#and it only escalated from there tbh

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Not to talk about Bayonetta again but remember when she use to dismember bosses

[mvth3r]

daryl doesn’t think he’s anything special. he never has. but to you? he’s everything.

or

5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor.

cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v, mention of injury, swearing, mostly fluff, 4283 words

a/n: this draft got the most votes in the poll, which was surprising tbh! next up medieval au, princess reader, forbidden romance?? hmmmm

one.

daryl hears you coming before he sees you. he knows it’s on purpose, so you don’t startle him (“and get an arrow in the tit or something, i don’t know!” you had explained, laughing). he’s long since taught you how to be quiet when walking over leaves and branches.

his eyes drifted in the direction of the noise, watching you melt out of the trees, water bottle in one hand and knife in the other. you had a bad habit of speeding through or ignoring your own duties in favor of tracking him out into the woods while he was hunting. the teasing looks from rick and carol when they saw the gates open in the evening, revealing the two of you instead of just him, were enough to have him blushing up to his ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop you. if anything, daryl found himself lingering closer to the prison when he was first setting out for the day and making his tracks a little easier for you to follow as he went on. he liked to think of it as a teaching moment, encouraging you to follow his lessons, but he knew what it really was.

he liked having you here with him, away from prying eyes and ears. daryl wasn’t big on pda, he’d never been, and you knew that, but you could be as affectionate as you wanted out here.

the smile that split you face when you saw daryl was blinding, creasing your eyes and cheeks, “hey, handsome.”

daryl felt his heart start to pound immediately in his chest and warmth radiate through his belly and down his limbs. he had the distant, bizarre thought that any walker for a few miles would probably be able to smell his blood as it rose rapidly to his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

he scoffed quietly to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling unbidden from his throat as you caught up to him, instead deadpanning, “handsome? really?”

you hummed, raising a hand to card through his long bangs, eyes tender when they met his, “mhm, very handsome. don’t i tell you every day?”

you leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, no longer than a moment. you hand drifted from his hair down to cup his jaw as you did, and daryl found himself leaning into your palm, his own hand coming up to grip your wrist loosely.

you pulled away with a smaller, more intimate smile, one that daryl had only ever seen directed at him. and, if you had felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt or seen the intensity of his flush, you didn’t say a word.

two.

daryl was distracted.

this council meeting was dragging on much longer than intended. what was initially supposed to be a quick conversation about planning a run to get supplies for judith and a few of the other kids had turned into a heated debate about possibly opening up the council to a few of the people from woodbury. he could understand why. there was still a stark divide between their group and the new people, but daryl had been content to sit back and let the situation mend itself, so long as it didn't escalate.

the discussion was split down the middle. or.. maybe there were more in favor of maintaining the current council? daryl couldn’t tell because he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t focus because every time he tried to lock in on the conversation, he could feel your fingers brush over his knuckles.

earlier, when the meeting started, you had sat yourself right next to daryl, reached under the table, and grabbed his hand where it was resting on his knee. no fanfare, no lovesick gazes, just your fingers intertwined with his calloused ones like they belonged there. which, he mused to himself, maybe they do.

and so there your hand had remained as the meeting went on. every so often, you would brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles, or give his fingers a squeeze if you happened to catch his eyes… which would lead to you chuckling quietly to yourself when his neutral expression would warm over with a blush.

the meeting had been going on for at least an hour. god.

“daryl, what do you think?”

glenn’s voice cut through daryl’s thoughts like a knife. he jerked a little, almost dislodging your hand when he looked across the table, meeting the expectant stares of the council.

“uhh,” he grunted eloquently, “‘bout bringin’ some of them folks on?”

hershel nodded expectantly, his voice thoughtful, “don’t you think we could afford their input? after all, this is their home now just as much as it is ours.”

your fingers brushed again over his knuckles and daryl willed himself not to lose focus. not to allow his mind to run on with thoughts about the softness of your fingers and how much he liked the feeling of your palm against his. how comfortable-

no.

daryl blinked and cleared his throat, “we don’ even have rick on the council right now, i’on think it’s a good idea.”

glenn nodded along with maggie and, reluctantly a moment later, hershel did too, though his mouth had settled into a thin frown.

daryl felt your hand squeeze his twice, taking it as a nonverbal ‘good job!’, and paused only a moment before squeezing back his own nonverbal ‘thank you’. he saw a small smile flit across your face out the corner of his eye.

before the debate could start up again, you were leaning forward and speaking up, saying, “alright, let’s table this for next time then. the run is already planned for the baby stuff, so—?”

hershel’s eyes swept across the table and he nodded, “meeting adjourned, i suppose.”

three.

the woods were clear as daryl looked out over the gate. he could see everything from the watchtower, as was intended, but for once the calm darkness was not a comfort.

instead, every moment that passed heightened the panic that had been swirling in his gut since earlier that evening.

it had been roughly fourteen hours since you had left on a run with glenn and maggie. there was a small gas station a little ways out that looked to be mostly untouched, and you had been pulled to fill in daryl’s usual slot since he was already slated to go hunting.

he was regretting it now, though, as he continued to watch the road leading up to the gate for any sign of maggie’s headlights.

while the general rule of thumb was to be back to the prison before dark, everyone knew that sometimes shit happens, whether it be walkers appearing at the worst possible time, or not being able to secure the haul. hell, shit happened more often than it didn't, as far as daryl was concerned.

maybe the haul had been much larger than the three of you had planned for, and you had to hide some of it away for a return trip.

maybe y'all had come across a herd large enough to block the car's path and had to find a way around it to get home without leading them back behind you.

maybe the gas station had been a bust all together and you’d gone further out in hopes of not returning empty handed.

the thoughts swimming through his mind sent daryl pacing across the small area of the watchtower. back and forth he went, eyes flashing over to the gate of the prison every few seconds.

“you’re gonna wear out your shoes like that.”

oh right. daryl isn’t even on watch, not officially at least. he’d joined carol a little after the sun went down and been up here ever since.

carol continues on despite his brooding silence, “they’re okay. something probably held them up, it happens.”

daryl turned to face carol, scrubbing a hand down his face. he opening his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of wheels crunching across gravel made him whip back around.

he barely registered that it was maggie’s car before he was yanking the floor hatch open and climbing down. rick, who’d been poking around the farm despite the late hour, unwilling to admit his own anxiety, was already pulling the gate open to let the car in.

daryl stopped further up the hill to meet you, and, as soon as you popped the lock on your door, he was tugging it open with one hand and reaching for you with the other.

you went willingly, a sheepish smile on your face as you let him turn you this way and that, checking for any injuries or bites, neither of which you had.

“sorry i’m late, handsome,” you whispered, “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

daryl grunted in response, resisting the urge to press himself against you and feel your heart beat against his skin. he understood that you were capable, and that you had lasted just as long in the apocalypse as he had, but he can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to this, or if he'll spend any moment you aren't within his reach on the edge of a panic attack.

by then, rick had made his way up the hill to the car and was helping unload their findings from the boot. all things considered, the three of you had brought back a pretty decent amount of stuff.

“everyone alright?” rick questioned, eyes skirting over the contents of the trunk to scan the three of you instead. "what held y'all up?"

maggie shook her head with a smile, “nothing like that. we found a good bit at that gas station, but there was a map of a small trailer park a little ways away, and we thought it was better to go for it while we were right down the road.”

“and we had the space anyway. didn’t make sense to waste a second trip, but it took a little longer to search than we thought,” you added. you had turned to face the group and, under the cover of the dark, you leaned back just slightly into daryl’s side.

carol, who had followed daryl down from the watchtower, hummed, and rick nodded thoughtfully. they both followed behind maggie and glenn, grabbing as much as they could carry from the car and heading up to deposit it for sorting tomorrow.

now alone, daryl took a moment to breathe you in, but he was moving soon as well, heading for the trunk to grab what was left.

he didn’t notice you coming up next to him until he felt your fingers slipping into his pocket.

“found something for you,” you said quietly, standing at his side.

daryl patted his pocket, feeling the dented box of what he assumed to be cigarettes and looked over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“i noticed you ran out the other day,” you answered his unasked question, a small smile lifting your cheeks, “combed through every trailer looking for ‘em.”

with that, you turned away from him and back to the trunk.

daryl stood speechless, his heart building up to that rapid thrum he only seemed to feel in your presence.

you had brought something back for him. had spent the daylight rummaging through dirty trailers on the off chance that you’d find a pack of cigarettes to replace his empty one that he himself hadn't even bothered to go searching to replace.

he wanted to think he didn’t understand why you would do something like this, why you would care, but he did. he’d done the same for you, time and time again on the road, if only to see you smile. he understood exactly why.

“‘preciate it,” he grunted, thankful that the darkness surrounding you kept his blush from being too obvious.

you hummed in acknowledgment, and daryl could your small smile growing out the corner of his eye.

four.

having sex in the prison was no easy feat, mostly due to the lack of privacy. a sheet could only provide so much, and even then it did nothing for the noise echoing constantly off the concrete walls.

as far as most were concerned, maggie and glenn had found the best spot early on, making the most unused watchtower their designated private retreat, but you and daryl knew otherwise.

deep in the tombs, which were no longer a threat as they had long since been cleared and sealed, there were a few tucked away offices that had sat empty even after the woodbury residents had been moved in. noise didn’t escape the tombs, and no one ever just wandered in, especially not in the middle of the night, so despite the cell that you and daryl shared, you both much preferred spending your more intimate moments here.

well, daryl did. you weren’t picky, and could be quiet when you really tried, but it made daryl more comfortable.

he’d like to think it was just because he was wary of any listening ears, especially with all the children roaming around, but he knew the truth of his resolve.

daryl had never been a selfish man, and certainly not after the world fell. everything he had, everything he was, he would give to his family in a heartbeat.

but this.. this was just for him.

your body arched beautifully under his, legs falling open to accommodate his weight settling against you. daryl’s hand left your heat, fingers dripping with wetness, to squeeze your hips, using them to guide you as your moved against him.

you were already bare, both of you having stripped each other of your clothes between heated kisses while you stumbled in the office. you hadn’t even made it to the double-stacked cot in the corner, daryl instead pushing you firmly down on the dusty desk and leaning in to mouth at your neck.

you moaned under him now, a breathy sigh of his name, and the sound sent a shiver down daryl’s spine.

“needy girl,” he grunted teasingly, reaching down to grasp his hardness. he dragged the head of his cock up your slit, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit.

your head knocked back against the desk and a loud groan burst out of your throat. your knees tried to close around daryl’s waist as if to keep him away, but you arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him closer to your body, and he leaned into you willingly.

your voice trembled when you spoke into his ear, want dripping from every syllable, “please, baby. need you inside me so bad.”

and god, daryl wanted to make you beg for it. he wanted to wait until he could see the desperation in your eyes and then wait some more, but he couldn’t. not when you looked so pretty spread out beneath him and your hands were petting over his shoulders and neck just how he liked. he almost thought you were doing it on purpose, but he knew better. this was just you.

you couldn’t stay off him when he was in you, always tugging at his hair or rubbing his chest, hands scrabbling for any skin you could reach. it used to send him reeling, flustered and blushing bright, but now he looked forward to it. he could feel the want in your touches like physical imprints of your affection.

daryl pushed into your slowly, groaning deep in his chest. your slick walls felt heavenly around him, but daryl was more focused on you right now.

soft whimpers fell from your lips as your hands drifted over his sweat slicked skin. daryl’s thrusts were slow but purposeful, and he ignored your legs squeezing around his waist, trying to urge him to speed up.

“relax, peach,” he soothed, hands drifting up and down your sides in pace with his thrusts, “i’ma take care of you.”

“kiss, please,” you whispered, voice floating past daryl’s ear. he would have missed it if you weren’t pressed together like this.

daryl would not describe himself as a selfish man. he might have had his moments in the past, but now, with the dead walking and a prison full of survivors to protect, it was virtually out of the question.

but as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, feeling your hands finally make their way up into his long strands, daryl thought that he might be a possessive man.

he’d sooner spread you out deep in the woods than have you where anyone could see you like this or hear the noises you make.

no, daryl thought, tongue sliding in your mouth to tangle with yours, this would always be just for him.

five.

daryl came into awareness slowly and then all at once. he startled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain made itself known in his abdomen. the pain clouded his senses, blooming out across his torso and down his limbs. he flops uselessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.

hearing bits of voices above him, daryl wills himself to focus. he’s hurt, obviously, and it’s pretty fucking bad, but he’ll have to suck it up and figure out a way home if he’s in bad company.

the voices start to filter in. the volume makes his temples throb in rhythm with his abdomen and his heart as the situation starts to force adrenaline through his body.

“—harder! put more pressure on it!”

daryl relaxes just a bit. that’s rick. frantic, angry, but rick all the same.

“what the fuck do you think i’m doing?!” the other voice, higher, snarls in response, “just drive the damn truck!”

and daryl feels his body try to relax all together. he would recognize your voice in his sleep, and this milky haze of pain is no different. he can feel your hands pressing a wad of something soft into his abdomen.

he can hear your panicked breaths and feel the way your fingers flex continuously against his skin. whatever’s wrong with him must be bad, and it definitely hurts like hell, but daryl takes comfort in the weight of your body against his. you won’t let anything happen to him if you can help it, you’d sworn that fiercely, and if you can’t help it then he doesn’t think anyone could have.

daryl can just barely make out the creaking of the gate being pulled open over the sound of rick laying on the horn.

as they pull in, the gravel of the path rocks the truck and daryl feels the ache in his abdomen bloom again, distracting him from his thoughts, but here, knowing he’s safe and back with his family, he allows himself to drift away.

—

this time, when daryl comes into awareness, the first thing he feels is fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently as if to untangle a couple of knots and snarls.

without even opening his eyes he knows it’s you. he can feel the heat of your body settled next to him and smell the soap you like to bathe with. daryl leans towards you, chasing the warmth of your hand against his skin.

the bandages on his stomach are wrapped tight, but it’s more annoying than anything and the pain has finally, thankfully, subsided to a dull ache. daryl stretches on the cot, trying to loosen him limbs from their inactivity, but what he focuses on is your fingers immediately pulling away.

“daryl?” your voice prods quietly, “you awake?”

he opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight that streams through the bars of the cell. the privacy sheet isn’t down, actually there’s no sheet at all, daryl notes as he looks out. he must be in one of the cells near hershel’s.

“‘m up,” he grumbles, a cough working its way out of his throat. before he can attempt to clear the dryness, you’re standing to grab a bottle of water off some boxes stacked nearby and pressing it into his hand.

your fingers linger against his wrist as you pull away, but you’re resuming your previous position anyway, in a chair brought right up to his bedside.

daryl hasn’t sat up yet, staring instead at you as one of your hands return to his hair and the other rubs down his arm.

a few quiet moments pass before you speak again, head bowed and voice a little choked, “we almost lost you. i almost lost you.”

“didn’t though,” daryl croaks. he feels your grip tighten on his arm and just knows. knows that you’ve been sitting right here every moment that you could since he went down. knows that you probably haven’t had your hands off him. knows you’ve spent the time, however long it’s been, agonizing over what went wrong and how to keep it from happening ever again. he knows.

“i didn’t,” you agree with a barely restrained sniffle. you refuse to allow the tears beading your waterline to fall, but daryl sees them all the same.

oddly, he feels that familiar warmth blossom in his chest. he hates to see you upset, but to see your love, your heart laid so bare for him? daryl thinks he can finally understand the depth of your affections.

plus one.

to anybody who knew what to look for, it was obvious that you and daryl were.. something.

you remembered when the woodbury residents had really began to settle in, how they began to whisper about ‘the hunter and his lady’.

it had confused you at first. the group knew, of course, nothing could be kept a secret from them for too long, but for strangers? it was odd, given that you weren’t very public with your affections.

regardless, with an entire prison to secure and almost triple the amount of people to provide for, it was nothing to think too hard about. there was always something that needed to be done or something bigger to think about. you couldn't afford to think about it now.

eventually, though, you ended up mentioning it to carol, and the older woman had laughed, a teasing edge to her smile as she considered you.

“i think it has less to do with you and more with him, if i’m being honest,” she said.

“more to do with.. daryl?” you said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow, “nah, no way.”

carol hummed, her smile turning knowing, “just watch. he’s more affectionate than he gives himself credit for.”

you’d left the conversation feeling like carol had no idea what she was talking about. later that evening, though, when you were sitting with the group for dinner and daryl was sliding a couple pieces of meat from his plate to yours despite your multiple protests, you understood.

your face must have been the textbook picture of a lightbulb going off because carol sent you a wink from across the table, lips twitching like she was hiding a laugh.

it wasn’t that the woodbury residents were over analyzing the very minimal physical affection that passed between you and daryl in a day, no. instead they were observing his quieter, more unconscious actions.

they saw the way that daryl always took care to come and find you before leaving for a run, even if it meant holding everyone up a little.

and how every so often they could find daryl sharpening a knife that was far too small for him to be wielding safely while you sat nearby, watching with a grateful smile.

and how whenever you were in the same room, you always had his eye. daryl had been adamant about keeping you within his sights while you were on the road, and the habit hadn’t left him just because you were behind walls now.

even now, months later, the newer additions to the prison were starting to catch on quicker and quicker.

they overheard daryl talking to glenn about taking your place on the run later today because you’d overdone it in the sun earlier and he wanted you to get some rest.

they saw you gush excitedly every time daryl brought you back any kind of gift, whether it be a pretty rock that he thought you’d like, or your favorite animal to cook into the stew.

they watched him watch the road every time you left for a run, regardless of who was with you, and also saw him come back to be the first to greet you when you returned if he could help it.

daryl was a quiet lover and a private man if you didn’t know what to look for, but if you did, you’d see that his affections ran just as deep as yours.

your thoughts brought a sleep smile to your face as you stretched out on the cot in your shared cell, waiting for daryl to shut off the lantern on your makeshift nightstand in the corner.

you could barely make him out in the dark, but the weight of him settling in next to you sent you right into his arms, your head pillowed on his chest while his arms came up to wrap around your back.

you tilted your head up to place a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw, mumbling a quiet, “love you.”

daryl’s arms tightened around you momentarily before loosening again. you felt him lean down to press a kiss to your hair in turn.

just over the steady thumping of his heart against your ear, you could hear him whisper back, “love you too.”

[whoops-all-jennas]

The Call

Vada Cavell x fem!reader

"Why'd you call me at 2 am?"

"I missed you."

Summary: You and Vada are currently at the flirting stage where things aren't defined, but there are definitely feelings. One night, Vada calls you and the relationship escalates.

a/n: this is by far my most intimate fic I wrote, probably the furthest I'll go tbh.

Word Count: 6288

Your soft snores fill your bedroom as your phone rings. You squirm in your bed, squinting at the bright screen on your phone to find Vada calling. You hesitantly answer the call, annoyed.

“Hi.” Vada smiles, laying in her bed.

You continue squinting at the screen. “Why’d you call me? It’s so late.” You groan, turning off your camera.

“I wanted to talk.” She huffs. “Turn your camera back on.”

You groan once again. “Ugh, fine.”

Vada softly chuckles while seeing your grumpy expression. She can tell you’re still sleepy and not in the mood to talk, but she still wanted to see you nonetheless. She laid on her side, holding her phone with both hands as she smiled warmly at you.

“What's up.” You say, your voice rough from just waking up.

“Nothing… I just missed you.” Vada mutters, looking you up and down on the screen.

You’re too tired to register her affection. “I was in the middle of this dream. We were at my house and, wait-” Your face flushes red, cutting off your own words.

“I shouldn’t say that.” You mutter, sheepishly.

Vada smirked, taking notice of the slight tint of color on your face. “Oooh, go on.” She teased, holding the phone closer to her face.

“What were we doing?” Vada giggled lightly, enjoying your flushed, tired expression.

You hid your face with your hands, the phone falling onto the mattress showing Vada your ceiling fan. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Vada can’t help but laugh while hearing you, watching you hide your face from embarrassment. She rolled onto her back and held her phone above her head. “Come on, tell me.”

Vada continued to jokingly nag at you, giggling. “I won’t laugh, I promise.”

“You promise? If you laugh I’m going back to bed.” You say, bluntly.

Vada sighed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Yes, I promise.

She assured you, trying her best to hide her smile. “Now, you gotta tell me what you were dreaming about.” Vada added, tilting her head to the side and waiting in anticipation.

You grab your phone again, the blush on your face deepening. “We might’ve been… kissing?”

Vada’s mouth parted a bit slightly at your comment, a small flutter of excitement rushing through her.

She tried containing herself, hiding the fact that she was also getting red in the face.

“Oh? Is that so?” Vada replied softly.

The blush on your face somehow deepens as you drive your face into your pillow. “That was so embarrassing, this was a trap wasn’t it? Get me while I’m sleepy to say something stupid.”

Vada let a light, soft laugh out. “Maybe.”

She smirked, amused by how easily flustered you were getting over the little story you revealed. Vada let her head rest on her pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“Although, I wonder why you were dreaming about that.” She continued, wanting to tease you and see how far she could go.

You reveal your face, your cheek resting on your pillow. “I don’t know, tell me a dream you were in control of.” I say, defensively.

Vada smirked at your question, thinking back into her memories for a bit. She stayed silent before eventually looking back at the screen.

“I don’t know if I should say.” She muttered, enjoying your defensive, flustered expression.

You adjust your seating, a glimmer of excitement in your eyes, “Oh? It’s only fair after what I just revealed.”

Vada chuckled lightly before letting out a small huff. “Okay, okay.” She muttered, before looking up at the ceiling while recalling the dream she had a while ago. “Well, in my dream, we weren’t just kissing.”

Your moment of confidence slips, your face finding that now familiar red hue.

“I uh-” You find myself coughing from embarrassment. “What were we doing then?”

Vada smirked when seeing you stumble over your words, satisfied with how flustered you were getting. She let out a small giggle, holding the phone closer again.

“You sure you want to know? You’re already a mess as it is.” Vada teased, knowing that you were getting even more red.

“You know what? I didn’t wanna know anyways.” You said, childishly.

Another chuckle escaped Vada’s lips, enjoying your stubborn behavior.

“Oh no no, you can’t back out like that.” She said, playfully. Moving slightly onto her side. “You asked, now deal with it.” Vada added, taking pleasure in watching you squirm.

You found yourself at a loss for words, not knowing how to respond as your heart rate accelerates.

A smirk continued to be present on Vada’s face as she watched your flustered expression grow. “Aww, you’re getting even redder now.” She teased, moving her free hand to the camera.

“Are you speechless now? Hmm?” Vada added, wanting to get you even more riled up.

“I uh-” You look away from your phone as if that’ll hide your embarrassment. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”

Another small laugh left Vada’s mouth, clearly enjoying your flustered state. She shook her head lightly, before a smirk appeared on her face once more.

“Y’know I’m just teasing you.” She assured, before looking at you over the phone.

“You’re cute like this.” Vada said, bluntly.

“I’m what!” Your phone falls back onto the mattress, shocked.

Vada let out an amused laugh, hearing your phone fall against the bed. She couldn’t help but grin, knowing that you were growing more and more flustered by the second.

“You heard me.” Vada said, turning onto her back now. “I said you’re cute like this.”

You grab your phone once again, the camera revealing your flustered face. You look to the side, avoiding eye contact. “Well, I think you're cute in general. So…”

Vada’s smirk grew into a soft smile, hearing your flustered words. She felt a small flutter in her chest, taken off guard. Vada wasn’t expecting that, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased. 

“Oh yeah? You think so?” She muttered, tilting her head slightly. Her own face growing a bit red.

You nod, a genuine smile creeping up onto your face. “You’re really pretty.”

Vada’s cheeks grew red as you complimented her, a flutter of butterflies rushing through her body. With a small laugh, she shook her head.

“Oh yeah? Pretty is the only thing you can think of for me?” Vada teased, trying to distract herself from all the feelings rushing within.

“That took all my confidence and that’s your response?” You say, teasingly. “I’m going back to bed.”

Vada suddenly felt panicked when seeing you end the call, and she immediately went to call you back.

“Don’t just leave like that.” Vada muttered, a small hint of desperation in her voice.

You find a smile creeping up onto your face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

It’s silent for a moment, your brain thinking about what Vada said earlier.

“I think you’re far more than just pretty, you’re beautiful. But yet, it’s your soul and personality that draw people to you first.”

Vada’s cheeks were now beet red, and her heart raced with every word you spoke. She stayed silent for a few seconds, not expecting such sweet words to suddenly come out of your mouth.

“You’re really that much of a sap?” She muttered, but she was clearly enjoying your words.

Your face flushes red after realizing your sudden intimate words. “I uh- forget I said that!”

Vada let out an amused laugh at your panicked expression, feeling her own fluttering heart slow down. She grinned, before replying with a teasing tone.

“You can’t just say all that then take it back.” She muttered, shaking her head while trying to control the redness on her cheeks.

You look at the ceiling in an attempt to hide your face before groaning. You turn back to your phone, admiring Vada’s face for a moment. “I- I did mean it.”

Vada smiled softly, seeing your flustered state once more. She loved teasing you, and adored the fact that you got this way so easily. However, hearing your last words made her heart skip a beat.

Vada tried to compose herself before replying. “You mean it, huh?” She muttered, biting her lower lip gently.

You nod, face still flushed red. “That is how I feel. You have a beautiful soul Vada, a soul full of empathy and passion.”

A small, warm feeling stirred within Vada as she continued to listen to your words of praise. She found it hard to look at you through the screen, her cheeks growing redder.

“You’re too much, you know what? You’re gonna kill me if you keep this up.” Vada muttered, attempting to compose herself through the redness on her face.

You found yourself looking away, building up some sort of confidence. “You can try to kill me then if you want. With words, not literally.” You say, smiling as you clarify.

Vada let out a light, amused chuckle at your words. She raised a brow, noticing the sudden boldness.

“Oh yeah? You’re feeling bold all of a sudden?” Vada teased, enjoying hearing the confidence in your voice. “And what would you have me say then?”

The familiar blush found your face again. “I don’t know, I just poured my heart out a little bit, maybe you can say how you see me. What you like about me.”

You find your blush deepen at your last words, “Not like-like! I mean- Ugh, nevermind you know what I mean.”

Vada couldn’t help but grin at your flustered expression. It was way too easy to get you all tangled up in a red mess. She rolled her eyes, biting down on her lower lip to hold back another laugh.

“Yeah, yeah I know what you mean, silly.” Vada said softly, her teasing tone slowly fading.

After a moment of silence, Vada felt a flutter of nervousness in her own heart.

“I-” She began, searching for the right words to say. “I don’t know how to put it into words.”

“Take your time, it's okay. Finding the right words can be difficult.” You say in an attempt to comfort Vada’s nervousness.

Vada smiled weakly, appreciating your attempt to comfort her. She took a deep breath, her eyes searching through the screen and onto your face. She had to compose herself, to stop the redness from spreading.

“It’s just, You’re really important to me.” She muttered softly, holding the phone closer to her face. “I’ve never felt this way before towards another person, not like this.”

You found yourself lost in her words, remembering every syllable. “How do you feel about me?” You say quietly, lost in Vada’s eyes through the screen.

Vada softly bit her lower lip, slightly hesitant to say the words out loud. But she took another deep breath, before murmuring the words. “I like you. I really like you…”

Vada felt her cheeks growing warm again, and her heart felt as if it was thumping out of her chest. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” She mumbled, eyes still remaining locked onto your face.

You open your mouth to speak, but you’re at a loss for words as your face blushes at Vada’s intimate confession. “Like, like-like me?”

Vada let out a light chuckle, finding your flustered words and blushing cheeks incredibly cute. She smiled weakly, shaking her head.

“Yes, like-like you. Is that so surprising?” She teased lightly, her own cheeks growing redder.

“I- I never realized” You say, unsure how to respond.

“I like you too.”

A genuine, warm smile spread across Vada’s face as she heard your words. Her heart skipped a beat, and a strong fluttering sensation filled her body.

“You do?” She responded quietly, a mix of disbelief and relief in her tone. She held the phone closer to her face, wanting to get a clear view of your expression.

A grin finds your face. “Vada, I just told you how we were making out in my dream. Was it not obvious?” You say, flustered.

“Yes I-” I find myself smiling as I say the next few words. “I like you.”

Vada’s face grew redder at the thought of what you just said. Hearing you explicitly say that you liked her in that way made her heart flutter even more.

“You’re an idiot.” She said with a soft laugh, shaking her head. “But a cute idiot.”

You hid your face into your pillow again as it flushed red. “You need to give me a warning or something before you say stuff like that.”

Vada let out a small laugh, unable to hold back her amusement at your flustered expression. She shook her head, before responding in a teasing manner. “Warning? Then where's the fun in that? I just want to see how red I can make you.”

You scream into your pillow, kicking your feet into the mattress. You pry your face off the pillow, face beet red. “That doesn’t help either.”

Vada laughed again, thoroughly enjoying the way you were acting. She watched you through the screen, amused by how easy it was to make you flustered.

“Awww… You’re too easy to mess with.” She teased, a smirk spreading across her face.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You say with an annoyed tone, your smile showing your true feelings.

After you take a moment to get comfortable, you can’t help but get lost in Vada’s deep brown eyes. “I want to see you in person.”

Vada smiled softly, feeling a small flutter of excitement in her chest at your request.

“Oh yeah? You want to see me in person?” She teased, biting her lower lip. “You miss me that badly?”

“Duh.” You say, teasingly. “No camera can do your face justice. I just want to appreciate you in person.”

Vada let out a small laugh, her cheeks growing red once more. She shook her head, before responding with a teasing tone. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“What? We’ve been out later than this before.” You say, grumpily.

Vada tried to hold back a laugh at your grumpy reaction, finding you little temper adorable. “Oh, is someone getting grumpy?” She teased, her lips still curled up into a smirk.

“You’re the one who woke me up, and you have the audacity to say that I miss you?” You say, teasingly. “I do, but that’s not the point.”

Vada let out a small laugh, shaking her head at your sassiness. Her heart felt warm, as she continued to banter with you.

“And you’re the one who asked to see me in person at 2 am.” She teased back, smiling.

You find yourself silent for a moment, admiring her smile. “I was being serious about hanging out by the way. Maybe you can spend the night at my place or something.”

Vada’s heart fluttered at the thought. She quickly nodded, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. “Of course! I’d- I’d really like that.”

“I’ll pick you up!” You say, practically jumping out of bed to put on your shoes.

Vada smiled with excitement at your eagerness, her heart racing with anticipation. She couldn't help but laugh, seeing how quickly you were getting ready.

“Wow, you’re really excited to see me, huh?” She teased, her own eagerness growing.

Your face flushes red off the camera as you tie your shoes. “You’re not allowed to tease me whenever I’m driving.”

Vada chuckled at your words, her eyes still fixed on the screen. She shook her head in amusement, before playfully responding. “Oh, no teasing while you’re driving?”

She pretended to pout, putting on an exaggerated sad face. “But I love teasing you.”

“I love not getting into a car accident.” You say, grabbing your phone as you leave the house.

Vada rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh at your reply. She knew you were right, but still found your reaction adorable. “Fine, fine. No teasing while you’re driving, I promise. Can’t have you getting distracted now, can we?”

You step into your car, twisting the keys in the ignition. “You get it.”

You put on your bluetooth, putting on the playlist you and Vada made together.

Vada smiled as she heard the music, her heart racing once more. She felt a sense of nostalgia and warmth, reminiscing on the memories you shared.

“I do get it. Can’t have you distracted by me when you’re supposed to be keeping your eyes on the road.” She replied playfully, her eyes still locked on the screen.

Time passes quickly as you drive to Vada’s house, luckily she doesn’t live far.

“I’m here!” You say, eagerly. “Make sure you have everything you need.”

Vada couldn’t help but laugh at your eagerness, finding it adorable. “I’m ready, don’t worry.” She responded, grabbing her bag and heading out the door. She stepped out of her house, closing the door behind her.

As she reached your car, Vada looked through the window, a playful grin on her face. “You got enough room for me in there, or should I sit on the roof?”

You look around the car jokingly. The car is practically empty with 3 available seats. “No room, sorry.” You say, teasingly.

Vada rolled her eyes, but a small laugh escaped her lips. She shook her head at your teasing. 

“Oh, very funny.” Vada says, taking the passenger seat.

You instantly find yourself lost in her beauty. She really does look better in person.

Vada noticed the way your eyes were fixed on her. The fluttering in her chest grew stronger as she buckled her seatbelt.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna take up all the armrest space.” She says, teasingly.

You put the car in drive, the car slowly rolling down the street. “Just save some space for me.”

Vada chuckled again, pretending to think. “Hmm, I suppose I can share.”

She scooted closer to you, leaning her body slightly to take up more of the on space on the console. She turned to you with a smirk, clearly teasing you once more. “But only a little bit.”

You find your face flushing red. She’s clearly ignoring the no teasing rule, but you don’t care. You enjoy her teasing too much. You slide your elbow onto the center console, moving it over until it’s touching Vada’s arm.

Vada’s heart skipped a beat as she felt your elbow touch her, the teasing smirk still present on her face.

As the car turned in the direction of your house, Vada’s gaze shifted out the window. She watched the street lights passing by, the night growing more cozy and intimate inside the car. The music from our combined playlist fills the car. You feel your heart rate accelerate just at the idea that this playlist is something you both share.

“If I get another red light I swear.” You say, as you stop in front of a red light, trying to calm your heart.

Vada noticed you feeling nervous, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re getting all worked up over a red light, huh?” She teased gently, trying to ease your anxiety.

As the light turned green, she reached over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there. And then you don’t have to worry about any more red lights.”

Your heart skips a beat at Vada’s touch, causing a shiver to go down your spine. Your face is beet red, contrasting the green light as we turn onto your street.

Vada couldn’t help but find your flustered reaction adorable. She kept her hand gently on yours, feeling the warmth and comfort of the moment.

You hesitantly pull your hand away, Vada’s touch lingering as you put the car in park in front of your house. “Is there anything specific you wanted to do? Maybe a movie you’ve been meaning to watch?”

“A movie sounds great.” She replied, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion.

Vada grabbed her bag, her heart still fluttering at the thought of your touch just moments ago. She followed you towards the house, a small smile on her face. As they stepped into your house, Vada looked around, taking in the familiar surroundings.

She shrugged off her jacket, hanging it near the doorway. “Anything you have in mind?”

You shake your head. “I picked last time, it’s your turn. I swear though if you pick another horror movie you’ll be the one paying for my therapy.”

Vada chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, come on, I don’t pick THAT many horror movies.”

She then pretended to think for a moment, before a smirk appeared on her face. “But if I did pick a horror movie…” She teased, intentionally leaving the sentence unfinished to mess with you.

You walk past Vada, leading the way to the empty and silent living room. “Then you’ll be the one consoling me afterwards.”

Vada chuckled, following you into the living room. She watched as you settled in, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Oh, yes, I’ll be your personal cuddle buddy while you recover from the horrors on the screen.” She teased, flopping onto the couch next to you. She shifted into a comfortable position, trying to figure out what movie to pick.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” You mutter to myself.

Vada smirked, hearing your muttered response. She leaned her against the back of the couch, studying the options on the TV.

“You really want me to hold you while you’re scared, hm? How adorable.” She teased, nudging you gently with her elbow.

Your face flushed red. “You heard that?” You watch as Vada scrolls through Netflix.

Vada couldn’t help but laugh at your embarrassed reaction. She gently poked your arm, amused by your flustered expression. “Of course I heard it, you’re sitting right beside me.”

She continued scrolling through the movie options, teasing you further. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

You slide down the couch, your upper back resting on the back of the seat as you hide behind your hands.

Vada couldn’t help but find your attempt at hiding adorable. She chuckled, her eyes still scanning the movie options. “Aww, are you trying to hide now? Hiding your embarrassment won’t work, you know.”

She glanced over at you, still hiding behind your hands and shook her head with a smirk. She scooted a little closer, her shoulder gently brushing against you. “C’mon, I want to see your face.”

“You’ll have to pry my hands off my face then.” You say, your voice muffled.

Vada’s smirk grew wider, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She leaned closer to you, gently grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away from your face.

As soon as she caught a glimpse of your flushed expression, she couldn’t help but laugh affectionately.

“Why are you so cute when you’re blushing?” She teased, her grip on your wrists still firm, keeping your hands away.

Your face somehow becomes a deeper shade of red as you fail to hide your face again, struggling against Vada’s grasp.

Vada’s heart fluttered as she saw the deepening redness on your face. “No, no, no. No more hiding. I want to see that adorable blushing face, so you better give up.”

She tightened her grip on your wrists. She scooted even closer to you, her body nearly pressed against yours. She was clearly amused, enjoying the little game they were playing.

Your body temperature rapidly increases as Vada’s body soon presses against yours, giving into defeat as you stop struggling. “You win.”

A victorious smile formed on Vada’s lips as you finally gave in. “I always win, remember?”

She loosened her grip on your wrists, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she continued to hold your hand, gently caressing it with her thumb. “Look at you, all red and flustered. It’s adorable.”

As your face holds the familiar red shade, you find yourself lost in Vada’s deep brown eyes. Your pupils dilating under her gaze.

Vada noticed how you became entranced, your gaze fixed on her eyes.

“You’re staring.” She pointed out, a hint of amusement in her tone.

She continued to hold your gaze, her own eyes searching your face for any sign of nervousness or discomfort. But all she found was a deep connection, her heart fluttering at the sight.

You glance at her lips for a moment before looking away embarrassed.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You say, stumbling over your words.

Vada couldn’t help but smirk when she noticed you glancing at her lips. “No need to apologize.” She said, her voice soft and teasing. She watched as you stumbled over your words, finding your nervousness endearing.

Without thinking, her thumb gently brushed over the back of your hand, making small circular motions as she continued to hold your gaze.

Your eyes instinctively find Vada’s gaze again, as if you have no control over it. Time feels like it's frozen as you find yourself lost in Vada’s eyes once again. You blush under her touch, every ounce of intimacy darkening the hue of your red face.

Vada noticed how you were drawn to her gaze, as if entranced. She saw the way your blushing face deepened with every small touch and gesture. It made her heart race, the intimacy between them growing stronger with each passing moment.

She smiled softly, her thumb still gently caressing your hand. Vada couldn’t help but find herself getting lost in the moment as well, the world around them fading into the background. All that mattered was you and her, caught in the intensity of their connection.

Your gaze shifts to her lips for a moment, your mind full of ideas that you’re too anxious to attempt. “I, uh- Can I-”

You found words impossible to find under Vada’s intimate presence, vulnerability in your eyes.

Vada noticed this shift, the way your gaze lingered on her lips for just a moment. She could sense the nervousness in your words, the vulnerability in your expression. Her heart raced at the implication of your unfinished sentence, her own desire growing stronger by the second.

Her grip on your hand tightened just slightly, her thumb still tracing small circles on your skin. Without breaking eye contact, she gently nodded, as if silently encouraging you to continue.

As if the last puzzle piece slid into place, words formed together.

“Can I kiss you?”

You ask quietly, your heart practically jumping out of your chest, hearing each beat get stronger the longer you stare into her intimate eyes.

Vada’s breath hitched as she heard the words leave your mouth. The vulnerability you showed, the way you asked, her heart melted in an instant. She could feel your nervousness mirrored in her own fluttering heart.

She let out a soft, shaky breath, her gaze still holding yours. A moment passed, and then she nodded once more, a warm smile spreading across her face. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes, you can.”

A shiver ran down Vada’s spine as your hand found its way to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. The moment your lips touched, her mind went blank, leaving only the sensation of you against her. She kissed back gently, her lips molding to yours as if they were made for each other.

She moved her hand to cup your face, her fingertips brushing your skin as the kiss deepened. Vada could feel your warm breath mixing with hers, and the taste of your chapstick on her lips only fueled her desire.

Vada’s heart raced as the kiss deepened, each movement of your lips sending waves of electric arousal through her body. She could feel the desire to be closer, to be engulfed in your presence. The feeling of your hands cupping her face, your body squirming against hers, ignited a fire within her.

Your hands slide down to her hips, sliding under her shirt to feel her bare skin as they rest on her waist. Your tongue gently passes your lips, the touch of it asking to deepen the intimate kiss even further.

A soft gasp escaped Vada’s lips as your hands found their way under her shirt, the contact of your fingers against her bare skin sending a rush of electricity through her body. The feel of your touch against her sensitive skin made her shiver, her desire to be close to you consuming her every thought.

As she felt your tongue gently passing through your lips, she eagerly responded to your silent request. Her tongue brushed against yours, the kiss deepening in intensity as she pulled herself even closer to you, the need to feel you against her body growing stronger.

Vada’s tongue claimed a dominant position, the sound of heavy breathing escaping our mouths as our bodies pressed against each other. Your hands roaming across her bare back only fueled her eagerness, the feeling of your touch causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

Her hands clutched your shoulders, her fingernails digging into your skin as she pulled you down on top of her. She wanted to feel the weight of you against her, to feel every inch of your body.

You gasp as Vada rolls you on top of her, our bodies on the edge of the couch almost falling off.

You didn’t care.

All you wanted was to be closer, your body yearning for hers.

She moaned softly at the contact, her arms wrapping around your neck, pulling you down to deepen the kiss. She wanted to feel your entire body against hers, every inch of her craving your touch, your presence, your everything.

Your knee slips off the couch, causing us to fall off. Your tongue slips out of her mouth, a trail of saliva breaking. Your back thuds against the carpet.

Vada came crashing down on top of you, her body landing on yours with a soft thud.

For a moment, you both laid there in a tangled mess, breaths heavy and chests rising and falling rapidly. Then Vada let out a soft laugh, her head buried in the crook of your neck.

She lifted her head, a cheeky smile on her face as she looked down at you. “Well, that certainly wasn’t in the plan.”

You find yourself unable to contain your laughter. “Are you okay?”

Vada’s laughter grew louder as she heard your giggles, her heart lighter in your presence. She shifted her body so she wasn’t completely pinning you to the floor, propping herself up on her forearms.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She managed to say between bouts of laughter. She looked down at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Are you? I hope I didn’t crush you too badly.”

You found the opportunity too perfect to not abuse. “I think you might’ve ruptured my spleen, and fractured 12 vertebrae.” You say, teasingly.

Vada couldn’t help but roll her eyes playfully, a smirk forming on her lips. “Oh, you’re such a drama queen.” She retorted, gently flicking your nose. Her body still lay partially on top of yours, comfortable and familiar.

“Trust me, you’ll survive. I bet your spine is made of steel or something.”

Vada’s playful expression quickly shifts as she hears the sound of footsteps descending the staircase.

She props herself up on her elbows, shifting slightly to make sure she’s off of you.

“Shit.” You mumble softly, your eyes focused on the door to the living room.

You found yourself scrambling to your feet, your breath still heavy and unstable as you find a seat back on the couch.

Vada follows suit, straightening herself up and making sure her hair isn’t a complete mess. She takes a seat next to you, her body still close, and subtly takes a moment to regain her composure.

Your heart races, knowing that whoever is coming down the stairs will be able to tell something has been going on.

Your mom walks into the living room, shocked to find Vada sitting next to you. “Oh! I didn’t know you were here Vada.”

Vada glances up as your mom appears in the doorway, her heart still pounding in her chest from the sudden interruption. She offers a small smile, trying to hide any hints of the intimate moment she had just shared with you.

“Hey, Mrs. Y/l/n.” Vada replies, sitting up straighter as if trying to appear more composed. “Just hanging out with Y/n, didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“It’s okay, you’re always welcome here.” Your mom looks at your beet red face, looking between us knowingly. “Don’t have too much fun.”

Your face flushes with embarrassment as your mom turns around to head back upstairs.

Vada watches as your mom leaves the room, a mixture of relief and embarrassment washing over her. She can’t help but notice the knowing look on her face, and the intense blush on your face isn’t helping her suspicions.

A smirk spreads across Vada’s face as she turns to look at you. “Your mom knows, she totally knows.”

“Gee, you think so?” You say sarcastically, reflecting Vada’s smirk.

Vada shakes her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh, I know so. She’s got that mom superpower, you know? It’s like they can smell when something’s up.”

She laughs softly, shifting closer to you on the couch. “Your face was a dead giveaway. You looked like a tomato.”

Your face deepens a shade of red. “You of all people should know I can’t control that.”

Vada chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She leans closer, her arm brushes against yours as she teases you further.

Yeah, I do know.” She admits with a smirk. “But it’s cute. I like that I can make your face turn red like that.”

She bumps her shoulder against yours playfully. “It's a good thing your mom is cool. I don’t think she’d appreciate catching us while making out though.”

You found yourself swallowing your saliva, the taste of her tongue still lingering. “We’re lucky it was my mom, my dad would’ve killed you.”

Vada rests her hand on your knee. “Well, it’s a good thing your mom has a soft spot for me then.”

She squeezes your knee gently, still smiling. “But yeah, your dad would probably freak out, huh? Gotta be more careful next time.”

Her last few words echo in your head. “So, there’s going to be a next time?” You ask, the feeling of her hand on your knee sends electricity rushing through your body.

Vada’s smirk only widens as she notices the effect her touch has on you. She gently squeezes your knee once more.

“Oh, definitely.” She replies, her voice low and teasing. “Why stop when things just started getting interesting?”

Your breath hitches as she leans closer, teasing me with her presence.

Vada relishes the reaction she elicits from you. She leans even closer, her body pressing against yours on the couch. She can feel the rapid beat of your heart in your chest.

“You’re getting all flustered again,” She whispers in your ear, her breath fanning across your skin. Her hand gently moves to rest on your thigh, just about your knee. “I love that I can affect you so easily.”

Your body temperature rapidly increases under her endless teasing. “We should probably calm down before my dad actually catches us.” You say, disappointedly.

Vada lets out a soft chuckle, amused by your attempt to regain composure. She withdraws her hand from your thigh, reluctantly putting some space between you two.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t push our luck.” She agrees, nodding. “Your dad would probably go into full parent mode if he found us like this.”

She leans back against the couch, her body still close, but no longer touching you.

The sensation of Vada’s hand lingers on your bare thigh, missing her touch. “Maybe we can actually watch a movie now.”

Vada can’t help but notice the way your eyes linger on the spot her hand was, a satisfied smile on her face.

“That sounds fun.” She says, disappointedly.

You notice her mood drop before looking at the clock. “Or maybe-” You cut yourself off as your face flushes. “We can go to bed, it’s getting pretty late.” The hue of your face deepens as you imagine sharing a bed with Vada.

Vada raises an eyebrow, noticing the hint of red on your cheeks. She leans in closer again, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“Whatcha getting nervous about?” She teases, her hand gently touching your arm.

Your blush only gets worse under her longing touch, you break eye contact before speaking. “Or we can watch a movie in my room, whatever works for you.”

Vada notes the way you shy away from eye contact, your cheeks flushed. She grins, loving how easily she can get to you.

“Oh, so you just want to go to your room now, huh?” She teases, gently nudging your shoulder. “I see how it is. You just want to get me alone in private.”

She laughs softly, her hand finding your thigh as she gives it a squeeze. “A movie in your room sounds good. Your bed is more comfortable anyways.”

You found yourself shivering under her touch, standing unnaturally fast after she squeezed.

“I uh!-” You stammer, blushing. “Let’s head to my room then.” You say, failing to act nonchalant.

Vada chuckles softly as she sees you stumble over your words, clearly flustered by her touch. She stands up gracefully, her eyes fixated on you with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Looks like someone’s getting a little worked up.” She teases, slowly following you up the stairs, her footsteps light and nimble as she tries to contain her excitement for the night ahead.

a/n: heyy guys!! this fic was kinda an experiment for writing stuff like this. feel free to lmk how you feel about it and if I should write more intimate fics like this :)

[formulaonecrumbs]

we’re meant to be just friends

Lando Norris x best friend!reader

summary: lando and reader have been best friends since birth (their mums have been best friends since year 10) and now they have to navigate having secret feelings for each other while still growing up.

warnings: angsty, weird ass ending, girlfriend and girl best friend type trope, both of them being dicks, not really a happy ending ? idk tbh.

A/N: HIIIII this is long but i got very passionate with it. i went thru a break up recently (not a terrible one, we hadn’t been dating for that long but still sad) i felt like writing about something sad to make myself feel something. it worked. i hope u cry to this THATS THE GOAL 🙏 but enjoy nonetheless. this is low-key cringe, cheesy and i don’t even think the fight is very reasonable 😭 it’s also very badly written, especially towards the end, i got very tired as i wrote it even tho i kept going 😭 i have chapters and chapters written on these before any of this even happened (like happy cutesy ones) so if u want those LEMME KNOOWWW i love yaaallllll ❤️❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

you texted him at exactly 12:00am.

happy birthday lando. sixteen looks good on you.

you stared at the message for a long time after sending it. he responded a few minutes later—something with hearts and too many exclamation points, asking when you were coming over, if you were still making him that dumb cake you promised.

you didn’t reply.

you turned your phone off.

because the night before, everything fell apart.

your mum crying in the kitchen. your dad packing a bag. voices raised and cold silence and the word divorce tossed out like it was just another sentence.

and now you were supposed to get up, put on something cute, and act like nothing had changed—because it was lando’s birthday. and if anyone deserved a good day, it was him.

so you did it.

you curled your hair. wore his favorite color. even smiled when you walked into his house with the stupid chocolate cake in your hands. you didn’t let your hands shake.

his whole family was there. some of his friends too. people he knew from karting, from school. everyone buzzing around, excited for him. and lando—he was glowing.

he pulled you into a hug the second he saw you. he held on a little too long.

you didn’t mind. in fact, you kind of wanted to stay there forever.

“you okay?” he whispered near your ear.

you pulled back fast, smiled bright, and nodded. “yeah. just tired.”

he didn’t believe you. but he didn’t push it either.

you sat through presents and cake and cisca’s terrible off-tune singing. you watched lando laugh and light up every room he entered. you even teased him for crying a little when his older brother gave him a new watch.

you didn’t cry once. not even when he sat beside you later and leaned his head against yours for a minute.

but then your parents showed up.

together. for once.

and that’s when it cracked.

your dad was late. your mum was snappy. one wrong comment turned into another. then it escalated. right there—at the door. in front of everyone.

“you said you’d be on time for once.”

“i wouldn’t be late if you didn’t change the plans without telling me.”

“oh right, because you’re so good at communicating—”

“don’t start, not here—”

you froze on the stairs, halfway down. every muscle in your body tense.

lando was near the kitchen, eyes locked on you. he looked scared. for you.

cisca stepped in fast, soft but firm. “sweetheart, why don’t you head upstairs for a bit?”

you didn’t argue. you couldn’t even speak. you just turned around and walked to lando’s room like it was instinct. like it was the only place you could breathe.

you sat on the edge of his bed, shoes still on, hands clenched in your lap. the quiet was suffocating. your ears were still ringing from their voices. from the memories.

lando walked in a few seconds later and closed the door behind him.

he didn’t say anything at first.

just sat beside you. close. not touching.

after a minute, he quietly said, “you should’ve told me.”

you stared at your hands. “i didn’t want to ruin your birthday.”

“you think this is better?”

you laughed, sharp and small. “i thought i could keep it together.”

“you have been keeping it together,” he said, turning toward you. “too well. that’s the problem.”

you looked at him finally. and god, the way he was looking at you—like you were breakable, like you were everything—it made your throat burn.

“i don’t know how to do this,” you whispered. “i don’t know how to pretend that everything’s fine anymore.”

“then don’t pretend with me.”

you blinked fast. your eyes burned. your chest hurt.

“i don’t want to cry on your birthday,” you said, voice cracking.

“then cry with me,” he said. “i don’t care if it’s my birthday. i care that you’re hurting and i didn’t know.”

you didn’t mean to—but the tears came anyway.

and when they did, he was already there. arms around you, pulling you in like he was afraid you’d disappear. his hand on your back, soft and steady. his chin resting on your shoulder.

you buried your face in his hoodie and let it all out. you sobbed until your throat ached. until your fingers curled into his shirt like you needed him to hold you together.

and he did. every second of it.

when you finally pulled back, red-eyed and exhausted, he reached up and brushed your hair away from your face. his thumb hovered near your cheek.

“you’re still my favorite person,” he said, so quietly you almost missed it.

your breath hitched.

“even when i’m a mess?” you whispered.

“especially then.”

and there it was again—that moment.

the air between you shifting. your eyes flicking to his lips. his hand still on your cheek. your heart pounding so loud it hurt.

but neither of you moved.

not this time.

just a look. a feeling. a thousand unspoken things resting in the space between your faces.

and then—

he smiled.

not the usual cheeky grin. a soft, knowing one. like he’d wait as long as it took.

“come here,” he said, tugging you gently back into his chest.

you curled into him like it was second nature.

because it was.

and maybe you didn’t kiss him.

but god, it felt like everything still changed anyway.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

he missed her thing.

he didn’t mean to, but he did.

he’d been racing that weekend—some big european karting event his team wouldn’t let him skip. the timing was awful, but he told her he’d be back. swore he’d make it for her art showcase. even booked an early flight.

but delays happened. schedules changed. his phone died halfway through the day. and by the time he made it to her school, the lights were off. the gym was empty.

her project—some massive sculpture thing she’d been working on for weeks—was still standing in the corner.

he stared at it for a long time.

he didn’t know a lot about art, but he knew it mattered to her. and she’d asked him—just this once—to show up.

he went to her house straight after.

her mum let him in, gave him this soft, tight-lipped smile like she already knew how this was gonna go.

she was in her room, headphones in, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her sketchbook open. her eyes flicked up when he walked in, and something behind them just… shut off.

“hey,” he said, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

she didn’t answer. didn’t even pause her music.

“i’m sorry,” he said, stepping closer. “my flight got delayed, and then i—“

“save it,” she said flatly, pulling out one earbud.

he blinked. “wait, what?”

she closed her sketchbook with a sharp snap. “i don’t want to hear the excuses.”

“it’s not an excuse. i tried to get here. i wanted to be there—”

“but you weren’t.”

his chest tightened. “it wasn’t my fault.”

“it never is,” she snapped, standing up now. “you’re always off racing somewhere, always too busy, too far, and i’m just supposed to be okay with it.”

“that’s not fair—”

“isn’t it?” she cut in, voice rising. “you missed something that actually mattered to me.”

he stepped back like she’d slapped him. “i know. and i’m sorry. but it’s not like i was off partying—i was working.”

“yeah, and i’m tired of always being second place to your ‘work.’”

that one hit hard.

he opened his mouth to argue. to explain. to fix it.

but instead, something snapped.

“you think this is easy for me?” he said, louder than he meant to. “you think i like missing things? i hate it, alright? i hate missing you. but this is my life. this is what i’ve worked for.”

“and what about me, lando?” her voice cracked. “am i just supposed to sit here and wait for you to show up when it’s convenient for you?”

“you know that’s not how it is.”

“do i?” she asked, quieter now. “because lately it’s starting to feel like i’m just… here. like i’m just background noise to your main story.”

he flinched.

the silence stretched.

she turned away, crossing her arms like she was trying to hold herself together. “you used to be my person.”

“i still am,” he said, softer. “you’re still mine.”

“then act like it.”

his throat felt tight. “i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“i wanted you to be there.”

and there it was. simple. devastating.

“i know,” he said, barely a whisper.

she didn’t look at him.

and for the first time in their lives, he didn’t know how to fix it.

he left not long after.

she didn’t stop him.

he sat in his car in her driveway for a long time, forehead pressed to the steering wheel, trying not to cry.

and that scared him.

because fights were supposed to be temporary. but this—this felt like it might actually change something between them.

and he wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the thing about drifting apart is that it doesn’t always feel like a storm. sometimes it’s just a slow unraveling. a little less texting. a few more missed calls. “sorry, i’ve been busy” and “maybe next week” and “i’ll let you know.”

after the fight, things weren’t the same.

you still talked, sure. still saw each other at school, at home when your mums made you. you even laughed a few times, shared inside jokes that hadn’t died yet. but the closeness—the everythingness of him—faded.

and you didn’t know how to get it back.

you were busy too. school, college applications, helping your mum through the new house paperwork. lando had racing, constant travel, interviews, training. life kept happening.

but still, sometimes at night, you’d catch yourself staring at your phone, wondering if he was thinking about you too.

it happened on a tuesday.

you were sitting in your usual spot at lunch, half-listening to the girls next to you talk about a physics quiz, when he walked in.

you looked up automatically. you always did.

he was with someone.

she was pretty. like, really pretty.

long dark hair, soft features, that kind of quiet confidence people didn’t need to announce. she wore his jacket—his—and she was laughing at something he said, like it was the funniest thing in the world.

he looked relaxed. light. like he didn’t have the weight of the last few months still sitting in his chest.

like he hadn’t even noticed the space between you anymore.

you looked away before he could see your face.

her name was sienna.

apparently they’d met at a karting event in italy. she was someone’s niece or cousin or whatever—lando hadn’t really explained much, just said she was cool, and funny, and they’d hit it off.

he started bringing her around more often.

you’d come over for dinner and she’d already be there. feet up on his couch. curled up with his dog. flipping through channels like she belonged there.

you told yourself it was fine.

you smiled when she hugged you. laughed when she made a joke. complimented her perfume, her nails, her hair. you were everything you were supposed to be.

and it felt like hell.

one night, you were at his house. a group hangout, supposedly. except it was mostly sienna, lando, and background noise.

you sat on the floor, pretending to scroll through your phone, while she talked about some race he had coming up. he watched her talk like she hung the stars.

your stomach twisted.

you got up, said you had to pee, and slipped away.

you ended up in his old room. the one that still had your hoodie in his drawer, your handwriting on sticky notes, your pillow tucked in beside his.

you sat on the edge of his bed, heart too loud, throat too tight.

you didn’t cry. not yet. but you were close.

“hey.”

his voice came from the doorway.

you didn’t turn.

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you lied.

he walked in, shut the door behind him. the soft click of it sounded too final.

“you’ve been quiet all night,” he said gently.

you shrugged. “guess i’m just tired.”

“you sure?”

you looked up at him. he was watching you with that face—the one he used to make when he knew something was wrong, back before he pretended he didn’t.

“you like her?” you asked, before you could stop yourself.

he blinked. “what?”

“sienna,” you said. “you like her?”

he rubbed the back of his neck. “yeah. i do.”

you nodded. it felt like someone had punched a hole in your chest.

he sat beside you, close but not touching.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked quietly.

“i dunno,” he said. “guess i thought you wouldn’t care.”

you turned to him. “why would you think that?”

“i don’t know,” he said again, voice smaller. “you’ve been… distant.”

“so have you.”

he looked down at his hands. “i didn’t mean to be.”

“neither did i.”

the silence between you stretched, long and heavy.

you stared at the space between your knees. “it just feels like you’re disappearing from my life one piece at a time.”

he flinched. “i’m not trying to.”

“but you are.”

and he didn’t deny it.

you didn’t cry until after he left the room.

that night, you stayed up staring at the ceiling, wondering when exactly it had changed—when he stopped being yours, even in the way that didn’t need words.

and the worst part wasn’t that he liked someone else.

it was that he didn’t even see that you were still right there, waiting for him to notice.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it’s been weeks now.

lando’s been busy. sienna’s been around. and you—well, you’ve just been… existing. you’ve kept up the act. the one where everything’s fine. where things between you and lando haven’t changed, even though they’ve completely changed.

the worst part is, it’s not like you even meant for it to happen. you didn’t set out to drift. it just sort of happened. one conversation at a time, one unanswered text at a time. it’s like you’ve been shrinking into yourself.

and the worst part is you’re not sure if lando even notices.

but you notice.

you notice when you don’t hear from him for days. when he’s always with sienna, his laugh easy and carefree. when you’re left standing on the sidelines, wondering if you’re still his best friend or if that title’s been handed to someone else.

you don’t say anything about it. of course, you don’t.

not when you’re still figuring it out, not when you still don’t know what’s worse: the way you feel about him or the way things are between you two now.

it happens one afternoon, when you’re sitting on his bed, trying to make conversation that feels like nothing—about school, about college, about races. anything to fill the gap between you. but it’s too late for small talk.

“i saw you with sienna last night,” you say quietly, looking at the way your fingers play with the edge of your sleeve.

lando’s sitting on the floor, leaning against his dresser. his brow furrows. “yeah? we were out for dinner.” he pauses. “it was fun.”

you nod. “i can see that.”

the words come out before you can stop them, too sharp to take back.

he looks at you, confusion in his eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you shrug, but it doesn’t feel like a shrug. it feels like everything you’ve been holding inside for so long, but not enough to let it spill over yet. “i don’t know. just feels like you don’t really need me anymore.”

lando goes quiet. he glances down at his hands before looking up at you again. there’s something raw in his eyes. something that makes your heart skip.

“you’re still my best friend,” he says, but there’s this uncertainty in his voice that catches you off guard. “just… you’ve been distant, too.”

“i haven’t been distant,” you snap, before you can catch yourself. “i’ve been right here. but you’ve got your new girlfriend now, and everything’s different, lando. i don’t know where i fit in anymore.”

he winces. and that’s all it takes for the dam to break.

“i don’t fit in anymore,” you continue, voice shaking. “and that’s fine. i get it. i just wish i didn’t feel like i was losing you. like you don’t even care that i’m still here.”

there’s this long pause, one that stretches so thin you’re scared it’ll snap. and then, lando finally speaks.

“i do care,” he says, his voice low. “but i don’t know how to make it right. i feel like i’m constantly messing things up.”

he runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for the first time in ages.

“i don’t know what i’m doing, either,” you say, more quietly now. “it’s just… we’re not the same anymore, lando. we’re different.”

he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the hurt in his eyes. you don’t want to be the reason he looks like that, but you can’t help it.

“maybe we need some time apart,” you say softly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, like they don’t even belong to you. but you say them anyway.

lando doesn’t answer right away. instead, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. and then, his voice cracks.

“do you really want that?”

it’s the way he says it that breaks something inside of you. like he’s already afraid of the answer.

you look away, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “i think we need it.”

the silence between you two is deafening, but it feels necessary. like it’s a breath that’s been held too long.

finally, lando speaks again. “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t lose me,” you whisper, but even you don’t believe it.

he gets up from the floor slowly and sits next to you, but not too close. the distance feels wrong. you’ve never been this far apart before.

“i’m sorry,” he says after a long pause. “i didn’t mean for things to get like this.”

“me neither.”

you don’t know what else to say after that. nothing feels like it’ll fix it. nothing feels like enough.

so, you just sit there, in the quiet.

maybe you just need to be apart for a while. maybe this time will give you both the space you need. maybe it won’t.

but for now, it’s all you’ve got.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it’s been five months.

five months since you last heard from him. five months since you decided to give each other space. at first, it felt like a break—a necessary one. but now, five months in, it just feels like a silence that stretches farther than you ever imagined it would.

you tell yourself that you’re okay. that it’s fine. that you’re not missing him—because that’s a lie, right?

but you do.

you miss the way he used to laugh at the stupidest things. the way he’d always come up with excuses to hang out even if it was just for a few minutes. you miss the way you’d talk about everything and nothing at the same time. the easy connection you used to share.

instead, it’s just… nothing.

his name doesn’t pop up in your texts anymore. you’re not invited to his races, not even as a friend. sienna’s always there. and maybe, just maybe, that’s what hurts the most: the feeling of being replaced, the sense that you’re not needed in his world anymore.

the worst part is, it’s not even his fault. it’s yours. you asked for the distance. you don’t want to blame him for any of it, but you still do.

you’ve been busy, too. school, friends, other things that keep you distracted. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

but in the quiet moments, when your thoughts wander, it’s like you can feel his absence in the pit of your stomach.

there’s a part of you that wants to text him. to break the silence. but you can’t bring yourself to do it. not after all this time. it’s like you’ve let the distance build a wall between you that you can’t tear down. and every time you think about reaching out, you wonder if he’s even thought about you at all.

one evening, as you sit alone in your room, your phone buzzes. it’s a message from your dad. you quickly check it, hoping for something normal, something to distract you from the thoughts that keep swirling.

but it’s nothing.

and in that nothingness, you feel it again. the void. the space that’s taken over every corner of your life, every place lando used to fill.

you push your phone aside, and the tears come anyway.

it’s stupid. it’s so stupid. he’s just… not part of your life anymore. and you shouldn’t care as much as you do. but you do. you care more than you’ve let yourself admit.

and then, there’s a knock at the door.

you wipe your eyes quickly, assuming it’s your mom. but when you open it, there’s no one there. instead, there’s just a single envelope on the floor, the handwriting on the front unmistakable.

lando.

you stand there for a moment, unsure whether to pick it up or leave it there. but your hand moves before your mind catches up. you pick up the envelope, heart pounding in your chest as you pull out the letter.

it’s short.

hey, it’s been a while. i hope you’re doing okay. i’m sorry. i never meant for any of this to happen. i miss you. - lando.

it’s simple. it’s too simple. and yet, it feels like the most important thing anyone’s ever said to you.

you read it again. and again. and for a moment, you let the tears fall without trying to stop them. because in the silence of the last five months, this is all you needed: an acknowledgment that he still thinks about you.

but you don’t know how to respond.

you want to. god, you want to. but it feels like it’s too late now. like five months of nothing is too much to fix.

still, you take a deep breath, grab your phone, and start typing a message.

hey, i miss you, too. i’m sorry, too.

you stop, staring at the message for a long moment. and then, you delete it.

maybe this isn’t the time to break the silence. maybe it’s not even time to start speaking again.

but for the first time in five months, you don’t feel so alone.

THE END :>

[dark-konohagakure2]

wow I found ur account I thought you were gone forever 🥺 but anyways my request is kankuro x little sis reader just general nsfw headcanons tbh

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, teasing, bullying, possessiveness, noncon kissing, groping

All characters depicted are 18+

Kankuro isn't the best older brother out there, he definitely loves his siblings, but he isn't the best at showing it. He's nice to Gaara and has a tendency to fret over his brother from time to time, but he is nowhere near as nice to his younger sister.

Kankuro likes to tease and play jokes on people, especially girls, and his younger sister is the perfect target since Temari would give him a thrashing if he even thought of pranking his elder sister. He'll intentionally scare his poor little sister with his puppets, he'll also trip her when she's walking around the house and act innocent when she starts crying, the sight of which makes Kankuro feel an unfamiliar heat in his groin.

He'll escalate his 'teasing' after a while, he'll start doing more overtly inappropriate things such as groping her and forcing her to sit in his lap or sleep in the same bed as him. If she ever threatens to tell their siblings he'll either threaten her not to or just give her a smack, it depends on the day.

He isn't trying to be mean to her, but its not his fault that she's so uncooperative. She never agrees to help him with his girl troubles, like learning how to kiss or touch them, so he'll have to force his stubborn little sister to help him practice.

"Stop squirming you brat!! I need practice and big sis would kill me if I tried this with her! So be a good little sister and help me out for once!"

Kankuro is a bad kisser, bordering on horrendous. He practically chokes her out with his tongue as he shoves it down her throat, and his teeth will bump against hers roughly. Whether intentionally or not, he'll pull her hair when he trys to run his fingers through it, roughly enough to make her cry even more than she was before.

Despite his bullying, Kankuro really does love his little sister, and he'll show this love by being quite clingy with her, always making her hold his hand whenever they go wrong the village together, he also does this so that no other men go near her, since no one in Sunagakure with a brain would even think of bothering the Sand Siblings.

Sometimes when Gaara and Temari are out of the house for Kazekage duties and important missions respectively, Kankuro will go to his sister's room and take advantage of her, sometimes he'll just forcibly cuddle and grope her, and other times he'll pin her down and have his way with her.

When Kankuro does fuck her, he doesn't ever last very long, he's a sensitive man due to his lack of experience, so he'll cum inside of her right away, to which he'll get very embarrassed, but his embarrassment quickly turns into anger at her for supposedly forcing him to cum prematurely.

"Fuck..! S-Sorry..! I didn't mean to cum so fast..! But it's your fault anyway! You were being cute on purpose, weren't you?!"

He might be mean to his baby sister just for fun, but Kankuro really does love her a whole lot, not only is she his most favorite sibling, but she's his absolute favorite toy to play with.

[jenosbliss]

Pleaseeee can I request either Jaemin or Johnny and a female reader hurt-comfort using 11,19,25 ? And for a dash of random razzle-dazzle, could it be 7th year Hogwarts au? :D

pairing. fem! ravenclaw reader x slytherin jaemin | genre. fluff, enemies to lovers | wc. 1.2k | warnings. mentions of bullying and reader injures her leg

a/n:: tbh jaemin is such a perfect slytherin! and also ppl need to ship ravenclaws and slyrherin more

The library was supposed to be your sanctuary. Quiet, orderly, and far from the petty rivalries that filled Hogwarts’ halls. But today, it had failed you.

You sat at a corner table, your face burning as you stared at the Potions essay that had been unceremoniously ruined by a flick of Ming Zheng’s wand. He was a smug Slytherin who had made it his personal mission to torment you this year just for his petty amusement.

Zheng’s voice echoed in your ears as you stared at the ink-stained parchment in front of you.

“I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart,” he’d sneered, his entourage laughing as the ink spread like wildfire across your essay. “Guess even your brains couldn’t make up for that handwriting.”

Zheng Yi wasn’t like Jaemin Na, your archnemesis. Jaemin teased you, pushed your buttons, and made your blood boil in ways you secretly enjoyed. But Zheng Yi? He was cruel. Sharp. His insults weren’t playful—they were designed to cut deep.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have a backbone. You’d always stood up to Jaemin, giving back as much as you got. But with Zheng Yi, it was different. Any attempt to fight back would only escalate things, and you couldn’t risk drawing more attention to yourself.

So you avoided him. Kept your head down, swallowed your pride, and let him think he’d won. You hated it—hated him—but you hated the thought of drawing more trouble even more.

The laughter still echoed in your ears as you fought back tears. Zheng had walked off with his entourage before you could muster a response, leaving you feeling small and humiliated. You’d tried to rewrite the essay, but your hands were trembling too much to hold the quill properly.

“Pathetic,” you muttered under your breath, blinking back frustrated tears.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for a pity party?” You froze, the low, teasing voice unmistakable.

Looking up, you saw Jaemin leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his emerald-and-silver tie loosened, his smirk firmly in place.

“Go away, Na,” you snapped, though your voice wavered. “I’m not in the mood.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but didn’t leave. Instead, he walked over and pulled out the chair across from you, sitting down like he belonged there.

“I saw what happened,” he said, gesturing to your ruined essay. “Zheng’s a git.”

“Since when do you care?” you asked sharply, glaring at him. “I thought you lot stuck together.”

“Maybe I don’t like seeing people like him thinking they’re untouchable. Or maybe…” His voice softened, surprising you. “I just don’t like seeing you like this.”

The sincerity in his tone disarmed you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“None of that matters now,” Jaemin said, pulling out his wand. Before you could protest, he muttered a quick spell, and the ink stains on your parchment disappeared as if they’d never been there.

“You’re helping me?” you asked, incredulous.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t read too much into it, Ravenclaw. I just hate sloppy work. That essay looked half-decent before Zheng wrecked it.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, smirking again. “Literally. Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.” He was nothing like Zheng.

A few days later, you found yourself facing Zheng in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The moment Professor McAllister paired you with him, your stomach sank. Dueling wasn’t your strong suit, and Zheng knew it. The smirk he gave you before raising his wand made your blood run cold.

At first, you managed to hold your own, dodging his hexes and firing back with as much precision as you could muster. But Zheng was relentless, his attacks growing more aggressive with each passing second.

When his final hex hit, it sent your wand flying out of your hand and you sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through your leg as the impact knocked the wind out of you. The class erupted in murmurs and cheers, but all you could hear was Zheng’s voice.

“Better luck next time, bookworm,” he sneered, stepping closer as if to gloat over your defeat. Before you could respond, another voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.

“That’s enough.” All eyes turned to Jaemin, who stepped forward with a glare that could have frozen the entire classroom.

Zheng smirked, crossing his arms. “What’s it to you, Na?”

“Why don’t you try competing with her in Transfiguration or Charms? Afraid your stupid ass won’t survive?” Jaemin said, his voice low and cold. He walked past Zheng without another glance, kneeling beside you.

“Can you walk?” he asked gently, his hand already reaching for yours. “I-I think so,” you stammered, though the sharp pain in your leg made you doubt it.

Jaemin frowned, slipping an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up. “We’re not taking any chances.”

“Jaemin, I—”

“Do you trust me?” he interrupted, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

Without another word, Jaemin helped you to the hospital wing, his arm steady around you as he shielded you from the prying eyes of your classmates.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey healed your leg quickly, though she insisted you stay seated for a while, but Jaemin stayed by your side long after the matron left to tend to other students.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, breaking the silence.

Jaemin leaned against the wall, his smirk returning. “Maybe I felt bad for you. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to miss class.”

“Sure,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“True,” he said, stepping closer. His smirk softened as his eyes met yours, something unspoken passing between you. “But Zheng’s an idiot and you don’t deserve to deal with him. You’re better than him. Smarter, stronger—and definitely more fun to mess with.”

A laugh escaped you despite the lingering embarrassment. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime,” Jaemin said, sitting down next to you. His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. The gesture was so gentle, so unlike him, that it left you momentarily speechless.

“You’re supposed to be my enemy,” you teased, though your voice was barely above a whisper. Jaemin smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Guess I’m breaking the rules.” Your cheeks burned, but this time, you didn’t mind.

“Next time Zheng tries anything,” Jaemin added, his tone serious, “tell me. I’ll handle it.” You gave a small laugh, squeezing his hand. “You already did.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek now. “Good. But just in case, stick close to me, Ravenclaw. I don’t mind breaking the rules for you.”

As he pulled away, you stared at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Thanks,” you murmured again, squeezing his hand. “Don’t get used to it,” he said with a smirk, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed his words.

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, your nemesis wasn't your nemesis anymore.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 followers event 🌷

navigation.

[sayruq]

There has been major developments in the region in the past few days that indicates regional war is imminent. Again the tweets and articles will be in chronological order.

American war ships are in the Mediterranean and Red Seas. Russia responded to that by sending planes to the Black Sea and China by sending warships to Kuwait.

We got our usual back and forth on the ground operation in Gaza

The American media is not really reporting these recent attacks on their military bases. In fact, the military is downplaying the strength of the responses by Yemeni and Syrian groups to the Gaza genocide. This is either because they want to avoid regional war or because they want to be better prepared for regional war.

This statement below seems to indicate that Iran is coming to the conclusion that open warfare is the only thing that will deter America and Israel

As for Yemen, they've declared Israeli ships will be targeted if the attack on Gaza continues (you'll see later that this is no empty threat)

By the way, Israel bombed an Egyptian military site along the border and claimed it was an accident. The Egyptian people have been calling for their government to intervene militarily and I don't think this will ease the pressure.

On the 22nd, Israel sent a small team to infiltrate Gaza. They didn't get very far

They're also struggling against Hezbollah

This meeting by the Russian foreign minister is a big deal as you'll see later

America responds to the escalating tension by deploying 'defensive systems' all over West Asia. It risks stretching itself too thin as multiple countries are already involved in the Palestian resistance with countries like Egypt and Jordan facing internal pressure to do something about the Gazan genocide

Republican Mitch McConnell has recently called Iran, Russia and China 'the new axis of evil'. It seems this is the new angle that the West has chosen because Rishi Sunak has also been comparing Hamas to Russia. This can only lead to Russia getting close to Iran which would ultimately help Hamas.

The situation in Iraq continues to deteriorate as America evacuates its embassy and warns its citizens not to use the Baghdad International Airport due to attacks by Iraqi military groups.

Here we have an Israeli commander admitting that Israel is largely on the defensive against Hezbollah and their soldiers are both traumatised and disheartened. Remember, Hezbollah has yet to officially enter the war

Blinken said that the US 'will be prepared' if Iran escalates its attacks which gives weight to that idea that the US is only trying to deescalate because its not ready yet.

A few hours ago, American bases in Syria were targeted. It's becoming clear that a major goal in the plan to defeat Israel is removing America from the picture in the region

The White House then blames Iran for the attack

More military bases targeted in Iraq

Meanwhile IDF is trying to infiltrate Gaza again. Reminder that a ground operation means that Hezbollah will officially enter the war and begun using its vast numbers of missiles and rockets. They're also attacking the West Bank, the resistance fighters have ambushed them

Yemen follows through on the threats it made by attacking a US warship with drones

Ansarullah claims there was a direct hit but the US Navy says that all drones were intercepted (using days old pictures).

So what now? First, do not expect a ceasefire. Tbh the Palestinian resistance hasn't even called for ceasefire, just an exchange of hostages.

Second of all, America itself does not believe that Israel can win this war so let's all stop acting like Palestine has already lost

Thirdly, regional war is looking more and more like reality

[tyonfs]

stargirl interlude

PAIRING ▸ na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, influencer au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, mc and her friends are a little shallow, tbh i wrote this because of jaemin’s tits, dirty talk, sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), kitchen sex, oral (m. receiving), oral (f. receiving), lowkey dumbification, body worship, ft. one night stand with jeno 

SUMMARY ▸ and i shouldn't cry, but I love it, starboy / i just wanna see you shine 'cause i know you are a stargirl

PLAYLIST ▸ stargirl interlude by the weeknd, lana del rey • alien superstar by beyoncé

WORD COUNT ▸ 5.9k words

TAG LIST ▸ @leeknowsredeyeliner​ @geniejunn​ @sehunniepot​ @jjaeyoonoh​ @subhyuck​ @jenoluuvvs​ @jaemboi64​ @otchae​ @n0hyuck​ @hyuckinx​ @domhyuckie​ @justhereforimagines​ @daegalfangirl​ @soobin-chois​ @lmkworld​ @baekhyuns-lipchain​ @its-taeil-time​ @produmads​ @kaislinging-slasher01​ @neomorning​ @learnthisfeeling​ @glitching-wren​ @carelessshootanonymous​ @thiccfullsun​  

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ jaemin is finally not an asshole. everybody say congrats jaemin.

THE WALK OF SHAME.

The distance from Lee Jeno’s apartment to yours was approximately 0.6 miles. If you walked fast enough, it would take you around ten minutes to get back home. Meaning, that was ten minutes spent doing the Walk of Shame at nearly three in the morning.

Of course, the whole point of being an e-girl was to keep up an unattainable internet persona. You wanted to be a star, and what better way than to weaponize your good looks? Your entire brand was posting revealing pictures of yourself on Instagram and Twitter, maintaining a “gamer girl” image. Sort of like Belle Delphine, but you hadn’t stooped low enough to start selling your bathwater to strangers on the internet. You were a lone flower on the edge of a cliff—so high up that no one could reach for your stem.

Except Jeno, apparently, after you caved and met him in person tonight.

You and Jeno followed each other on Twitter a few months ago. Despite attending the same college, you two hadn’t ever met in person before. He was a popular YouTuber, so there had been rumors flying around about his sudden interactions with you. Your influencer friends were trying to grill you for more information, but you sincerely had no idea where Jeno’s sudden interest in you came from. After you posted a picture of you in pink lace lingerie complete with Hello Kitty clips and pigtails, Jeno had finally slid into your DMs.

jeno: i’d rather spend the night with you

(In response to the caption on your post: spend the day with me?)

As one would expect, things escalated from there. Jeno was hot, you were horny, and he conveniently lived 0.6 miles away from you.

In short, you got good dick. Jeno started with one hand wrapped around your neck and the other snaking its way between your legs. You were satisfied, especially because the streamer didn’t try to dap you up after railing you on his gaming chair, the wall, and then his bed. You two made some small talk afterward, and then you headed home. Prince Charming could not be fucked to give you a generous ride back to your apartment.

You pulled out your phone to look at your face in the camera app. As expected, you were a mess, but you touched up your lipstick and blush with the few makeup products you stuffed in your purse. Then, you called your best friend, Lee Donghyuck, who had been flooding your friend group’s group chat with messages for the past hour.

“Dude,” you started as soon as he picked up. Donghyuck was in the middle of taking his headphones off to put his AirPods in, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Jeno walked me to the door and made me walk home by myself.”

“No fucking way.” Donghyuck laughed. “That’s what you get for hooking up with a guy who plays Val.”

Ah, yes. Featured on Jeno’s YouTube: streams of Valorant, League of Legends, and Overwatch. There were the occasional indie games he was requested to play, too. The only one you semi-watched and commented on was Little Nightmares.

“The dick was incredible,” you told your best friend, “but he’s not cuffing material.”

“Not like you care about cuffing anyone.”

“Yes, I do!” you objected. “I’m boyfriend-hunting, Hyuck. Think about how much attention I’d get if I started dating a hotshot influencer.”

“You should date Mark Lee, then. Everyone’s thirsting over those e-boy TikTokers now. Or maybe Liu YangYang. Heard his body count’s high as fuck.”

You rolled your eyes. “His body count’s high because no one goes back a second time. Plus, I think YangYang’s finally in the talking stage with someone.”

“Good for him.” Donghyuck yawned. “Anyway, I’m going to bed soon since I finished editing my Maldives vlog. I’m still pissed you didn’t come with us.”

You rolled your eyes. Donghyuck, Yoo Jimin, Choi Beomgyu, and Uchinaga Aeri had been giving you shit for backing out on the trip the five of you had been discussing for a few months. There were just too many things going on in your life at the time, so you told them you wouldn’t be able to make it before tickets were purchased. Of course, your absence made several of your followers question if your friend group had a falling out, but you all decided not to address pointless rumors.

“I’ll come along next time when I’m not broke,” you assured. “I’m at my apartment now, so I’ll talk to you later. Bye-bye, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck threw up a peace sign before hanging up. You tucked your phone in your back pocket as you tried to fish out your key card from your purse.

However, there was a problem: it was missing.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, sitting down at one of the benches outside to dig through your purse. You swore you hadn’t taken it out, so it definitely wasn’t at Jeno’s place. The only possible explanation was that you dropped it on the way or left it inside your apartment.

Screw these auto-locking doors.

You were royally screwed.

Fast-forward to twenty minutes later. You were still sitting at the same bench. This time, your head was in your hands and you were shivering like a chihuahua. It was dark, save for the flickering streetlight above you. You had even resorted to texting Jeno, asking him if you could go back to his place and spend the night. It was downright embarrassing, but it was your last resort. Jeno, however, seemed to have been asleep due to his lack of response.

A guardian angel was sent your way, though, in the form of a cute but tired-looking college student with a bag of groceries in hand. Kind eyes, but he looked far too exhausted to smile genuinely.

“Do you need to be let in?” the boy asked, gesturing toward the apartment entrance. He had his key card in hand, and you nearly jumped to your feet.

“Uh, yeah, but…” you trailed off. Even if you accepted his offer, you wouldn’t be able to get into your own room.

He handed you his brown Essentials hoodie he had draped around across his shoulders. “Cold?”

You wondered if your shivering or hard nipples gave it away. Surely, it had to be your nipples showing through the skimpy one-piece you had on. You never would have dressed like this if you knew Jeno was going to make you walk home yourself.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the hoodie from him and slipping it on. It fell past your thigh and smelled good—a non-offending mix of pine and detergent. “Uh, but even if you let me in, I can’t get into my room. I lost my key.”

“Oh.”

You folded your arms across your chest. The boy beside you ruffled his fluffy brown hair, and you were wondering why he hadn’t gone inside the building yet. Maybe he was waiting for you to find some other place to go, or maybe he wanted his hoodie back.

“Have you tried asking the RA?” he asked.

“I can only get a card replacement in the morning.”

“Can your roommate open the door?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Got a friend who’ll let you stay at their place?”

“Asleep.”

“Significant other?”

“I’m single and my dick appointment made me walk home alone.”

You didn’t realize how bitter you sounded until you saw the shocked look drawn across the boy’s face. You felt sorry for dumping that on him, but you were getting way too frustrated about your lack of options. You didn’t even have a roommate you could call for help since you opted for a single.

He cleared his throat before shyly offering, “Uh… I guess you could stay at my place for the night, if you want. I can sleep on the couch.”

Your cheeks heated up. You were no stranger to random kindness from men, but perhaps you were just grateful for his proposition since you were running low on options.

“That’d be great,” you said. “Thanks.”

You followed the boy into the apartment building. He introduced himself as Na Jaemin, an animal science major in your same year who was president of a club that raised guide dogs for blind people. It was comforting to hear, so your anxiousness over this stranger luring you in to murder you in cold blood was slowly letting up.

He unlocked the door for you, letting you into his apartment first. You looked around to see a quite ordinary looking living space with a few posters and polaroids hung up on the walls. There was a border collie curled up in a dog bed in the corner of the living room, and Jaemin was being extra careful to make sure he didn’t accidentally wake him up.

He set the plastic bag down, which you found out was dog food that he picked up from a friend. It definitely made a lot more sense than him shopping for groceries at three in the morning.

“You live alone?” you asked for the sake of making small talk.

“My roommate graduated a semester early,” he replied. “I’ve been living on my own, just like you.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

He turned the question back to you, asking, “Do you get lonely?”

You shrugged as you sat down on his couch, sitting stiffly at the edge of the cushion. “When you get so much attention online, you kind of need the privacy.”

“Oh, I see.”

No more questions asked.

Jaemin retreated into his room for a moment before returning with a pillow and blanket in hand. He tossed them beside you on the couch and met your gaze.

“Bed’s ready for you whenever,” he said. “The bathroom’s inside my room, if you need to use the shower or anything. Let me know if you need any clothes to sleep in.”

Your face was heating up like a furnace, but you were glad he couldn’t see how his words were affecting you. You flushed with embarrassment when you noticed Jaemin’s eyes flicker past your neck. He probably thought his gaze went undetected, but you noticed. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was pull his hoodie high enough so that the hood hid the hickies Jeno left across your skin.

“I can just use your hoodie,” you replied. “Thanks.”

Jaemin managed a small, tired smile. You took that as your cue to get out of the living room so that he could pass out in peace. So, you headed into his bedroom and stared at his tidy bed, wondering if he had frantically fixed his sheets for you.

Since you already felt like you had asked for too much, you decided to skip your nightly shower and head straight to bed. It was hard to sleep in a stranger’s bed, though—no matter how pretty he was.

You were used to kindness. It normally came in a package deal with being attractive. Bees flocked to honey; humans flocked to beauty.

This feeling, however, wasn’t something you were used to. Genuine kindness with no ulterior motive was almost foreign, which was upsetting to admit. You weren’t sure how to sort out your feelings, but all you knew was that Jaemin’s eyes had stars in them, and you were tempted to lose yourself in them.

You woke up to an empty house.

Even the dog had abandoned you.

To be fair, you weren’t exactly an early bird. You woke up at around 10:30 a.m. naturally, and then spent an extra thirty minutes trying to muster up the willpower to get out of bed. Of course, you spent that time updating your group chat on your whereabouts.

gigi: 15k isn’t that insane?

gyu: holy shit gyu: you have to do it

karibear: gigi i will literally kill you and then resurrect you to kill you again if you don’t

gigi: check out the deliverables tho gigi: [File Attachment]

hyuck: instagram story highlight? the fuck? hyuck: a tiktok should be enough. more people check tiktok than ig now anyways lol

gigi: right???

karibear: OK BUT FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS

y/n: just caught up. I think you should do it for the $$ gigi

gigi: GIRL where have u been

gyu: i told you she probably overslept

gigi: BUT I SEE HER LOCATION ON FINDMYFRIENDS gigi: SHE IS NOT HOME

y/n: i may or may not be in a cute guy’s apartment

karibear: shut the fuck up

y/n: stop he’s REALLY cute y/n: dare i say cuter than jeno

hyuck: stfu ur kidding

gyu: well?? did you sleep with him? gyu: give us all the details

y/n: no i couldn’t find my key after coming back from jeno’s and was locked out of my apartment y/n: so this “na jaemin” appears and lets me sleep over at his place for the night  y/n: he took the couch AND let me sleep on his bed y/n: jeno could never

gyu: aww that’s actually rlly sweet

gigi: can’t find him on ig ://

karibear: no social media presence?? karibear: idk if that’s hot or a red flag

hyuck: probably both 💀

y/n: um good thing red’s my favorite color

karibear: omfg karibear: do u actually wanna fuck him karibear: send us a picture of what he looks like

y/n: idk if he’s even interested in me like that y/n: but idk i also want my internet famous trophy boyfriend :( y/n: idk if this guy even has a social media presence  y/n: still a starboy in my heart tho <3

hyuck: keep your eye on the prize bbyg hyuck: fame is fleeting so milk it while you can

You figured Donghyuck had a point. You were an internet celebrity (to some extent), so, in terms of marketing, it would be wise to push the “unattainable” image you cemented. Dating someone equally as unattainable would make you look even more desirable.

However, you were starting to lose all rhyme and reason when you walked out of the bedroom to see a plate of eggs and toast waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

A post-it note was right next to it, reading: I’m out walking the dog. I made you some breakfast if you’re hungry but you don’t have to eat it. Door auto locks so just make sure you close it whenever you leave. Here’s my phone number if you need anything. +82 x-xxxx-xxxx - Jaemin

You decided to update your group chat.

y/n: change of plans y/n: i’m making starboy mine

When Jaemin returned home shortly after you discovered his note, you were sitting on his couch, knees tucked to your chest as you forked down the waffles he made. Before you even looked up to greet him, you heard his dog yapping excitedly, hurrying over to sniff you.

“Oh, you’re still here.” He looked genuinely surprised, though he didn’t object. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, really well,” you admitted. Curious, you tilted your head and let your lips curl into a knowing smile. “Are you high?”

Jaemin stiffened up. “Uh, a little. Is it that obvious?”

“I just noticed your eyes look sort of dazed.”

You hadn’t expected it, but he almost sounded embarrassed to be caught. “I’m not like a… a full-on stoner or anything.”

“Hey, no judgment,” you replied, holding up your hands in surrender. “I was just gonna ask if I could get high with you, too.”

After visibly relaxing, a more confident grin dawned on Jaemin’s face as he handed you his pen. You couldn’t help but feel smug as you accepted it gingerly.

About a couple hours later, you and Jaemin were blazed out of your minds. He had offered you an edible shortly after you took a hit from his pen, and it kicked in an hour later for you and Jaemin. There were no words exchanged for a while, but then you two started to converse, although you couldn’t trust that anything you were saying made sense.

You weren’t big on flirting. It was a skill you only put to use when absolutely needed, and this was one of those instances. You figured this was the perfect opportunity to get close to Jaemin. Even though you could tell he was a really, really great guy, and you didn’t want to rush things with Jaemin, there were a few factors that were making you throw your morals to the wind.

For one, you were high and getting incredibly horny.

The other factor was that Jaemin was the hottest man you had ever seen (and you had encountered a lot of attractive men).

“So,” he started, “you’re, like, an internet celebrity? Like a TikToker?”

“I started on Twitter,” you explained, “but, yeah, I’m famous on TikTok, too. But there’s a good chance you’ve never heard of me.”

“Really? Why?”

“I’m known for more, uh”—you let out a nervous giggle—“risqué stuff, if you wanna see.” When he nodded eagerly, you took out your phone and opened Twitter to show Jaemin your account. Right off the bat, there was a mirror selfie of you in lingerie and cat ears. Because you were feeling bold, you added, “And the guy who made me walk home alone? He’s a famous YouTuber named Jeno.”

Something seemed to click for Jaemin when you mentioned Jeno’s name because it was the only thing that snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. He had been looking at the photo of you so intently that you were wondering if he was checking you out or spacing out.

“I think I’ve watched some of his gaming videos,” he said before handing your phone back to you. “He just… kicked you out?”

“Pretty much. At least he made me cum once.”

“Just once?”

You held your breath for a moment. With those two words, Jaemin made the atmosphere all the more tense, and you felt like you two were suspended in time. Although you weren’t sure if he said that to challenge Jeno or not, there was still a strange implication in his words. It left you wondering if Jaemin could treat you better.

“Yeah,” you replied in a quieter voice. “Just once. With my help, too.”

“That’s fucked.” Jaemin reached for his pen to take a long, slow drag. He held it in his lungs for a moment before he parted his lips to blow the smoke out. “And you dressed up so pretty for him.”

Either Jaemin was a secret dark horse when it came to smooth talking or the weed was making him horny, too. Whatever it was, his comments made your cheeks burn.

“I bet he’d be pissed if he found out I ended up in your bed after.”

The animal science major flushed at your words, growing even more shy when you giggled at his reaction. “I mean, I guess so, but we didn’t, like… I mean, we—”

“I was kidding,” you assured. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t say that unless something actually happened.”

Jaemin nodded quietly, falling back into silence for a while. You were worried that you had made the conversation awkward, so you sunk back against the couch and willed yourself to come down from your high. Maybe the weed was a bad idea. Maybe you were just getting ahead of—

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed if something were to happen?”

The question took you off-guard, and you had to process Jaemin’s words for a few moments before you sat up to look at him. There was no shame or shyness drawn across his face this time. Just pure curiosity. (And perhaps a hint of longing which was most likely brought on by the weed.)

You shook your head with a hum. “No, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think you’re cute. You seem really sweet, too, like letting me sleep over and making me breakfast.”

Jaemin smiled brightly, beaming ear to ear before he ducked his head shyly. You were surprised that he was so sheepish given his godsent looks. He had to have heard these compliments about a million times now. There was no way you were the first person to recognize his looks.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted.

“Good at what?”

“Um, hitting on girls,” Jaemin said. His hand flew to rub the back of his neck as he added, “Cute girls.” After another beat, he let his head hang and then let out a groan. “Sorry, I don’t have a filter when I’m high.”

“Jaemin,” you cooed, scooting close enough so that your knees were touching. You placed your hand on his thigh, which made him finally look you in the eyes. “I’m pretty bad at flirting, too, so I hope this is working.”

The corner of his lip hitched up, amused. “Yeah,” Jaemin murmured, his eyes unfocusing as he leaned in close, “it’s definitely working.”

Your nose brushed against his experimentally before Jaemin pressed his lips to yours. It was gentle and innocent, but then Jaemin turned his body to face yours, and his hands started roaming your body. Your waist, your back, your hips—not an inch was neglected while he felt you up. You let slip a hum of delight, and that encouraged Jaemin to slip his tongue past your lips.

He didn’t use too much tongue, which you appreciated. There was something too sloppy about guys who used too much tongue, but Jaemin had an excellent balance between precise and hasty. And he did this thing where he would pause to suck on your tongue and then your bottom lip, which you really appreciated.

You let a whine slip, and Jaemin gripped your waist tighter. You figured he wanted you on his lap, so you threw one leg over his thigh and straddled him. It was like you were in a trance with how receptive you were, and you only wanted more when Jaemin pulled away to kiss down your neck. After minutes of nipping, sucking, and relishing your whimpers, he was satisfied with the bruises littered across your skin.

Jaemin seemed frustrated by how big his hoodie was on you, so he tugged at it until you pulled it up and over your head. After discarding it to the side, his lips found yours immediately after. The pads of his fingers slipped past the hem of your shirt to dig into your skin, pulling you flush against his body.

You were sure you could kiss him for hours, but your attention was slipping away when you felt his boner underneath you. The very least you could do was offer to help him out.

You pulled away to catch your breath, and your voice was no louder than a breath when you offered, “Let me suck you off.”

Jaemin blushed a little, and you bit back a smile because how could someone be so forward and cute? He was not innocent in the slightest, but he somehow got flustered so easily.

His voice came out strangled when he said, “Please.”

You carefully peeled off Jaemin’s shirt, admiring his muscles as you revealed his bare skin. He had to work out regularly to get a build this good, but you didn’t expect him to be this ripped. It was almost second nature when you started kissing down his chest, smiling when you heard his happy sigh.

When your kisses reached his stomach, you started tugging at the band of his sweatpants. Jaemin carded his fingers through your hair to keep you where he wanted to, and you were pretty sure all his blood was rushing to his cock with how much bigger he got. You tugged his sweatpants down to his knees and kissed up his strong thigh, looking up at him through your lashes. You wanted Jaemin to know just how drunk you were on his body.

Jaemin helped you tug down his boxers, too, and you swallowed hard when you saw how huge he was. His cock sprung up, and you were almost worried that you wouldn’t be able to take all of him in. While you were tying up your hair, Jaemin gave his shaft a few pumps, rubbing his thumb across the precum that beaded his slit.

A few strands of your hair got in your face, so Jaemin brushed them back and held your hair in his fist, undoing your ponytail so that he could tie back your hair properly. He looked down at you expectantly, cradling your jaw while you were mentally preparing yourself to take him. You flattened your tongue and ran it along the side of his cock, licking right where his vein was. Jaemin let out a groan almost instantly, and you looked up to see his eyes burning molten hot with desire.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, gripping the back of your head.

His cock was throbbing, aching for you to take more of him in. So you slid your tongue over his head before hollowing your cheeks to suck him in. Jaemin gritted his teeth and tilted his head back, muttering some profanity that only encouraged you further.

You went slow at first, drawing out each bob of your head so that you got used to his size. You couldn’t go all the way down on him without his head hitting the back of your throat, making you gag a little before you started to properly take him down your throat. Jaemin started thrusting his hips into your mouth, urging you to go faster. You weren’t sure if that meant he was going to cum soon, but you sped up regardless.

“Fuck,” Jaemin rasped out, watching you with absolute admiration in his blown-out eyes, “I’m gonna cum.”

His grip on your hair loosened, as if he was ready to let you pull off of him, but you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes while you sucked harder. You wanted him to cum in your mouth, and he seemed to get the message because his moan was cut off by his orgasm.

You continued to suck on his cock while he came, swallowing without hesitation. Jaemin thrusted shallowly inside your mouth, his husky moans making you pull off him to lick a long stripe down his length.

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, catching your breaths and watching each other’s chest rise and fall. Then, Jaemin leaned in to cup your cheek and kiss you once more. He didn’t even care that he was tasting himself on your lips, but he just needed more of you.

“Let me return the favor,” he said once he pulled away. Before you could respond, Jaemin scooped you up in his strong arms. You held onto his biceps, gasping when he held your bottom firmly. “I promise I’ll make you feel really good.”

Jaemin set you on the cool granite surface of the kitchen counter, and you were glad that he kept the place clean. You would have felt gross if it was any other man, like Jeno’s grimey kitchen counter littered with dirty dishes, but you were too wrapped up in your own lust to care about moving to Jaemin’s bed.

Being high made you so sensitive that every touch from Jaemin left you trembling. As he undressed you, you couldn’t help but shudder and gasp whenever his fingers brushed over a sensitive area. He seemed to take notice, which you observed by his small smirk. As soon as Jaemin got rid of your garments, leaving you naked, he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Gorgeous,” he praised, leaning forward to take your nipple in his mouth. He sucked on the supple skin eagerly, making you moan and grab at his shoulder.

You let out a gasp when Jaemin grabbed your other breast in his hand, squeezing firmly and running his thumb along the nipple. After he decided he showed your chest enough attention, Jaemin started kissing down your stomach until he reached the apex of your thighs. He trailed kisses along your pelvis, peppering more along the top of your thighs, and you used your elbows to balance your weight on the counter. You were surely going to collapse if he kept going.

“Jaem,” you whined, “don’t tease.”

He smirked as he parted your legs even further, humming inquisitively at the sight of your soaked cunt. He lifted both of your legs and settled them on each of his shoulders, and you sucked in a sharp breath to prepare yourself.

Jaemin dipped his head and ran his flattened tongue along your folds, and god, you were floating high up in the clouds.

After some strokes of his tongue, Jaemin stiffened his tongue to lick deeper, parting your slit so that he could ravage your cunt. You couldn’t do anything but cry out his name, begging for more and more. Your engorged clit was soon aching for attention, and you became a complete mess as soon as Jaemin’s lips found your little ball of nerves.

Soon, Jaemin was holding your hips down as he ate you out like a man starved. You had never experienced pleasure so intense, and you were finding it hard to believe that the meek boy you met last night was this bold. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer even though his face was practically wet with your arousal.

“I-I’m close,” you breathed out, and your hips were struggling to grind down to meet Jaemin’s tongue. You wanted more—no, you needed more.

“I know,” he whispered against your thigh, and before you could beg, he snaked his tongue in your entrance, allowing your walls to clench and unclench around his hot muscle.

He used his fingers to rub your clit in small, tight circles, all the while eating you out so vigorously that you couldn’t even think about anything except Jaemin. How good he made you feel. How lucky you were to be under him.

You were drowning soon after—drowning in utmost bliss. A toe-curling orgasm shook your body, leaving your back arching against the kitchen counter. You couldn’t even process how loud your moan was until Jaemin was shushing you gently, abusing your clit throughout your orgasm while his other hand was clamped over your mouth.

“Shh,” he cooed, almost mocking you. “The walls are thin, doll.”

You nodded, looking up at him with glazed-over eyes. You just needed to focus on anything to keep you at bay, to keep you from being pulled under the current of your climax.

“Gonna carry you to the bed, okay?” he told you, and you nodded without a second thought, letting him princess carry you to his bedroom.

As soon as he laid you down gently, Jaemin leveled his cock at your entrance, running his head along the folds of your cunt. You were already exhausted from your previous orgasm, but you were still eager to feel Jaemin inside of you.

“I’ll go slow,” he assured, teasing the tip of his cock inside you so gently that you were about to fall apart. You had no more than an inch inside of you, and your walls were already clenching hard around him.

Your eyes rolled back when he pushed deeper inside you, and then soon he was bottoming out, and you could feel his thighs pressed against yours. The cry that left your lips and the groan that escaped his nearly sounded like a melody in your eyes. Each wave of pleasure made you feel like you were traveling light years past several galaxies. Stars pinpricked your vision, but you could make out Jaemin’s face among the collisions of supernovas.  

“I can’t,” you whimpered, unable to form proper, coherent sentences. “Fast—go faster.”

Something primal glinted in Jaemin’s dark eyes, and started ramming into you while holding your hips tight. His head dipped to ravage your neck, kissing and sucking as he pleased while his cock hit that perfect spot that made you see white spots in your vision. You felt a ripple of pleasure shoot under your skin.

And something else must have snapped in Jaemin because he started spewing absolute filth in your ears, and lord, was it making you lose your mind.

“I’m the best you’ve had, aren’t I?” he asked with brimming confidence, opting for sharp and precise thrusts.

You half-nodded, your cheek pressing against the pillow as your nails raked down Jaemin’s back. But Jaemin didn’t appreciate your lack of words.

“Come on, Y/N,” he pressed, “say it.” He pressed his lips to your ear and nibbled on the shell. You squirmed when you felt his hot breath fan your neck. “C’mon, I haven’t fucked you dumb already, right?”

You managed to cry out, “Y-yes, Jaemin! I’ve… I’ve never felt this good.”

He cupped your cheek and rubbed gently with his thumb, smiling down at you so kindly that it felt condescending. “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, then?”

You felt those ripples of pleasure intensify, and soon they were rising to a crescendo. You felt like you were being split apart on Jaemin’s cock, and it didn’t help that he refused to slow down before you orgasmed. You bucked your hips against him, eager to chase the pleasure that was just in your reach.

And, after Jaemin pressed his lips against yours, all of the stars in the night sky collided and exploded into nothingness.

You felt your orgasm tear through you, immobilizing you with blinding pleasure. You gasped and gripped the sheets tightly, praying that you could hold on for dear life. Jaemin slowly fucked you through your orgasm, your clenching walls bringing him to pull out of you and let his cum spill onto your stomach.

Jaemin let out a shaky sigh of contentment, and he quickly returned to your side without giving himself time to recover. Instead of basking in post orgasm glow, Jaemin aided your ongoing climax by rubbing your clit in slow, torturous circles.

“I got you,” he crooned, pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks. “I got you, doll.”

You were a whimpering, moaning mess underneath him, and you couldn’t think of anything but Jaemin as you writhed. After a few more aftershocks of pleasure (all thanks to Jaemin, of course), you finally started returning to your senses. It was possible that Jaemin had actually fucked you dumb.

He hurried to his feet to clean you up. It was a stark contrast from how he acted in bed, but your heart melted when he made sure you got enough water before he tucked you in bed. No guy had ever taken his time with aftercare for you, so you were starting to feel like being kicked out of Jeno’s apartment was a stroke of luck.

Later, he moved to lay down next to you, kissing the top of your head as he slid in. You wrapped your arm around him and you two were eventually a mess of tangled limbs.

“Can I stay?” you asked, somewhat nervous that he would ask you to leave soon.

“Of course,” he replied, easing your nerves with a gentle smile, “you can stay for as long as you want.” You cuddled close to him, burying your face into his chest, and then you heard him ask, “How do you feel?”

You smiled. “Like a star.”

[lvmimis]

stubborn - izuku x reader

cw: infidelity as a topic, escalating mind games, jealousy, tbh toxic behavior but it’s okay cuz uwu, fem!reader, smut (oral female receiving, use of the word ‘brat’, penetrative sex). 5.6k words. summary: izuku is as good at playing games as you are, or is he? a/n: a repost!

Izuku is far too placid when in the midst of an argument, you blurt out that you’re officially done with him. 

In fact, there’s the ghost of a smile that flickers on his features, and you know that smile. It’s the same smile he gives you when he teases you, especially when he’s balls deep inside you and you’re whining about how little more you can take while he coos and reminds you that you can give him just a little more room, the same way you’ve done many times before, right? 

It’s the smile that signals that he is in no way taking you seriously, that he knows you are completely and utterly wrapped. Your teeth clench and so do your fists.

“Midoriya.”

His eyebrows raise. From his vantage point, you look as cute as usual, eyebrows knit together and lips twisted into a snarl. It reminds him somewhat of an angry prey animal, he thinks, and he’s resisting the urge to pat you on the head.

“Yes, baby?”

He makes the mistake of widening his grin as he says this and defeated, you let out a cry of frustration, blood rushing to your ears and heart thumping as you rush out of the living room. There’s a loud slam that sounds once you’ve reached the bedroom and the hero is left alone to consider his actions. 

Izuku tolerates a lot from you, he thinks. It doesn’t mean he thinks he’s always right and does manage to begrudgingly accept his shortcomings, but the jealousy, the mood swings, and the neediness can sometimes get to him, even if they’re flaws you wear cutely. Giving you a moment to simmer down and letting the argument replay in his head, he lets out a sigh and settles on the couch to take off his boots. If you were out here, you’d complain about getting his sweaty suit off your furniture, but you’re not here, are you?

Izuku doesn’t think too much of the situation until he’s fully showered and knocks on the door to change into comfortable pajamas, only to find that the door is unlocked, you are laying on your stomach with your feet kicking, positively giddy, and in deep focus on your phone. Thinking that the argument has dissipated - you’re never mad at him for more than a couple hours anyway - he lets himself approach and decides against laying his entire weight on top of you, instead choosing to lay behind you, eyes on your form. You’re pretending you don’t even notice him.

“What’s got you giggling so much?” He finally asks, curiously turning to the side and resting his head on your shoulder. You don’t move sharply, instead allowing yourself to support the weight.

“I’m finding my replacement.”

He holds in a sigh that nearly rattles his bones.

“You can’t be serious.”

At that, you turn immediately, eyes wide, classic crazy look in your eyes. He purses his lips. 

You are definitely serious.

Before he can even begin to reason you, you excitedly show your phone to him, scrolling through a list of matches you’ve already procured for him, despite the fact that you could not possibly have been working on this for more than an hour.

“You’re quite popular, Mr. Number One Hero!” you chirp.

He rolls onto his back and grabs a pillow and screams lightly into it for a moment, before turning back to face you calmly. 

“Please delete this.”

“Why? I have three dates lined up for you over the next two weeks.” You pout. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint these lovely women, would you, Mr. Midoriya?”

There’s a nervous tick in his jaw at the polite appellation but he can see the glint in your eyes. Two can play this game.

“You’re right, and I trust you, darling,” he says, lips curling into a teasing grin. He rolls over onto his belly, pulling off the small towel that wraps around his waist and tosses it to the side, a motion that engages the muscles of his back just enough that you can pretend you don’t see them ripple. You try not to look at his ass because you’re angry. You are so, so angry.

“Give me the schedule and I’ll go. I don’t think they’ll manage to be as lovely as you, but I’ll try my best.” His green eyes twinkle as he watches you not look, then places a hand on the small of your back, and the contact almost shocks through your spine. 

You get up immediately and leave the room, ignoring his low chuckle as you hide the warmth blooming in your face.

—

Midoriya cannot believe he’s actually seated at a mom and pop restaurant at the end of the week with a woman he’s never met in his entire life. You had actually called his bluff at calling your bluff, and had even gone so far as to lay out his clothes in the morning and adjust the collar of his shirt.

“Can we not do this?” He had asked right before leaving the house. You’d simply smiled sweetly, venomously. 

“Real love awaits, sir!” You flashed him a thumbs up and the genuine way in which your teeth gleamed almost struck fear in his heart. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

His entire way to the location, he had been considering what manner of trap this was. Would there be cameras? Kirishima, who was like an older brother to you waiting to beat his ass (even though he wasn’t completely sure what he did wrong and arguably may have done nothing wrong aside from being extraordinarily busy for the past two weeks)?

But alas, rather than a trap, or you in a different outfit, there was an admittedly beautiful young woman who smiled shyly back at him as he took his seat.

The first thing he does is tell the truth.

“Hi, um, yeah so…” he scratches his head. “Let me explain a couple things first before there’s any misunderstanding…” 

His voice trails off as he notices the slight distress in her features, but decides it’s better to hurt her feelings now than later.

“I was not the one managing my Tinder profile. Whatever may have been said to you was not said by me and-”

She nods emphatically and he stops. “Wait, you know what I’m about to say?”

“Yeah, your profile says it’s managed by your ex-girlfriend and we chatted a bit through messages.”

There’s a little bit of heat that reaches his ears, not pleasant heat at all, but mild irritation. He presses his lips together as she continues.

“She said something about wanting to make sure she set you up with someone better than her since you won’t accept your breakup.”

Izuku’s eye twitches but he smiles peacefully and takes a sip of his coffee.

“She said you were a very sweet guy though so I’m assuming you’re on good terms?” The young lady laughs coyly, a hand covering her mouth as she does. Coquettish, he thinks, then he remembers how you literally said you’d set him up with someone cute and coquettish and his heart starts to race.

“We’re on excellent terms,” he says finally, breathing through his nose, then takes a look at the menu. 

She giggles a bit and it annoys him because none of this is funny. Not for a second.

“She chose really good pictures,” the woman says softly, who Izuku recalls from the schedule you had the nerve to send him is named Sachiko, reaching for her glass of water. Izuku mirrors the action because his throat is suddenly terribly dry.

He clears his throat. You’ve gone too far.

“What would you like to order?” Izuku asks in his most charming voice.

—

“You didn’t take her home?” You ask, voice dripping of malice, curled up into the bedsheets of your California King. He considers shooting you a dirty look but he doesn’t; rather he strips painfully slowly and again you avert your eyes. This time he doesn’t laugh at your ridiculous attempt to pretend you don’t find him attractive, and instead, he stands stark naked in his underwear, arms crossed and feet squared as though you are an actual adversary. Maybe you enjoy being the villain in his story for once. 

You look up from your book, noticing his stillness in your peripheral vision. He looks good when he’s angry, you think, his face twisted into a scowl and breathing a little heavier than usual. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, then bid him to speak.

“What?” 

He shakes his head, like he can’t believe he’s really saying what he has to say next.

“First of all, I don’t fuck on the first date.” You tilt your head ever so slightly with a mock inquisitive look that bids him to go on.

“Don’t look at me like that, if I did, we absolutely would have,” he replies flippantly. You pretend to disregard that sentence. Then it hits you. We, as in you and him or we as in, he and her?

“Second of all, you’re going to regret this. Good night,” he insists before finding his way beside you in bed. You dramatically scoot over to the very edge of the bed, but he’s annoyed enough that his back is turned to you. 

Good, you think, and turn the page in your book. The plot thickens deliciously.

—

Izuku doesn’t bother explaining himself on the date the following week. Rather, he treats it like a business meeting and speaks politely, diverting any flirty comments to other topics. He wishes you hadn’t picked such an expensive restaurant but the truth was, the food was good enough to match the price. 

The woman today is not Sachiko - while Sachiko was petite and sold the moe angle quite well, Natsumi was a bit more direct and businesslike. Still, not quite like you and frankly a little bit too talkative. According to you, who were having the time of your life swiping right and left with his likeness, Sachiko had wanted a second date, but any time you broached the subject, he simply refused to respond and you, despite all of your ability to push buttons know when to stop. Now faced with Natsumi who was giving him his life story and testing his patience while he was trying to get through his Hamburg steak, he realized Sachiko might have been better.

“So why did you and your ex break up?”

Izuku swallowed another piece of meat quickly.

“We did not.”

Natsumi gave him a quizzical look.

“So why are you on a date with me?”

“To indulge her.”

Natsumi leans back in her chair then picks at her fingernails.

“Wow, you really are in denial, like she said.”

In Izuku’s eyes, this date is even more over than it was when it began.

When he comes home this time, you are talking and laughing animatedly on the phone to your mother as you cook a late dinner for yourself and rather than interrupt your conversation, he slips past you and puts the entrée he’d gotten for you in the front of the fridge.

You give him a glance then look away. Your mouth twists to the side, now that you realize you’re testing more than a little of his patience.

When you finally hang up the phone and put away your hot food to reheat the one he’s brought back for you, you ask in a small voice:

“Did you enjoy the food?”

He’s staring at the TV, looking without looking, and you can see that muscle in his jaw again tense before he turns to face you.

“It was delicious.”

You poke at the plate in front of you and concur. The food really is heavenly. Maybe you should pull back. It’s very clear that this man has no intention on breaking up with you and you can’t even remember what you were even mad about. There’s still a date left but canceling it with a 5 days notice isn’t the worst thing you can do. Your boyfriend has clearly learned his lesson, you think.

Then he says,

“Hey, can you arrange a second date for Sachiko? I’d like to see her again.”

And then rage consumes you again.

“Of course,” you say sweetly.

—

“I didn’t think I’d see you again!” Sachiko exclaims. Izuku had watched her run towards him, beaming smile accentuated by the bright winter sun’s rays reflected by the snow. Her cheeks are red and she looks as though she is blowing smoke, huffing and puffing as she catches her breath. She’s dressed for the weather, and so is he, and he notices the thick gloves that she’s wearing. His own hands are bare.

An ice skating date.

You must actually be prepared to lose him at this point.

Sachiko grins widely and Izuku, looking down at her again now that she is right next to him, realizes she really is cute. Not cuter than you, he wouldn’t go that far, but cute enough.

She doesn’t know how to ice skate and stays very close, and Izuku lets her cling onto his sleeve, then eventually hold his hand.

—

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

The phrase ran through your head over and over again, and had been the first thing you thought of when you reread her message for the third, the fourth, and the fifth time. 

Hi, I hope this isn’t weird but I just wanted to thank you.

(I hope it’s not you, Izuku, ‘cause that would be awkward! 😊)

I wanted to let you know that it must be hard to give up your partner, especially when they seem so nice! But I’m grateful. We’ll be texting privately from now on! 

Maybe we can be friends someday? I’d like to meet you in person too!

You swallow hard for a moment, reading the message again and again and again.

Texting privately. The familiar use of his name. It was two dates only. Why was she so confident? Why was she thanking you?

You found yourself thumbing through her profile again, really scrutinizing her again, taking particular care to commit her soft features to memory and the warm demeanor you could see through her many photos.

You swallowed hard again.

Did you mess up? Did you finally push too hard?

The sound of the door opening suddenly startled you enough that you ended up dropping your phone in the bowl of the bathroom sink. Izuku, appearing behind you suddenly as he turned into the bathroom to check looked you up once up and down and muttered a soft greeting. 

“You okay?”

Maybe you were imagining it, but the timbre of his voice was less Izuku and more Deku, the Hero, who asked everyone if they were okay. Who belonged to everyone. Or maybe really not everyone, just not you.

Despite your throat feeling as though it would close up, you nod. He says nothing more and suddenly you wish you could take it all back.

—

Two weeks have passed since your declaration of singlehood akin to a declaration of war, and just a few days since Sachiko thanked you for handing over the love of your life on a platter. Unwilling to admit that you regret your game, you resort to not speaking to him at all - at least not more than to reply to his good morning or his good night. You can feel him shift gently in the middle of the night, sometimes to face you, and you wonder if he’ll put his arm around your waist and nuzzle his chin in the crook of your shoulder, but he stops short and you’re left wanting, regretting. Now you start to make arrangements. Where will you go once you officially break up rather than theoretically? This is his apartment after all. Should you tell your mother so she’s not surprised when you turn up at her doorstep and she can’t call him her future son-in-law?

You’re not sure what your endgame was, but whatever this is, you don’t like it.

So you do what you do best. Make do with what is presented to you.

Izuku doesn’t say a word once he leaves your home just before noon, leaving you to quietly attend to work-related affairs as you type on your computer. From the calendar on the refrigerator, you’re reminded he has a midday shift 12-10pm, but still a part of you wonders if he’ll sneak off at any point to meet Sachiko. Why wouldn’t he? You’re broken up after all. 

Sachiko is so cute you would date her if you had the chance. You really did choose far too well.

You can’t focus on work anymore, you decide after staring at a blank screen for the next hour. Your head is pounding and your throat, although it no longer wants to close up, is dry and water isn’t fixing it. There’s a crick in your neck and a tenseness in your shoulders that Izuku would have massaged out for you if you weren’t locked in battle for days on end. 

So you make a profile for yourself. Is it desperation for validation now that suddenly all your inadequacies are brought to light or fear of losing? Whatever it is, you are very lucky, because you’ve arranged a date for just a few hours from now. 

You cannot, will not, spend the night in an empty house.

—

Izuku’s hands are fidgety, enough that his patrol partner notices the incessant tapping of his foot and the repeated running of his hands through his hair.

“You okay there, man?” 

“Yeah.”

It’s not like he can say No, actually, my girlfriend’s phone is unreachable and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s mad at me or because something actually happened to her, but if I’m wrong about danger, it will only make our already terrible relationship worse.

His partner tonight is a non-UA alum who is new to the city and initially came in excited to work with the great Midoriya only to run into someone whose naturally charismatic Hero smile now carries an undercurrent of moderate unease. The two however continue to roam the district in a predetermined path, making sure to detect any suspicious activity as it may come up. This particular area is known for its elevated nightlife and particularly rich patrons. There’s a Michelin 3-star restaurant whose reservations are hotly contested that he spots along his path as he walks, and he remembers he’d considered it among others for your eventual engagement, if you ever made it there at this point. 

The fact that Sachiko has texted him three times today grates on his nerves and he wishes he had never given her his number, even though he continues to reply politely. He looks down to mute the text thread, and as he looks up, he sees you.

And his blood runs cold. 

—

You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on a first date. You do remember that you’re supposed to feel somewhat jittery - you remember being this way when you first went on a date with your soon-to-be ex - but your nerves aren’t firing in all directions in a pleasant, pure sort of way.

What exactly are you trying to prove? You wonder as you stride carefully, one heeled step before the other on the cobbled street, a handsome stranger by your side. You march unevenly, and you can tell he wants to reach over and help you, but your body is sufficiently frigid that he keeps a polite distance away. 

Until you accidentally trip and he steadies you with a gentle grip of the hand.

“Hold on to me,” he asks. Yoshi’s smile is pleasant and reassuring, a little like Izuku. He’s not as tall and not as broad, but he’s pleasant to look at. 

“Thank you,” you say, gingerly allowing your hand to settle on his outstretched elbow. It doesn’t feel right but you tell yourself it’s natural to feel that way, considering you only started talking this afternoon. 

Yoshi isn’t a complete stranger though - you learn he works in another division at your company and you have mutual friends. It had just turned out that he had gotten stood up for his intended date today despite having had reservations for a month, so you might as well have taken the opportunity to go to such an exclusive eatery.

“I forgot to tell you you looked breathtaking,” he says once you’ve moved closer to him, and you can’t help but to smile first, then feel disgusted that you’re letting another man compliment you.

“You look quite nice yourself,” you reply nevertheless.

The queue to the entrance is several couples and groups long despite your reservation so you check in first before heading over to a waiting area until you get called.

You do get called from behind before you even get to sit, but it’s not by the restaurant.

“Fancy seeing you here!”

You freeze. Of course. What did you think would happen?

There are two things that run through your head. Either you can pretend you didn’t hear his voice and keep walking, and you know damn well he would not allow himself to be ignored or you could turn and risk a very public argument or-

He chooses for you.

Izuku is in front of the two of you now, grinning far too wide, far too poisonously. For once your heart is actually racing, and you remember that despite how soft he’s been with you, he’s actually quite large and obviously strong and the fact that he’s barely concealing the fact that he’s genuinely upset at you as he looks you up and down, fists clenched by his side and knuckles white as chalk, means that he could be unpredictable.

“It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” he says, with a tinny laugh. Your eyes widen as you look to him then to your date who looks genuinely confused as to why this Hero is unkindly interrupting his date out of the blue.

“Hey, um-”

Deku flashes a smile at you that doesn’t reach his eyes then looks back at Yoshi.

“The two of you look like a lovely couple! Are you waiting for this restaurant?” He says, pointing to the entrance. “It’s a great restaurant! I personally like one of their pasta dishes myself and had been meaning to take my girlfriend here for a while but we just haven’t gotten the chance to-”

Yoshi, bold enough that even you’re taken aback, has the nerve to take your wrist gently and pull you a little behind him - a move that is not lost on Izuku and your blood chills because Izuku finds himself holding back a chuckle.

“Can I help you?” Yoshi asks, clearly annoyed.

You start to move instinctively but Izuku’s placed a hand on Yoshi’s shoulder and proceeds to pat it. He leans in ever so slightly to clear the height difference between them, staring him directly in the eyes, and you hold your breath. It’s clearly a challenge and you pray that neither of them take the bait. 

You can see Yoshi move to shrug the shoulder off but he’s forced into place and now the confusion on his features is even more intense. You can nearly cut the tension in the air with a knife but then you hear the other young man approaching.

It’s Izuku’s partner who has finally caught up, and the sound of Deku’s name being called from afar as he approaches seems to snap Izuku back into the reality of the situation. Some of the pounding in his temples clears and he tries not to look at you, patting your date on the shoulder.

“Stay safe out there and don’t stay out too late,” He offers. There’s still an edge to his voice and his hand and eyes linger but eventually he lets it trail off. The warning is for you specifically. 

Your face is hot and you’re thoroughly embarrassed but that’s the least of your concerns right now. Your stomach twists into a knot.

Your table is called.

—

When you finally slip back into your apartment, it’s a couple minutes to midnight and you are Cinderella fleeing back home to where the magic wears off.

The lights are on and Izuku is staring holes into the front door as you come in - he almost startles you when you slip off your shoes and turn to find him sitting at the kitchen table, facing in your direction. 

A small gasp leaves your throat.

He cocks his head to the side.

“What? Do I scare you?” His voice is somewhat gruff as though he’s waking up from sleep, low, and makes your heart pound.

You open your mouth, then close it. There’s not really much you can say at this point. You literally went on a date without his knowledge. You expected a fight when you came back, especially given how obviously angry he was just a couple of hours ago. 

You push and you push and you push and you don’t really know why you’re pushing.

And then you remember why. Sachiko.

“No,” you reply, moving forward in bare feet on wooden flooring, and dropping off your apartment keys in a shared bowl on the counter. You purse your lips and try not to engage him but wonder how long he’s been waiting for you, hunched forward on his elbows, pressing his fingertips together. There’s an untouched glass of wine besides him, and he rarely drinks.

“How was your date?” he spits.

You stop for a moment, his tone sinking in, and you selectively hear anger instead of the pang of rejection. You whip around to face him, the metal on your purse strings making the action unnecessarily loud. 

“It was great, actually! How’s Sachiko?!”

You didn’t mean to raise your voice but you did nevertheless. 

“Who..,” he starts, but his eyes widen, seething. “You sent me on that date.”

“That doesn’t mean you can fuck her!”

Izuku lets out a groan but his scowl softens to a frown once he sees the tears in your eyes despite his still tightly clenched fists.

“I did not, first of all. I deleted her number hours ago. We literally never met after the dates YOU arranged. Meanwhile you’re prancing around, hanging off some random dude’s arm, and what am I supposed to do? Accept it? What the fuck do I look like to you,___?”

You don’t have a response to that. How easy can it be to tolerate your mood swings? You were never done with him. You don’t want to be done with him. Of course he laughed at you when you said it, because it was obviously not true.

But you just want to feel heard so badly sometimes.

There’s a bit of silence as the two of you stand across from each other, your tears streaming down your face.

“Come here,” Izuku murmurs.

“No,” you mutter. He sighs as he follows you into the bedroom you disappear to, and watches you carefully as you sit down on the edge of the bed. You’re clearly still unsettled, but by now he can tell that you are no longer angry but confused as to what to do next. What comes after this mess?

“Did you fuck him?” Izuku asks in a quiet voice.

“Obviously not,” you quip, crossing your arms not out of self-defense but for self-soothing.

“Did you kiss him?” His voice is tentative as though he dreads the answer. His palms open and he flexes his fingers but he crosses the distance towards you on the bed.

“No.”

He pauses again, then kneels down before you. There’s a hand that finds its way onto the side of your cheek tenderly, turning your face so that you face him, and him only.

“I’m done fighting with you,” he finally decides. “Open your legs.”

Your face twists into surprise, but he dives deep, pulling up the bottom of your dress to your waist. He plants several kisses on your thighs, then waits for you to part your legs for him - he’s not going to tell you twice - before pressing his nose on the wet spot forming on your panties.

He breathes in and the inhale of your scent runs through his whole body, enough that you shudder yourself.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he says and your face warms. His calloused hands grip firmly, but not roughly, on the skin of your legs and push you open even further to accommodate his broad shoulders - you lean back onto your elbows as he slips two fingers under the crotch, and tears them apart with a snap.

“‘Zuku!” You hiss. Those panties aren’t your best ones but you still liked them.

He doesn’t reply and rather hastily, penetrates you with his tongue, and you squeal his name again, relishing in the thick muscle exploring your folds and the harsh grasp of his fingertips as he keeps you still. 

“B-baby… ah!”

He’s sharp and precise, because you’ve loved him long enough and he’s loved you long enough to know exactly what you need. You don’t tip but you careen over the pleasure of his tongue working your folds and your clit and your soft center, whining as pressure builds in your lower belly. 

“S-stop, it’s…” your breath falters, “I d-don’t deserve…”

He stops briefly with a kiss, then looks up at you, mulling over the words he needs to say to this woman who causes him so much trouble. 

He decides on the following:

“You’re right. You don’t deserve it, not right now, so I’m punishing you,” he finally teases. There’s a half grin on the slick covered lower half of his face and your eyes widen at the sight of his glistening skin. He lifts your ass gently and slaps it hard enough that your breath catches, the pain searing up and down your leg. You gasp, and he grabs a handful of your ass cheek, rubbing it to mull over the sensation. 

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” He hisses. His body presses over you, pushing one of your bent legs against your chest as he continues to squeeze at the fat of your bottom. You nod and he kisses you. 

“Simply awful.”

Another spank comes and you’re nearly blinded in pain and he dips down, biting at your lip. 

“I indulge you far too much, don’t I?” His teeth tug gently and release, and then he motions for you to pull your arms up. You’re sure if you don’t hurry up, he’ll rip it to shreds. 

The dress comes off and so does your breasts out of your bra and into his cupped hands. Sucking, biting at your nipples, leaving marks - it’s desperate and possessive and you wonder what would have happened if you had really taken Yoshi or whatever his name was seriously, and really pushed your Izuku to the brink. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you choke out eventually through sighs and then sobs. Izuku rolls you onto him, clasping his arms around your waist as you straddle him, playing with your breasts as you roll against him. The rhythm is new and hasty, but some of the fundamentals are the same. You know his body and he knows yours. He sucks at your neck and you nip at his earlobes - your fingers twist into his curls and he pulls at your hair. Kiss after kiss after kiss.

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmurs into your neck. His strong arms still enclose you and you’re settled onto his cock. There’s a soft groan as he presses upwards into you and some of you collapses into him, but he rolls his hips as you cling to his chest and you’re in a rhythm yet again.

“You make me crazy but I’m sorry.”

You can only whimper something unintelligible back as you suck up every inch of him, even your walls clinging tightly and desperately to his body inside yours. Your fingers curl into fists, laying against his chest and he uses a hand to pull it before him and kiss your knuckles.

“I’m awful,” you moan, crying into his chest.

“I shouldn’t have teased you,” he insists.

He flips over and you find yourself under him, and he interlaces his fingers with yours above you. Green locks graze gently atop your forehead as he stares into your eyes.

“I love you,” you say first.

“I love you too,” Izuku replies. He stirs into you more, letting the pressure of his weight comfort you as he strokes deeply, then rises up on his elbows to pick up his pace.

“Promise you’ll never leave,” you beg him before he begins. His hands press onto yours and pin you down and he kisses at your belly, then up to your lips.

“You can’t get rid of me,” he laughs.

“Even when I’m shitty enough to try?”

He pauses, dips down to press his forehead against yours. His lips graze above yours again. 

“Even when I’m angry enough to fight back, I won’t leave you.”

Reassured, you rock your hips against his and he takes it as an invitation to speed up. His strokes are fast and deep and tender - with every plunge you fall deeper in love with him, as does he. You push back but gently, resisting every strong movement with a clench of your thighs against him.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he insists, and you can his voice lowers. “Fucking amazing, baby, fucking-”

It’s his tell - he holds on to you desperately and you can feel yourself tense up as your coil snaps and sharp jets of cum spurt at your cervix, coating you thick and full. He shudders as he comes, heavy body shrouding you in a warm comfort.

He’s never leaving and neither are you.

No matter how many games you play.

[skeletonh0e]

Hi! I have a fun request :3

How about Classic Sans x Reader (gender neutral) where their relationship started off as very close friends which escalated into a friends with benefits relationship before they started dating

Like headcanons on how they would even get into the fwb part of their relationship in the first place and then later Sans realizing he has feelings for them :3

Sorry this took a bit but comin' up! No explicit NSFW but some suggestive stuff here or there obvs given the subject material

Classic Sans x Reader; Friends (with benefits) to Lovers

It all just kind of happens tbh

You two have very natural chemistry, Sans could easily spend hours simply goofing off or chatting about nothing with you. Something just naturally clicks

You both want to spend more time together

And you do

And you keep getting closer as a result

It further helps that you vibe pretty well with a lot of his friends and more importantly Papyrus as well

You're not only a good friend but someone he genuinely trusts and you likewise are able to read him better than mosts are, even able to call him out when he's clearly lying or pulling 'sum bullshit.

The shift in your relationship happens one drunken night when both of you went out to Grillby's, throwing back some shots and having some laughs

The typical shit you to do

But he brings you home (he can still short cut while drunk thankfully) and you invite him to stay the night

He's always found you attractive mind you but he's never attempted to pull anything for various reasons, never the right time, assumed you weren't interested, etc.

And now his mind is fuzzy thanks to liquor, he's in a really good mood because he spent most of the evening hanging out with you, you're all flushed, looking cute and literally inviting him....

You can figure out the rest from there

The morning after is a bit...awkward

He stays! He even made (ordered) you some breakfast for the hangover you both have

A part of him, the part that doesn't want to deal with complicated emotions or situations like these, kind of hopes maybe you'd be drunk enough to forget

But you weren't <3

"Are we....a thing now?"

"we don't have to be we can still just be friends"

"Friends that just hook up?"

".....yeah"

And that kind of settles it, neither of you seem to be aware of any deeper romantic feelings yet or maybe simply in denial about the possibility. Maybe a mix of both who's to say

Tha awkward tension lessens some, you two kind of easing into this new dynamic

Sans isn't exactly a stranger to having friendly hookups, though it's newer ground on your end. The thing is the two of you don't expect to be just....getting intimate so frequently

The second time is in a spur of a moment thing where you two happen to have his house to ourselves

The third time you two get a bit....adventurous at his hot dog stand shall we say

The fourth time? Let's just say it involved a short cut

It's kind of like the same as when you two were just friends who didn't do this kind of stuff, except there is more casual touching than there wasn't before

It's subtle on his end, he's more prone to be closer to you, wrap an arm around you or even lean against you. Meanwhile you're noticeably more handsy

And it doesn't go completely unnoticed

Undyne : .....are you and Sans a thing now?

Y / N : Noo??? The fuck makes you say that?

Undyne : You two weren't this touchy before

You just roll your eyes and tell her to mind her own damn businesses (you know damn well how she looks at Alphys)

I definitely think you realize that your feelings are romantic first rather than platonic or purely lustful, when is a bit unclear probably post cotius when you two are happily snuggled up and just chatting

It's when it hits that you're happy, really happy and you kind of don't want to leave his embrace

....you're in love with this idiot

Sans is slower with it

He's not oblivious to it, he knows he likes you a lot and clearly you two get along well. The bonehead is just a bit hesitant to properly let anyone into his life like that and he doesn't throw words as strong as "love" all willy nilly

However one time while in the moment of passion, he kind of just realized he could get used to doing this with you forever, get used to having you around forever, wanted to have you around forever, needed to have you around forever

The emotions of it hit him like a truck when you're both still reeling from your respective highs, it spills out

"i'm in love with you..."

You blink, not sure if you heard him correctly, "Did you just...?"

And then he fucking teleports away.

You're more than thrown for a loop by it

To his credit he doesn't just avoid you after the fact, the man was just overwhelmed and further overwhelmed himself by saying it before he himself could process it

Still kinda sheepish about it when you two talk and you do bring it up

It was your turn to throw him for a loop by saying you loved him too.

"are we a thing now?"

"Yeah, yeah I'd like to be anyway."

That kind of settles it, you two don't make any big announcement, the most your relationship goes public is just people asking if you two are a thing now

And you both respond yes

Well, you tell them yes, Sans gets cheeky with it

"i'm a thing, they're a thing, guess that settles it."

[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.” 

[alexanderlightweight]

Amazing to see you better and back writing again! I've been pretty much off tumblr for a while because on RL stuff so quite a shock (but a wonderful surprise) to see I'd missed a Writing Wednesday, but great fun to read through the recent prompts and answers - you still write as beautifully as ever! If you are in the mood for it, I'd love to see something with Alec changing from 'In Command' to 'Melting/Falling Apart' as he walks to Magnus - any verse is good :)

hi!!! it's been a while yes but its amazing to be back and good to hear from you! I get that, RL makes it really hard to be online sometimes, when I wasn't writing I tried to stay somewhat active but tbh writing is why i'm interested in being online so I was kinda bad at it.

i'm actually relieved my writing hasn't gotten too rusty, so i'm thankful to hear that! I hope you enjoy this, it's in the petals vs and is Mirai's POV

<3 lumine

-

in his wake petals fall

Mirai is pleased with her position as Alec Lightwood’s second.  

He’s tough but fair — though he has his own weaknesses — and beyond that, he takes the lives of his hunters seriously.

Which means that when someone from the outside fucks up and puts either lives or the reputation of his Insitutte  in danger, he takes it seriously.

Like now, where he stands half-naked and dripping from his hurried decontamination shower and is dressing down a dirt-smudged, scowling shadowhunter.

“You opened up a manhole to track down a nest of demons and then you just happened to leave it open? Along with the other three hatches and locked areas you went through that allowed two dozen minor demons to flood the streets? I had to send two teams back down to make sure no mundanes fell or were dragged in.”

As he speaks Alec’s volume stays calm and measured and despite being two inches shorter than the hunter he’s scolding, he holds every bit of power in the room with just the tone of his voice. It’s cold, like ice despite the gentle pitch of it and every single hunter in the room can hear the anger and disappointment in it.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to shut it.”

It’s not a question and it’s not even an attempt at an apology and Mirai knows that Idris’ latest and best will be sent back by daybreak.

“Why is he even here?” 

It’s a valid question even if the answer is the same as it always is, politics. 

“His mother just joined the council.” Kaleb has barely looked up from his tablet since Alec was called from his office to deal with the dozens of demons loose in a mundane night market. They’d needed his skill to deal with it quickly and efficiently and even Jace was woken up to direct a city wide communication web despite having only just ended a shift. “We accepted the transfer because his scores were among the top, apparently they no longer test for critical thinking.”

“...”

Mirai has never seen a nephilim move so quickly without active runes before.  Alec’s strength due to his training and use of the bow is legendary but there is still something impressive about watching him lift someone taller and broader than him with the ease of a cat dangling a mouse.

Alec shakes him, as if that will somehow help impart the lesson he wishes to teach him. Considering that half of Alec’s skin is still raw and pink from being regrown after ichor coated it, Mirai imagines the only one truly suffering is her commander. But if this helps relieve his stress after the evening he’s had, she’ll take it.

“Alexander—” 

Salvation comes in the form of Magnus Bane and Mirai will always be grateful for the privilege of having his private phone number.  It means that there is always a quick way to de-escalate the many situations Idris creates.

Her commander drops the offending hunter like an ichor covered stele and moves just as quickly — yet far less angrily — to his husband.

“Magnus.” 

Just as soft but no longer filled with ice, Alec’s tone turns from a cold dagger to a cool, gentle breeze petting against the senses.  The dark furrow of his brow and the angry turn of his lips smoothes too quickly to catch as his eyes soften and he smiles.

If Mirai was any less confident, she’d wonder if he’d ever actually been angry at all.

There’s a quick moment where Alec’s gaze catches her and she relaxes at the pleased acknowledgment there. 

Good.

So far Alec’s never minded that she uses Magnus to reign him in, sometimes she feels almost as if he plays into it, just a bit.

Then something will happen that will remind her that no matter how far he plays into it, Alec Lightwood-Bane truly is just a smitten mess for his husband. No matter how fierce his anger or great his agony, Alec’s attention will always shift to where Magnus Bane is.

Having no need to worry about the success of her mission — the minute Alec heard his husband it was a success — she nods to Kaleb who smirks and taps the tablet in his hands.  

He’ll have the hunter processed and escorted back to Idris before Magnus is done taking her commander out for dinner.  

When she turns, Magnus has already summoned actual clothing beyond damp sweatpants for Alec and a crown of flowers that he’s actually holding away from her commander.  

“Magnus, please?” Alec’s voice is a quiet plea, something so fragile compared to his strength just moments before, as if being denied the flower crown he knows his husband specifically brought just for him will truly break him.

Magnus Bane laughs, winking at her as he shakes his head in mock pity. 

“Duty first, darling.  I can hardly give you the flowers if they might get ruined in a few moments.  You finish handling things here, then you get the crown.”

It’s an opening that in any other situation Alec might take him up on, but Mirai has watched this particular scene replay itself for months and as always, Alec delegates.

“Mirai?”

“Everything here will be handled shortly. I’m sure sending a scathing letter for the council to read publicly will be a much more effective use of your time, sir.”

He definitely agrees, if the way Alec’s immediately turning back to Magnus and dips his head down along with the offering the full effect of wide, glossy hazel eyes peering up pleadingly.

Magnus caves instantly, a crown with flowers Mirai doesn’t know from memory but a scent that tells her is honeysuckle, placed on Alec’s brow.

[thejolteonmastertj]

The plot bunnies be hopping

Y’know how Link’s uncle is brought back to life at the end of alttp—but doesn’t seem to be living with Legend in Linked Universe? 🤔

What if Legend’s refusal to carry on the family’s knighthood as the sole surviving heir of his generation is part of why he’s grown distant from his uncle? I’m not saying his uncle had to have tried to force it or been an outright asshole about it—but maybe there’s some sort of tension, guilt or some other sort of melancholy there.

Y’know something else conveniently similar that’s been living in my head rent-free since I first played botw? That one memory where we learn literally the only detail about Wild’s family we ever learn in-game: His father was a knight of the Royal Guard. Also of/c that Link followed in his footsteps. But like—the whole theme of that memory was, “but what if…”

Specifically, here’s Zelda’s dialogue in the memory:

Your path seems to mirror your father's. You've dedicated yourself to becoming a knight, as well. Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfill your goal is really quite admirable… I see now why you would be the chosen one…

What if... one day... You realized that you just weren't meant to be a fighter. Yet the only thing people ever said... was that you were born into a family of the royal guard, and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight. If that was the only thing that you were ever told... I wonder, then... would you have chosen a different path?

We don’t see any response from Link of/c, but… the implications, from the mere fact that he remembers this specific conversation at all—especially in the context of LU, where Wild has already admitted he has a hard time believing the prim & proper soldier in his memories was even ever him.

Which is not even to mention anything else on whether he’d choose to be a knight if given the choice now. We know Wild carries around Roam’s diary, so he’s almost certainly read Zelda’s as well & would therefore know that even the him from before wasn’t doing too hot under all the pressure…

So like, hoo boy, Wild would get it. Legend may or may not initially expect it, but I think Wild would 100% back up Legend’s choice to stay out of knighthood... after a bit more development of his own that seems to be incoming of course. 👀

Hell, Legend might even step in on Wild’s behalf first if things happen to escalate—which would be neat. A lot of things would be neat between these two tbh (Y’all know me I’m obsessed with them. 🤣)

They’re the only two Links with a father mentioned or even implied in-game, (well, them & Twilight perhaps, but that’s off-topic) & both of them got complicated & juicy relationships with their inherited knighthood. 👀 There’s convenient parallels & I just think they’re neat. 🤭

[vaynglories]

OH WHAT A GOOD DURGE ;A; 💖 don't let your dreams be memes baby!! kiss that goth girl! grow those cabbages! forget what daddy said about slaughtering your way through the entire material plane!

^^ here's my half-elf fighter boyo, currently living in postgame wedded bliss in waterdeep with gale. moonlights as a private detective and a doctor; status of actual medical licence Highly Questionable.

ough i just want to play bg3 again but i'm still marinating in the feels from my first playthrough and don't want to Ruin the Vibe u feel

[icarussol74]

I finally finished The Golden Raven over the weekend, and oh my god I still can’t stop thinking about it. And, something I’ve noticed not that many people have been talking about, at least that I’ve found, is Jeremy’s past. Like I’m all for Jerejean content or Laila and Cat or the secondhand Foxes moments or the Trojans in general. But, I can’t stop thinking about how fucked Jeremy’s life was. Like he was a closeted gay kid with absentee parents, then his mother remarried a probably openly homophobic and controlling man. To add another layer of hurt, his brother got addicted to pills only to give him the same addiction, plus the escalation to cocaine. And to top it all off, his little brother commits suicide on a night they were supposed to be spending together. Not only does Jeremy blame himself, but his entire family does too. They don’t even question why Jeremy was high out of his mind or where his addiction came from. So Bryson simply gets away with ruining Jeremy’s life. It honestly seems like Mathilda and his step-dad didn’t even care that much that Noah killed himself, just that Jeremy ruined their image. I’m sure that’s not the case but holy shit. Jeremy wasn’t at fault in anyway and yet all the blame was put on a grieving and traumatized 18/19 year old’s shoulders. Like it’s insane that he’s able to so consistently keep that bright personality going even after four years. Like is Bryson’s discretion and heterosexuality why he was left so free? Give me enough time once I graduate college in a few months and I might do a full deep dive tbh because I’m sure I’m missing some details. Anyways, I think Jean should get a second go at Bryson. I wanna see how many bones he can break. You know, as a little treat.

[f0rlorn]

falling for ya!

yuji itadori x fem!reader, (one sided) nobara kugisaki x reader, teen beach movie au

follows the plot of teen beach movie, some characters have been mischaracterized for the sake of plot.

warnings: implied misogyny like in the movie (i'm aware they wouldn't actually act like this, but it's an au), sort of one sided crush, reader acts like she's lobotomized, and weird pacing tbh!!

word count: 4.4k- that's a personal record

Life was simple. You liked biking, big hair, leather boots, and boys, things every other biker girl enjoyed. Life was perfect. You didn't have to make decisions or do anything complicated- with a flutter of your glittery eyes, boys lined up to do it all for you. The only thing that got in the way of your perfect little life was the band of surfers that loved to hang around the same joint your brother and his friends did, Big Momma's.

In the midst of summer, the rival surfer and biker gangs spewed fiery hot hatred, blood boiling from the mere sight of the other. Each wanted the spot for their own, willing to go to bizarre lengths, all for a fish fry and a soda. You didn't mind the surfers, they didn't bother you in your pristine, pretty bubble as you twirled through life in a girlish daze. But your brother, Aoi, was territorial. He wanted the surfers out.

Your brother and his friends made a big spectacle out of their entrance, revving their engines obnoxiously as a warning to Big Momma's patrons, much to her dismay. She had reprimanded him time and time again about scaring away customers, but it always fell on deaf ears. Besides, they were trying to scare those pesky Surfers away all the time.

Pulling up your thigh-high, pastel pink boots, you rolled your eyes dismissively as your brother dramatically swung the chipped wooden doors to Big Momma's wide open. The sun shone brightly behind him, casting a menacing shadow on his face. The upbeat, harmony-intensive music that had been playing died down as the room full of surfers looked threatened by your mere presence there.

"Surfers. Thought I smelled somethin' fishy," Todo remarked, crossing his arms. A girl in a black swimsuit pushed through the crowd, standing face to face with your brother. More accurately, face to chest, as Aoi had a decent amount of height on her. Though, that didn't seem to intimidate her in the slightest.

"Rodents. I knew I should have laid some traps," she seethed, eyes squinted behind a pair of glasses. "Thought you all were exterminated."

"And I thought you surfers were all washed up," Noritoshi retorted from over Todo's shoulder.

"'Yea. You should make like the ocean and wave goodbye," Nishimiya giggled, making a wave motion with her hand. Deadpanning suddenly, she continued. "'Cause we want this place to ourselves!" You nodded from Todo's side, mindlessly encouraging their childish antics with a pop of your bubblegum.

"The girls don't lie, Maki." Maki was beginning to object, growing dangerously close to Todo's face with a pointed finger, ready to snap, before a boy in an unbuttoned shirt and messy, pink hair, pushed his way through.

"I'm sorry, is there a problem? You guys don't own this restaurant."

"Yeah, I'll show you the problem, punk-" Before the encounter could grow violent, you scurried over to the jukebox, making a show of slotting a coin in and bumping the machine with your hip to start up the music. Both Todo and the surfer boy stared dumbfounded at your attempt to diffuse the situation, but settled nonetheless, giving each other one last mutual glare before settling on opposite sides of the joint.

You smiled, clapping your hands together in satisfaction. You were the self-proclaimed queen of peace and de-escalation. "Let's just get our lunch and go, Aoi, it's not worth all the fuss. C'mon, we'll be back later," You reassured him with a smile. Who was he to say no to you?

That night, Big Momma was letting you and the girls put on a little performance to entertain her Friday night rush crowd. Your red, polka dot dress looked absolutely darling on you. Beaming, you indulged yourself in a little spin, adoring the girly way the dress twirled. Not to mention, your hair looked great. You had gotten your friend Miwa to tease it for you, a shiny headband accentuating the meticulous hairstyle.

Settling into the comfy corner booth, you took a swig of a fruity soda, attempting to soothe your vocal cords before you had to sing in just a few minutes. "Hey sis, those surfers weren't bothering you earlier, were they? Saw 'em eyeballing Mai over here," Todo questioned, gaining an affirmative nod from Mai as she was mentioned.

"No, of course not!" You assured. "You know, they're not so bad."

"All surfers are bad!" Nishimiya protested, causing the rest of the table to chime in in agreement. You rolled your eyes with a breathy laugh at their extreme loathing of the other breed.

"Okay, well, we gotta go. It's almost time, come on!" You urged, coaxing Miwa, Mai, and Nishimiya from their seats to come on the stage with you.

The set was going great, your friends were dancing and having a good time. You even got some of the surfers to dance as well. It wasn't until you twirled, heel catching on the edge of the stage, that you felt any sort of dismay that night. You held your breath, preparing yourself for the painful, embarrassing fall that surprisingly never came. When you opened your eyes, you were met with the handsome face of the surfer who was arguing with your brother earlier.

Yuji was a stereotypical surfer boy, a smile plastered on his face for the entirety of the summer. He always said his first love was the water, the splashing of the waves a sweet siren song pulling him in. What was sweeter than that siren song, though, was your melodic voice that night. It was only because you lured him closer to the stage that he was able to be there as you tripped, arms reaching out on instinct to scoop you up from midair.

"Nice of you to drop in," he mused.

"You saved my life," you beamed, eyes lighting up. The boy laughed, suddenly nervous as you spoke to him. "You're my hero!"

"Not really. I mean, the stage is only two feet up," Yuji nodded his head in the direction of the stage, "the worst you would have done is break a nail," he awkwardly joked, careful to set you down on your two feet, making sure you were steady before removing his hands from your hips.

"I guess I literally fell for you, huh? I'm Y/N."

"Yuji. Your knight in shining board shorts," He playfully continued.

"That's a long last name you have, Mister Knight in Shining Board Shorts," you giggled, causing him to let out a breathy laugh along with you. Your awkward banter was quickly interrupted when a black-haired recluse stole him away with urgency and an apology.

"It was really nice falling into you, Yuji! I hope we can do it again sometime," you bid farewell with a small wave, rather disappointed to see him go. But the disappointment did nothing to quell the butterflies you felt from the wholesome interaction.

You were so enamored with Yuji that you didn't even realize the set was over, your friends waiting to the side for you expectantly.

"What was that all about?" Pried Miwa, clasping your hands excitedly.

"I don't know- I just fell and he caught me!"

"Yeah, and then you guys giggled with each other for like five minutes!" Nishimiya chimed in, the girls surrounding you curiously.

"It just happened! Do you think he likes me?" You queried, asking your friends in earnest for their opinion.

"Well with the way he was looking at you, I think he might love you," Mai teased.

"Plus, did you see his hand placement?! He was holding you bridal style. I think it's a sign," Nishimiya quipped with a poke to your arm. "Anyway, you're lucky Aoi didn't see. C'mon, they're outside by the fire." She tugged you along, the other girls following close by. The boys in question were clustered together on the moonlit beach, warming their hands by the flames contained within a metal barrel.

"Ladies," Noritoshi acknowledged as the four of you approached. You greeted them warmly, each settling into separate spots by the bonfire. Miwa cuddled close to Mechamaru, unsurprisingly. She had denied her feelings for him for a while now, but you knew that if he ever asked her out, she would agree with zero hesitation. You smiled at their subtle intimacy. It made you think of Yuji, and how you wished you could be that close to him again.

Yuji was an exceptional catch on your part. Or rather, he caught you. Seriously, the boy had very minimal flaws, if any. On top of being drop-dead gorgeous with perfectly sized biceps, he was gentlemanly, caring, and loyal to a fault. The only problem was that he was a surfer. It was practically forbidden to hang out with surfers, let alone date one. You knew your brother would whoop you upside the head if he found out that you had any plans to fraternize with the so-called enemy.

It was possible, though, that Yuji might not even ask you out. The mere prospect made you clammy with dread and disappointment. But that would be impossible! He referred to himself as your knight, he caught you, a biker girl, his supposed opposition, and handled you with much care, nonetheless. Asking you out was not outside of the realm of possibilities, just like your friends assured you. The overwhelming amount of thinking you were doing forced an exacerbated sigh out of you, sinking into the silky sand.

Later in the night, you caught sight of Yuji again. You couldn't decipher who he was with- possibly the boy from earlier- but it didn't make any difference. You knew you wanted to talk to him and get to know him further, and you typically got what you wanted from boys.

"Oh!" You exclaimed as the charming surfer who had saved you earlier grew closer. Pressing your manicured hands to his chest and leaning in close, you sang his praises once more. "Thanks again, Yuji, for catching me!" You were just about to introduce him to your brother and his friends, turning your head around, only to be met with the expectant stare of the gorgeous brunette he was with. You let out a little squeak, realizing that you might have been taking Yuji's banter the wrong way.

"Oh, bonkers. Are you two together? I would never take another girl's boy, I mean, that would be stealing," you explained apologetically, "and probably very hard to return." The girl cocked her head, struck with confusion at the outlandish assumption and near nonsensical ramblings. Realizing your claim, her eyes widened in distaste.

"Eh?! Me.. with him? No, of course not." She reeled back in disgust. "No, we were just walking." The girl explained, causing you to sigh in relief, a weight dropping off of your shoulders. If she was with him, you wouldn't dare lay a finger on Yuji. Sure, you enjoyed the male attention you received, but you would never seek it from a boy in a relationship. You always stayed true to "sisters before misters," no matter how cute the boy was.

"This is Nobara."  Yuji looked rather offended at her extreme objection, grabbing your wrist to steal your attention once more. You looked at Nobara, smiling sweetly.

"So you wouldn't mind if Yuji and I went for a walk on the beach?" You asked, still wanting her permission despite her obvious friendship- and nothing more- with him. Once she gave you her blessing, you thanked her generously and wrapped your arm around Yuji's bicep.

The stars illuminated the two of you, walking along the secluded shoreline and learning that you had more in common than you had previously believed. "Y'know, I like you a lot. You're different from those other girls you hang out with- you're sweet." Yuji admitted, hands sheepishly resting in his pockets while you still clung to his arm.

"They're not as tough as they seem, really. Mai and Momo are like my older sisters, I grew up with them around. And Miwa's super sweet too, she's my closest friend," You explained, defending their honor. Sure, the Rodents wore a lot of black, leather, and chains, but that didn't reflect their complete character. While you knew your friends could be tough and independent, you had also seen them be vulnerable, gentle, and kind-hearted people.

"You're really courageous, by the way. Swooping in to save me like that? You truly are my hero," You gushed, leaning your head on his shoulder. He tensed at your forwardness, words coming out in a stutter.

"Courageous? Nah, I mean-" Upon noticing the kittenish glint in your eye, Yuji couldn't help but lean into your every word. "Maybe, I guess. I'm sure anyone would have done the same!"

"Well, not a surfer. We're not supposed to get along, y'know," you reminded him, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Of course a surfer. Who would ever want a smokin' girl like you to fall?" His words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to think of the implications- he had just called you hot. You were undeniably breathtaking, it was a fact. Your graciousness and amiability did nothing but add to your charm. In honesty, Yuji didn't mind that you were a surfer. He would take a chance with any girl, be it surfer, biker, bookworm, you name it. He only asked that they be pure of heart, kind, and thoughtful. All qualities that he admired in you.

A blush rose to his face as he heard you giggle at his blunt words. "C'mon Yuu- do you mind if I call you that? It's a cute nickname. Anyway, do you dance?" You asked, leading him to the field near Big Momma's, colorful lights strung up from palm trees, shiny cars intentionally parked there for people to see, displayed by their proud owners.

You took initiative, placing your hand on his shoulder and lacing your other hand with his. His hand soon found its resting spot on your hips, and you swayed to the upbeat music playing on a radio. Every once and a while, Yuji grew bold, spinning you around or lifting you by your hips. It was fun. You enjoyed spending time with him, and you couldn't think of a better way to spend it.

Though, it was growing quite late. Your brother would soon notice your prolonged absence and start looking for you, the girls would be waiting to kick off the slumber party you decided to host. Yuji noticed too, it seemed, as once the song came to an end, he stopped your swaying, holding you in place with a firm grasp on your hips. "Y'know, it's about time I returned you to your brother. He'll start to worry. Hold on, on second thought, maybe I just walk you to the door. It might be worse if he sees you've been with me all night." He bashfully acknowledged.

He did walk you back, his hand emboldened enough to hold your own on the way over, regardless of who saw the two of you. But even though Yuji claimed he didn't care that you were a biker, he was scared to run into your brother and even let out an involuntary sigh of relief when he managed to go the whole way without him spotting the two of you. He walked you over to his friends, Megumi and Nobara, leaning on a light blue convertible that you didn't think belonged to them.

"So, how'd it go?" Nobara queried, peering up at the two of you from her hunched position. You grinned in reply, leaning your head on Yuji's shoulder as a silent answer to her question. She nodded with a hum in return. An idea came to you suddenly. That didn't happen too often, so when you thought of it, you knew you had to act on it.

"Hey, Nobara! You should come to my pajama party!" You exclaimed, inviting her with amicable enthusiasm. You heard Megumi repeat your words, tone amused and somewhat taunting. You paid him no mind, though. "We have them all the time. I'm sure the other girls would love to meet you."

"Sure, Y/N," she agreed with a warm smile.

"Perfect! Just show up to my house around ten." You slipped her your address and bid farewell to the trio, leaving Yuji with a tender kiss on the cheek which left his friends snickering at his awkward, scrunched-up face.

When Nobara did show up, shuffling her feet at your doorstep, Mai, Miwa, Nishimiya, and yourself were already in your ruffly pajamas, poofy layers of chiffon hiding your figures and covering the tiny matching shorts. You felt guilty for not telling her that the four of you were matching already, as she appeared in a little pink satin set, a far contrast to what the rest of you were wearing. She ended up in another pair you had, the pastel yellow mixing quite nicely with the color palate that you all were already dressed in.

Nishimiya sat at your vanity, Mai behind her intensely teasing her hair. It was never quite big enough for Nishimiya's liking, though, and you heard her whine something about making it even while you were digging through your closet for something special. Miwa was sprawled over your bed on her stomach, legs bent at the knee so her feet could rest in the air. She was filing her nails, quite focused on sharpening them to a fine tip. That left Nobara sitting on the edge of your bed by her lonesome.

It's not that she felt out of place because you were too girly for her, she loved embracing her femininity- going shopping, wearing cute makeup and frilly dresses, the whole gist. It's just that she had been around Yuji and Megumi for so long, almost too long. She felt like she needed to spend some time around other girls. She wanted to get to know you better, too. You were so kind to her, so effortlessly pretty all of the time. It made her warm inside whenever you acknowledged her. It also made her quite bitter to see you so lovey-dovey with her annoyingly male friend. She wanted your attention for herself.

You squealed suddenly, pulling the most perfect pink dress out of your closet with a wide smile. "What do you think?" You held it up to your body, turning to face your friends who all gasped in delight, all except Nobara. "I want to wear this when I hang out with Yuji. His hair is pink, and this dress is pink, so whenever he looks in the mirror, he'll think of me!" You giggled, amused at your own genius.

"Why should a boy influence what you wear.. or anything you do? You should dress for yourself. You look good in everything you wear, really." You cocked your head at Nobara's sudden fuss. "Boys don't deserve it, especially Yuji. I don't think that dummy would notice the extra effort, he's too oblivious." You frowned, disappointed with her claim until Nishimiya spoke up.

"I mean, it's simple. A girl will only look at the dress. A boy will look at how she looks in her dress."

"Why not just ask him out yourself? If you want him, why wait?" Nobara wondered.

"I'm not sure how they do things where you're from, but here we ask a boy out without actually asking a boy out. Like with your eyes," You explained, covering the bottom half of your face to let your doe eyes do the work for you, serving as an example as you batted them. Nobara grew flustered as you did so, a blush rising on her face. "Besides, I've never had trouble in the boy department before."

"Sure. Whatever you say." She responded quietly. Well, if it worked on her, it would surely work on Yuji.

"You know him better than I do, Nobara. Do you think he would like it if I baked him a pie?" She agreed half-heartedly, still distracted by your glamour. "Hey, you should let us give you a makeover, biker style! I know you're used to those cute bikinis, but you would look great in leather."

The five of you made a fashion show out of it- each picking out a piece of their own to wear. For Nobara, you lent her a pair of tight leather pants and a white blouse, a red bandanna tied around her neck. You were right, she looked fantastic in leather. Her red bandanna complimented the form-fitting dress that you had slipped on, red lipstick to match. While Miwa worked on Nobara's makeup, perfecting the precise eyeliner, you and Mai teased her hair, making it poof up like Nishimiya's.

A fit of giggles erupted at the sight of the finished product. Nobara looked stunning, obviously, but she stood mightily uncomfortable in the high pumps and tight pants. She couldn't recall the last time she wasn't in beachwear or something summery. The dark clothing was a stark contrast to her normal aesthetic. As a final touch, you tucked a comically large red flower behind her ear and turned her around to face the mirror, letting her see herself. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, not expecting to like it as much as she did.

"I don't look half bad. You girls need a new addition to your biker gang anytime soon?" She joked, facing you with a smile.

"The more the merrier."

By morning, all the other girls had parted ways, leaving you and Nobara alone in your room. She was forced to endure your boy troubles. "It's like my heart's telling me one thing, but I feel like I have to do something else. I'm scared I'll disappoint everybody if I pursue things with Yuji. And I don't know what he thinks about the whole thing either."

"Well, half the time a guy won't tell you what he's thinking, just because it would involve more thinking." She teased, sneering at the prospect.

"But they make up for it by being cute. And boys!" You sang. Nobara chuckled tepidly, wary of your quick defense on their part. "Y'know, I feel like I could tell you anything," you changed the subject, piquing Nobara's interest. "There's this secret that I've never told anyone. Not ever!"

"I'll be the first to know?" She asked.

"Duh!" You interlocked your pinkie with hers. "Friends forever. Just promise not to tell."

"Friends forever," she repeated, tightening her grip slightly.

Dragging her over to your bed, you sighed before speaking. "I want to surf," you admitted, looking rather hesitant. Her eyes widened with slight surprise.

"Really? I wasn't expecting that. Thought it would be something a little more drastic."

"It's totally insane, I know," you chirped, ignoring her last comment for the sake of being dramatic. "If my brother ever found out, he would freak. He doesn't even go near the water. I think he's scared of the lighthouse," you spoke your immediate thoughts, causing Nobara to laugh a little through her nose.

"You shouldn't let your brother stop you from doing what you want to do. If you want to surf, try it. If you want to date Yuji, for some odd, odd reason, go for it!" She encouraged, with a genuine interest for your happiness. "Look, I could even get Yuji to teach you if you want," Nobara suggested, prompting a beaming grin from you.

You weren't sure you were even dressed appropriately for the day of. Nobara had lent you a cute swimsuit of hers since you had very limited options yourself. Your hair was done up all nice, and you arrived with a full face of makeup. You wanted to impress Yuji, but you soon realized that your appearance would not matter if it impaired you from effectively surfing with him. When he arrived, you were sat on a beach towel with a pout.

"What's up, buttercup?" Yuji greeted, setting his board down and taking a seat next to you. You then remembered that you wanted to ask him to go out with you, inspired by Nobara's eccentric outlook about doing anything that boys could do. Still, it was a frightening prospect. You went back and forth between asking him and remaining faithful to your traditional ways. But you managed to convince yourself to try something new for once.

"Yuji. Would you ever want to go steady?" You boldly asked, turning towards him with crossed arms. A blush rose to his face as he sputtered out a string of random words.

"I really like you, Y/N. I've told you this." Were the first coherent words he could come up with. "Of course I'd wanna." Your eyes lit up, overjoyed with his answer. Your hands clung to his forearm, body springing forward excitedly. You gave a silent thanks to Nobara for helping you gain the courage to ask him.

"Really? My brother doesn't scare you or anything?"

"I mean, he's a little spooky. But I could beat him if I had to. Besides, you're totally worth the fight," he proudly announced, causing you to lean into him further.

The two of you didn't get much surfing done that day. You unfortunately realized that in order to surf, you first had to learn how to swim, and you weren't exactly in the mood to drown today. So, you opted for a picnic on your beach towel with the little snacks you had brought just in case, as well as the pie you had baked just for him. He continued the conversation, mouth half full of food.

"So if I'm your knight, does that make you my princess?" He proposed, nudging your shoulder playfully.

"I guess so. And that also means that Aoi is the fire-breathing dragon guarding the castle." Yuji shivered jokingly. "Better yet, we're Romeo and Juliet!" You exclaimed. "How romantic."

"Without the death and tragedy stuff though, right?" He asked, concerned.

"Of course, silly," you smiled. "We'll live happily ever after."

Yuji was a Surfer. You were a Biker. Rival gangs from different sides of town. It was scary, yes, to think about how others would respond, especially the more impassioned of the groups. But you didn't have to listen to what others thought about you; their opinion was no longer relevant. No longer would you stick to the restricting role you were pushed into your whole life, you could break free from it now, like Nobara had taught. Plus, you would have Yuji with you throughout it all, there by your side to cherish and support you. It was like a fairy tale, and you would definitely be getting your happily ever after.

notes: yuji would totally call his gf "foxy babe." also, i apologize for this being kind of all over the place- i didn't know how i wanted it to end, sorry that it's rushed.

me sitting here convincing myself that the fifth grade level writing is completely intentional and plot relevant yessss hahaha