work and personal life but they do it, flawlessly.

1. Model, (something to do with their looks) , confident job, like they need to be confident in their own body, even can be famous or a bit known in crowd.

2. They are very skilled they might have juggled many jobs and they are good in all type of things

3. Sales executive, Carpenter

4. Call center, the kind of work they need to give order to someone

5. Their work might require travelling.

6. A navy officer, cop

7. Advocate, CEO, business person

8. med field (ayurvedic type or medicine pharmacist)

Pile 4:

The cards I got for you - Ace of pentacles, 4 of wands, 8 of swords, king of cups and wheel of fortune)

The work they do might have them be overwhelmed orburdened, like stressful but they love their work.

1. Bank worker or finance like finance analayst, tech, data scientist, data analyst.

2. Wedding planner, or they work something in event planner.

3. counsellor in schools, or judge.

4. They might deal with criminals too in a way, or might involve to travel, military.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[cjlouwho]

tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending

(ao3 link or read below)

Like Fine China

“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”

He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?

His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”

Athena! That's who was speaking to him.

He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!

“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.

Whiskey and... and metal.

Blood.

“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”

It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.

“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.

“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”

Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”

“They're not on shift, Tommy.”

He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.

“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”

“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.

I can't let him see.”

“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”

*****

He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.

He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.

Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.

After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.

He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.

He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!

He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.

He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.

Tonight he was oblivious.

He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.

But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.

He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”

It only made things worse.

He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.

Then there was nothing.

Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.

Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.

“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”

The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.

“Ed- Eddie?”

God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.

“Wha- Why?”

Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.

He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.

“Tommy-”

“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”

“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”

Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.

Nearly beat to death.

He was nearly beat to death.

Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”

“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”

Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.

“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.

Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”

Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”

Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”

Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”

“You didn't.”

“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”

“Please tell me you didn't.”

“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”

“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”

Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.

Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”

Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”

“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”

Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.

“I wanna see," he repeated.

“Tommy-”

“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.

Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.

Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.

The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”

He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.

His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.

“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”

It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.

“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”

“Tommy-”

“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”

“No.”

Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”

“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.

“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”

Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”

With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.

*****

Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.

Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.

She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.

Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.

Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.

Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.

These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.

That'd be a lot easier than this.

Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.

He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.

*****

As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.

The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.

Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.

“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.

Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”

“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”

“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”

Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.

“Who knew what?”

“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”

“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”

The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”

Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”

Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”

“You can't be serious right now.”

“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.

“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”

“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Buck, you don't-”

“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”

Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”

“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”

*****

They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.

They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.

Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.

Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”

They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.

So, a fight was expected.

What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.

Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.

Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.

When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.

“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll help you there.”

“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”

Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”

And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”

Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”

“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”

“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”

How in the hell did they end up here?

“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.

He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”

“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”

“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”

“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.

Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”

“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”

“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”

Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”

They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “It is.”

“Took us long enough.”

Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”

“I think I would have felt better if you did.”

“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”

Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”

They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.

The fight wasn't much, but it was something.

It was enough.

For now.

*****

“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.

“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”

Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”

Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”

Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.

Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.

"I know."

“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.

“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”

“Good. That's... That's good.”

“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.

“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.

“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.���

Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”

Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”

Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”

“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”

“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”

[mononijikayu]

1-800-hot-n-fun — fushiguro toji.

"Hey, doll." Toji called out as you approached the exit, a hint of something serious in his tone for the first time. "What’s your number?" You turned around, flashing him a grin that was all playful mischief. "My number? Sure. It's 1-800-hot-n-fun, stranger." you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you stepped closer to him. 

GENRE: alternate universe — modern au;

WARNING/s: NSFW (R18+), Smut, AFAB! Reader, Romance, Age Gap (Reader is in Her 20s, Toji is in his 30s), Strangers to Potential Lovers, Pet Names (Doll, Stranger;), Profanity, Cursing, Stripping Clothes, Fingering, P to V Sex, Kissing, Making Out, Humor, Flirting, Teasing, Mention of Stripping, Mention of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Smoking, Mention of Age Gap, Depiction of Bar Experience, Depiction of Sexual Acts, Depiction of Nudity, Depiction of Smoking;

WORDS: 3.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: lately i keep thinking about toji and how he's genuinely the type to have been someone who wanders into bars and places for fun before and after mamaguro. i think in a way, he's looking for a place to belong. i wanted to make a fun thought about that and as usual, in keeping with kinktober. anyway, i indulge myself to be his controversially young partner for shits and giggles while writing this. in any case, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all!! 🫶

ADDENDUM: another little gift - i've published a original story on my wattpad on my eleventh anniversary on the app. its like a little indulgence of mine which i worked on a long while ago. if you would like to read it, please click here!!! thank you so much!!! <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS JUST A REGULAR FRIDAY NIGHT OUT. The club was alive with energy, lights flashing in rhythmic patterns that matched the heavy bass reverberating through your body. You had come out tonight to lose yourself in the music, to dance, to have fun—your favorite escape.

The moment you stepped onto the dance floor, you were in your element, moving with confidence and ease. You didn’t care about anything else, just the thrill of the moment. But then, you saw him.

Fushiguro Toji. But you didn’t know his name yet. The man who seemed to tower over everyone else, his presence impossible to ignore. He was older, easily a decade older than you, but there was something about him that pulled you in instantly.

You couldn’t look away. His rugged, confident demeanor was a sharp contrast to the carefree crowd around him. He was dressed sharply in that suit and coat. He was businessman, you like to think.

You can't help but watch his every move. He was beautiful. He wasn’t dancing like everyone else, just standing by the bar, watching, with that sharp, intense gaze that sent a thrill down your spine. He was trying to light a cigarette with that bright silver lighter with precision.

You wanted to approach him. An it was a good thing that you weren’t shy. It was obvious that he was older than you. But even with the age difference, you knew what you wanted, and right now, all you wanted was him.

Your pulse quickened, not from the music, but from the thought of getting closer to him. You danced your way through the crowd, your movements playful and enticing, knowing his eyes would eventually find you.

And they did.

His gaze locked onto you, and it was like the world narrowed down to just the two of you. Every sway of your hips, every flick of your hair, you made sure he was watching. You like trying to tease him like this. And surely enough, he was caught in your trap.

The music pulsed louder, but all you could feel was the heat building between you both, the silent pull that was undeniable. You watched as the smoke poured out of his lips, almost erotically. He looked at you in the eyes, a smirk on his lips. Oh, he’s enjoying playing games with you.

Without hesitation, you made your way over, bold and confident. The closer you got, the more you could see the rough edges of his jaw, the scar that gave him an air of danger, and those sharp green eyes that made your heart race. You leaned against the bar beside him, flashing him a playful smile.

"You don’t seem like the type to just stand around, stranger." you teased, loud enough to be heard over the music, your voice laced with flirtation.

Toji raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth squirming up into a smirk. His smoke tied through in his fingertips. "And you don’t seem like the type to be this bold," he shot back, his voice deep and rough, sending shivers through you.

You laughed, tossing your hair over your shoulder, feeling the electric tension between you thickening. "I like to party, kiss everybody, have a good time, stranger." you said, quoting the song playing in the background, letting the words roll off your tongue in a teasing, suggestive way. "But tonight, I’ve got my eyes on you."

He leaned in slightly, just enough that you could feel the heat of his body. "You sure you can handle that?" he asked, his voice dropping to a lower, more dangerous tone that made your heart skip a beat.

"Try me, stranger." you challenged, meeting his gaze head-on.

Without another word, he killed the light of his cigarette in the ashtray. He quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the bar and into the shadows, out of the chaotic light of the dance floor but still close enough to feel the energy of the crowd. His grip was firm, possessive, and it made you crave more.

Pressed against the wall, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat radiating between the two of you, Toji’s body loomed over you, making you feel small in the best way. His hands rested on either side of your head, trapping you, but you weren’t scared. You wanted this.

The thrill of the chase, the excitement of being with someone older, someone who had an edge to him that made your pulse race with both excitement and danger.

"You’re too young for me, doll." he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. “You can’t be more than 20.”

"I’m a bit older than that. But that doesn't matter, doesn't it? I like what I want." you whispered back, your voice breathy with anticipation. "And I want you, stranger."

That was all it took. His lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, as if he’d been holding back and finally let himself give in. The kiss was hot, intense, and full of raw energy, making your knees go weak as you clung to him. 

And the taste, oh the rough taste of nicotine passing from you to him giving you a whiplash. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you tightly, pulling you flush against his body. The age gap, the club, the people around you—it all melted away, leaving only the heat between you.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging him closer, wanting more. Every touch, every movement between you was electric, and you knew there was no turning back now.

"I like to kiss everybody." you whispered against his lips, teasing him with a grin as you broke the kiss for just a second before pulling him back in, your body pressed even tighter against his.

Toji chuckled lowly against your mouth, his hand sliding up your back, possessive and firm. "Guess you’ll be kissing only me tonight, doll." he growled, his voice sending a thrill through you.

Toji’s lips crashed into yours again, rougher this time, fueled by the undeniable heat between you both. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was a raw hunger that made your head spin.

His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You could feel the hardness of his muscles through his shirt, and it made your pulse race faster. His presence was overwhelming, and you loved every second of it.

Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, pulling him even closer, wanting more. His hands roamed your body with a rough possessiveness, sliding from your waist down to your hips, gripping you as if he didn’t want to let go. You could feel the power behind every touch, the way he held you like he owned you, and it made your body heat up in ways you hadn’t expected.

Toji broke the kiss for just a second, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You’re playing a dangerous game, doll." he murmured, his voice rough and husky, laced with dark amusement. His breath was hot against your skin, and it made you shiver.

You tilted your head back slightly, giving him more access to your neck as he trailed hot kisses down the side of your throat. "Maybe I like it dangerous, stranger." you whispered, your voice breathy as you clung to him, feeling the tension in your body coil tighter with every kiss, every touch.

His lips hovered over the sensitive spot on your neck, and you gasped when he bit down softly, enough to leave a mark but not enough to hurt. It was possessive, a silent claim, and it made your body tremble with anticipation. You weren’t afraid—if anything, you wanted more of him. More of the rough edges, more of the heat that burned between you two like a wildfire.

"You’re gonna regret this, doll." he growled, but the way his hands slid down your body told you that he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you even closer, pinning you against the wall with his body.

"I doubt it, stranger." you teased, arching into him, feeling the tension between you build to an almost unbearable level.

The age gap, the danger, the intensity—it was all part of the thrill, and you craved it. Toji wasn’t like anyone you’d been with before, and that’s what made you want him even more. He was interesting, he was brutish, he was charming, he was rough and it all excites you. More than you hoped.

He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your body with a rough urgency that made you feel like he was claiming every inch of you. You kissed him back just as fiercely, letting him know that you weren’t backing down. You wanted this, wanted him, and nothing was going to stop you.

The music from the club pulsed around you, but it felt distant now, like it was just background noise to the heat between the two of you. The flashing lights only served to highlight the intensity of the moment, casting shadows and making everything feel more electric.

"Tell me what you want, doll." Toji growled against your lips, his hands sliding under your shirt, the heat of his touch searing your skin.

"I want you, stranger. Badly." you whispered, your voice breathy with desire. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "I’ve wanted you since I saw you."

Toji’s eyes darkened at your words, and without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. He doens't care who comes through the door of the toilets. You're more what matters right now. He wants you so badly. And he'll claim you, no matter what.

You could feel his lips were on yours again, the kiss deep and hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel the strength of his body against yours, the way he moved with an intensity that made your head spin.

"You don’t know what you’re getting into, doll." he muttered between kisses, his voice rough and filled with a dark promise. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as his lips moved from your mouth to your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp.

"Then show me." you challenged, your body arching into him, craving more of his touch. You wanted all of it—the heat, the danger, the thrill of being with someone older, someone who wasn’t afraid to take control.

Toji growled low in his throat, his hands tightening on your body as he kissed you harder, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. The air was thick with desire, the tension almost too much to bear as you clung to him, your fingers gripping his shoulders for support.

Every kiss, every touch was filled with a fiery passion that made your heart race and your body ache for more. Toji was dangerous, unpredictable, and that only made you want him more. Nothing else mattered anymore when it comes to this—all that mattered was the heat between you, the way his hands roamed your body like he owned it, and the way his lips left a trail of fire everywhere they touched.

The door to the club bathroom slammed shut behind you, muffling the pounding music outside. Toji's mouth was on yours before you could even catch your breath, his hands rough and needy as they gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was intoxicating, every kiss deeper, every pull more frantic.

"You’re so fucking hot, doll." Toji growled against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. His hands slid up your sides, yanking at your shirt, fingers fumbling with the fabric. "I can’t get enough of you. Y'r too sweet, too good."

You didn’t answer—your breath caught in your throat as his hands found their way under your skirt, fingers brushing against your core. You moaned, arching into him, tugging at his shirt with equal desperation. 

"Take it off already." you panted, voice breathless as you tried to strip him bare, needing to feel more of him, all of him.

"Impatient, huh?" he teased, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he shoved his shirt over his head. But before you could respond, his fingers were inside you, two thick digits stretching you out, making you gasp as your head fell back against the tiled wall. 

"That’s it, pretty doll." Toji whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers pumped in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made your body hum with pleasure. "Ride my fingers. I wanna feel you come."

Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against his hand as he curled his fingers just right, his thumb brushing against your clit in slow, torturous circles. You whimpered, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, trying to stay grounded as waves of pleasure started to crash over you.

"Fuck, fuck……" you gasped, barely able to hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. His mouth found your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers down your spine, the sensation overwhelming as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"You’re so tight, doll." he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. "God, I love how you feel. Come on, let go of it all for me."

And you did. Your body seized as pleasure exploded inside you, your vision blurring as you came, trembling against him, your slick coating his fingers. You felt like you were floating, barely able to catch your breath as you came down from the high.

Toji grinned against your skin, his fingers slowly slipping out of you as he brought them to his lips, eyes locked on yours as he sucked your slick from them, tasting you with a low, satisfied groan. He was smug about it all, and all you could do was stare at him.

"Mm, you taste even better than I imagined, doll." he murmured, his voice thick with hunger as he pressed his body closer, his lips ghosting over yours. "But we’re not done yet, doll. Not even close."

His words hung heavy in the air, and you could feel your pulse quicken at the way he looked at you—dark, possessive, like he had all the time in the world to wreck you. Toji pressed his body closer to yours, his chest warm and solid against your trembling form. The grin on his lips was dangerous, teasing, as if daring you to give in again.

"You think you’re ready for more?" he asked, his voice a low rumble as his fingers trailed down your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. His touch was deliberate, lingering, as if savoring every second. "Because I’m not stopping until you’re begging me to."

You swallowed hard, your body still buzzing from the aftermath of your climax. His fingers, slick with your release, grazed your skin, making you twitch with sensitivity. The throbbing heat between your legs hadn’t faded—it only seemed to grow with every word he said, every look he gave you.

"Stranger...…" you breathed, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper. You could barely think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence. The hunger in his eyes was relentless, and it sent a surge of desire straight to your core. You wanted him—needed him—and it was almost maddening how much. "Please."

"I know, doll." he muttered, his lips ghosting over yours in a featherlight touch that sent a shockwave of need through you. "I know exactly what you need." 

His hands moved swiftly, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down before you even had a chance to protest—not that you would. He pressed his hips against yours, and you could feel how hard he was through his pants, the outline of his length pressing into your stomach.

He chuckled, low and predatory, as he kissed you again, this time rougher, more demanding. You were lost in it, in him, and before you knew it, your hands were at his belt, fumbling with the buckle.

"You’re driving me crazy, stranger." you muttered against his lips, your fingers finally unfastening his belt and yanking at the zipper. 

His pants dropped to the floor, and Toji wasted no time, his large hands grabbing the backs of your thighs, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he pinned you harder against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours.

"You’re the one driving me fucking insane, doll." he groaned, his voice rough with barely controlled restraint. His hand found your heat again, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, but not pushing in just yet, savoring the moment as he brushed against your swollen folds. "You just feel too good, yeah, huh.”

"Then what are you waiting for?" you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you rocked your hips, trying to close the agonizing distance between you.

Toji grinned wickedly, his eyes flashing with desire. "Patience won't you, doll?" 

His hand gripped your hip, positioning you just right before, with one hard thrust, he pushed inside you, stretching you in ways that made you gasp. The sudden fullness left you breathless, your walls tightening around him as you clung to his broad shoulders.

"Fuck!" you both cursed at the same time, the sensation of him filling you sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His forehead pressed against yours as he stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the delicious stretch.

"You feel so good, doll." he rasped, his breath hot against your lips, eyes dark with lust as he began to move, slow at first, savoring the way your body responded to him. "So tight. I’m gonna make you come again—over and over until you can’t take it anymore."

You moaned as he picked up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper, hitting all the right spots. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your head falling back against the wall as you surrendered to the pleasure, completely at his mercy.

"That’s it, that’s—oh." Toji groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the cramped bathroom. "Give it to me—fuck, you’re so perfect."

Your vision blurred as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, every thrust pushing you closer to your breaking point. The world outside ceased to exist—all you could feel was him, the heat between you, the way he filled you so completely.

"Come for me, doll." he whispered, his voice thick and commanding as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Come on, I know you’re close."

It was all you needed. Your body tightened around him, your nails digging into his back as your second orgasm crashed over you, harder than the first. You cried out his name, your body trembling as waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

Toji followed right after, groaning low in your ear as he thrust into you one last time, spilling inside you. His body shuddered against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the two of you lost in each other, breathing heavily as the aftermath of your passion washed over you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, still holding you against the wall, both of you breathless. Toji has never felt like this before. Not for any person he's ever encountered. He felt hot. Too hot inside and out. And he wanted more. He wanted to be consumed by you more.

"Damn, doll…." he murmured with a lazy grin, pulling back slightly to look at you. "I knew you’d feel good, but that…"

You smirked, still panting, your arms draped loosely around his neck. "Yeah?" you whispered, feeling the aftershocks of your climax still coursing through you.

Toji chuckled, his grin widening as he kissed you again, slow and deliberate this time. "Yeah. And next time, we’re not stopping until you beg me to."

As the haze of pleasure slowly lifted, you both took a moment to catch your breath. Toji's body still pressed close to yours, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and lust. But the reality of your surroundings began to sink in, and with a mischievous grin, you reached for your discarded clothes, the remnants of your heated moment lingering in the small, cramped bathroom.

You could feel the evidence of your encounter still dripping down your thighs as you slipped your panties back on, the sensation sending a rush of satisfaction through you. Toji watched you, his eyes dark and satisfied, a lazy grin curling his lips as he pulled his pants up, fastening his belt. His gaze lingered on you, like he was already planning the next time he’d have you pinned up against another wall.

"You good?" he asked, his voice low and gruff as he slipped his shirt back on. He was still watching you with that same predatory look, like he wasn’t quite done yet.

You winked at him, unable to suppress the playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Better than good, stranger." you teased, smoothing down your skirt as you finished adjusting your clothes. 

Toji’s eyes darkened again, clearly ready for round two, but before he could make a move, you brushed past him, opening the door and stepping back into the dimly lit hallway of the club.

As you both strolled out of the bathroom, you could still feel him leaking inside you, a delicious reminder of what just happened. You glanced over your shoulder at him, the corner of your lips quivering in amusement. His gaze hadn’t left you for a second, his eyes trailing your every move.

"Hey, doll." Toji called out as you approached the exit, a hint of something serious in his tone for the first time. "What’s your number?"

You turned around, flashing him a grin that was all playful mischief. "My number? Sure. It's 1-800-hot-n-fun, stranger." you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you stepped closer to him. 

Before he could react, you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to kiss him roughly, your lips crashing against his in a heated, final goodbye kiss. You winked at him when you finished, patting his shoulder softly.

He grinned against your lips, his hands finding your waist again as if he couldn’t help himself. But before things could heat up again, you pulled back, giving him a coy smile. "Check your pocket, stranger." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

With a smirk, you turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of the club without another word. Toji’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, his lips still curved in amusement as he slipped a hand into his pocket.

When he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper, his grin widened as he read your phone number scrawled in bold letters. "Looks like she’s not done with me after all, huh?" he muttered under his breath, tucking the paper back into his pocket with a satisfied smirk.

Toji chuckled to himself, his mind already racing with the thought of calling you up for another round of fun. "Guess I’ll be making that call real soon."

[emmylksblog]

H.FORT BF HEADCANONS!

based on this request

a/n: extra long to feed you girlies cuz i ain't uploading any soon, writing just takes my whole day and not gonna lie drains all my energy :(

hope it doesn’t disappoint! stay safe yall 🫶🏻

⚽︎ bf! hector doesn't have time for long skincare routines between games and practices. His own routine was a quick rinse with water and a bar of soap. But watching you spend at least an hour every night made him memorize the process without even noticing.

Whenever you come home after a long day, completely exhausted, I imagine hector insisting on doing your skincare for you.

⚽︎ bf! hector would always be the big spoon. He took great pride in being protective of you, and cuddling was just an extension of that role. But on nights when he would feel particularly vulnerable, like after a brutal loss on the field, Hector would flip around and let you hold him instead.

⚽︎ bf! hector would never leave for training without giving you a goodbye kiss. Even if you're still asleep, he'll pause next to the bed, gently smooth your hair from your face and brush his lips against your forehead. It's a small gesture, but he knows he won't be able to see you until much later in the day.

⚽︎ bf! hector would be the type to keep a hair tie on his wrist at all times. You were infamous for forgetting to bring one with you whenever you left the house, and once your hair became a tangled mess, it would annoy you endlessly. To prevent any potential tantrums, Hector took it upon himself to always have a hair tie at the ready whenever you two were together.

And yes, it also had the added benefit of signaling to all the other women in the room that he was taken. He liked that even better.

⚽︎ bf! hector would love to brush your teeth together. He enjoyed starting and ending the day with you in that quiet, intimate moment. Sometimes he would even sulk a little if you did it without him.

"You started without me?" he would complain, pouting a bit as he picked up his own toothbrush.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would adore to spend time with your family. He especially would enjoy playing football with your siblings, as it would allow him to show off a little and get them excited about the sport. Your siblings would usually end up worshipping him within minutes of starting a game, especially when he'd let them score on him occasionally. He'd always make a point to ruffle their hair or give them an encouraging high-five afterward.

hector had never had siblings of his own, but that didn't stop him from instantly bonding with yours.

⚽︎ bf! hector who seems unable to keep his hands off you when he's driving. He always has his arm around your shoulders or is holding your hand. Sometimes he even caresses your thighs while he's driving. He simply can't go for too long without touching you. It's like a need for him to feel your skin against his and know you're close.

⚽︎ bf! hector who pretends to be cool and collected when you attend his games, but deep down, he's absolutely thrilled to have your support. He puts on a poker face, trying to maintain his tough-guy image, but in reality, he loves it when you cheer him on.

His favorite part is when you wear his jersey. Seeing you in his colors, proudly showing everyone that you're his biggest supporter.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would always look out for you, especially when you're wearing high heels. Once your feet start screaming in pain, he'll immediately notice and sweep you into his strong arms.

"I can't have my girlfriend suffering on my watch,"

⚽︎ bf! hector would be your biggest supporter in your career endeavors. He would encourage you to go after whatever goals you had and would do his best to help support you in any way he could.

After long study sessions, he'd insist on giving you massages to work out the aches and knots that had formed in your back.

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a fiercely independent person, not one to rely on others for much. But with you, he would allow himself to be vulnerable.

He would love it when you pampered him, especially when it came to his hair and face. Only you had the privilege of touching his skin so intimately. Whenever you'd stroke his cheek or run your fingers through his hair, he'd lean into it, his eyes fluttering closed. He knew he could relax and let you take care of him.

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a disaster in the kitchen (pls that man can't cook to save his life, if you have seen the video of him and cubarsi you will agree with me). Even boiling water was a challenge for him. But when you got sick, he wanted to take care of you, even if he didn't know how.

He called his mom for help, determined to prepare something nourishing and healing for you. Unfortunately, his culinary skills proved to be woefully lacking, and his attempt at the dish was more "creative adaptation" than actual recipe. It didn't taste great, but the gesture was heartfelt, and you appreciated his effort.

⚽︎ bf! hector who has a weakness for your collarbone. Every time he kissed it, you'd let out a little giggle or squeak, and it was music to his ears. He relished the fact that he could make you laugh with just a simple action.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would have unwavering trust in you. He would value your opinion above anyone else's and take your advice to heart, believing that your wisdom was unmatched.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would make sure to hold your hand, as if afraid that you might slip away from him in the crowd.

Whether you were attending a fancy gala or grabbing coffee at a local café, it was always the same - his larger hand would instinctively reach out for yours, lacing your fingers together tightly. He took comfort in the warmth of your touch, and the knowledge that you were right there beside him.

⚽︎ bf! hector would gladly tag along when you hit the gym on his days off. His true motivator for agreeing to go was definitely to watch you work out, admiring the way your body moved and how you pushed yourself to your limits.

However, he would always throw in a few exercises for himself as well. After all, he couldn't let you have all the fun, could he? And who knows, the extra cardio might just come in handy later...

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a playful partner (i know he is and you can't tell me otherwise), and one of his favorite ways of messing with you was biting you to get your attention. He would nibble on your earlobe or your neck, just hard enough to get a reaction.

But oh, the tease didn't stop there. Once he had your attention, he'd act completely nonchalant, like he hadn't just been biting you for cuddles. He'd lean back with a smug grin on his face, feigning ignorance about what had just happened.

⚽︎ bf! hector who can't resist pampering you, especially when it comes to your nails. Every time you'd get a manicure, he'd insist on paying for it, claiming it was an investment in his own comfort.

He absolutely loved the feeling of your manicured nails scratching gently against his scalp, massaging his head and sending tingles down his spine.

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a waist boy through and through. Once he had his hands on your waist, he rarely let go.

⚽︎ bf! hector who adores your hair. He would love the way it looked, whether it was flowing freely down your back or pulled up in a neat bun.

He would often find excuses to reach out and touch it, running his fingers through the strands or absentmindedly twirling a lock around his finger. He would bury his face in your hair when he hugged you, inhaling your scent and letting the silky smoothness of your locks caress his skin.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would turn to his mother when he found himself in hot water with you. Whenever you two had a disagreement or you were upset with him, he would seek the counsel of his mom.

In the end, his mother would always encourage him to swallow his pride and apologize to you, no matter who had started the argument.

⚽︎ bf! hector can't stand being on your bad side. He hated feeling disconnected from you, and the idea of you giving him the silent treatment was torturous.

He would do just about anything to get you speaking to him again, even if it meant being the one to cave and apologize first. He missed the sound of your voice, and he'd do anything to hear it again.

⚽︎ bf! hector who can't help but gush about you in front of his friends and teammates.

"Man, do you ever shut up about her?" Marc would tease him, pretending to be annoyed. "We get it, She's great."

But no matter how much he teased Hector, it wouldn't stop the smitten footballer from talking about you.

⚽︎ bf! hector who loves imitating you, often teasingly mimicking your mannerisms and expressions just to get a rise out of you.

You'd respond with a swift punch to his arm, trying to hide your embarrassment as he chuckled at your reaction. Despite the mock annoyance, deep down, you couldn't help but be endeared by his antics.

⚽︎ bf! hector who exudes a natural air of dominance, but is always willing to let you take the lead when the mood strikes you.

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a passionate fan of Anuel, and typically had no tolerance for those who weren't. But you were the exception.

He tried to convert you many times, but your music taste leaned more towards pop and r&b. Despite his best efforts, you just couldn't get into Anuel's music.

Hector might grumble and complain about your apparent lack of culture, but deep down, he forgave you for it. After all, he loved you more than his favorite artist.

(i think this is just a reflection of how i think, but as a spanish i don't like anuel lmao)

⚽︎ bf! hector who loves seeing your face whenever he pulls out his phone. He had a picture of you set as his wallpaper, and he also had your baby photo in his phonecase.

(idk if that’s weird but couples do it where i live)

⚽︎ bf! hector who loves seeing you in his hoodies. There was something about your petite frame engulfed in his oversized clothing that made him feel extra protective of you.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would consider you his life partner. He sees you as his other half, the person who completes him in every way. He trusts you implicitly and can't imagine facing the world without you by his side.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

It was Captain’s turn to host poker night, and that meant everyone got to be in his nice house out in the suburbs. His Missus normally made them some nice snacks. She'd chat with them for a bit, but then after, she would leave the four of them to their own devices. Kyle thought she was nice. When he met her, she was indeed wearing blonde hair but went with the popular Créme Brulé color. She certainly was the type his Captain would attract, classy, sophisticated, a little crazy but not much, and she ran a tight ship.

She was hanging around, though, clearly waiting for someone. No bother, it wasn't any of Kyle's business. The front door opened up, to the sound of another woman squealing. There's fast talking and laughing, and Kyle is a little confused because traditionally, poker night has always been guy's night. Still no worries, as Price's Missus was saying that the bar was set up downstairs.

"Where's your little crash out?" The Missus say as her and her friend walk by.

The friend is sporting a deep body wave cherry Coca-Cola hairstyle that goes down right to her waist. She's dressed in all black, pretty gold hoops in her ears and other gold chains and belts wrapped around her waist. "Oh, he's coming. He's finishing up a cigarette and he will be right in."

Kyle looks over at Soap "Did Cap say he was inviting other people?"

Soap shrugged his shoulders, "Ah donnae ken so?" He was watching the woman closely, "But she's bonnie."

The front door opens up, and Kyle is expecting this mystery man to waltz in but is surprised to see Simon. Okay, still no bother, except why is Simon wearing black air force ones? Was he even aware of that brand? And why is he wearing a Nike tech trench? Kyle is feeling a strange sense of déja vú.

"Och! Si nice coat! It's fittin' fo' ye!" Soap greets.

Simon only grunts as he puts away his coat. The cherry-coke woman reentered the living area carrying two wine glasses and her eyes land on Simon.

"Sweetie, come get me when you guys are done. Can't say I won't be singing My neck and my back in two hours if i am, we gotta leave right away. Love you!" And she disappeared down the steps with Price's girlfriend. Simon only nods his head in acquiescence, and there's a slight blush on his ears from what she said.

Soap has a wide grin on his face, and by this time, Price is entering the room with the cards. Kyle feels like he is on the office or some bad parody...because what?

"How'd ye meet her, Si?" Soap is vibrating with energy.

"I met her through Price's girl...it was a blind date." Simon says.

Soap thinks he's funny, "Do I get a pretty hen next?"

Kyle places his head in his hands and leans over the table. "I can't believe there's two of you now."

@c-nstantine I saw what you wrote and ran with it. Lol

[theblackfemininesociety]

Feminine Tip #003: Invest In Your Fitness Journey Sis 🔑

Ladies, Fitness takes your look to the next level.

Let’s have a little heart-to-heart about something super important. We all know that confidence and self-love are at the core of our power, but what if I told you that fitness could be your secret weapon to your leveling up journey ?

Feminine women set a higher bar for themselves.

Why Fitness?

1. Glow from Within: When you work out, you’re not just toning your body; you’re also boosting your mood, energy, and overall well-being. ✨

2. Confidence Booster: There’s something incredibly powerful about challenging your physical limits and coming out on top. Whether it’s lifting heavier weights, running that extra mile, or mastering a new yoga pose, every victory makes you feel like the queen you are. 👑

3. Fashion Flex: Let’s be real, clothes fit differently when you’re toned and strong. That favorite dress or those killer jeans? They look even better when you’ve got that fitness edge. Plus, the confidence you radiate makes any outfit look like a million bucks. 💃🏾

4. Mental Clarity: Fitness isn’t just about the body; it’s also about the mind. Regular exercise helps reduce stress, anxiety, and even depression. A clear mind means you can conquer anything, from boardroom meetings to brunch plans. 🧘🏿‍♀️

📌 How To Get Started

1. Find Your Jam: Not everyone loves the gym, and that’s okay! Explore different types of workouts until you find something you love. Dance classes, hiking, swimming, Pilates, or even a fun Zumba session—there’s something out there for everyone.

2. Set Realistic Goals: Rome wasn’t built in a day, and your fitness journey won’t be either. Start with small, achievable goals and celebrate every milestone. Progress, no matter how small, is still progress. 🏅

3. Squad Goals: Everything’s better with friends. Find a workout buddy or join a fitness group. Having a support system can keep you motivated and make the whole experience a lot more fun. 👯‍♀️

4. Self-Care is Key: Remember, fitness is a form of self-love. Listen to your body, rest when you need to, and don’t be too hard on yourself. Your journey is unique, and every step forward is a step towards a better you. 🛁💕

😼 Let’s Do This!

Ladies, it’s time to reclaim our power and elevate our lives through fitness. Let’s embrace the strength, beauty, and confidence that come from taking care of our bodies. Whether you’re a fitness newbie or a seasoned pro, there’s always room to grow and glow.

So, lace up those comfy sneakers, put on your favorite workout gear, and let’s stand on FITNESS the same we stand on business. The next level is waiting for you, and it’s going to be game changing 💋

Don’t forget to surround yourself with what you want to become! follow us on Instagram 💋

[willowed-wisp]

RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONs [ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish ]

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x f!reader/you

SFW

- When you guys met, you thought he was an airhead, blue eyed meat head. Still is but he was also a deeply caring and affectionate person

- Probably met on his way back from the gym or in the gym- depends if you workout or not.

- Johnny isn’t the type to restrain his thoughts- immediately asked for you out and the rest is history.

- Now to the dating- he is 100% Rottweiler energy… a mix of golden retriever boyfriend that can flip his switch. He’ll protect you- no second thoughts.

- You meet his parents after a week of officially dating, his mum loves you and tells him to get on one knee then and there. Spoilers he’s already planned out the rest of your lives together… not in a creepy way.

- Back hugs are his thing, he’s like a backpack out and about. Just to let everyone know you’re his.

- Looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever known… the air he breathes. Deep blue eyes filled with adoration, you couldn’t put it into words. Only that your heart flutters whenever he’s looking your way.

- Makes stupid dad jokes, especially when hanging out with Ghost

- Ghost is definitely the best man at your wedding, whether he likes it or not.

- You’re well acquainted with the boys from 141. Price feels like a father figure, Gaz the relentless older brother and Ghost like a protective cat.

- Takes you to the local pub every time Aberdeen F.C. play and watch it at the bar. It’s amusing to see him a few pints in and saying, “Goal keeper, pfftt, I could keep be’er in primary school…”

- Let’s just say, you’d crack up and nearly drag him off the stool beside you.

- Not to mention when you buy him season tickets for Aberdeen… he’d be the loudest in the stadium if not for you. The look of pride when you repeat what he said in the pub… Christ, he was a lucky man.

- If you had told him you wanted him to retire from the military, he probably would have. He even spoke to you about it.

- You nearly slapped him in the face, calling him an ‘eejit’ (picking up Scottish slang). Thats probably when he knew he’d spend the rest of his life with you.

- It may have broken your heart when he was away, no way to contact you on covert missions. You didn’t even know where he was… but you couldn’t watch him lose himself, knowing that he was born to be in the SAS.

- You noticed a new tattoo on his hip, “why the hell is my name tattooed on your body?” And he would reply, “You’re my lady, enough said.”

- He pops the question somewhere lowkey like your house, just plops down on one knee with a ring in a box. You thought he’d fallen over and instantly told him to get up. So taken aback, you have a ring on your finger and Johnny’s arms around you.

- The wedding was a riot, his family are Roman Catholic raised and you were okay with the ceremony is the local Catholic parish.

- You can’t remember who walks you down the aisle, but at the end of it is Johnny MacTavish in a kilt with his family tartan. You didn’t focus on his military formals adorned with various badges, or that kilt. It was the tears in his sapphire eyes, with Price and Ghost behind him as well as his cousin, the one who inspired him to join the forces.

- The Scottish knew how to party… you danced the night away. Ghost was Johnny’s best man. His speech entailed how, “Johnny wouldn’t stop talkin’ abou’ Y/N. An’ meetin’ her I could see why, she winds your neck in, mate.”

NSFW under cut….

NSFW

- Johnny waited until you were ready to do anything. He’s a gentleman, unlike popular belief.

- But after he coaxed you into working out with him… watching him pump not only the weights but you… you were a gonna, you got back to your place and your lips were crushed against his own.

- Stripping his arms of the hoodie, revealing those thick, rippling arms and the tattoos. His look drove you insane, never been so wet in your life.

- He struggled to keep at your pace, wanting to amp it up because you’d been driving him insane since he met you. Johnny was at his wits end when he hiked you into his arms. So steady and unyielding, lips indenting lilac across the span of your neck before ravaging your lips.

- Hips bucking into your spread legs, straight to the middle. Where you needed him.

- That first time, no time was wasted and no foreplay required. You marvelled slightly at all of him. This was the first time seeing him topless let alone butt naked… he knew he struck the jackpot with you when he could barely fit the tip in.

- Clawing at his numerous scars and moaning effervescence. His name so sweetly rolled off your tongue- the only thing she could muster. And the soldier couldn’t help that drop dead gorgeous smile play on his lips, you shuddered beneath him on the couch you normally watched movies on.

- Maybe that’s when you knew he’d be the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

- Sex feels like slow motion with Johnny MacTavish, something about his starlight kissed eyes makes time feel like it stopped. Even in a non-sexual sense, you swear you see the dust shine in sunbeams when sharing eye contact.

- Johnny loves watching you ride him, getting tired out because he’s not easy to break. Meeting your bounces, fingers scarring your hips as he thrusts into you.

- Don’t let this man catch you in one of his tight fit t-shirts, if you don’t wanna be around his cock in ten seconds flat.

- Yes, he’s that fast.

- The aftercare KING. Want hot chocolate and a Christmas on in the middle of July- he’ll do it.

- Need a stonking hot bubble bath, he’s getting the rubber ducky and carrying there bridal style. Washing your hair and your body.

- He just loves you and cannot get over how lucky he is to be such a beauty- inside and out

- If you want round two, three or four during the aftercare… he’s got stamina for days soooo it’s really your pick of Johnny special

————

masterlist

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Cherries

Jiraiya x Reader. MDNI 18+ only. Ao3

You’re a waitress at a gambling club, and a fan of Jiraiya’s book, when he comes into your club you can’t help yourself from going home with him.

This was kind of inspired by the song Cherries by Annie Kemble, a good friend of mine. It’s a great song, give it a listen even if you don’t wanna read this fic. But I hope y’all do both. Love y’all as always <3 Doodle

Content notes: SMUT, smoking, drinking, pussy eating, uncut dick (b/c why would anyone in the Naruto universe be circumcised?), jiraiya is his own warning tbh.

The sound of shouting players, and the smell of smoke was second nature to you now. You had been working in the parlor for two years, serving drinks, selling and lighting cigarettes, loading pipes and blowing on dice. You were frequently propositioned by customers for more salacious services, many offered money. Sometimes you would take it, if you were feeling comfortable enough, or the price was enough to tempt you, they never asked too much of you. Usually short encounters, over before the sun rose again. You had no problem making money this way, and why should you? You were working, you were talented in this regard, they had a good time and paid you well. As long as you kept yourself safe from harm, you rarely even got nervous anymore.

Tonight had been on the slower side, the middle of the week wasn’t often popular for gambling. You hadn’t been tipped that well, two different tables had stiffed you completely. You didn’t think you would be walking home pleased with your purse tonight. Breaking from the foggy main room, you slipped into the private bathroom reserved only for employees. Your makeup was immaculate still, but you applied another layer of ruby colored lipstick, patting it lightly with your finger before cleaning up the edges. You mussed your hair slightly in an attempt to give it more volume, before giving yourself one last look and smiling. You were beautiful, you were so grateful to know it and feel it.

While you were in the bathroom, Jiraya entered the parlor. His boisterous laugh gathered the attention of everyone, his hulking figure shook the table as he sat down at one of the games. The energy around him was light and fun, people of course recognized him and were excited to buy a man of such legend drinks, or play against him. Of course he wasn’t a great gambler, Jiraya was primarily here to get drunk and to flirt, shaking off another long day of training and mentorship. His eyes rose from the game table just in time to catch the most beautiful woman he had ever seen exiting from the back of the parlor. Well done up, makeup clean and vibrant, showing elegance with a clear personality that he would love to discover. Styled hair, pulled away from her working face, but falling perfectly where it could to give the appearance of casual effort. He was shaken by the man sitting next to him, and brought back to the game. Barely paying any attention, he offered a raised bet, and lost near instantly. He didn’t care, he took the last of his drink and shot it back, standing from the table and moving through the crowd over to where you were reloading your tray with drinks.

“Hello, gorgeous.” The alcohol had reddened his cheeks and lowered his already rock bottom inhibitions.

You gave him a practiced smile and began to lift the probably overloaded tray, “hello sir, is there something you might need from me?”

“I’ve got a couple ideas, but I’ll save them until you’ve dropped that tray off.” He took a seat on the available bar stool next to the drink well, “don’t worry about me, honey, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

You giggled flirtatiously, ever the professional, before passing him to deliver the bottles of sake and beer to your patrons. You swished your hips as you walked, knowing he was staring at you. You didn’t mind, he was a bit older than your usual type but you knew his reputation.

Master Jiraya of the legendary Sanin, you had even read one of his books. A girlfriend had recommended it to you, starting a scandalous book club you briefly belonged to. You were sure his writing was generous, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to find out for yourself. He was tall, and handsome, and fucking big. Everything about him was big: his body, his presence, his voice, his reputation. You wondered if everything else was just as big.

Clearing your tray, you turned back to the bar, he was still watching you. You assumed he had been the whole time. His dark brown eyes crinkled up at the sides following the line of a wide grin. The red markings down his cheeks bent and blending into his blushing alcohol fevered cheeks. You stood to his side, sliding in between stools and leaning your body against the counter. Flirting was part of your job, keeping the patrons entertained and engaged was just as much your work as serving drinks. Sure this may have had some selfish motives, but no one could say you weren’t working too.

“So….I have to confess something,” you flicked your eyes up at him, through your thick made up lashes.

“Oh sweetheart, I would love to hear a confession from you. Need me to offer you forgiveness?” He was becoming brazen, moving his large hand to your waist, which you leaned into.

“I’ve actually read a few of your books.” You moved your hand over the arm that he leaned on the bartop.

He watched you trail your finger over his forearm. He was flattered by your admission. His mouth was starting to water.

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan. Especially one as beautiful as you.” He watched you blush at his words, “do you have a copy? I’d love to sign it for you. Is it back in your bedroom?”

He started to stand up, but your hand was sturdy on his shoulder, pressing him back down onto the stool.

“Not so fast.” You smiled, your fingernails toying playfully with the hem of his sleeve, “I’m excited to meet you, Master Jiraya. And I’d be happy to continue spending time with you tonight. But you see, I’m still working. And I’m not finished here for another hour.”

You closed the distance between the two of you, fingers moving his long white hair over his shoulder and leaning in to brush your lips against his ear. He smelled like jasmine and pipe smoke, something else lingered as an undernote, something earthy and organic.

“I’d love for you to sign my book. I don’t live far, but you’ll have to wait until my shift is up. Think you can do that for me?” You pulled back, batting your eyelashes and pouting your lips, fingers still tangled in his hair and clothes.

His eyes were glassy but locked onto you, his heart pounding in his chest, if you looked hard enough you were sure you could see his pulse in his neck. He nodded and you nodded back, an agreement made and a promise to be kept.

“Can I top off your drink?” you offered, reaching across the bar top and not so subtly arching your back and grabbing a fresh sake bottle.

“Only if you share it with me,” his eyes licked over your body.

He couldn’t believe his luck. The most beautiful girl in the whole place not only was talking to him but knew his work, and seemed to be interested. You pulled an extra cup and filled both glasses, offering one to him. He accepted graciously, still struck by the ease of the whole situation.

“To your work.” You offered

“To your work.” He offered, tapping his glass against yours before drinking together.

You two shared the bottle over the next half hour. You would occasionally need to seperate yourself and assist your coworkers, who were also engaging in the night's entertainment and service. You didn’t have any more tables to yourself, so you were mostly running drinks and offering support. Everytime you left his side, Jiraya always waited patiently for you to come back to him.

“So what keeps you working here?” He asked upon one of your returns.

“I like it. The money's good, the hours are better,” you nudged his arm, “the people are interesting.”

“Are they?” He asked, catching your hand in his and running his thumb across the back of your knuckles.

His touch was hot against your skin, leaving little prickles of electricity in its wake. You weren’t sure when exactly it had happened, but you found yourself becoming more and more excited by the idea of spending the night with him. He was forward but had remained respectful, keeping his hands relegated to your arms and back, but never on your legs or hips. The conversation flowed naturally, he was actually very funny, giving plenty of chances for you to swoon at his wide smile. His good looks were filtered by age but he was still an incredibly handsome man, his strong nose leading up to his dark eyes, big lips growing wetter and looking softer at every passing shot.

“Yeah,” you answered, flipping his own hand over to run your index finger over the inside of his palm, tracing the lines, “although they aren’t usually so handsome. Or accomplished.you wouldn’t believe the amount of stories I’ve sat through about farming or markets.”

“You know, gorgeous, if I didn’t know any better. I’d start to worry you were playing me a bit. Are my stories boring you?” He watched your finger trace over his palm, and he watched when it stopped.

Your slender finger ceased its cartography of jiraiya's large palm, moving his hand over so it faced down. You slotted your fingers in between his. You let them linger for a moment, joined together, before bringing his knuckles up to your lips and kissing lightly. Your lipstick transferred lightly, leaving a red kiss mark across the ridge of two of his fingers. You met his gaze as you pulled away, his bottom lip was caught in between his teeth as he watched you.

“Not at all, Master Jiraiya. I feel quite fortunate to be talking to you tonight.” You set his hand back down on the table, but kept your hand tucked into his.

His voice shook slightly as he asked, “how much longer is your shift?”

Your eyes flicked over to the clock on one wall, “twelve more minutes. Think you can wait here while I wrap up?”

He nodded and breathed out, releasing himself from the previous moment of tension. He leaned back slightly as you stood up and walked to the back to settle your cash for the night and close out your final tabs. Besides Jiraya it had been a slow night for you, but despite the lower than expected take home pay, you felt giddy as you collected your final tabs and closed out with your bartender and manager. Before finishing up, you swung by the bar one last time. This time opting to not sit beside Jiraiya, but lean behind him, pressing your chest into his back and talking directly in his ear.

“You actually still have to settle your tab.” You reminded him, circling a lock of his hair around your finger.

“Ah, right.” He got the bartender's attention and closed his tab, leaving a hefty tip, “should I tip you as well? Or does that come later?”

He turned to face you, suddenly his ever confident aura had dimmed slightly, as though he had grown nervous.

“You're signing my book, that’s a great tip, especially after I sell it as a collector’s item for having a genuine signature!” You teased, laughing.

He laughed along with you before standing. You realized he towered over you, he was well above six feet, probably by another half. He looked down at you, your features enticing him in further and further. His mind raced, thinking of your eyes fluttering at him, how soft your lips felt against his hand, the smell of Cherry that followed you every time you walked past him.

“Why don’t you head outside, I’ll meet you out front after I grab my bag from the back.” You told him.

Just one more hurdle until you could finally have each other. The tension continued to build and build until you knew it would eventually compound in on itself. Hopefully in your bed, and hopefully again and again until the sun comes up.

“I’ll be waiting.” He said, and lifted your own hand to his lips this time. Offering a more dramatic, showman’s kiss before loudly smacking his lips off.

You hurried to the back to hang up your apron, grab your coat and bag, and say goodbye to your coworkers. You slipped out the back and walked around to the front of the building.

Jiraya waited patiently, but nervous. This wouldn’t be the first time he had been duped by a beautiful woman’s promise of a “good time”. When you finally emerged from the side of the building, his face lit up, shoulders relaxing as he took you in.

“I hope you didn’t think I was going to leave you out here.” You read his mind.

“Of course not, just enjoying the night air. It’s good to clear the mind.” He looked down at you, you had walked straight up to him, nearly chest to chest.

The two of you stood for a moment, then two. Breath syncing up, heart rate too. In the moonlight your features look softer, eyes sparkling up at him. Jiraya fought the urge to hold your cheeks and press your lips together, you were still outside of your place of work and he didn’t want to embarrass you.

“This way,” you finally took his hand and led him down the street.

Your conversations from inside the bar continued as you walked home with Jiraiya following you closely. Your walk home wasn’t far, only a few blocks, and he was right about the night air. You had only had a few glasses to drink, but the soft summer wind was already helping you feel more alert and awake. When you finally entered the grouping of apartments where you lived, you led him to your door.

“I wasn’t expecting company, so you’ll have to excuse the mess.” You said, you had actually just cleaned the previous day, but it couldn’t help to under promise and overdeliver.

Jiraiya couldn’t care less where you lived, or how, he was just so excited to be in the home of an incredible young woman who had invited him in. You opened the door, moonlight illuminating the dark living room. With him following closely, you moved to turn on a few lamps, brightening the space. Your place was nearly immaculate, not devoid of personality, but neat. You had drapery hung over your windows and around your light fixtures allowing the light to take on different hues. Purples, blues, and golds filled the space, casting patterned shadows over the walls.

“Wow, kid. Nice place. You do all this yourself?”, Jiraiya let out a low whistle, impressed with your home making skills already.

“Mhm,” you nodded, setting your bag down on your dining table.

You moved to undo the buttons of your coat, when you felt his hands slip around you from behind, his chest was right up against your back, his head stooped down to speak in your ear.

“Please, allow me.”, his fingers were quick to undo your buttons, moving smoothly up your lapels and sliding the jacket off of your shoulders, leaving them bare and chilled with excitement.

His smell of jasmine filled your space, you felt intoxicated with him already. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, then the juncture of your jaw and neck, then the side of your throat. You bit back a moan along with the urge to lean your head back against his chest.

“Are you trying to get out of signing my book?” You teased as his hand began to circle your waist.

He laughed, it shocked you a bit. The usually booming laugh, subdued and hot against your ear. He knew just how to play you. You turned to face him, stepping back slightly, not so subtly trying to regain your footing.

“Of course not,” Jiraiya smiled down at you, his large hands still in your waist, “you keep it next to your bed?”

You pushed his chest slightly, “you wish.”

You pulled out of his grasp and moved to a low bookshelf in your modest seating area, you had to bend over to retrieve it. You heard him suck in some air as you did so. Finally pulling the bound text from your shelf, you stood again and faced him. A blush crept up your face, you realized you had dogeared a few pages, which reminded you that you had actually made notes in a few margins. Maybe you liked this book a bit more than you let on. He noticed too, taking the book from you and opening to the first page.

“You have a pen?” He moved to sit cross legged on your floor over the coffee table.

You grabbed a writing utensil from your desk drawer and offered it to him, loving to sit next to him.

“Ah ah,” he tutted, hiding the book, “no peeking.”

You rolled your eyes and sat across from him instead. You watched him carefully as he thought of what to write, and with a devilish glint in his eye, started scribbling his autograph. He was taking longer than should be necessary for his name.

“You’re not writing something dirty in there, are you?” You tease, sliding your foot under the table to nudge his crossed leg..

“I already did, that’s why you like it so much.” He flirted back instantly, not even slightly shaken by your contact. He was clearly in his element.

Finally when he had finished his escription, he read over his own words. Giggling to himself, he brought the book up and mimed a kiss against the page, before blowing on it softly, to dry the ink.

“There you go, gorgeous. One of a kind.” He closed the book and set it on the table with his hand still over it, inviting you to try to take it from him.

You took the bait and reached over, he slid it just out of reach, “Almost.”

You got the game. Sliding around the table, you now were next to him, your hand fit next to his, fingers intertwining on the bound leather. You moved your body up his, with him seated and you on your knees, you were finally eye to eye with him. He watched you closely, pupils blown in excitement. You moved to sit on his lap, finally in a full embrace. He was so wide, it was hard to fully straddle him, but you managed. You could feel him getting hard underneath you, too many layers separated you from him. You could feel how wet you had gotten from the back and forth of tonight. You wanted him so bad. His large, delicious body, his experience, his charisma. It had all drawn you in. His hands moved from the table, abandoning the book and over slid your hips, then up your back and down again. The sensation was soothing and also titillating.

You felt yourself dampen further, and your breath increase. You moved your arms around his neck, leaning closer and closer, you could feel the tie that held his long hair back and you pulled until it came loose, allowing his white hair to fall freely. Your lips were so close to his, you could smell sake on his breath, you could feel his heart beating under you.

“Jiraiya?”, your lips were nearly against his as you spoke his name.

“Yes, gorgeous?”, His big hands squeezed your hips, keeping your firm against his clothed erection.

“Are you going to kiss me? Or are you going to make me beg you for it.” You looked at him under your lashes, catching his eye just in time to see him shudder a bit.

“All you had to do was ask.” He caught your lips in his, his hands on your hips pulling you closer to him.

His lips were so soft, but his kiss was so hard and passionate. His tongue immediately slipped between your lips, quickly mapping the inside of your mouth. He had the faintest taste of smoke, probably a pipe or cigarette from earlier in the night. His hands moved through his hair, tugging lightly, making him moan against your mouth.

“Such a pretty girl,” he mumbled between hot, wet kisses, “you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Feeling emboldened by his praise, you moved one hand between your joined hips to stroke his hardened dick, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

His hips bucked at your touch, a half moan-half laugh sputtering from his lips. He cursed and pulled at the back of your shirt, removing it quickly. His hands were rough against your skin, decades of both training and writing causing his palms and fingers to callus. Your skin was so soft by juxtaposition, smooth and even, plump and vibrant. He removed your bra skillfully, your breasts spilling out for him to quickly latch his mouth onto.

You moaned, throwing your head back, “Master Jiraiya!”

He could barely hear you, he was completely immersed in how good it felt to have your bare chest in front of him, against his lips, against his tongue. He flicked his skilled tongue over your nipple, pulling back to watch it harden and peak.

“You’ve got such great tits, baby. Such a pretty thing for me.” He kissed up the side of your neck.

You were rocking your hips against his, trying desperately to pull more of those shocked moans from him in the process. Your hands moved under his tunic, unknotting the tie and pulling the sides apart. His chest was so broad, a large star shaped scar bloomed from the center outward. You had hooked up with shinobi before, you were familiar with the combat scars and various bruises to be found on their bodies. But this was unlike anything you had ever seen. It was expansive, and evidently distracting, as you had stopped your grinding to gawk at the large healed wound.

“Thought girls liked scars.” He joked.

You ran your hand down his chest, fingers exploring the topography of muscle and scar tissue.

“I do.” You leaned down to kiss the side of his neck, hand traveling further down to his hip bone and further to undo the tie of his pants.

“You work fast, honey.” He bit his lip trying to cover the moan your eager touch pulled from him.

You moved off his lap, now pulling his trousers along with you as you moved down his body, “worried you can’t keep up, old man?”

This struck something in him. Something competitive and cocky. Before you realized it he had you up on the couch, and he was kneeling between your legs.

“I hope you don’t mind if this old man takes a turn first?” He growled holding your hips in place as you tried to figure out just how he had moved you so quickly.

His hands pulled at the top of your skirt, undoing the zipper on the side and sliding it down your legs.

“It only feels fair after I so graciously gave you my autograph free of charge.” He removed your skirt completely, leaving you only in your red panties.

You were so wet already, the panties were sticking to you. You wanted them off so bad, you wanted him so bad. His hands ran up your thighs, Jiraiya delighting in the hot, smooth skin of a young woman writing under his touch. You were so gorgeous, a beautiful body, a beautiful face, charming and intelligent. He had no idea how he had gotten so lucky. You were looking at him so desperately, he could see how badly you wanted him. And if he wasn’t sure from your eyes and your words, you were practically dripping onto your own couch in front of him. He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to taste you for himself. Jiraiya leaned forward and took the front of your panties between his teeth, pulling them down, using his hands to roll the flimsy fabric off of your legs. A practiced move he had perfected over years, but never failed him.

Watching him remove your panties with his teeth had you moaning before he ever touched your aching pussy. He watched you gasp in awe and arch your back, body begging him to pleasure you. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He slid your panties in his back pocket for later. He knew he was a pervert, but he couldn’t help himself.

Finally, with nothing separating him from your sex, Jiraiya moved your legs over his shoulder and pressed forward, giving you a long, languid lick all the way up your slit.

His tongue was devilish; skilled and wicked. Strong hands keeping your thighs in place as he devoured you. You couldn’t stop the wanton moans that spilled from you like a waterfall, he had barely started and you were already whimpering and pulling at his hair.

“Baby you taste so good, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. How many do you think you can take?” You could barely hear him through the sound of him lapping at your dripping pussy.

He was talking about his fingers, thick and waiting to push inside of you. They were bigger than yours, bigger than anyone’s you had been with, and fuck you wanted them inside of you.

“Two. Two. Fuck, Jiraiya, please.” You begged him, needing more and more from him despite how good you already felt.

He pushed his first two fingers inside of you, tongue still slurping around your clit. Feeling him spread you open, you felt the white hot build up of orgasm approaching. Your voice was giving you away, panting moans, barely intelligible curses mixed with his name. You tugged at his hair, paying no kind to if it hurt him or not. He certainly wasn’t stopping, nor was he complaining. He was too drunk off of your taste. He hooked his fingers inside of you, deliciously hitting your g spot.

You nearly went blind with pleasure. You were cumming before you even realized how close it was. Not only cumming, but squirting. Gushing around his fingers and into his waiting mouth. He drank from you, everything you had. Leaving you a well pleasured, panting mess above him. The heels of your feet had dug into his shoulders so hard he may bruise. But tomorrow if he woke up with any mark of you left on him, he would be a happy man. Finally detaching his mouth from your puffy, spent pussy, Jiraiya sat back on his heels, watching you carefully, licking his fingers clean.

“Ever done that before?” He grinned cockily, your squirt still dripping down his chin onto his neck.

You watched him take great pride in cleaning his fingers of your cum, “once or twice.” You told him.

“Think I can make you do it again?” He leaned over you, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you forward, against the front of his barely done pants.

You shuddered at the thought. You had read his books, you were familiar with his proclivity toward having the heroines orgasm again and again, until they were begging for mercy. You had always assumed it was fiction, and that couldn’t, shouldn’t reflect on the desires and skills of the author. But the way he watched you as you came undone for him, the way he looked down at you now, you knew it was autobiographical.

He wiped a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear before leaning down to kiss you again. This kiss was softer than before, he cupped your face sweetly, not tugging and pulling you into him, but holding you firm and steady against his lips. You kissed him back, finally feeling grounded in your body again. He tasted like you, you were sure you tasted like him too. The experience of letting someone’s taste overpower your own was at times more sensual and pleasurable than the act of sex itself.

Your hands moved over his back, feeling the strong muscle, the divots and grooves of his body. Your eager hands moved to remove his pants, and he joined the effort, stripping himself completely before you. He joined you on the couch, kneeling between your legs, still kissing you. You felt his hardened length hot against you, sliding up and down your slit, he reveled in the fruits of his previous labor.

“Please Jiraiya, please.” You whimpered against his kisses, reaching down to stroke him.

He was diamond hard in your hand, long, and thick. Of course he was, of course this literary Casanova had the personal equipment to back it up. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his erection. You ran your thumb beneath his foreskin to pull the precum from him and coat your hand to lubricate his length. Jiraiya shuddered and lifted you back onto the couch again, joining you and slotting himself between your legs. Your lips were hot against his, spit and moans exchanged in between sloppy kisses. His thick, white hair shielded you from the light in the room, blocking out everything else but him. He reached down to join your hand on his length, his eyes meeting yours to confirm consent. You nodded again, rocking your hips against the head of his cock. You moved your hands to his shoulders. Jiraiya’s thumbs spread your folds apart for him to release a string of spit onto you. Spreading the lubrication of his spit and your previous release along his length and your slitc he started to inch himself into you.

You couldn’t help the arch that your back curved into. Nor could you stop the mewl that escaped you. Jiraiya groans above you, pushing deeper. Your vision went white as he packed his inches into you. You clawed at his muscles, whimpering as he filled you.

“I know, baby. Almost there.”, he cooed, smoothing your hair.

You squirmed at his depth, how he stretched you out, how he mashed against the wall of your cervix.

“Relax, baby. Let me in, it’s okay.” He kissed your cheeks where you had scrunched up your face.

You breathed deeply, trying desperately to relax your tensed muscles. Just as you would release slightly, he would push further and you would clench around him again. Finally after much stopping and starting, he bottomed out inside of you. His hips meeting the backs of your legs, your calves over his shoulders, and your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“Jiraiya…fuck…you’re so deep.” You trembled against him.

Jiraiya panted above you, running his hand up your leg soothingly. You were holding him so tight, he was struggling to keep from fucking into you further.

“Let me know when I can move, sweetness.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the ball of your ankle, petting your leg again.

After finally accommodating his size, you nodded. He pulled back carefully to the head of his cock before sliding into you again. He began an even thrusting pace, he rocked his hips against your sweet spot inside of you. You couldn’t help the broken, nasty sounds that fell from your lips. He was setting your body ablaze with pleasure. His head fell back as he maintained his rhythm, letting out a lazy, delicious moan. You felt electric, like all the energy in your body had illuminated and was glowing. His hands traveled from your thighs to your hips to your breasts and back again. You felt as though he was unstitching your every piece, taking you apart at the atomic level. And it was marvelous, his touch was practiced and methodical, he knew just how to touch and to please you. You couldn’t control the begging pleas that spilled from you.

“Raiya, please, yes, fuck, oh” in repetition again and again.

He was similarly babbling, “yes baby, so tight, so good, good girl.”

Your sweat transferred to his skin, and vice versa, when he finally leaned over you, closing you in against the couch, you couldn’t help but keen to kiss him again. His big, strong hand pulled your hip up to meet his thrusts, and you helped him, fucking yourself up into him. Your bodies worked in perfect sync, meeting his thrusts, him moving his fingers in between your bodies to circle your swollen clit. Your voice raised in pitch, eyes rolling back as he played you like a fiddle. You had no idea earlier in the night how incredible he would be.

You felt yourself inching so close to climaxing, and you made it clear.

“Please Jiraiya, please!” You begged

“You wanna cum, pretty girl?” He smiled, pushing deeper into you, making you arch further.

“Yes! Fuck yes please. Let me cum!”

“Cum all over this cock. Make a mess for me, baby.” He choked out, circling your clit and sucking into your neck.

He pushed harder into you, the combination of his cock and fingers finally bringing you to your desperate, whimpering, squirting climax. You coated his cock and abdomen in your cum, he shuddered against you trying to keep his pace as he reached his own orgasm.

“Fuck!” Jiraiya cried out slamming himself against your g spot, finally letting his release take him.

You could feel his cock pulse, shooting his long streams of cum inside of you, painting your walls white. Jiraiya collapsed his full weight onto you, which was not insignificant, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You stroked his fluffy, white hair as he caught his breath atop you. He pressed lazy, hot kisses to your neck, collarbone and chest as he caught his breath. Minutes passed with you two locked into this embrace. Finally the weight of his body was too much, and you tapped on his shoulder, urging him to sit up. He did, pulling you up with him, having you straddle his lap so he could stay sheathed inside of you. He stroked your back, still kissing your neck occasionally. You slumped against his broad chest, feeling spent, he let his head rest against the back of your couch. When he had finally caught his breath, he tipped his head back down, holding your face in his hands, and kissed you deeply. His tongue smoothed against yours, tasting your exhaustion. He moved your hair out of your face, and looked into your eyes.

You finally found your words, “I better not read about this.”

“If you think I’m not using this as research, I hate to disappoint you…” Jiraiya laughed heartily, holding you closer.

You kissed him again, laughing against his lips. You luxuriated in his touch, his warmth, and his kiss.

Sure enough, about nine months later when his most recent book was released you rushed to the local bookstore. You found there was a dedication at the beginning reading simply.

For Cherry, Page 73.

You quickly flipped to the listed page and found the beginning of a deliciously flowery sex scene, one where the protagonist picks up a waitress and spoils her the exact way Jiraiya had done to you.

You couldn’t hide the blushing smile. That bastard.

Okay y’all thanks so much for reading! I hope y’all enjoyed! I’m nasty feral for this big bad man.

[lucyandthepen]

love on the floor | njm

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

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

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

At least this job gets you free medical. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll see about that.” 

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

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

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

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

So, that becomes your master plan.

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

“Are you sure about this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t talk to them for you, sir.”

“Why not?”

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

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

“Something’s different.”

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

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

“Something like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I say something wrong?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to beg for my job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going, sir?” 

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

“Are you… coming back?”

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

“A little bit.”

“Ask a little more nicely, then.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tense. You said so yesterday, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, but…”

“But?”

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

“Thank you, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not anymore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I— I just—”

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

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

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

“Sir, I—”

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

“What else would I call you?”

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

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

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

“Sir, I work for you.” 

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

“To get you ready for work.”

“— walked into my bedroom—”

“Only whenever necessary—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t.” 

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

“I really wasn’t, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what that means, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s she doing it for, then?” 

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

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

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

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

“I never said it like that.” 

“You might as well have.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if you stop calling me that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s going to fire me?”

“I can think of one person.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir—”

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

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

“You’re not tense.” 

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

“No, I’m not.”

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

“What? Not tense?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Be mine, miss secretary.” 

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

His smile slowly mirrors yours as it grows. 

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

[stinmybubs]

"I want you."

AN: Hi hi! I haven't ever really posted on tumblr because I'm so obsessed with reading lol, but I just decided to say fuck it and write wtv I think of.

18+!! Please be advised there will be mature content! Minors I cannot control you but DNI if you do see this, thank you so much!

AFAB! Reader! x Bakugo Katsuki

Bakugo is a hothead, we all know this as a fact. Getting close to him wasn't that easy, you found him a bit annoying because of his constant yelling every time someone tried to be nice to him.

You never considered Bakugo Katsuki as your type, maybe Kirishima, Midoriya, a little bit of Denki, hell Mina sure was up your alley. But the way you saw the hot headed boy changed a bit overtime, it was his calmness. He never really got out of line unless provoked or wanted to show off a bit. Which you found awfully cute.

It was the little things. Noticing how he treated those he kept around him, just the cute ways he'd refuse to make eye contact with people especially when he was embarrassed.

Sooner or later you found yourself staring at him more often, noticing how beautiful he was, yeah beautiful...but also how awfully hot he was. His biceps, chest, arms, legs, everything was just so ugh. The way he looked in tank tops just made you drool.

AN: Okay okay I'm getting off track of actual head cannons I am so sorry its been so long.

B Katsuki He notices how you stare, and cant say he hates the attention you give him, of course he loves it. He revels in it.

B Katsuki You never noticed, but he always kept an eye on you. Not only was he too afraid to speak to you but he knew you didn't see him in a good way. I mean you made it pretty obvious from the beginning and by the way you used to look at him. He was never too good at properly talking to someone. Especially people he liked. So he started with small things, trying to be calmer even though everything everyone said was stupid. He just wanted you to like him, but he didn't know if you ever will.

B Katsuki When he noticed the staring, his heart skipped. It made him nervous and he never knew where to look. But now, its time to show off even more knowing you're watching. He tried looking over from time to time to see your reaction to what he was doing, did you like it? But one time he saw you looking everywhere but his face and the smirk on his face when he found out...his ego inflated so much that day.

B Katsuki The worst part of trying to drop hints at Bakugo was hot but frustrating, the way you'd purposely bend over in his line of sight, or the way you'd purposely unbutton your shit whenever it was "hot." But the fucker never even looked your way or said anything.

B Katsuki Oh he noticed, he noticed your little tease. And how he longed to touch you. But what pissed him off about you doing this was how the other boys could see this, especially on one particular day.

Class 1-A decided to collectively work out together, especially try to motivate the non-athletic classmates. Your workout clothes weren't that different from the rest of the girls, a tank top and some work out shorts. You and the girls were kind of slacking off until Bakugo came over yelling for you guys to stop fooling around and actually work out or in his words. " Leave ya' takin up space." And with that the giggling was over.

"Ugh..." You groaned, leaning against a wall to regain your energy. You quickly grabbed the small towel you had resting on the bar while you were attempting to bench press, wiping the icky sweat from your forehead and chest.

"Eugh, water...need.." This time you weren't even attempting to be a tease, you just wanted some fucking water. You bend over to check the time on your phone, lowering your head with a hand on the wall, resting your eyes with a sigh.

"Ugh...we've been here for only 30min." You sigh, lifting yourself back up and stretching your back. Not realizing the fuming Katsuki staring at you.

"Oi' fuckers I didn't say you can stop workin' out!"

Bakugo yelled, noticing a handful of guys staring at you. Denki, mineta, Kirishima, and Sero. Now he's pissed.

AN: Uhhh, this turned out to be wayyyy more than headcannons. Safe to say that this is going to have a pt.2! Yay my first 2 parter! I cannot write long stories so :3 Oh! I am recently getting back into writing so I am very sorry if the grammar is horrid and the story sucks it was off the top of my head as I wrote, no pre-plan, no nothin. I am very sorry! But thank you for reading. <3