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eddiesghxst · 1 year ago

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LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job.

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day!

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now.

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.”

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.”

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with.

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.”

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap.

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you.

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.”

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him.

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.”

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for.

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks.

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room.

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.”

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—”

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?”

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door.

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has.

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?”

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee.

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?”

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat.

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him.

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.”

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine.

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into.

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?”

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes.

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does.

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock.

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.”

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them.

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows.

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping.

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right.

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it.

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head.

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle.

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

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jjunberry · 8 months ago

Note

hiii ! ~ what are your thoughts on sexual tension with co-worker hyuka (or taehyun 🙈) ??

SEXUAL TENSION W/ COWORKER KAI

coworker kai! who likes to compete with you simply because he finds you frustrated and angry attractive. “looks like i’m ahead in sales again,” he leaned over your cubicle. your eyebrows furrowed. “fuck off kai.”

coworker kai! who purposely knocks your things off your desk, simply to see you bend over. you groaned, bending over to grab your pen, your pencil skirt stopping just above your ass. you knew his eyes were on you, it’s why you wear the skirts.

coworker kai! can’t help but think about bending you over and taking you, as you give your presentation. his bottom lip was caught tight between his teeth. sweat beaded your hairline feeling his eyes undressing you.

coworker kai! who’s competing with you for the promotion. both of you fighting for the spot with presentations. he’s convinced the boss gave you the promotion due to your lowcut shirt and tight pencil skirt. (nothing you didn’t normally wear to the office)

coworker kai! who corners you in the conference room. your back against the desk, his strong arms caging you in. “you think you deserved that?” he seethed. you looked up at him between your lashes. “yes? i mean he did pick me?” kai scoffed, his eyes trailing your form. his fingers played with the hem of your skirt. “only because of how you’re dressed,” you rolled your eyes shoving him off.

coworker kai! who undressed you with his eyes as you stormed out of the room. he didn’t miss the subtle way you clenched your thighs. he adjusted his hard on before following after you.

coworker kai! who takes you against the copier in the break room. everyone had gone home for the night leaving the both of you to succumb to the thick tension. he had your hair pulled into a pony tail, his free hand tightly gripping your waist where your skirt was bunched up.

coworker kai! who never misses the chance to tease you under the table at meetings, forever reminding you of how he fucked you.

🗒️: like what you’ve read? send a request! guidelines for requesting here.

author’s note: i need coworker kai in my life

love, echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

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saintobio · 1 year ago

Text

sincerely yours. (8)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, mentions of cheating, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, explicit smut

series masterlist -> episode nine

9:21 AM.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of your index finger drumming a slow and steady cadence against the table was nearly in perfect synchronization to the tick tock of the clock above the wall behind you. An icy, uninviting atmosphere was the best way to describe the current situation inside the conference room at this time of the morning, with the gelid detachment between the boss and her employees as you built a wall—an impenetrable wall—around yourself to keep the inner turmoil you had in your head.

So, you listened. You succumbed to silence as a result.

“I’d like to present this new idea that we, along with the ecommerce team, have come up with to increase engagement on our website.” Even as the marketing manager started to speak, you remained frigid. “We did go through some feedback that people have been posting online and they’re mostly saying that the current web theme is too plain and that they’re hoping to see a more engaging website, so we would love to propose some ideas that could improve Hearte’s overall online presence. We know that keeping the brand’s look consistent is very important, especially now that Hearte is still establishing its own name in the fashion industry, and we have currently done a phenomenal job with our brand style. However, as the online website is our visual storefront, not only is its functionality critical, but we also have to ensure that the web design is in line with our aesthetics.”

9:26 AM.

You leaned back on your chair with your arms crossed, looking up to speak to the manager from across the conference room. “Let’s keep the unnecessary introduction short and just go straight to the point,” you strictly announced, receiving curious eyes in return as it was their first time seeing you becoming all stern and unamused. Such an odd sight to see from a boss who used to have the brightest of sunshines reflecting on her smile. “What’s the proposal?”

The marketing manager cleared her throat and moved her presentation onto the next slide. “Yes, Ms. Y/N. So… uh, based on the data that you can see on the screen, our online sales increased by 15% for the past two weeks, but we still have about 10% of shoppers abandoning their shopping carts. Earlier this week, we set up email campaigns and social reminders to decrease our abandonment rate and urge shoppers to return to their carts. While working with the IT team, we did some A/B testing to determine which version would drive our business metrics. We’ve also reached out to The Society Management and added Kendall Jenner to our PR list so that possibly, in the future, we can get her as a model for our landing page and attract the western market,” she continuously explained in a manner to convince you of how much effort their department was doing to increase Hearte’s sales, “But what we believe could bring a tremendous improvement on our website engagement is by introducing style guides. This will capture the interest of the audience now that they can mix and match some outfits based on their own style, and—”

9:32 AM.

Sigh.

“Ms. Ono, I have to be honest, but I expected more from you,” you cut her off by leaving a frank comment on her presentation, “Fashion brands have been doing style guides for years. You make it sound like it’s unique, but it’s nothing new. How sure are we that it will actually bring a dramatic improvement on our website engagement? I doubt most of them would even browse through it.”

“Well, uh…” The marketing manager faltered, glancing at the head of the social media team for some help, which she didn’t end up receiving. “I think it’ll work the way we want it to as long as we introduce engaging copies that make buyers fall in love with the designs.”

“You think?” You criticized her word of choice. “Ms. Ono, I gave you enough time to brainstorm with your team, so the moment you step inside of this conference room, you should have prepared whatever strategy you had in mind. I don’t settle for ambitious words like ‘I think’ or ‘I believe’. I want to hear a proposal that’s original, unique, and captivating. I want you to be a hundred percent sure that you know what you’re doing before you waste everyone’s time like this. Do you understand? Am I being clear? I want a proposal that would definitely get us somewhere and not just by assuming we will.”

Were you being too harsh? They said that the fashion industry in itself was harsh, so what was so surprising about seeing you being strict, candid, and business-like? This was the nature of your job. This was normal.

9:47 AM.

Very timidly did Nobara raise her hand beside you to chime in on the discussion. “I know I’m not in the position to make suggestions, but…” She pressed something on her laptop before carefully sliding it to your side of the table, showing you what appears to be a classic early 2000s ‘dress-up game’ with a base model and a selection of outfits that were inspired by your designs. “I just wanted to show you this, Ms. Y/N. I do agree with Ms. Ono’s idea to introduce style guides, but maybe we can do it in an interactive way. I know the dress-up game idea may look childish and unsophisticated, but I was kinda hoping that we can just make certain adjustments so that it could match Hearte’s classy and simplistic style. We can have base models in different body types and skin tones to show our brand’s diversity, then we can have shoppers try dressing them up using the outfits on our current collection. That allows them to easily visualize how the pieces would look on a certain skin tone and body type.”

The way everyone else in that conference table looked at Nobara was very obvious that they were expecting you to reprimand her for even having the guts to offer such a farcical idea. What does she know? They were probably thinking that. You’re just an intern. You knew they were saying that in their minds. On the other hand, you surprisingly liked her proposal and enjoyed the unique idea of introducing it to the website because her proposal actually did make sense. People would be curious, people would try it out by interacting with the website, and that means the engagement would rise up.

“I like that idea. We can go with that,” you said, sliding the laptop back to her while nodding at the marketing and social media managers, “I need the team to discuss Nobara’s idea further and polish it thoroughly before we can start adding it onto the website. Make adjustments as needed and ensure that everything is still in line with our brand. If you notice any flaws with this proposal, you can flag them with me and I’ll review them.”

9:54 AM.

Just as you were about to wrap up the meeting, a certain someone entered the conference room in haste—panting out of breath with her long, wavy hair and creased red pants. “I’m so sorry, I’m late.”

Her casualness made you clench your jaws tightly, fueling the fire to your already terrible day. You could no longer stop yourself from unleashing your rage as you looked up at her with a critical squint. “Ms. Hirai, what time’s it?”

“It’s ten, I know. I’m so sorry,” she repeated her apologies and paid an apologetic bow to everyone in the meeting room, “I’m sorry, everyone. I was caught up in heavy traffic today.”

You let out a silent scoff and ignored her compunctious act. “How long are we gonna keep using that excuse, really?” you questioned her, earning the intrigued eyes of your employees who were all sensing the sudden tension between you and your best friend, “As the fashion merchandiser and my second-in-command, you should’ve been here in this meeting with me, but where were you? You anticipated that there would be heavy traffic, yet you couldn’t be responsible enough in coming to work early knowing that we have a meeting? Or was it because you’re too busy doing other things so you’re no longer interested in showing up to work on time?”

Akemi shook her head, contritely. “It’s… It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” Your icy stare bored into her. No trace of compassion was present in your eyes. “I’m sure you’re living a very blissful life outside of work and I’m glad you are, but is that also why you don’t bother with anything else anymore?”

“Y/N—”

“Miss Y/N,” you corrected, “I’m your boss, so treat me like one.”

Wide, chocolate brown eyes greeted you in response. It was clear that she was at a loss of words and could only repeat her meaningless apologies a thousand times. “I’m really sorry, Ms. Y/N. It won’t happen again.”

“You didn’t even let me know that you’ll be coming in late,” you continued and ignored the pitiful expression on her face, focusing on her swollen red lips and her dewy, rosy cheeks. She must have had a really good morning to look like a cherry blossom on a spring day. Was she so preoccupied being all lovey dovey with your ex-husband this morning? Did she sleep comfortably on the same marital bed you used to share with him? Your jaw tensed visibly. “You’re just coming in whenever you want. You don’t respect people’s time. You don’t respect my rules. You don’t respect me.”

Yes, you were overreacting by taking things too personally and it was the reason why you got up from your seat and bolted out of the conference room upon realizing your unusual outburst. You could hear the clicking sound of your stiletto echoing across the corridor as you stomped towards your office, swinging the glass door open and heading straight towards the ceiling-to-floor window to have some peace of mind. Peace? How ridiculous. How could you find peace? You couldn’t even grasp the fact that your best friend was acting like everything was normal. You couldn’t understand why she was rubbing her relationship to your face as if she wasn’t just a placeholder to somebody’s ex wife.

“Y/N?” Akemi’s voice cut you out of your toxic trail of thoughts—your mouth thinning with displeasure while you didn’t bother turning around to meet her gaze. Breathe. You had to breathe and think rationally. “I…I understand you’re really angry right now, but I was hoping we can have this much needed talk.”

You could feel her reaching for your hand at the height of your frustration and your defensive instinct led you to angrily swing your arm away, accidentally hitting her cheek as you pivoted on your heel to face her. It took two seconds for your eyes to shift from glaring in frustration to widening in surprise after seeing the small cut your diamond ring left on her cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, no, it’s fine,” she insisted with her palm pressed onto the right side of her face. “I deserved it.”

Good lord. What was happening to you? Despite having all these unspoken rage and unresolved conflicts between the two of you, you would still drop everything and be concerned for her. You would still let your walls collapse. You were the villain that couldn’t stick to being a villain. Why? Why did you feel this way? Was it because you knew she wasn’t technically doing anything wrong? Or was it because you were just projecting your personal frustrations onto her? Was betrayal really the issue here? Or was it the huge possibility that she could in fact be Gojou’s one true love? You had thought of this before, but the same questions in your head never stopped. And never did they stop from invading your headspace as you made your way towards the small fridge to grab an ice pack that you soon offered to Akemi, leading her to one of the couches while finally coming into your senses.

Yet there was silence and nothing but awkward silence when you two sat at a safe distance from each other.

“I’m shameless.” She was the first one to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. “I know you’re thinking that and I do agree with you. I really am shameless to even look you in the eye right now.”

You sighed and looked away, only to keep yourself from the furnace of pain that you had been bottling inside. “Stop. You’re making me seem like a villain right now. I’m tired of seeing myself this way.”

She closed her legs and sat humbly, reaching forward to squeeze your hand. “You’re not. You’re not a villain and you never were,” said the same woman you accidentally smacked a few minutes ago, “I understand why you would feel a certain way towards me. I’d even understand if you hate me so much that you wanna murder me. I’m your best friend and I know about your history with Satoru, yet here I am seeing your ex-husband behind your back. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t plan it. I truly didn’t. Even though you’re not together anymore and I’m technically not homewrecking anyone, I’m still putting us—you and I—in a really awkward position. You didn’t deserve any of that and I’m very sorry.”

At least, she was self-aware. But looking at the brighter side of things, you were getting calmer now that you were hearing her side of the story, though that didn’t stop you from feeling any less horrible. “I don’t really care who you date,” you claimed, adamantly, “And I most definitely do not care who Satoru chooses to date. We’ve been divorced for three years.”

“It’s still not right that I’m seeing him.” She let her guilt speak up for her.

And you let your resentment speak for you. “Then, why him of all people?”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?”

“Y-Yeah…”

You decided to keep a straight face. “How did this happen?”

Akemi looked as if you had just forced her to be on the hot seat because of the apathy on your visage. “It was a drunken mistake at first and we kinda just…”

“I’m not asking about when you two started fucking,” you replied, bluntly. Something you had never done before in your usual sophisticated vocabulary. “I’m asking when you realized you have feelings for him. When did you fall in love with him?”

She had trouble finding the right answer. “It just happened. I d-don’t really know. Whenever you asked me to look after him, I guess the bond he and I developed from that made me see him in a different light.”

You disregarded the pain in your chest and let the volcano explode on its own, because her answer only meant that she was already growing feelings for your ex-husband at the same time you were confiding to her about him. That was the worst part of it all.

“Why do you like him?” you questioned further, “Despite knowing what happened while I was married to him, why did you still end up falling in love with him? If that’s so hard to answer, then don’t think about us or me or our friendship. Just think about the decisions you made for yourself. Why are you with Satoru?”

Her gaze found the floor. Hesitance. Guilt. Shame. Those emotions were all dancing in her eyes in a complete roundabout. While she took a moment to fully reassess her decision, you weren’t sure if you deserved to still feel hurt when she gave you an honest answer. “When I met Satoru, I didn’t meet the toxic, cheating ex-husband that he was known for,” she said, slowly, “I met a man who holds such a high respect for his ex-wife, adores his son like his greatest gift of all, and values his marriage more than anything else in this world. I met a vulnerable man who isn’t afraid to open his heart to strangers. A man who gave me emotional support even when he’s the one who needed it the most. I… It’s hard to explain, but…”

Was there really anything left to say? Her point was clear, and your silence while she was speaking was more so because you were trying not to let the tiny pricks in your heart affect you further than it already did. The fullness of her voice and the way her eyes shined when she talked about him were enough to tell you that your best friend had truly fallen in love and you would be cruel to take that away from her. Even from him. They would not have been involved in such an intimate relationship if there had been no attraction between them to begin with, so then… Why did it feel like you were being cheated on? She was no Sera, and he was not the Satoru that only used you for his corporate ambitions. It was just Akemi and Satoru—they were each other’s right person at the right time. The only thing blocking their path to a loving relationship was you.

You. The irrational and spiteful ex-wife. The ex-wife who always played the ‘victim card’. The selfish ex-wife who wanted all the good things to only come her way.

Well, god be damned, because you were beginning to confuse yourself with the version of you that wasn’t even remotely like you at all. She was just a mirrored image of yourself that you thought people perceived.

“You can do what you want.” The moment you spoke again, you were already creating a huge wall between you and your best friend, making sure that there were boundaries that none of you should ever cross now that she had chosen to be with someone you had sincerely loved in the past. It may sound like you were letting go, but truth be told, you just didn’t think that you even had the option to hold onto anything. Satoru wasn’t yours and you weren’t his anymore. You were two individuals living separate lives. “If you wanna be with him, that’s your choice. I don’t plan on intervening. It just… just really surprised me that you didn’t have the decency to tell me at all.”

Akemi nodded, apologetically desperate. “I understand how you’re feeling and I’m sorry. I really, truly am sorry, Y/N.” Her voice and her countenance did show the genuineness in her plea to be forgiven, but you were too numb to feel anything else. “I hope we can stay friends despite everything.”

How could you even stay friends in a situation like this?

First option was to keep pretending that their relationship wasn’t bothering you. Second option was to focus on your own relationship with Toji to the point where everything else just didn’t matter anymore.

Yeah, you thought. You could certainly choose the latter.

“Our friendship isn’t my top priority at the moment,” was your straightforward response to her, “I wanna focus on my son and his relationship with his father. That’s all.”

Any regular person would have thought: ‘Wow, Y/N. You handled that well.’ ‘You’re so mature.’ ‘You’re a lot calmer than we expected.’ The thing was, you really did think that you had been way too calm about it. In spite of the scene you caused at the conference room, or the dramatic exchange you had with Akemi in your office, you still handled it much better than one would think. In TV shows or movies, the ex-wife would have dragged the best friend to the ground, slapped her face, pulled her hair, started a nasty catfight, and called her all the terrible labels you could think of. Look, part of you wanted to do that. And the other part of you—the sympathetic, altruistic part of you—thought you shouldn’t do that. You would only look pathetic.

Of all the negative things Satoru had made you feel over the course of your failure of a marriage, this aftermath was probably the toughest.

You just weren't in the right state of mind to justify why.

You also couldn’t justify why you had been looking for unhealthy ways to cope with stress and anxiety. If anyone from your family saw you standing at the smoking area near the parking lot right now, they would have given you an earful of how you must be out of your mind for even putting a cigarette stick between your lips. How exactly could tobacco be good for you? You would say, first of all, that nicotine does in fact cause pleasant feelings to distract you from unpleasant ones. You couldn’t find any other way to relax your mind any faster than one cigarette stick could. Besides, staying in the office and seeing Akemi around was getting too suffocating and you couldn’t afford to have your negative mood lingering in your mind for the rest of the day. One stick wouldn’t hurt. Another one wouldn’t, too. And another one should be fine, right?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The irony. You didn’t even have the time to recoil before the main cause of your stress showed up in front of you, frowning after he snatched the cigarette stick out of your lips. He was quick to throw it to the ground, stomp on it like he would do with your heart, and give you a questioning look that made you scoff at the ridiculousness of this situation. This could be a dream for heaven’s sake. Or a hallucination. There was no way Satoru Gojou would be standing right in front of you just as you were thinking about him.

“Since when have you been doing this?” he questioned again, holding your wrist this time to make you realize that his presence or this interaction wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. It would have been better that way, but the reality was, Satoru was there and he wasn’t the least bit pleased. “I know you’re mad at me and this isn’t the right time for me to chew you out like this, but…” he paused, taking your cigarette pack. “I can’t believe you’re fucking smoking right now, Y/N. Did you get this habit from Toji?”

Okay. Gojou could be way out-of-line sometimes, but this was the apex of it.

“Don’t bring Toji into this,” you snapped back, shooting him a glare that could easily kill. “What are you doing here?”

You could see how deep his inhale was just by the loudness of his sigh after it. His face showed a combination of yearning, regret, frustration, and pity as if he was deciding which emotion should dominate him more. But among the multitude of emotions that were drowning him right now like a tidal wave, he looked all the more exhausted. Whether it was dealing with you, trying to make amends with you, or simply being around you—you could tell that he wanted to drop his constant need to care for you because it was beginning to tire him out.

He didn’t really answer your question, and instead, asked one of his own. “Are you smoking because of stress?” he asked, trying to mask the sympathy in his eyes. “It’s bad for you. Set a good example for Sachiro.”

You’re bad for me, you wanted to say. Why did it even matter to him, anyway? You were nothing more than just a mother to his child. Anything outside that role was completely not his business anymore. The fact that he was even within the vicinity of your office was ridiculous, because you were already having a bad day and his presence was adding further into it. “Don’t you dare talk about setting a good example to my son like you’re so righteous yourself.”

“Y/N, come on.” He reached for your hand once more as if trying to show how much he cared or how worried he was with what you were doing to yourself because of him. “I don’t want you to—”

“Keep your fucking distance, Gojou. You’re not in the place to give a damn about me anymore,” you raged, withdrawing your wrist and breathing heavily as you tried to keep yourself from further exploding. You would have. You were so close to cursing him off, but you saw the flash of pure shock in his eyes, and that was how you realized what you just did. All these violent reactions, these unusual outbursts—these were not you. This was not the meek, soft-spoken ex-wife that he was once married to.

“Toru?”

Unfortunately, Gojou no longer had enough attention span to listen when he looked away, only to turn to his new woman with a genuinely worried expression painted on his face as soon as he saw her coming out of the building with a hand on her cheek. You realized that he was actually here to pick her up and was doing everything that a caring boyfriend would; checking every inch of her face to see how bad she was hurt and asking her what happened and whether she was okay. You didn’t know how to react the moment he turned back to you with his tired, yet passively accusatory eyes. “Did something happen?”

You knew that his question actually translated to: ‘Did you slap her?’ With your thorough knowledge about his acquired trauma from physical violence, you felt the sudden need to clear your name, but you didn’t know if you should be grateful that it was already your best friend who did the part in doing such. “Nothing happened. It was an accident.” Her tone was almost begging before she started tugging his arm. “Let’s just go, please.”

Satoru didn’t want to let it go, but decided that it was best to just leave it be as he glanced at you with a slightly detached gaze. “I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he reminded, referring to the dreaded New York trip together with Sachiro.

A conflicted look from him and an apologetic gaze from her. That was all that you received before they got inside the car and left you alone and miserable in that parking lot. You watched his car fade into view with her on the passenger seat and him probably holding her hand as he drove through the street. Just when you thought you could actually stomach the sight of him and her together, it would be a big fat lie to say that it didn’t sting. It stung worse than the times he ran after Sera than to stay behind with you. Worse than when he used to treat you like a mistress rather than a wife.

You must be going crazy, indeed. Who in their right mind would cry over her ex-husband in the middle of the parking lot? Why would you even shed tears when you were the one who wanted him to find someone else and move on? This was becoming a never-ending loop because you were letting yourself be affected by it. It shouldn’t be that way. Never.

“Toji.” You were doing your hardest to conceal the weakness in your voice as you pressed your phone into your right ear. “I-I need you… right now. Please.”

“Hey, I was just about to pick-up Sachi from daycare. Is everything okay?”

Wiping your eyes, you looked at the dull skies wondering if the universe was trying to reflect all these emotions running inside of you. “Yeah… Can you come soon?”

He didn’t really hesitate to answer, quickly understanding that he had to drop everything else right now and be with you. “Alright, I’ll be there.”

Satoru was conflicted, but he didn’t know what exactly made him feel that way. Was it because he saw you smoking in the parking lot? Or was it because he could tell that you gave Akemi a tongue-lashing after catching her half-naked at the penthouse a few days ago? Either way, both options were not very you. And he couldn’t understand why you were slowly starting to look less and less like the person he knew, which was confusing on his part because you had been adamant on telling him to forget about you. You were rigid on your decision to not let him enter your life as your husband for the second time around. He told you he still loved you, but you said you loved another. He told you he wanted to work things out and make your family complete again, but you said you were already doing that with someone else. Gojou knew his hands weren’t clean and the reason you may be acting that way was because out of all the women he could have been with, it had to be Akemi Hirai. Your best friend. Your confidante. Your business partner. She was a territory he shouldn’t have crossed, yet he did.

But, at the same time, she was the only person who had been there for him during his lowest. She was the company he needed when his heart was the loneliest. He couldn’t even remember the amount of times she came to his aid when he was crying over his memories of you, memories that he could no longer hold onto. Akemi brought peace to his heart, and if there was anyone else he could be with, it would be her.

It was becoming more and more clear to him how he felt about her.

Although, voicing that out loud was a different story. Keeping it in his thoughts was for the best because he didn’t want to lead Akemi on. She didn’t deserve that nor did she deserve to feel like a substitute for someone else. He wanted to be a hundred percent sure about being with her before he could fully confess his real feelings for her. It could still develop through time, perhaps far better and more passionate than what he was sharing with her right now, but until then, settling for what they had at this moment in time was for the better. What was important was that both parties were clear about diving into this relationship.

He wasn’t ready for commitment and she understood that. She was willing to wait for him. She was helping him move on in the least painful way. Where else could he meet such a person like her?

She was gentle, motherly, sensitive, and intuitive. She was classy and sophisticated. She knew how to dress nicely. Her nails were always clean and pretty. Her smile was very charming. Her laugh, endearing. She was the perfect woman anyone could have.

“Why’d you suddenly want to go to the mall?” she asked, intertwining their hands together as she looked up at him with her beautiful doe eyes. Her question made him cut out of his trance, remembering that they were strolling around the galleria.

He touched the small wound on her cheek as if stroking it could make it heal faster. “Nothing,” he said. “Just a last minute idea.”

Truthfully, Gojou wasn’t sure why he had brought her there. All he knew was that he had a lot going on in his mind while he was driving through the city and the next thing he knew, he was already pulling up at the galleria out of his natural instinct. But since they were already there, he might as well buy her a little something. Anything. And then his eyes caught sight of Chanel as if the high-end boutique was pulling his feet with such gravity that it led him to go inside the store while hand-in-hand with the woman next to him.

“Mr. Gojou, how are you?”

Right. The staff knew him so well, especially for the amount of times he had been there with his ex-wife when you two were still married.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” One of the familiar ladies that used to assist you approached him with a lingering stare towards Akemi. “Perhaps for your…?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, can you… uh,” he turned towards the rack of tweed sets, “Do you have any new collections?”

“Yes, absolutely,” said another lady, “Right this way, sir.”

It was easy to notice how the staff were exchanging glances at the sight of Satoru and Akemi together, but his mind was far too distracted by the nostalgia of being in that place alone to even care about his surroundings. All he did was look back at Akemi and encourage her to try out the newest collections that they had, thinking that she was oblivious about what was going through his head. “You go and pick whatever you like.”

Although she was clearly not used to it, Akemi did eventually try on some of the outfits he specifically had chosen for her. They were Chanel’s signature tweed sets that he always found to be very elegant, and he definitely wasn’t wrong that they would suit her when she came out of the dressing room to show him how the clothes wrapped her small frame perfectly.

He could see your smile through her face, your excitement when you tried the outfits on, and the shine in your eyes when you looked at yourself in the mirror. Except, Gojou had to remind himself that you weren’t her. That his mind was just messing with him.

No, this was wrong. Why was he thinking about you while he was with her?

He had to have some sort of distraction. Something so tangible that all of his senses would go numb.

The one way he was able to overcome that dilemma was by sharing yet another steamy exchange with Akemi later that night. He couldn’t remember who initiated first, but it must have been the equal desire that they had for each other when they dove straight into a heated makeout session the moment they stepped inside his bedroom. One thing led to another. First he was kissing her lips, then her collarbones, then her inner thighs—devouring her completely with his lust-driven actions, doing the most by pleasuring her body using his own.

She was a giver just as she was a receiver. Not that he didn’t expect her to be so experienced when it came to sex, but she definitely knew what she was doing without any guidance from him. Perhaps he just wasn’t used to it anymore. Perhaps he had just forgotten how it felt to have sex with someone who didn’t rely on him to initiate the next steps they should do. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone stared at his eyes while putting his hardened member inside her mouth the way she did. She knew her power over him while at his most vulnerable state, ruining his masculine ego and destroying it with her own feminine pride.

And in the midst of their intimate session, Gojou was zoning out while he was sliding a condom across his shaft, ready to enter her from the back. His mind was giving him a flash of memory, not a distant but recent one from two days ago.

“I still can’t believe you did that, Mom. You’re being ridiculous.”

His mother wasn’t exactly showing the slightest hint of regret on her face despite knowing full well that sending the custody claim almost made you lose your mind. She was keeping a straight face as she sat on the barstool next to him, taking a sip of wine from her glass while he, on his own, was downing a glass of scotch. “She had it coming.”

Satoru sighed his frustration away. “Don’t do that again or today’s the last time you’ll ever see me.”

“What are you talking about?” His mother frowned. “Who was there for you when you were trying to end your own life because of the lies she told you, huh? You’re feeling bad for her now, but did she feel bad for you back then? You missed three years of your son’s life because she was being too spiteful towards you.”

He had never met someone more stubborn than his own mother, but maybe this was a clear sign for Satoru to realize where he must have acquired that one similar trait of his. After all, people always made it seem that he was more like his dad even though he despised being compared to his father. To say that his mother was a complete angel was a lie. But neither was he. “Whatever, just don’t… Just leave Y/N alone. She’s still the mother of my child and I don’t want us to keep fighting. At least, for Sachi’s sake.”

His mother finished her glass of wine before turning the stool towards his direction. There was a minute of silence that passed between them before she spoke again. “I just don’t want you to get back with her, darling. You two are toxic together.”

Funny, because he could say the same thing for her and his father. “Well, it’s not gonna happen now. Y/N’s gonna hate me forever.”

“What, ‘cause she rejected you again?”

“No,” he countered, shaking his head and chugging all the remaining liquor on his glass. “She knows about the thing I have with Akemi now.”

Her mouth fell open, gasping as she did so. “Y-You… and Akemi? Are you together?”

Satoru expected this reaction from her, but didn’t think she would actually be more fixated on his new relationship than the effect it would bring on her ex-daughter-in-law. “It’s not something to be proud of, Mom.”

“Well, I’m proud of you,” she still stressed that fact, “It’s nice to hear that you’re finally moving on, Satoru. Y/N is not good for you, but I know Akemi will be. I like her and I know she’ll make you a lot happier than Y/N ever did.”

“You’re still awake?” Gojou let out a yawn as he felt the heaviness of his eyelids telling him that it was time to sleep. He tried checking the time on his phone, but realized that he still had the photo of you and Sachiro as his lockscreen. He wasn’t planning on changing it anytime soon, but considering that Akemi saw it, he was expecting that she would have something to say, yet nothing came out of her mouth. She simply stayed silent while laying on his chest, letting him touch the slope of her naked back as she slightly raised her head to meet his eyes. He had already closed his phone and placed it back on the nightstand. “What, did I not tire you enough?”

“Shut up.” She hid her reddened cheeks and smiled on the crook of his neck. Her hand was placed on his chest, fingers tracing his collarbones. “No, I’m just thinking about how you’re gonna manage New York and all.”

Satoru’s breathing was still for a few seconds, keeping his eyes glued on the ceiling as he held her on your marital bed. “You’re scared that the infamous cheater is gonna cheat on you or something?” he joked, a distasteful one, but still meant to ease whatever was burdening her mind. “Not gonna happen even if we’re in an open relationship.”

“That’s not it,” Akemi quickly replied, denying his claims, “I’m more like hoping that you’ll be patient with her. She gets angry a lot these days and we know we’re the main cause of it, so please. Please don’t try to argue with her, okay? If she says hurtful things, learn to understand her.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around her smaller frame. Gojou was certain that he was about to doze off soon now that he had closed his eyes and let the exhaustion pull him into a good night’s sleep. “I won’t,” he spoke his words slowly, drifting off to dreamland, “I won’t make her angry.”

“Okay.” He felt her lips kissing his jaw just before the both of them gradually matched the calmness of each other’s chest. One heart, one soul, two bodies. “Good night, ‘Toru.”

…

In the middle of his sleep, he mumbled, “Good night, Y/N.”

On the other side of the city, you woke up in the middle of your slumber, facing the handsome face of your fiancé, Toji Zen’in, who had already drifted off to dreamland while holding you in his muscular arms. No wonder people were jealous of you for having such a refined man like him in your bed every night you go to sleep. The thing was, you had no reason to feel discontented with your life since you already had everything. You were wealthier than the average person, you ran a business that you were passionate about, you had an adorable son who meant the world to you, and you had Toji. There was nothing else you could ask for. And if by remembering Sera’s words back then, you would be selfish to ask for anything more because others didn’t even have half the fortune you had.

So, in that sense, you should be happy.

You had to be happy.

You were happy, right?

“Go to sleep,” whispered a half-awake Toji, stirring from his sleep as he held your waist tighter like you were his comfort pillow. “You alright?”

Sighing inwardly, you traced the scar on his lips. “You’re so gorgeous.”

His lazy, boyish smile came into view. “I know that,” he joked, closing his eyes as if succumbing into a few more minutes of sleep. “Don’t tell me you’re turned on right now ‘cause I can go all night. Doggy. Missionary. Cowboy. Reverse cowboy.”

Were you? Maybe a little. And maybe you had to have a distraction from your ‘source of happiness’.

“That’s very naughty of you, Mr. Zen’in,” you replied, cheeks heating up from his vulgar words. Your hand was finding its way to his toned chest, while his were traveling to the curves of your waist and hips. You could feel him angling his body to make sure he had access to slide your underwear just a little above your knee, gliding his hand along your thigh before letting his fingers touch your sensitive bud. “T-Toji—”

A smirk appeared on his lips. “Hm? I thought you wanted this?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Y-Yeah, I…” There was no use holding back from moaning because his fingers knew how to move perfectly well, playing with your clit in circular motions before sliding two of them into your entrance. “...Fuck.”

“Feel good?” His hot breath tickled your neck, moving his mouth from your collarbones down to the valley between your breasts. “Wish you knew how delicious you are.”

Another moan, much louder this time around, escaped your lips when he attached his mouth onto your breast, sucking the round mass with his tongue doing God’s work. You were so high into sexual desire that your back arched on its own, dominated by the pleasing sensation all over your body. You could barely even respond to him when he started asking why your mood had been so down when he picked you up after work or why you still wouldn’t tell him whatever happened back there.

“It’s nothing,” you replied, disregarding the painful encounter you’ve had with your ex-husband and your best friend. “...Just work stuff.”

As you closed your eyes, you could feel Satoru’s fingers entering deep inside of you, deep enough to have reached your g-spot and have you moaning wildly. It felt unreal. It felt goddamn out of this world. But since Satoru was familiar with every inch of your body, his touch alone could easily send you to seventh heaven. He was heavenly. He was saintly. That mesmerizing gaze of his paired with his sky blue eyes and messy white hair. His beautiful, beautiful face, watching you beg for him to do more. More. More…

“Satoru…”

The intense feeling suddenly stopped, awakening you back to your senses as you opened your eyes and saw the dark, animalistic gaze of Toji Zen’in. “What’d you say?” he asked in a deep voice.

Out of panic, you slightly pulled away and shook your head. “N-Nothing. What did I say?”

“I thought I heard you say his…” he trailed off, pulling his fingers out of you and instead, placing a tight grip on your hip. “Did you?”

“No, no. Not at all.” Your voice came in a hushed tone, looking at his eyes intently. “Why would I do that?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, falling back into the bed with one arm under his head. “Don’t play games with me, Y/N.”

Desperation led you to climb on top of him, sitting on his crotch before encasing your lips with his soft ones. “I’m not,” you mumbled, kissing him again. “I never did. I promise.”

Yet, despite your attempts at inviting him for an open-mouthed kiss, he had already lost the interest to engage in sexual activities with you. He didn’t say anything nor tried to argue about the shit that you said, but he did stay silent for a couple of minutes, simply holding you on top of him without another word to utter. It scared you to think what was going through Toji’s mind, but this was also all your fault. Why, in the first place, did you even let your mind imagine that white-haired toxic ex-husband of yours when you had Toji Zen’in in front you?

Perhaps in this relationship, you were the toxic one.

You were the poison that could kill the life out of the man who only wanted to love and heal you.

“Toji, I’m sorry…”

He held his breath. “Should I be concerned that you’re going on a trip with him?”

“No, it’s…” Pulling away, you gave him a look of combined sincerity and denial. “We’re just gonna fix Sachiro’s papers, you know that. We won’t even be staying in the same room.”

Fixing Sachiro’s papers. Dealing with his dual citizenship. Changing his last name to Gojou. Solidifying your son’s identity as the son of Satoru Gojou. That’s all there is to it. All the technical matters.

“Is he staying at a hotel or are you letting him stay at your apartment in Manhattan?” he asked, although there was no hint of suspicion in his voice. Or at least, he must be good at hiding it.

You chose to be honest. “I have to let him stay at my apartment,” was your answer, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Only because Sachi wants his dad around all the time. We’re just trying our best to co-parent.”

Toji’s dry humor took over. “You sure you’re not gonna let him fuck you senseless?” His tone was laced with resentment. “And then you’ll come home to me crying about how he got you pregnant for the second time. You’d better kiss our marriage goodbye if that happens.”

“What kind of person do you think I am?” you retorted, annoyed by his word of choice as if you were a cheating scumbag. “If he’s gonna get someone pregnant, that won’t be me.”

His eyes sparked with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Deciding between telling and not telling, you figured that the latter would only cause more drama to bounce back at you like a boomerang. “He’s with Akemi.”

It looked like Toji didn’t hear it right. “Akemi? How’d that happen?”

“I don’t know what kinda relationship they have, okay?” you snapped, no longer wanting to keep up with this topic further. “I just caught them. They said they’re seeing each other, but it’s complicated or whatever—I don’t really give a damn. But he’s with her is all I know.”

Toji went silent for a few minutes, unable to determine whether he should find the situation pitiful or humorous. One thing for sure though, was that he found it unbelievable. “That son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, smiling in disbelief, “So this is what’s ruining your mood these days, huh?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in response. “It’s not.”

“Your ex-husband slept with your best friend. Yeah, I’d be mad, too.” His comment wasn’t really meant to irk you, but he successfully did so. Minus the intention. “Getting mad is understandable, getting jealous is questionable. Which one are you?”

Fuck it. “I said I’m not jealous. Will you stop now?” You sunk yourself under the covers, turning your back on Toji. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Now that he knew and you saw his reaction, you wondered what it would be like if Gen and Ian knew. Or if your dad knew. What would they think of Satoru? What would they think of Akemi? No, nevermind that. What would they think of you? Another fool in a deck of cards? Another game that was played with?

You didn’t want to know.

Ideally, you and Satoru really shouldn’t have gone to this New York trip together as if your family was still intact, because as much as you wished that that was true, you were far from that. You were only playing house for the sake of your son, but that also meant putting you in a painfully awkward situation together as ex-spouses. He had a girlfriend back home and you had a loving and loyal fiancé who proved the whole word that he was loyal to you. And although your respective partners were supporting the whole co-parenting situation, you knew by yourselves that this was nowhere to near to being comfortable for them, too.

“Everything okay?” You heard the familiar voice of your past, only to see his dull, blue eyes taking a peek at you.

“Yeah,” you replied, almost inaudibly. You just boarded the plane while Satoru was talking to the pilot, and found your spot on one of the beds in his private jet. It took a few minutes for him to get to where you were now. “Why?”

He shrugged, eyeing a sleepy Sachiro next to you. “Just wanna make sure you and Sachi are comfortable.”

You didn’t know what else to say, so you just looked back at your peaceful son who was hugging his elmo plush like the cute angel he was. Even though he was growing so fast, you could still remember how he was just as small as a puppy in your arms when he was first born. The memory of it caused you to press your lips on his forehead, caressing his soft, white hair. At some point while observing the scene, your son’s father thought it would be a good idea to slide the blanket further up your shoulders, acting as though he was only doing it to keep Sachiro warm. And later, he sat on the reclined airplane seat, drinking the coffee that was served to him by the stewardess.

It was crazy.

Crazy that Toji could be lying next to you and you would feel nothing. But Gojou was meters away from you and your mind was on a never-ending race.

Just before noon, the airplane landed safely at JFK airport and Satoru’s driver took you straight to Central Park Towers, treated like a V.I.P. by security just because your ex-husband was Japan’s third richest person and second most influential businessman. At times like these, you would almost forget the power Satoru held even before he was the chairman. You two were almost royalty. Now that he was leading the Gojou Group, his reputation only grew more despite the scandal of your broken marriage. He knew not to share his relationship publicly anymore nor did he expose Sachiro to any of his social media. It was a mutual decision for you to keep your son away from the spotlight knowing the scrutiny and the lack of privacy that would enter your lives once again—all the unnecessary noise, the unwanted comments, the unruly attention. Besides, for safety reasons, Sachiro had to be hidden from the public since he would become the sole heir to his father’s conglomerate, inheriting his parents combined assets that could one day make him the richest and most sought after bachelor in Japan.

“Mamaaa!” A lively Sachi came running to you as soon as he entered the lobby of the apartment suites, his father following him behind.

“Careful, baby!” you said, standing at the lobby while talking to your housekeeper, “You might trip.”

Satoru decided to carry his son after noticing your worried expression and immediately walked towards you. He was all smiles as he looked at Sachiro’s cheerful blue eyes. “He seems a little excited, isn’t he?”

“He lived here for almost three years,” you answered, signaling a quick ‘thank you’ to your housekeeper before guiding your boys to the elevator. “He must’ve missed the place. Did you, Sachi?”

“Yes, mama~”

It was a little bittersweet for your ex-husband, though. Especially the moment he stepped inside the apartment, looking at every corner and realizing that it was the same place you had lived in back when he was suffering from emotional distress on the other side of the world. This apartment was where his own child grew up in and he had no idea he had even existen then. Not only did that make you a terrible ex-wife, but it also made you a heartless mother. You had separated them and now you were taking him to the place where you had his son hidden from him.

That wasn’t your intention. That was never your intention.

“I’m glad you chose a nice place,” he complimented, acting as casual as possible. “Does your father own this place or?”

“Gen loaned it to me,” you said, holding Sachiro’s hand while letting Satoru follow you closely. You stopped at one of the guest rooms and urged the tall man to feel at home. “You can stay here for the meantime.”

“I don’t wanna make things uncomfortable for Akemi.” He looked away, avoiding your eyes. “I can just stay at a hotel—”

“Dada!” His mini-me tugged at his hand along with yours. You already knew that those puppy eyes would look back at the both of you. “Sachi wants Dada to stay.”

Frankly, you weren’t upset a while ago, but since he had to bring up Akemi and make it seem like her feelings were his priority, you lost all the will to be kind. Was their relationship that deep for him to act like such a loyal, righteous partner? Where was that same loyalty when he married you? “Do whatever.”

Noticing the tension between his parents, Sachiro’s eyes started to well up with tears and that was all it took for you two to completely focus your attention back to your 3-year old.

“Sachi…” Satoru tried to reach for his son, but you (spitefully) beat him to it.

“It’s okay, my baby. Don’t cry,” you comforted your son, picking him up and carrying him in your arms, “Daddy will still visit you every day even if he's staying at a hotel.”

Satoru, as guilty as ever, shook his head and wiped his son’s eyes. “No. I’ll stay here for Sachi, okay? Don’t cry anymore.”

It felt like hours sitting on that enormous sofa, staring at the television screen even though your mind was miles away. You had already texted Toji good night and reassured him that everything was fine, but you still couldn’t stop thinking about what he was doing back home. Sachiro had fallen asleep almost half an hour ago, and how you wished you could also enjoy your slumber while snuggling under those heated blankets, but how could you? How could you be comfortable in the presence of an ex-husband who was coming out of his room, freshly showered in his low-waisted sweatpants and tight-fitting black shirt? Not to mention how he was obviously flexing his arms while drying his mop of messy, white hair with a towel. Ridiculous. A little seductive, but definitely ridiculous.

“Still up?” His sky blue eyes met yours as soon as he looked up.

You adjusted your position on the sofa and leaned on the corner, pulling a small cushion to place above your thighs. “Can’t sleep.”

And the night went on just like that. You, sitting on the couch. Him, sitting on the other end as if going near you might suffocate him. It didn’t help that the silence was beginning to be too uncomfortable. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking of. Perhaps Akemi? Perhaps you? You doubted the latter.

“I think…” You cleared your throat to escape from the awkward tension. “I think I’m gonna go for a night swim. You can go to sleep next to Sachi tonight, just make sure not to wake him up.”

Satoru’s curious gaze trailed on you as you got up and tightened your robe. “It’s a little too late at night to go for a swim, no?”

You couldn’t even face him as you responded. “I need to clear my mind off some things.” And by things, you meant him and this whole mess of a situation that you had put yourselves together. Two divorcees staying in the same living space wasn’t exactly a brilliant idea to begin with.

“Want me to join you?” asked Satoru, and he himself could not believe he asked that question. He may have asked it out of his innate care for you, probably worried for no damn reason. What he didn’t realize was how wrong his suggestion was, especially that you two were dating other people now.

If only you were such a cruel person, how ironic would it be if you allowed Satoru Gojou to join you for a quick night swim?

How ironic would it be for you to feel each other’s warmth under the crystal pool, getting carried away by the romantic lights that lit the city?

How ironic would it be if the intense sexual tension ended with you doing things under the sheets, completely disregarding the fact that the both of you had respective partners who were overthinking this exact NYC trip?

How ironic would it be if, for once in your life, you became the cheater?

Thankfully, you didn’t have the mindset of a cheating person.

However, it was Satoru who took back his initial offer. “Never mind. Forget I even asked that,” he muttered, sounding annoyed more so to himself rather than at you.

You offered a nonchalant shrug. “Okay.”

And as you were heading to the poolside, you could sense Gojou’s presence behind even though he just very clearly rejected the idea of going on a swim with you. He was still the same confusing man that you married before. Only now, he was ten times worse. “Wait, Y/N.”

“What?” You turned around, annoyed at his push-and-pull behavior. At this point, you didn’t really care what he was thinking of anymore. All you did was to take off your robe, leaving yourself with only your underwear on before you slowly got down on the pool.

Gojou, on the other hand, was ridding himself of his shirt and sweatpants to join you in the pool with just his boxers on. What even was this situation? You two had that same question in your head despite swimming at the edge of the pool to stare at the cityscape. “I only asked to join you because I wanted to talk. That’s all.”

You wanted to laugh at how he was clearing his intentions to you.

“Why do you sound defensive around me?” He couldn’t see it, but you were rolling your eyes as you leaned against the pool coping. “I never knew Akemi would be the jealous type.”

Satoru looked surprised by your claim, seeming as though he didn’t recognize the kind of person you were anymore. You were never this unreasonably sarcastic nor acidic with your words during your marriage even at the height of his affair with Sera, yet you had just become the worst version of yourself. “She isn’t,” he muttered, finding his spot next to you, “But I don’t wanna give her a reason to be.”

You huffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You make it sound like I’m gonna make a move on you or something.”

“I never said that.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“Says who?”

What is it about Satoru Gojou that makes him so irritating? Was it the way he talks? The way he thinks he’s always right? The way he acts like he’s such a clean person?

“Please,” you retorted, bitterly. “Toji isn’t comfortable having you around me, either. Just so you know.”

“Can we just—” There. His last string of patience finally snapped and his true colors came to show when he grabbed your wrist and made you face him. The spiteful Satoru. He was back, even just for a second. “Y/N, I’m not trying to argue with you here. I’m trying to talk to you like a civilized person. You’re the mother of my child and I respect you. I’d still care for you and will always protect you, but I want you to at least act like a fucking person around me. You’re a grown woman.”

Wasn’t it bad that he, of all people, was basically telling you to grow up? Memories of your marriage and all the back-and-forth arguments that you had with him flashed before your eyes. He should be the last one to say such a thing. “You’re the one who’s been crossing the fucking line with me since day one, Gojou. Don’t tell me to—”

“And do you wish I had just killed myself for you to forgive me?!” The ridges of his neck became prominent, making his anger much visible now. He was staring down at you intensely, backing you against the edge of the pool, trapping you in between his arms. “I’d have probably done that. But you…You did unforgivable things to me and look how easy it was for me to forgive you.”

You looked away, not trying to have this conversation again. Not trying to have your guilt eat your heart out. Maybe your behavior really had become too much and it was about time you take a step back and realize how ridiculous you had been acting because no way was this man trying to make a better point than you.

“I slept with Akemi, I know. She’s your best friend, I fucking know. But I never did that to get back at you,” his voice bore so much authority in them. “I begged on my knees just to be with you again. Swallowed my pride just for you to be my wife again!” His breathing became ragged. “But you chose to move on. You said you love Toji. You said you’d be happier without me, so why don’t I deserve to be happy without you?”

The inability to speak wasn’t because you were at a loss of words. The problem was choosing the right ones. Words that wouldn’t put you in a disadvantageous position. Words that wouldn’t make you look like an unreasonable person.

“You wished me well when you first found out about Akemi and I. You said you don’t care who I choose to date even if that choice is her,” he said, much calmer this time. He was placing his forehead against yours, body pressed against each other. “If that was true, then why are you still so angry with me?”

Your heart raced as you locked eyes with him. His eyes were the same kind of blue that reflected off of the surface of the pool. Anyone could easily get lost in it, but you knew where to place yourself in order not to. “I’m… not angry…”

“Baby, you and I both know that’s not true,” he said with a serious gaze, lifting your chin with his hand.

But you swatted it away, averting your eyes. “Don’t call me baby. You’re being ridiculous.”

With a loud sigh, Gojou gave up and simply placed his forehead on your shoulder, letting you feel the weight of his head and the warmth of his breath. “If you were still my wife, I’d have kissed you right now,” he declared, breathing heavily as if stopping with all of his will to do what he just said. “I’d touch every inch of you, tell you how much I love you, carry you back into that room, and make more beautiful babies with you…”

“Satoru,” you warned just as he pulled away, smiling despite the sorrow in his eyes.

“…But I won’t do that. I’m not gonna do that,” he claimed and sounded like he was convincing himself rather than clearing it up. “Akemi doesn’t deserve a partner who can’t move on from his ex-wife, so I’m doing my best to forget about you.”

Your breathing took a halt. You weren’t sure where those tiny pricks in your heart came from. Toji needed the same. He deserved a wife who wasn’t pining for her ex-husband. Satoru was just being true.

“Then, forget about me,” you gave a barely audible reply.

Gojou pulled away and kept his distance now, showing that he was indeed trying to stick to his words. “I will.”

Why did it hurt when it shouldn’t have?

“Good.”

He looked at you with eyes that carried a million emotions. But what was most visible was him seeing the light, probably realizing that he truly was doing the right thing and that he was proud of himself for being able to resist you. Because then, that only meant he was only a few steps away from the path of moving on. That if he could let you go, then he could live a better life.

It only made sense why he pulled that little stunt back there—being close enough to you was probably his way of differentiating how his body reacted to you versus how it reacted to Akemi. And now that he was able to determine whatever difference that might be, it would be easier for him to know what exactly to avoid.

After all, you two would be spending the rest of your lives as a present mom and dad to Sachiro. Co-parenting was your only connection and the only way to make that work without falling for each other was to rid yourselves of any kind of attraction towards one another.

Good for him.

“Let’s be good parents, Y/N.” Satoru looked at you from across the pool. “Let’s set a good example for Sachi and show that divorced parents can still be good parents. Let’s not be toxic to each other, especially not in front of him.” His words were coming from his personal experience and as you knew the whole history behind the mess within his family, you were truthfully considerate of his words. His traumatic experiences were what shaped him to become the problematic man you once married, and he was doing his best not to let his own son be the same. “I’ll provide Sachiro with everything he needs and I’ll always be present in his life, so please let me have as much time with him as possible. I’m making up for the three years I lost with him.”

You nodded. “I don’t have a problem with that.

As the established relationship you had with Gojou became more professional and strictly transactional, the distance between you two also grew more and more. There was no longer any space for love and intimacy. There was only familiarity and acquaintanceship.

“Go to sleep soon,” he said without sending another glance your way, climbing out of the pool and reaching for his clothes, “We have a long day tomorrow.”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst

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wandascosmic · 6 months ago

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get your humor like i do (3)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part three of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 2871

tags: best friends to lovers, reader being completely in love with wanda, wanda's an oblivious best friend, i might mean oblivious to her own feelings as well but who knows, both of them being complete dorks, reader messing with sam with wanda as her pranking accomplice

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

“Last night, on trading spouses,” you told Wanda enthusiastically, leaning over her desk on your elbows.

“Uh huh,” Wanda nods, chewing on the end of her pen as she listens to your story with a smile.

“There was- oh, wait, have you seen it?” a look of realization comes across your face.

“No, actually, I have a life,” Wanda jokingly responds.

You laugh, “Interesting,” you played along, “What’s that like?”

“Fun, you should try it sometime,” Wanda quips back.

“Wow,” you said thoughtfully, staring off with a wistful look in your eye. “But then who would watch my TV?” you remark.

Wanda laughed agreeingly as she looked up at you from her chair.

“That’s sort of like a win-lose-” you continue until Tony’s voice interrupted your sentence.

“Y/N, can I see you for a minute please?”

Giving your favorite receptionist an apologetic look, you nod before following your boss into his office.

Wanda frowns slightly, sighing as she picks up her phone and gets back to work.

***

“I need you to help me decide on which healthcare plan the office should be on, then explain it to the rest of the office,” Tony says to you as you sit across from him at his desk, handing you the large stack of papers with the various healthcare plan options.

You nod slightly, “Wow, this is a great offer,” you point out, truthfully not believing your lie for a second.

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Tony replies with disinterest.

“But Tony, I really think I should be concentrating on sales,” you told him, holding back a smile at your plan. “I just don’t think this is a task that I’m well-equipped for, but I do know someone who is.”

“Wow, who’s that?” Tony answers monotonely.

“I think Sam would be great for this. You know, he’s smart, hardworking-” you sell your idea.

“Sure, yeah, whatever, go get him then,” Tony cuts you off.

You nod in agreement, smiling as you walk out of Tony’s office.

Sam was such a sucker.

***

“You did it again,” Wanda remarks, seeing Sam sitting in Tony’s office through the window, excitedly taking the papers Tony handed him.

“I did,” you admit, smiling at her as you're back at her desk once more.

“I can’t believe that actually works every time,” she says with a laugh.

You shrug. “Sam’s such a suckup that he’ll do anything to get on Tony’s good side. So, naturally, in his good nature he should be glad to do any task Tony gives him. Even the ones he gave to me first,” you say smugly, popping a candy from the dish at her desk into your mouth.

“You’re quite devious,” Wanda teases.

“All in a day’s work, Maximoff,” you reply with a grin.

***

Sam has fucked up awfully. You suppose it's no surprise since Sam has a limited understanding of natural human needs, however, his healthcare plan is basically as cheap as a gas station slushie. Everyone in the office is completely outraged.

You and Wanda have decided to attempt to convince Sam to fix his plan, as the health care coverage he’s chosen is basically second to none.

“Sam,” Wanda says as she opens the door to the conference room with you following behind her with your hands in your pockets.

“Wanda, haven’t you ever heard of knocking?! This is an office,” Sam says exasperated from the table he’s sitting at with papers scattered all over as you and Wanda stop to stand in front of him.

“It says workspace,” you point out, nudging your head toward the sign on the door, knowing Sam had argued toward the title of office, but Tony had told him no.

“Same thing,” Sam argues, reading over the papers.

“If it’s the same thing, then why did you write ‘workspace’?” you ask with curiosity.

“Just knock, Y/N,” Sam says frustrated. “It’s a sign of respect, and as your superior, I deserve that respect.”

“You’re not my superior,” you retort.

“Ok, well, then why do I have an office?”

You tilt your head slightly. “I thought it was a workspace, Sam?”

“Okay!” Wanda interrupts, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Sam, are you really in charge of picking the healthcare plan?” she asks the worker in front of her, crossing her arms over her button-up shirt.

“Yes, and my decision is final,” he responds with assertiveness.

“This is a ridiculously awful plan, Sam, you cut everything,” Wanda explains to him, her worry increasing at the fact that it might as well be considered as having basically no health care coverage whatsoever. You rub your hand slightly across her back, noticing the slight furrow in her brows indicating the fact that she’s worried.

Sam pouts in fake pity, ignoring the scene in front of him. “Well, times are tough, Wanda. Might as well get used to it.”

You narrow your eyes, his dig at Wanda irritating you slightly. “You cut more than you had to, didn’t you?” you cut in, knowing Sam’s lack of sympathy for anything related to the human race.

“Sure,” Sam shrugs without care.

“Well, why did you do that?” you ask, not understanding why he wouldn’t want health care coverage for himself as well. “You work here, Sam, don’t you want good insurance?”

Sam scoffs. “I don’t need it, Y/N,” he says obviously. “I’ve never been sick. I have a perfect immune system.”

You and Wanda look at each other in uncertainty. “Okay, well if you’ve never been sick, then you don’t have any antibodies,” you explain to him.

“I don’t need them. I have superior genes, I’m a Wilson. And on top of that, I have superior brain power. With extreme concentration, I can raise and lower my cholesterol at will,” he argues.

“Why would you want to raise your cholesterol?” Wanda asks, looking at Sam warily.

“So I can lower it, obviously.”

***

“Everyone, gather around,” Sam announces, stepping out of the conference room, looking frustrated.

You swivel around in your chair to face him, ready for whatever irritating thing will come out of his mouth this time.

“It has been brought to my attention that some of you are unhappy with my plan,” he says, his annoyance seeping through. “So what I’d like you all to do, is to fill out this form and write down any diseases you might be suffering from that you would like covered, and I’ll see what I can do, since you people are weak enough to get sick.”

You raise your hand, a clear issue in his plan sticking out to you. “Sam,” you cut in, and he looks at you irritated. “Well, we can’t write down our diseases for you because that’s confidential.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Okay, well, I didn’t say to write your name down, did I?” he answers sarcastically. “You can fill it out, and leave it anonymous. Or, don’t write down any disease at all, and it won’t be covered. “Sam slams the forms on the shelf next to the wall. “Alright, I’ll be in my office.” He retreats back into the conference room.

“Workspace,” you remind him.

Sam slams the door closed.

***

You stand at Wanda’s desk, the two of you filling out your forms together in silence.

Looking over at Wanda, you notice her biting back a smile as she fills out her form.

“Wait, what are you writing?” you ask with curiosity.

She looks up at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Don’t write ‘Ebola’, or ‘mad cow disease’,” you tell her, her smile faltering slightly. “‘Cause I’m suffering from both of them,” you grin, showing her your paper.

Wanda laughs. “I’m inventing new diseases,” she reveals.

“Oh, great,” you lean further over her desk, intrigued.

“So, like, let’s say my teeth turn to liquid,” she describes. “And then, they drip down the back of my throat, what would you call that?”

“I thought you said you were inventing new diseases, Maximoff,” you wave your hand in an obvious gesture. “That’s spontaneous dento-hydroplosion,” you describe with a smile.

Wanda looks at you, impressed. “Nice,” she states.

“Thank you,” you respond, smiling as you watch her write down the fake disease excitedly.

***

“Y/N!” Sam growls from the conference room, rushing out the door. “All right, who did this?” he yells, holding up the forms.

“What are you talking about?” you ask with a tilt of your head, still standing at Wanda’s desk.

“Someone here forged medical information, and that is a felony,” Sam accuses, narrowing his eyes at every one of the office staff. .

“Whoa, that’s a pretty serious accusation there, Sam,” you warn, holding up both your hands in fake surrender. “How do you know that they’re fake?” you ask him.

“It’s obvious, Y/N,” Sam retorts. Reading out the diseases, he lists, “These hysterical diseases like, flesh-eating bacteria.” You snort. “Hot dog fingers.”

“Wow, that sounds awful,” you whisper quietly to Wanda who snickers at your dig.

“And my least favorite,” Sam reads out. “Government-created killer nano-robot infection.”

Wanda looks up at you cheekily, and you widen your eyes, impressed.

“You did this, didn’t you?” Sam accuses you, as you turn back around, narrowing his eyes.

“Absolutely not,” you answer calmly.

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I know it was you,” Sam argues. “Okay, you know what,” Sam says frustrated. “I’m going to have to interview each and every one of you until the perpetrator makes him or herself known. And until then,” he pauses. “There will be absolutely no healthcare coverage for anyone!” Sam yells out, retreating back into his workspace and slamming down the papers in anger.

Holding in your smile, you ask, “Killer nano-robots?” you inquire to the receptionist in front of you.

“It’s an epidemic,” Wanda shrugs with a playful glint in her eyes, smiling at you.

You shake your head in amusement.

***

“The problem, Y/N,” Sam starts.

“Mhm,” you acknowledge, sitting across from him in the conference room.

“Is that the people who are really suffering from a medical condition won’t receive the care they need, because someone in this office is coming up with all this ridiculous stuff.” He picks up a form.

You listen with fake intrigue.

“For example, Count Choculitis,” he reads out.

You whistle. “Sounds tough.”

“Why did you write that down, Y/N? Is it because you know I love Count Chocula?” he says with seriousness.

“Do you?” you ask.

“I think you need to confess,” he explains.

“Mhm,” you nod, standing up out of your chair.

“The fact-”

“Yup.” You grab his keys from his desk.

“What are you doing?” he asks in confusion.

“What?” you ask, as you open the door and walk out.

“Those are my keys, Y/N,” he tells you, slowly standing up out of his chair.

“Good luck,” you tell him, starting to close the door on him.

“Y/N!” he sprints after you, the door closing before he can stop it from closing. “Damn it!” he slams his palms on the door window in frustration.

Locking the door completely, you hold the keys by their key ring to taunt him, then smile as you throw them behind your back where they land across the room.

“Let me out!” he bangs on the door.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you retort, plopping yourself down at your desk as you can’t stop the shit-eating grin on your face.

***

You smirk as your phone starts to ring.

“Y/N L/N,” you say mockingly as you answer.

“Let me out,” Sam says immediately through the phone.

“Who is this?” you reply, swiveling around in your chair to face him as he glares daggers at you.

“Let me out or you’re fired,” he fights back.

“No, you can’t fire me,” you say as you turn back around, putting your feet up on the desk.

“Yes, I can, I’m the manager for the day,” he retorts.

“Mhm,” you nod, not believing him for a second.

“Clean out your desk,” he continues.

“Ok.”you reply, when suddenly, your phone rings again. “Can you hold on one second?” you tell Sam as if you’re speaking to a customer. “I’m getting a, uh, beep.”

“No, don’t you dare put me on hold!” Sam shouts.

You ignore him, answering the incoming call. “Y/N L/N,” you introduce.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Wanda,” you hear the smile in her voice.

“Hey, Wanda!” you say enthusiastically, “How are ya?” Wanda playing pranks with you was a long-time tradition in your friendship, and it was something you treasured very close to your heart. Plus, it made you fall in love with her even more every time.

Sam bangs on the door, interrupting your train of thought. “For god’s sake, Y/N, open the door!” he shouts from the conference room.

You ignore him, continuing your conversation with Wanda.

“I’m doing good, how are you?” Wanda answers, watching you with a grin on her face. Playing pranks with you was probably one of her favorite things in the world.

“I’m doing ok,” you respond through the phone. “Getting excited for the weekend though.”

“Yeah, same, oh, I’m not bothering you, am I?” Wanda asks, biting her fist to hold in her laughter.

“No, not at all!” You reassure, turning your chair to look over at Wanda as she looks back at you with her glistening smile.

“No? You don’t have anything you’re doing?” she says mischievously.

“I have absolutely nothing to do,” you shake your head.

“Y/N! Sam yells from the conference room, banging on the door once more.

“Yeah, no, this weekend, I’ve got nothing,” Wanda says on the phone with you. “I’m not really doing anything.”

“Y/N!” Sam shouts again. “Stop flirting with Wanda and let me out!”

“Might go to the mall,” Wanda continues.

“The mall,” you repeat.

“I need new shoes,” she tells you.

“Oh, interesting, what kind of shoes?”

Wanda finally breaks as she laughs.

You smile, wanting to mess with Sam a bit more both for your entertainment and Wanda’s, you hold up your eraser to show her and she nods as she knows what you’re about to do. Turning around, you show Sam the eraser as well, then throw it directly at the window where he’s standing with fury in his eyes.

“I tried being rational!” Sam shouts at you.

***

“Tony, why did you leave Sam in charge of the healthcare plan?” Nat asks Tony, as he steps out of his office, the rest of the workers surrounding their boss in a circle.

“What did he do?” Tony asks disinterestedly, reading over the magazine in his hands. .

“His plan is awful, it’s basically a pay decrease,” Bruce explains to him.

Seeing Sam walk out of his workspace as he finally unlocks the conference room door after trying to pick it for an hour, the workers start to shout at hiim in frustration.

“Sam, what did you do?” Tony interrupts. “Didn’t you raise benefits?”

“I most certainly did not,” Sam retorts, crossing his arms and glaring back at everyone who looks at him in anger.

Tony sighs, exasperated. “I should’ve never let you do this,” he puts his head in his hand. “Alright, everyone, go home, it’s after 5, I’ll call corporate and have this fixed by the end of tomorrow.”

The workers mutter their distaste for the awful day they’ve had, starting to scatter and pack up their things.

“This isn’t over,” Sam tells you as you and him both pack up your things at your desks.

“Can’t wait, Sam,” you smirk at him as he scoffs back, bumping into your shoulder as he starts to walk out with his briefcase in his hand.

***

After packing your messenger bag, you run up to Wanda’s desk, drumming your fingers on the ledge as you ask her if she would like to walk out with you.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Wanda apologizes. “Vision’s on his way up now to pick me up so we can leave together.”

“Oh, okay, no problem,” you assure, your heart slightly deflating as you hear about her fiance once more.

“Thanks,” Wanda smiles.

“Yeah, you too,” you respond. “Hey, uh, that was great, how you helped me out with messing with Sam.”

Wanda laughs. “Yeah, that was fun. You really got him today, it was awesome.”

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you,” you tell her with a soft smile.

Wanda looks at you with affection, and you stare back at her, admiring the infinite green swirls in her eyes.

Clearing your throat you say, “So, um, I should probably head out.” You point to the door behind you.

“Oh, yeah,” Wanda nods with realization. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Maximoff,” you bid her goodbye with a wave.

Closing the door behind you as you step out of the office, you sigh at the day you’ve had, chuckling slightly at how you messed with Sam.

As you descend the flight of stairs to walk out to your car, a small smile makes its way across your face at the thought of a certain green-eyed brunette who always managed to brighten your day with just a simple look.

part 4

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wandamaximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel mcu #mcu #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month ago

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So, I'm assuming that this whole building is for sale. There's a law office storefront, but there's also another office on the 2nd fl., plus a residence. 1920 building in Ardmore, OK. The apt. has 2bds, 2ba, 2,000 sq ft, $750k.

The door and hall to the 2nd fl. office and apt.

The apt. is a long, open setup.

This is cute- it's a little nook with a rolling ladder to access a loft above.

Then you have a living room here. Their sectional sofa kind of sticks out, so they put up a beaded curtain.

It would be large enough with smaller chairs.

The kitchen's cute. Nice exposed wall for a backsplash.

Very nice.

They have a drum set and a sitting area here, but you could definitely fit a kitchen table, instead.

Bedroom #1 has the exposed brick walls and nice tall windows.

This is the larger of the 2 baths. It's very "stony."

And, bedroom #2 is a good size.

I like the walk-in closet.

The toilet is by itself, next to the bath.

They've got a cute little slipper tub.

And, then this is like a bonus space.

Here is the other office.

Reception area and office. It's very nice. I wouldn't mind owning this building.

It has a nice big staff kitchen.

Lovely restroom.

And, this looks like a conference room.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/8-E-Main-St-Ardmore-OK-73401/2075830251_zpid/?

#houses #house tours #home tour #live and work #commercial buildings

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ohhappyday123 · 8 months ago

Text

The Office - Communication Breakdown

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - DAY

The usual hustle and bustle of the office fills the air as employees go about their work. The camera pans across the bullpen, capturing snippets of conversations and the clatter of keyboards.

Y/N'S DESK

Y/N is seated at her desk, working on some paperwork. Dwight approaches with a stern look on his face.

Dwight: [seriously] Y/N, I need you to tell Jim something for me.

Y/N: [looking up, amused] Sure, Dwight. What's up?

Dwight: [glancing around to make sure Jim isn't nearby] Tell him that his prank was amateur at best and that he will never best me in a battle of wits.

[Y/N chuckles and nods, turning to find Jim.]

Jim's Desk

[Jim is leaning back in his chair, fiddling with a paperclip. Y/N walks over and delivers Dwight's message.]

Y/N: [smiling] Jim, Dwight wants you to know that your prank was amateur at best and that you'll never best him in a battle of wits.

Jim: [grinning] Oh, really? Well, tell Dwight that his sense of humor is as outdated as his haircut.

[She laughs and walks back to Dwight.]

Dwight's Desk

[Dwight is busy organizing his desk meticulously. Y/N approaches and delivers Jim's message.]

Y/N: [trying not to laugh] Jim says your sense of humor is as outdated as your haircut.

Dwight: [fuming] Tell him that I’m shunning him for the rest of the week, effective immediately.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, don't you think this is a bit much?

Dwight: [seriously] No. This is a necessary measure.

[Y/N returns to Jim's desk to relay the latest message.]

Jim: [smiling] Ah, shunning. Classic Dwight.

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [looking serious] Shunning is an ancient Amish tradition. It's a way to show someone that their behavior is unacceptable. Jim needs to learn that pranks have consequences.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [grinning] Dwight shuns me about twice a month. It's kind of our thing. It's annoying, but also, it makes him easier to mess with.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [laughing] Being the middleman between Jim and Dwight is like being a referee in a game where only one person knows they're playing. It's exhausting, but it's also kind of hilarious.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATER

BREAK ROOM

[Y/N, Pam, and Jim are having lunch together. Dwight enters the room, looking determined.]

Pam: [whispering to Y/N] What's going on with Dwight today?

Y/N: [whispering back] He's shunning Jim. Again.

[Dwight clears his throat loudly, getting everyone's attention.]

Dwight: Y/N, tell Jim that he needs to stop leaving his dirty dishes in the sink.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, he's right here. You can tell him yourself.

Dwight: [stubbornly] No. I will not acknowledge his existence.

Jim: [smiling] Well, Y/N, tell Dwight that I will stop leaving my dishes in the sink when he stops labeling all his food in the fridge. No one wants his beet salad.

Y/N: [laughing] Okay, okay. How about we all just clean up after ourselves?

Pam: [amused] Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

Dwight: [grudgingly] Fine.

Interview - Pam

Pam: [smiling] Watching Dwight shun Jim is like watching a soap opera. You can't help but get invested in the drama.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - AFTERNOON

BULLPEN

Y/N is at her desk when Michael approaches, looking confused.

Michael: Y/N, why is Dwight shunning Jim again?

Y/N: [smiling] Jim pranked him, and now Dwight's using his Amish shunning technique to teach him a lesson.

Michael: [nodding thoughtfully] Ah, classic Dwight. Well, keep up the good work. You're doing great as the office mediator.

Interview - Michael

Michael: [confidently] Y/N is like the glue that holds this office together. Without them, we'd be in chaos. More chaos than usual, I mean.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATER

CONFERENCE ROOM

Everyone is gathered for a meeting. Dwight and Jim are sitting on opposite sides of the table, with the reader between them.

Michael: [excitedly] Okay, team! Today we're going to brainstorm some new ideas for our sales strategy. Y/N, why don't you start us off?

Y/N: [clearing their throat] Sure. I was thinking we could focus on improving our customer service by...

[The camera cuts to Dwight, who leans over to Y/N and whispers something in her ear.]

Dwight: [whispering] Tell Jim that his idea for the new sales strategy is idiotic and will never work.

[Y/N rolls her eyes but obliges, whispering Dwight's message to Jim.]

Jim: [whispering back] Tell Dwight that his idea for the new sales strategy is so outdated that it belongs in a museum.

Y/N: [exasperated] Guys, can we focus on the meeting?

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [seriously] Communicating through Y/N is actually quite efficient. It ensures that Jim understands the severity of his actions.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [laughing] It’s like we’re in middle school. Dwight thinks he’s making a point, but really, it just gives me more opportunities to mess with him.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - AFTERNOON

BULLPEN

As the day continues, the shunning persists. Y/N is caught in the middle of increasingly absurd messages between Jim and Dwight.

Dwight: [smirking] Tell Jim that he should be prepared for a battle of wits tomorrow. I won't go easy on him.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, maybe you should just talk to him directly?

Dwight: [firmly] No. This is how it must be.

Jim: [grinning] Tell Dwight that I look forward to it. And that he should bring his A-game.

Y/N shakes her head, amused by the ongoing feud. As she turn back to het work, they catch a glimpse of Stanley watching the whole exchange with a bemused expression.

Interview - Stanley

Stanley: [chuckling] I stay out of their nonsense. But it’s always entertaining to watch. Y/N does a good job keeping the peace.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON

Y/N'S DESK

Y/N is working when Jim walks over, looking slightly sheepish.

Jim: [softly] Hey, sorry for dragging you into all this. I know it’s a lot.

Y/N: [smiling] It's okay. It keeps things interesting.

Jim: [smiling back] How about we get dinner tonight? My treat.

Y/N: [grinning] Sounds like a plan.

[As Jim walks away, Y/N catches Dwight watching them intently.]

Dwight: [seriously] Y/N, remember to relay my message about the battle of wits.

Y/N: [laughing] I will, Dwight. I will.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [laughing] It's exhausting, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This place is like a second home, and these people are like family. A very dysfunctional family.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - END OF DAY

As the day winds down, employees start packing up their things. Jim and Y/N walk out together, exchanging smiles and quiet conversation.

Pam: [smiling as she watches them leave] Those two are perfect for each other.

Michael: [beaming] Y/N and Jim make a great team. They're like the Romeo and Juliet of the office. But, you know, without the tragic ending.

[The camera captures Dwight watching Jim and Y/N with a mix of suspicion and grudging respect.]

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [seriously] As much as it pains me to admit, Jim and Y/N are a formidable team. But that doesn't mean I won't crush him in our battle of wits.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [smiling] Dwight will never admit it, but he likes having Y/N around as much as the rest of us do. Even if he shows it in the weirdest way possible.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [smiling] At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to get through the workday with a little bit of fun. And if that means playing messenger between Jim and Dwight, so be it.

#jim halpert #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x fem! reader #pam beesly #dwight schrute #the office #the office us #michael scott

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kayr0ss · 2 months ago

Text

Phishing Attack [Sulemio Fanfic]

[Gundam: The Witch from Mercury / GWitch, Sulemio, Fluff & Humor, post-canon, married, miorine is down bad, lmfao, self-inudlgent office shenanigans] AO3 Link

Summary: Unfortunately for her, Miorine falls for the IT department's phishing attack test email and has to go through GUND-ARM, Inc's mandatory security training. Fortunately for her, it seems her wife, of all people, was the one teaching it.

"Uhm—"

This poor kid. Miorine was going to have a talk with Nuno about this, because there was absolutely no reason for him to send the newest tech support hire to her office for something he could have emailed her about. She wonders if he and Ojelo placed a bet on whether or not he would do it. That wouldn't do. She'd have to give them an earful after all this.

Or, even better, she'd tell Lilique. No one liked to get on Lilique's bad side.

"Is everything okay?" She crossed her arms, trying to school her expression into something... nicer? It didn't look like it was working, because he visibly gulped.

"P—President! I'm here because you—uh. Email."

"Email?"

He looked down towards his feet, his voice barely over a whisper. "...test email that IT had sent out."

Miorine pinched the bridge of her nose, doing her best to even out her breathing. "Hey. It's okay, I don't bite. I can barely hear you."

"You clicked on a phishing test email! That—that IT sent out. Kargan-san told me, to tell you, that you have to attend mandatory training or else your email access was going to get revoked."

She frowned, eyes flitting to her laptop, unable to keep an incredulous huff at bay. Phishing email? She was usually really careful about this, when did she even—she paused.

She remembers now. Last night, while working late from home, she received an email from what she thought was a travel agency. She had been looking into booking a vacation for their family, and wanted to sign up for their newsletter and so she—oh. She clicked a link.

She sighed, deep and weary, leaning forward on her desk. "Thank you," she waved at the young man. "I'll go talk to Nuno."

He sighed in relief, said his greetings, and left.

"He looked terrified! Why would you do that?" She growled across the lunch table towards Nuno, who was holding up his tray in defense. "You could have told me yourself!"

"But how was he supposed to learn? Besides, it's a good time to work on rapport-building, for you!"

"That doesn’t make any sense." She slammed down her coffee mug, visibly irritated. "And also totally targeted. You knew that I was planning a vacation for us."

"What, did you think phishing attacks were just randomly cast nets? These things have gotten more sophisticated! Especially for C-suite individuals like you. Do you know what kind of cybersecurity liability it would have been if your email got compromised?"

"I know that!" Miorine groaned in frustration. "Fine, I'll do the training. But really? Revoking my email access?"

"Hey—you signed off on the ops manual yourself!"

"You have to set an example for following the rules, Miorine-san." Aliya laughed.

And she was right. And Miorine hated it. But she always resented authority who didn't play fair, so she was going to do her best to set a good example. She went back to eating, stabbing at her potato wedges with unnecessary force, making Nuno and Ojelo grimace with each stab.

"By the way," he elbowed Ojelo, who was dejectedly playing with his salad. "You owe me. I told you she'd fall for it."

"You two are impossible!"

"There's no way they got you too." Miorine deadpanned, looking at the only other person seated in the conference room. It had several long tables, arranged in a U-configuration, and had high-backed leather office chairs that rolled themselves back to place when you clapped. She thought it was a bit much, but... Nika liked over-engineering things, so here they were.

Nika smiled sheepishly. "They sent me an email for a parts sale. I clicked the link without thinking too much."

"A sale?" Miorine almost laughed. "Nika, your department has the highest budget."

"No, not for work—it was uhm. For mobile suit figures?" She twiddled her thumbs. "The little models I like to build?"

Miorine couldn't even be upset. She actually laughed this time (“They were full mechanics! I couldn’t resist!”). Everyone had their weaknesses, it seemed.

"So this is the training video we made for all the new hires, and whoever else needs it." Ojelo was setting the screen up. "It's about an hour long—"

"An hour?" Miorine slammed her palms on the desk.

"Yes, an hour!" He barked back, crossing his arms. "Obviously, since you two are here—our literal president and the person who designs all our prototypes—we need it! I can hardly think of two worse people to fail this test."

Miorine sighed, covering her face with her hands, because he was right.

"Let's just get this over and done with."

The holo-screen flickered to life, Ojelo waved them goodbye, and then Miorine's jaw dropped because—

[Hello there, GUND-ARM, Inc.!]

She knew that voice. It was only the title screen, without showing the speaker, but she knew.

Then the video feed finally came on, and she swallowed: it was Suletta. She was smiling sweetly at the viewer, wearing a business suit that had GUND-ARM, Inc's pin on the blazer’s lapel. She felt the air rush out her lungs, and jolted upright from her seat.

[Welcome to the first module of Cybersecurity 101! My name is Suletta Mercury-Rembran, and I—]

Miorine felt her mouth dry up because why?

She whipped her head towards Nika. "Why is my wife teaching the cybersecurity training?!"

She briefly remembers Suletta mentioning something about getting filmed for a GUND-ARM, Inc. video. It was quite a while ago, and Miorine figured it was just another marketing campaign, but she didn't realize that it might have also been this.

"I mean," Nika shrugged. "She is a literal teacher. I imagine out of all of us she's the most qualified to conduct a training."

Which. Okay. Fair—it made sense! But still—why?

Miorine ran her hand through her hair, grounding herself. Why did she look so good even on screen? Who's idea was it? Did she want to thank them or throttle them?

Why on this ridiculous Earth was she so goddamn attractive?

(A rhetorical question, for sure: she knew with absolute certainty that that was simply a truth of this world.)

[Let's start with the basics: What exactly is a phishing attack?]

[14:47 SEST] Nika : It kind of feels like I should leave T_T

[14:47 SEST] Ojelo: lmaooooooooooo

[14:49 SEST] Nika: please let me leave

[14:53 SEST] Nuno: I'm sorry but u are also literally a security risk until u learn this so u can't

[14:54 SEST] Nika: fml

It was almost impossible to listen, but also impossible to look away. Miorine put an honest effort into taking down notes, into remembering the tell-tale signs of a fake domain name and the most common typing mistakes made in phishing emails. They even had little quizzes in between that they had to take on their phone before moving onto the next section. Apparently, failing those meant having to take the training again and... and, well, that was both pleasant and terribly embarrassing.

At the halfway point, Miorine had crossed her arms, flushed deeply, and sighed.

"You okay, Miorine-san?" Nika poked her on the shoulder.

Suletta had just flashed another charming smile on screen, congratulating the viewer for finishing this section.

"She's so—" Miorine slowly tipped over, leaning forward, and planted her face on the table, muttering. "—pretty."

[Don't forget! Urgent language and unsecured links are really good tells! Are you feeling ready for your next test? Once again, please check your company phone's training app, and—]

Miorine pulled out her phone. She was so ready for this quiz. She had been locked in and could probably recite company policy backwards at this point.

Nika, for the fifteenth time within the past forty-five minutes, tried not to keel over laughing.

[Still there?]

Sang Suletta's sweet, whimsical voice.

[Thanks for sticking with it! Good job, we're almost through! You're doing great!]

Miorine had nearly snapped her stylus in half, blushing, but she powered on in the name of professionalism and—spite. For Nuno and Ojelo, of course. Not Suletta.

She checked her watch. They weren't kidding about it taking no less than an hour. She leaned back into her chair, unable to deny the fact that it was nice to take a short break from paperwork and checking spreadsheets all afternoon.

She had bolted out the room as soon as the training was done.

"Leaving in a hurry?" Sabina caught her haphazardly stuffing all her things into her leather folio.

"Yes."

It was a Thursday, which meant Suletta didn't have an afternoon class to teach, which meant she was already home by now.

"I'll call for the car, then." She hummed.

"Thank you."

Miorine almost forgot her keys, fishing them out her drawer before grabbing her coat off the back of her chair. It was probably windy, but she was in too much of a hurry to bother putting it on, instead bundling it in her arms with her folio.

Suletta was surprised to hear the jingle of Miorine's keys so early in the afternoon.

She looked up from the book she was reading, happy to see the front door swing open. She carefully got up, a smile on her face.

"Miorine! You're home early—" she stopped in her tracks. "You look mad. Why do you look mad?"

And—in the most confusing three seconds of her life—Miorine had pulled her in by the collar, gotten up to her tip-toes, and kissed her.

Honest to god kissed her.

"Whoa," she mumbled against Miorine's lips in a daze. She leaned forward a little, settling her free hand on Miorine's waist, bending down so that her wife didn't have to struggle reaching her.

Finally pulling back, Suletta gave her a hesitant smile. "I missed you too?"

"I clicked a stupid phishing email."

What? Suletta blinked, stupefied, wondering what that had to do with the fact that Miorine was shrugging her coat off and kissing her—again.

"An—" she took a breath "—email?"

"Yeah." Miorine pushed them towards the hallway, and Suletta awkwardly stumbled along with her. "How are you so—so—"

"Eh?” Suletta’s brows furrowed. “Me? What do you mean?"

“So…” Miorine had a frown and the prettiest blush Suletta had ever seen. "Beautiful. In the training video."

There was an almost-audible click in Suletta's head.

She finally put two and two together.

"Oh!" She gasped. "Oh no, they made you watch the training video?" She laughed. "That must have been funny. I was so embarrassed filming it!"

"I think you did great." Miorine was still pushing her, having kicked off her shoes now. She fished the book out of Suletta's hand ("Hey!") and placed it on the nearest table. "But I might have already forgotten the whole thing."

Miorine hastily felt for the door knob to their bedroom, swinging it open and pulling Suletta in by her shirt.

"Miorine!"

"You should remind me again."

fin

A/N:

Thank you to @saltypyrotato for once again beta reading this! You're the best broski! This is basically some self-indulgent office shenanigans that I can't help but imagine would happen lmaoooo

#gwitch #gundam witch from mercury #sulemio #miosule #miorine rembran #suletta mercury #fanfic #fluff #humor

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octuscle · 1 year ago

Note

A weird change has been going on with all the guys at my office. Many of them are now acting “southern” wearing cowboy boots and hats and belt buckles and even talking in southern accents despite almost none of them being from the south. They also started driving giant trucks and even some of my more liberal co workers are now talking about conservative politics.

Could the chronivac be behind these changes?

You have the feeling that the young employees were the first to be affected. When you went home a few days ago, you heard a "Goodbye, Mister! Havuh nice eevnun!!" from Frederick's desk. Frederick is an intern. A promising Harvard student from the best family in Providence. You're actually on a first-name basis in the office. But you don't actually wear a cowboy hat either…

The next person to be hit is Peter from the coffee shop downstairs in the office building. Peter is actually a talented barista and, like all people in the catering industry, is actually a disabled actor. You once saw him as Hamlet in an off-Broadway production. He wasn't any worse. "Hello Mr. Goldmann, sir! Uh hot blaak filter coffee as usual?" You look at him in amazement. "Peter? Is that you? I always have a cappuccino. Have you forgotten?" "Kaynt bay, mister! Way don't sayul thet kinduh stuff. An by thuh way, mah name iz Pete."

Fucking hell, Pete is really smoking hot. Okay, the conversation between you is getting more monosyllabic by the day. You'll get used to the black coffee. Not to his Trump praise.

Over the next few days, more and more of these cowboys and rednecks will come your way. There is talk in the news of a hacker attack on TikTok accounts and on Chronivac by the Russians. Allegedly, it is no longer the will of the voters but the voters themselves who are being manipulated. Thank God you don't use TikTok.

A few days later, things get more serious. You come out of the elevator, your eyes engrossed in the New York Times. What is that stench? Your eyes fall on Frank, the young man working at reception. A cloud of sweat and musk wafts around him. His left hand is under the table, moving rhythmically back and forth. "Good morning, Frank!" you say sternly. His hand is suddenly on the table and he clicks away the porn on the screen. "Excuse may, Mr. Goldmann, sir! Ah didn't say yawl coming." You say that your name is Sebastian and that he should get back to work. Apparently he misunderstood. As soon as you turn around, he jerks off again.

And it smells bad in the office. A lot of employees here seem to have an increasing problem with personal hygiene. And spend more time in the gym. And watching cowboy movies. Still mostly young colleagues. But also a few who are your age. It's frightening.

You're sitting at the financial statements. They have to be finished in the next few days. And apart from you, no one in accounting seems to have a clear head anymore. What you're given is full of errors. In terms of content, spelling, grammar… A catastrophe. You hear heavy footsteps behind you. "Goldmann, Smith, Wagner. Into thuh conference room. Now!" You turn around. The two giants look a bit like your CEO and CFO. But they smell like the locker room at a rodeo.

The two of them will forward you the links to a few TikTok videos. You should watch them! Don't have an account yet? Then bloody well get one. You'll get a lecture that our business model isn't patriotic enough. That you're doing too much business with the disgusting gooks and the cowardly French and Krauts. You're supposed to make America great again. America first!

Robert and Richard look at each other and at you, embarrassed. They don't really understand what they should do now. Admittedly, neither do you. You wonder whether the board has gone mad. Robert and Richard, who represent product development and sales, start to discuss whether it is even possible to restructure the supply chains and distribution channels in the short term.

You install TikTok and take a look at the videos sent by the CEO. They are basically advertising messages from the right wing of the Republican party. Repulsive stuff. And you have no idea what this has to do with your company's accounting and controlling.

After reflecting on the situation for a few minutes, you get up and think that you need a drink for the shock. You wonder if they could do with one too? Robert and Richard, who have also just installed TikTok and are watching the videos, look up briefly and shake their heads.

The cognac you received as a gift a few years ago is no longer in your office. You also can't remember whether you gave it to someone as a gift or took it to a company party. Surprisingly, you find beer in the fridge in the coffee kitchen, which is actually against company policy, but no schnapps or anything like that. You go to Frank and ask if you have any whiskey or something similar. Frank spits his chewing tobacco into the wastepaper basket and pulls a silver hip flask out of a drawer. "Home-brewed by mah dad, Mr. Goldmann, sir! Do yawl need uh glass?" You shake your head, take the flask and take a big swig.

Rick and Bob ask if you've brought booze and chewing tobacco. The two of them rant about the government, fantasize about how good everything will be once Trump is back in power and scratch their balls. They're both good guys. A bit hollow in the head. But they have their hearts in the right place, don't think twice and implement orders quickly and efficiently.

You really can't believe the gobbledygook they spout. You sit down, take a pinch of chewing tobacco and push the tin over to them. And after an impressive burp that smells wonderfully of the chili from today's lunch, you take a deep breath.

"Buddies, is way men or weaklings? Thuh bosses want ideas frum us, not whinin'. Wadja thank uh thuh fallerin' plan: naw more deliveries uh goods frum China frum next year an doubled prices fahwar sales tuh Europe!" Bob and Rick both snot their tobacco in the corner, shout "Yeehaw" and fart. Hehehe, they also had the chili. Shit, a good chili fart always makes you horny. You pull down the blinds in the meeting room. And Bob and Rick undo their belt buckles.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #inked man #mullet #musk #stop trump #ai image

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annerly-san · 1 month ago

Text

Love and Deep Deadlines | A LaDS Corporate AU - Chapter 4

Summary:

Amidst the cut throat culture of Onyxion Enterprises where cutting-edge innovation is overshadowed by corporate chaos, no one talks about how hard it is to be an intern.

Alongside Caleb, the sales department smooth-talker; Zayne, the cold and unflappable CTO; Xavier, a director who might as well be an intern himself; and Rafayel, the overly dramatic Creative Director who brings his own flair to every meltdown, our intern is just trying to survive the workday. Oh, and don’t forget Onyxion’s very own CEO, Sylus, a walking HR violation who gets off on terrorizing his employees.

In this company, will love bloom before the deadlines run deep, or will the company go under first?

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | ?

Alternative AO3 link:

The next week came faster than I was ready for, and I spent the morning frantically reviewing my notes, making sure the script and key points were flawless. Everything had to go smoothly; there's no room for mistakes. But the real challenge wasn’t in the content, it was facing Zayne after that awkward interaction with him the other week.

A notification popped up on the bottom of my laptop screen.

[Zayne]: "I’ve reviewed the email. Let’s meet today at 3 p.m. I’ll be in Conference Room B."

I stared at the message, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I was trying to think of a reply that wouldn’t betray how rattled I felt.

[Me]: "Sure, sounds good. See you then."

That was cordial enough for work, right? I hit send, then sat back in my chair, exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding. As the clock ticked closer to 3 p.m., my nerves didn’t ease up one bit.

I arrived at Conference Room B a few minutes early, setting up my laptop and pulling up the materials for the interview. My hands shook slightly as I adjusted the microphone and camera, trying to steady my breathing.

The door opened.

Zayne walked in.

He entered the room with the same cool air of confidence he had back during the all-hands, his movements precise, his gaze focused on me for the briefest moment before shifting to the materials on the table.

“Are we ready to start?” he asked. His voice calm and curt, offering no warmth or familiarity.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I handed over the neatly stapled documents containing our agenda and speaking points to him, putting my full effort into stabilizing my hands and prevent them from shaking too much. “Yeah, I’ve prepared a script for the interview, and we’ll go over the key points you wanted to highlight. I know you're busy, so I've kept this short and concise.”

Zayne glanced at the script I handed him, his eyes scanning the page before he gave a short nod. “Yes. We'll do that.”

The camera started to roll, and I settled into the professionalism of my role, asking the questions in the exact order we’d planned. Zayne answered each one clearly, his tone authoritative and precise. But as we continued through the laid out speaking points, the dynamics of the conversation changed. Where it had started off with a brisk question and answer format, his responses spoken with a few short words without additional elaboration or commentary on it, Zayne gradually provided more elaborate responses and would take the time to explain out the more difficult concepts of the technology he was working on.

It reflected in his body language, as he settled more into his seat with a more relaxed stance than his previously stiff and upright posture. Rather than staring straight into the camera with a stoic face, not sparing a glance at me once since we first started, he started looking at me directly when I asked him questions, maintaining eye contact and smiling politely here and there. The longer the interview went on, the more I found myself drawn into the conversation; it was no longer a singular exchange of words and answers, but an actual conversation between the two of us that went both ways.

By the time we wrapped up, it felt like I was talking with Zayne just like when we were back in school; I was always asking him questions on difficult topics that I didn't quite understand, and he would patiently explain things and sit with me until I was able to grasp my head around the topic I was hoping to learn about. I caught myself smiling as I turned off the camera, feeling as though I had been swept up in lost times.

Zayne stood up, gathering his things. “Good interview,” he said, his voice more relaxed than it had been the entire time.

“Thanks,” I replied, the weight that had been pressing on my chest since the start of the meeting finally lifted.

Zayne glanced at his watch and I panicked at the realization that the interview went longer than I had anticipated. I was mortified. The words he spoke to me when we first met rang out in my head like alarming bells. He was a busy man. And I was just someone that was taking up time in his day unnecessarily. “S-sorry that we ran over!" I stammered. "We’ve been at this a while,” I noted, glancing at the time myself. 5:00 p.m. It was the end of the day already. “I’m really sorry if you had something else planned for today. I know you’re probably really busy-”

"Don't be," Zayne interrupted.

I looked up at him, confused. Instead of looking rushed or upset, he seemed completely relaxed and at ease. “I cleared my schedule for this. Don’t worry.”

“Wait, really? You didn’t have to—”

“It’s fine.” he cut me off smoothly, his eyes locking onto mine. “I wanted to.”

My heart skipped a beat. The way he said it felt so familiar. It wasn’t laced with the cold distance intended to keep me at arm’s length. It was spoken with the subtle warmth and patience he used when it was just the two of us back then. His gaze lingered on me a moment longer before drifting casually to the window.

I nodded slowly, pulling myself back to the present. “Well, I appreciate it. Thanks for taking the time for this today. Caleb’s probably coming to pick me up soon though. I should text him and head back. I don’t want him to wait on me.”

The mention of Caleb’s name made Zayne’s expression flicker for just a second. He didn’t say anything at first, but I noticed the subtle tension in his jaw—almost imperceptible, yet one of those traits I’d become all too aware of after knowing him for so long back when we were kids.

“Caleb still insists on chauffeuring you around?” Zayne asked, his voice neutral, but I could sense that there was an unpleasantness there.

“Yeah, but it’s Caleb. He’s like that,” I admitted, chuckling lightly, trying to defend him.

The corner of Zayne’s lips twitched up, but his face remained otherwise stoic and unreadable. “I can text him for you, let him know he doesn’t need to bother.”

I hesitated, surprised. Did Caleb and Zayne keep in contact all these years? The thought of being left out from their continued friendship sent pangs of hurt running through my chest, but I tried to stamp out the thoughts to keep my composure. “O-Oh, but we finished up, I can just head back—”

Zayne stood up, picking up his phone with a casual swipe of his fingers. “But we’re not done yet.”

I blinked, confused. “...We went through all the questions though. Everything we had in the script and agenda was recorded. The interview’s finished.”

Zayne gave me a pointed look, his tone deceptively calm as he slipped his phone into his pocket. “You asked me to dinner the other day, remember?”

My heart stumbled in my chest. “Wait, that was—”

“You asked. I’m accepting,” he cut in smoothly, stepping past me toward the door. “Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come out. This was beyond my expectations—especially not after the cold reception earlier. “I just didn’t think you’d actually want to...” I trailed off, glancing at my phone again. “But Caleb... Caleb's waiting-”

Zayne didn’t look at me as he tapped at his phone. “I’ll let him know the meeting ran longer than expected and I can drop you off back home. He doesn’t need to wait.”

I hesitated, watching him for a second, as the doubts that Caleb would agree to heading home by himself plagued my mind. Locking eyes at Zayne, who seemed to be assured in his actions made those thoughts quickly disappear. “Oh... well, okay.”

Zayne typed something quickly and slid his phone back into his pocket. “All set.”

Zayne picked up his things, and we left the conference room together, the silence between us not awkward but filled with a strange kind of anticipation. As we made our way to the elevator, my mind raced with thoughts. Was he being distant unintentionally? Was he just stressed with work? Maybe he was trying to keep things professional at work? Maybe... were we still friends after all this time?

The elevator ride felt longer than it actually was, and even though neither of us spoke, the tension lingered in the air. When we finally reached the lobby, Zayne led the way out of the building, holding the door open for me as we stepped into the fading daylight. The cool breeze of early evening hit my face, refreshing but doing little to calm the nerves bubbling under the surface. Zayne’s car was parked just outside, sleek and understated, much like him. He opened the door for me, and I slid into the passenger seat, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence as we drove through the city streets. I glanced out the window, watching as the buildings blurred by, trying to piece together my scattered thoughts. Should I make small talk? Or would that just add to the awkwardness? Before I could decide, Zayne spoke.

“Do you still like that Italian place on the corner of 5th?” His voice was even, almost casual, but it caught me off guard.

“Yeah, actually... I haven’t been there in years,” I admitted, surprised he remembered something like that.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, barely noticeable, but it was enough to ease some of the tension building inside me.

When we arrived at the restaurant, Zayne parked, and we headed inside. It hadn’t changed much over the years—the same cozy atmosphere, the same soft clink of glasses and silverware filling the space.

We sat down at the table, and an awkward silence settled between us. The clink of silverware on nearby tables filled the air, but neither of us spoke. The tension was palpable, and I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. Zayne flipped through the menu with casual ease, his expression unreadable. I cleared my throat, trying to break the ice. “Uh, maybe we should start with an appetizer?”

Zayne raised an eyebrow, glancing up from the menu. “Sure. How about the... fritter platter?” he suggested. “I remember you liked those.”

Surprise flickering across my face. “You remember that? But... this one has carrots in it.” I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “And you hate carrots.”

Zayne looked up, his expression softening for just a moment, something akin to nostalgia in his eyes. “And you still remember that?”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Yeah, I do. It’s been a long time, but... some things stick.”

He nodded slowly, and for a brief moment, it felt like we were back in time—just two kids who used to know everything about each other. The weight of the years that had passed seemed to lift, if only slightly.

We skimmed through the rest of the menu, finally agreeing on an appetizer that catered to both of our tastes—something simple, reminiscent of the flavors we used to enjoy as kids.

As we waited for the food to arrive, we made small talk. Nothing too deep, just the basics. He told me about his work, how intense things had been lately at Onyxion, and I shared a bit about my internship, carefully avoiding the awkwardness of our earlier interactions.

I picked at my food for a moment, then, without really thinking, I blurted out, “I missed you when you moved away.”

Zayne’s hand froze mid-reach for a piece of food, and he looked at me, his expression unreadable again.

I felt a nervous flutter in my chest and quickly tried to laugh it off. “I mean, you never wrote back to my letters. I figured I must’ve been annoying back then.”

‘Maybe I still am.’ I forced a smile, that last thought remained unsaid.

Zayne frowned, looking genuinely confused. “Wait... what? I did write back.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “You did?”

He shifted uncomfortably, his usual composed demeanor cracking just a bit. “Yeah... I... I remember writing to you a few times. I thought you were ignoring me.”

My confusion deepened. “I never got any of them.”

Zayne leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sent them. I... thought maybe you didn’t want to talk to me anymore, so I stopped after a while. Caleb would reply, though. He’d mention you so I figured you were doing well, but... I just thought you-” The sentence trailed off there and I watched as Zayne shifted about as he tried to find the word for it. He cleared his throat. “I supposed you didn’t want to keep in contact anymore.”

The air between us shifted, tension thickening with unspoken words. A million questions raced through my mind, and I was about to tell him that what he said couldn't have been further from the truth. I opened my mouth to speak, but a familiar voice cut through the moment, interrupting me.

“Well, well, well—if it isn’t my favorite duo having dinner without me.”

I looked up in surprise as Caleb strolled over to our table, his usual playful grin stretching across his face. Zayne’s expression instantly shifted, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watched Caleb approach.

“Caleb?” I blurted out, trying to keep my voice light, even as nervous laughter bubbled up in my chest. “What are you doing here?”

Caleb gave me a feigned and exaggerated look of hurt, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “I can’t believe you two went out for dinner and didn’t even invite me. The betrayal!”

Zayne sighed beside me, clearly less than thrilled by Caleb’s sudden arrival. “You don’t even like this restaurant, Caleb,” he said, his voice flat.

Caleb slid into the seat beside me with a grin, completely unbothered by Zayne’s reaction. “That’s where you’re wrong~! I love this place... especially when I get to eat with my two favorite people!”

I could practically feel the tension radiating off Zayne, but Caleb seemed completely unfazed, casually motioning for the server to bring him some utensils.

“I was waiting for you, by the way,” Caleb said, turning to me. “Almost called the police when I couldn’t find you. Thought you were kidnapped or something.”

I blinked, suddenly remembering. “Oh! I thought... Zayne said he texted you?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, his gaze sliding over to Zayne. “Did he now?”

Zayne didn’t respond, instead folding his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable. “I must have forgotten to hit send,” he muttered, not meeting Caleb’s eyes.

The server stepped in before Caleb could press further. “Are we ready to order entrees?” she asked, placing a glass of water in front of Caleb.

Caleb smirked, clearly sensing the shift in Zayne’s mood. “You know what? How about that grilled chicken dish with a side of glazed carrots for Zayne here? It’s his favorite.”

Zayne’s jaw clenched slightly, about to interject when a smile, mirroring the one that Caleb had on his face, tugged at the corner of his lips. “That's fine. Then how about the sesame tofu dish with the cilantro lime rice for my old friend here? Please tell the chef to add extra cilantro in it. Extra.”

Caleb’s grin faltered for a second, but he recovered quickly. “Sounds... delicious,” he said through gritted teeth, not wanting to make a scene in front of the server.

As the server left to place the orders, I shook my head, barely holding back laughter. “You two are impossible.”

Caleb leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Just keeping things interesting, Pipsqueak.”

Zayne said nothing, but his gaze flicked briefly to me before settling back on Caleb. “Speaking of interesting,” Zayne began, his voice deceptively casual, “what ever happened to those letters?”

Caleb’s grin faltered. “Letters?” he laughed. “What are you talking about? What letters? You’re a CTO, Zayne. We’re in the digital age. It’s emails now. Was I supposed to send you something at work?”

“I'm talking about the ones from back when we were kids. The ones I sent the both of you back then,” Zayne glared at Caleb in annoyance. “When I moved out. What happened to them?”

Caleb’s posture stiffened slightly as a few moments passed by. But then, as if a switch flipped, his usual grin reappeared and he raised a dramatic finger to harken his recollection. “Ooooh! Those letters. Right, right, right.” He scratched the back of his head, laughing awkwardly. Caleb glanced strangely at Zayne with a smirk on his face. “Man, you know, I always meant to ask you about one of those...”

Zayne’s eyes narrowed, and I could see the tension ripple through his body. “Ask me about what, exactly?”

Caleb leaned back in his chair, trying to seem nonchalant. “Well, there was this one letter... and, uh... I’m not gonna lie, Zayne. It was kinda... It was kinda …” He paused, a devious twinkle in his eyes. “It was kinda zesty , my guy.” He wiggled his eyebrows with exaggerated flair, a chuckle bubbling out. “I didn’t really know what to say, bro. I thought maybe you were going through something. But hey, I was all for it.”

Zayne blinked, momentarily thrown off his guarded composure. “What are you talking about?”

Caleb waved his hand dismissively, but his grin never faltered. “I mean, you know, I get it. We were all kids back then, right? But that letter, man... That first one when you wrote that you missed me, but it was, uh... a little... a little too much, if you catch my drift.” Caleb winked at him, throwing in his usual playful swagger. “It sounded like you were ready to run away with me or something.”

Zayne’s expression shifted, and a faint flush appeared on his cheeks. He let out a small cough to clear his throat, eyes narrowing as his gaze flicked toward me before settling back on Caleb. There was a brief pause before he responded in a measured tone, “That... that letter wasn’t for you, Caleb. What about the others? I sent a couple others.”

“Oh- OH-!” Caleb flailed about dramatically and laughed, voice tinged with embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his head. “Oh shit-! Damn…. Dude…” Caleb gave me an apologetic pat on the back. “Ok, for the others, and I swear this only happened twice! I guess I might've... uh, accidentally opened them thinking they were for me." He gave a sheepish grin, shooting me an apologetic look. "You know how I am, Pipsqueak. Attention to detail isn’t exactly my strong suit."

I blinked, glancing between them, feeling a little lost. "Wait... so Zayne did write to me?"

Zayne’s expression didn’t soften, but his eyes narrowed slightly, catching on to something that Caleb wasn’t saying outright. I could sense the tension building up between the two of them as their eyes met- a silent standoff hanging between them. There was a silent anger that was boiling up behind Zayne's eyes, and a strange knowing look of defiance and challenge that was behind Caleb's. There was something more to this miscommunication than I was let in on, and there was rising apprehension in me as I sensed that the two of them were about to break into a fight.

Zayne broke the deadlock between the two of them first.

"I only wrote a couple, Caleb. But I stopped writing since I thought she didn’t want to talk to me anymore."

I could feel the weight of the world crashing around us at the declaration. There was a sound ringing in my ears as the world seemed to grind to a halt around me.

Caleb's eyes widened, any semblance of his previous gripe with Zayne vanishing. "W-what, really?"

Zayne looked over at me. I felt my heart sank as the realization hit.

All this time, we both thought the other had just... moved on. “Zayne, I—" The words choked in my throat.

“O-oh shit..." Caleb clasped a hand over his mouth and looked guiltily down at the table, occasionally peering up at Zayne and wincing as he stared back. Caleb glanced over at me and then looked back down at the table in shame. "Oh dude- Shit- Oh fuck- I'm so fucking sorry, Zayne- I'm so sorry-"

There was a heavy air that hung over the three of us as the realization of what had actually happened back then dawned upon us. It was a misunderstanding. A mistake. One that fractured our friendship for years.

I caught sight of Zayne looking over to Caleb- who had flopped his head down onto the table with his hands hiding his face in shame. Zayne's expression was evidently conflicted between retaliating his frustration and anger at Caleb for what he did, and wanting to let bygones be bygones in the face of a careless mistake that was done by a kid.

The moments that passed between the three of us felt like an eternity. But I finally met Zayne's eyes and his gaze softened. The boiling tension and anger subsiding enough for rational thought to flow through as Caleb finally decided to look up at Zayne, face scrunching up in the realization of his wrongdoings.

Caleb spoke first. “I’m sorry, man. Really. I'm really, really sorry. I never meant to mess things up between you two." He sighed. "...It was a careless mistake on me back then."

Zayne’s jaw relaxed, and the tension in his shoulders eased, though he didn’t say anything at first. There was a long, heavy pause, the air between the two of them thick with unspoken words.

Finally, Zayne sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at the table. “It’s... fine. We were kids. Things happen.”

Caleb nodded, straightening up and rubbing the back of his head as he shot Zayne an apologetic look laced with underlying gratitude.

There seemed to be an unspoken message between them as they came to a conclusion in silence. Zayne let out a breath, his lips twitching into a faint, reluctant smile. “I guess some things never change. You've always been an idiot, Caleb.”

Caleb feigned indignance, grasping at his heart dramatically. “Ouch! Ok, ok! I deserved that." He looked over at me with the puppy eyes that he would always make when he was trying to make me less upset. "Forgive me, pipsqueak?" He poked my arm gently as he tilted his head to the side. “No hard feelings for your big brother being a bit stupid back then?”

Instinctively, I slapped Caleb on the head, immediately feeling the annoyance leave my body at the act. "Stupid Caleb."

Caleb cried dramatically and I could hear Zayne chuckle off to the side. I looked between them, feeling the tension slowly dissipate. There was still a part of me that ached for all the years we’d lost, but seeing both of them willing to put it behind us made it easier to breathe. “It's fine,” I agreed softly, smiling at Zayne. “It's not like you got any less stupid as we got older either.”

Zayne actually laughed for once. He met my eyes, something warmer in his expression now, and nodded. “I can say that's for certain.”

Caleb looked between us with his jaw dropped. His finger pointed between us accusingly wanting to bite back at the insult before he let out a frustrated sigh and a pout as he accepted the punishment for his actions back then.

Right in time, the server arrived with our ordered food and set the plates of glazed carrots in front of Zayne and cilantro-laden rice in front of Caleb. The thick, emotion-laden air between us receded quickly as the petty quarrel between the Zayne and Caleb came back swinging. The childish banter that the two of them had with one another -- the same as back then-- resurfaced. Zayne poked at the carrots with clear distaste, while Caleb eyed the rice with barely concealed frustration.

I couldn’t help but break the silence. “So... are we going to eat, or are you two just going to stare at your plates all night?”

Caleb sighed dramatically, lifting his spoon to poke at the cilantro-covered dish. “Fine, but just know, Pipsqueak, I’m only doing this for you.” He took a tentative bite, his nose wrinkling at the taste of cilantro.

Zayne smirked slightly, but it was short-lived as he begrudgingly took a bite of the glazed carrots, chewing slowly, as if they were the worst thing in the world.

The tension between the two of them was palpable, but there was an underlying playfulness to it—like old friends who had never quite grown out of their rivalry. I laughed as they both suffered through their respective dishes, deciding to swap entrees with one another after not being able to make it through the second bite.

When the bill came, Caleb snatched it up before either of us could react. “I got this,” he declared, flashing a mischievous grin in Zayne’s direction. “Payback for my fuck up with your letters.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “How generous of you,” he muttered dryly. “I’ll get the next one.”

“Next one?” Caleb’s grin widened. “So we’re doing this again?”

Zayne didn’t respond directly, but the way his eyes flickered said enough. There was a begrudging acceptance there—something that hadn’t been there earlier in the night.

As we left the restaurant, walking into the cool night air, I couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth settle in my chest. The three of us weren’t kids anymore, but at that moment, it felt like we had regained something that had been missing for far too long. I stared at our shadows casted onto the sidewalk by the setting sun, three friends reunited once more.

#lnds fanfic #lads #lads fanfic #love and deepspace #sylus fic #zayne fic #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lads zayne #love and deepspace zayne #love and deep deadlines

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therand0mwriter · 2 years ago

Text

IDOL-Chapitre un

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir x Male!Idol!reader

When a young American idol and his band tours in France, every one in Adrien's class wants to go. Unfortunately for them, tickets sold out as soon as they were for sale. Fortunately for Adrien, his father was able to get him tickets, but with a cost. Even though theres an underlying reason on why he's going, Adrien decides to take his best friend Nino, and his other two close classmates/friends, Alya and Marinette.

When they all got to the concert and the idol started singing, it mesmerized Adrien, pulling him to the front of the stage. Seeing the idol perform made Adrien feel things he never felt before, and it didn't help when the idol lent down and kissed Adrien's hand. Now that caused quite the ruckus.

"𝐔𝐡, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭?"

[Unedited]

[(h/t) = hair type, i.e. curly, wavy, straight, ect.]

[Everyone in the story is 18 or older unless it is specifically said otherwise.]

*Y/N's POV*

"We're going to France!" Your manager, Sheena, just cheered. It was silent in the conference room as you and your band mates took this in. "Huh?" Was all you could say. "What do you mean: 'huh'?! You guys are going to tour in France! Be more excited!" Sheena yelled at us while shaking her fists.

"Are we that popular to be touring in a different country?" Your bass player, Jiraiya, questioned. "Oh boy, I don't know any french..." Your drummer, Loyal, worried out loud. "Relax, I'm sure this'll be a fun, new experience for all of us." Your guitarist, Kylian, said as he patted Loyal's shoulder in comfort. "Ah, I can't wait for the food!" Your keyboardist, Kairo, was already drooling at the thought of French cuisine.

These are your bandmates. You five, including yourself, make up the band: Ensnare. There was you, Y/N L/N, age 18, 5'9", the leader and vocalist. Then there was Jiraiya Duran, age 19, second in command and the bass player. Jiraiya is of Asian and pacific islander descent, around 5'8", has straight black hair, sharp dark brown eyes, glasses, tan skin, a Medusa lip piercing, sharp features and a slim but fit figure. You honestly think he could become a model if he wanted to. You could call Jiraiya the cool but serious type.

Next is Kylian Thatcher, age 18 and the guitarist of the group. Kylian is of European descent, 5'7", has wavy light brown hair, blue eyes, peach colored skin, dolphin bites lip piercings and a sharp jawline, giving Jiraiya a run for his money. He's definitely the most cocky in the group, constantly butting heads with Jiraiya when you're not around. You could consider him the bad boy out of everyone.

And finally, the twins, Loyal and Kairo Elsher, age 17, mix of European and African descent. Loyal is our drummer while Kairo is our keyboardist. They're identical twins with a height of 5'6", heterochromia eyes (one hazel and one green), light brown skin and a beauty mark under their right eye. They both have curly, colored hair, but their natural black hair is starting to show at the roots. Loyal's hair was dyed blue while Kairo's was dyed orange. The only difference between the two, minus their hair color and their instruments, was their personalities. Loyal was nervous and introverted, Kairo was care-free and extroverted.

Oh, and we can't forget our manager, Sheena Wright, age 40. She is of European descent, 5'6", dyed red hair, blue eyes, freckles, peach colored skin and has multiple ear piercings. Sheena's personality is very outgoing, she's headstrong but determined, she knows when it's time to be serious but also knows when it's time to let loose. In a way, she's kind of like a cool mom to all of us.

"Wait, wait, wait," You started, placing your hand on the table to calm everyone down. "Isn't France notorious now because there's villains constantly running rampant?" "Oh yeah, will we be safe?" Loyal sat up, instantly starting to worry. Sheena waved us off, "Of course you'll be safe! You'll have your bodyguards and Frances hero's."

"'Frances hero's?'" You repeated, not sure if you heard her correctly. "Oh, that's right," Jiraiya started, opening the conference room laptop. He started typing then projected an image of a dark blue haired female in a skin tight, red suit with black polka-dots and a blonde haired male in a skin tight, black cat suit with cat ears on top of his head. "This is Ladybug and Chat Noir, Frances hero's. They're the ones who take care of the villains." Jiraiya explained, pointing to the duo.

You sighed then asked, "When is it?" "It's in six months, you'll be doing the same tour you did earlier this year." Sheena informed. All of your bandmates look to you, their leader, for your decision. "Seems like we need to start learning French." You shrugged. Kairo and Kylian cheered, Loyal got a nervous look and Jiraiya smiled.

*Time Skip, Adrien's POV*

When I entered my class, every one was absolutely buzzing. I went up to Nino, Alya and Marinette as they were huddled together watching something with large smiles. "Whats going on you guys?" I smiled, peeking over Nino's shoulder. Marinette jumped and squeaked at my presence and Nino greeted me, "Hey dude! We're just watching the announcement for Ensnare's France tour!"

"'Ensnare'?" I questioned. "Yeah man," Alya started, smiling. "Ensnare is an American boy band that's totally amazing. Everyone in the group is super talented and not to mention super hot! And they have mentioned some of the best news I have ever heard: they're coming here!" Her and Marinette squealed in excitement. "Here, watch this!" Alya said, pulling up the video they were watching earlier.

On the screen was a... really attractive guy. He seemed to be around our age, but he had a mature air about him. His soft smile, (e/c) eyes, (short/long) lashes, clear (s/c) skin, sharp jawline, and (h/t) (h/c) hair all screamed hot model.

"Depending on when you're seeing this, bonjour or bonsoir République française! This is Ensnare announcing that we will be touring all of France in six months! The tickets will go on sale at 10 in the morning your time, so get them while you can! They're limited! And if you get the VIP tickets we all can't wait to meet you! The VIP tickets include a meet and greet before the concert, a picture with us, and a signed piece of merch! But we are giving out a handful of Deluxe VIP tickets where you get everything a VIP ticket does, but you also get to have dinner with us! The meet and greet will be after the concert though. Remember, premier arrivé premier servi. À bientôt!" The male ended with a smile and a wink.

Ba-bump

'What was that?' I shook my head. "Who was that?" I ask, pointing to the male on the phone. "That's (Y/N) (L/N)! He's the leader and singer of Ensnare! Then there's Jiraiya," Alya excitedly explained, hurriedly moving on to the other members before I could ask more questions about the bands leader. 'Oh well, guess I'll do my own research tonight.' I mentally shrugged to myself as Alya continued to explain every member to me.

"Wow, it seems like you guys really like them. Are you going to their concert?" I questioned, getting pouts from the girls in return. "We're gonna try! That is, if the tickets don't sell out." Marinette answered. "I'm sure you guys will get them!" I encouraged, giving her a smile. Her face immediately turned red and she gained a nervous smile, she started stuttering before Alya stepped in, "Well it's going to be hard since pretty much every one I know is going to try to go to that concert. But we're going to try too!" "I'm sure you'll get them, babe." Nino said, kissing Alya on the cheek.

"Wait, when you say every one you know is going to try to get tickets, does that include our friends?" I ask, referring to the other students around me. "Definitely," Alya sighed. "Well, fingers crossed." I gave Alya and Marinette a comforting smile.

*Time Skip*

"I'm sorry you guys," I tried to comfort my sad friends. "We were so close to going to their concert..." Marinette mumbled. "At least no one else in our class was able to get tickets!" Nino also (poorly) tried to cheer them up. "Still..." Alya sighed in a sad manner. Everyone in our class was bummed out that no one got tickets. And not to mention Chloe who had a temper tantrum when even her dad couldn't get tickets. Even I was a little sad that I couldn't get tickets, I don't know the band very well but I wanted to see that (Y/N) in person... 'Wait, what's up with my thoughts?' I shook my head.

*Time Skip*

I just got home after a photoshoot, heading straight to my room. After I closed my door and made sure Nathalie didn't follow me, I let Plagg out of my shirt. "Gosh! Its about time!" I ignored the kwamis complaint and went to my computer, logging in.

I went to the search engine and typed in: 'Ensnare'. The American boy band popped up and I clicked on the members. "Um... excuse me? I think you're forgetting something." Plagg flew next to me, opening his mouth. I rolled my eyes and tossed him a piece of camembert, successfully quieting him.

I turned my attention back to my monitor and clicked on the bands leader. "Hm... let's see, Y/N L/N, age 18, Ensnare's vocalist..." I was mumbling to myself as I read information about him. After a couple minutes I watched some of their music videos and covers. "His vocal range is amazing..." I mumbled to myself again.

"You seem to really be into this guy, you like him or something?" I jumped as I heard a voice in my ear. I turn to see Plagg with a smug look on his face. "W-What? N-No! I just found out about him today!" I explained, confused at my stuttering and racing heart. Plagg flew circles around my head, "Doesn't mean a thing!" He teased in a sing-song tone. "Whatever..." I waved him off.

I saw a thumbnail of a video and it looked like Y/N in an interview. The only thing was, it was titled: 'ENSNARE'S Y/N'S TYPE'. I clicked on it, curious. You could tell the video didn't start at the beginning of the interview with how it was edited.

"So," The interviewer started, "All of your fans want to know: does Y/N L/N have a secret girlfriend?"

Y/N uncomfortably laughed, "I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting this question."

The interviewer laughed, "C'mon! Every one wants to know!"

"Fine, fine. No, I do not."

"Wow! Really?! Why not?!"

"Haven't met the right person yet."

"Can we at least ask who your type is?"

Y/N was quiet for a bit, thinking. But he finally smirked, "Blondes."

Ba-bump

"Blondes? Like me?" I unconsciously said, making Plagg snicker in amusement.

*Time Skip*

I was eating dinner by myself in the dining room, picking at my food. "Adrien," Nathalie called out to me, "Are you alright? You seem to be thinking about something." I blushed and waved her off, "O-Oh, yeah, I'm fine." It looked like she wanted to say more, but left it at that.

In fact, I was thinking about something. More accurately, someone. I couldn't get his face or voice out of my mind! 'Y/N L/N... what are you doing to me?'

"Adrien," I look up to see the owner of the deep voice. "Father!" I stand up from my seat, pleasantly surprised and confused. "I don't have much time, but have you heard of the American band: Ensnare?" He got straight to the point. "U-Um, yeah." I answered.

"I have 4 Deluxe VIP tickets to their concert in six months, I want you to go."

"Really?!"

"There's a catch. I want you to befriend them and convince them to collaborate with me for a new fashion line. I've asked them multiple times myself, but they keep turning me down. So, go to the concert, befriend them, and convince them. If you fail, I'll be disappointed."

"...Yes, father."

"...You can give the 3 extra tickets to your friends if you would like."

"Thank you, father!"

He nodded at me and walked out. I was excited but nervous at the same time. Me and a few of my friends get to go to Ensnare's concert! But... if I can't convince them to collab with my father he'll be upset. 'One step at a time, Adrien!'

*Time Skip*

"AHHH!" Alya and Marinette screamed in excitement. "I can't believe you're taking us to see Ensnare!" Alya shouted, large smile on her face. "This is amazing! Thank you so much, Adrien!" Marinette also shouted. "Yeah man, we all really appreciate it!" Nino added, patting my shoulder. All I could do was laugh at their reactions, "It's no problem, you guys are my best friends, of course I'll take you!"

...

"Did you guys hear that?" I asked, after hearing a faint scream. Alya and Marinette snickered to themselves, "I think Chloe is a little upset you didn't ask her to go to the concert." I frowned and shrugged, "If I had an extra ticket I would."

#x reader #reader insert #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #chat noir x reader #chat noir x male reader #adrien agreste #adrien agreste x reader #Adrien agreste x male reader #x male reader #idol fanfic

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 2 years ago

Text

Chocolate and Pining

Jim Halpert x GN!Reader

PART ONE

[TABLE OF CONTENTS]

Check Table of Contents for entire fic summary and Key!

Summary: The cameras arrive and begin their rotation through the office. What will their shiny lens and intrusive questions uncover?

Warnings: canon-compliant cheating (if you count Pam flirting while engaged)

Author's Note: First post of the new rewrite, and Im kinda glad I only post two chapters of this previously because I went through and changed the entire thing from third person pov to first, to match along with the rest of the xReaders i’ve been writing.

[ ֎” ]

"Alright," You begin, your legs crossed while you tap one hand on your thigh. "What do I even say?" You huff a little laugh, shaking your head. You sat on an uncomfortable grey plastic chair, blinds slightly drawn behind you to block the view of the rest of the office working. You turn around and glance back, looking through the small opening available and noting three different cameras roaming the office and zooming in on people.

"What do we do here?" You repeat the question you're given, turning back toward your own interview camera. "Well, this is Dunder Mifflin, Scranton branch. We're a paper-pushing company." You stop for a moment before the producer behind the camera does a sort of wave as if urging you on. "Uh- well, I'm the receptionist here. I took the job almost a year ago. I transfer calls to the department they need to go to, write notes during our meetings- I'm basically Michael's secretary." You awkwardly laugh, glancing at the wall of the conference room shared with Michael's office as if he could hear through it. You wouldn’t doubt it if someone told you he stood there with his ear pressed to the wall.

"What's the most interesting thing about this job?" You furrow your brows in concern, uncrossing your legs and sitting forward. "Look, I don't know what you guys were expecting when you came here with a whole film crew, but we're a paper company. There's literally nothing interesting about working here."

[ ֎” ]

"What's interesting about working here?" Oscar asks, glancing through the blinds before leaning closer to the camera, waving his hand as he speaks quieter, "Now I'm not one to gossip, but the big thing going around is the office romance right now. And I'm not talking about Kelly and Ryan getting back together for the fifth time." He laughs shortly at his own joke before continuing. "See, Pam is engaged to Roy, he works here in the shipping warehouse downstairs. They've been together for years and they finally have a wedding date set for about a month or so from now.

"However, Jim has the biggest crush on her, everyone can tell. Before Y/N got here, Pam was the receptionist and Jim was always jumping up and going over to her to flirt constantly. Now, some believe the flirting is still going on while their desks are right next to each other, but I think it's gotten tamped down a bit since Pam scheduled a date for the wedding.

"And then there's Y/N. They started here when Pam was finally transferred to sales, and the position opened. They actually became quite close to both Pam and Jim pretty quickly, which makes some sense considering Dwight and Michael basically attacked them their first day here." —

[ ֎” ]

"Attacked Y/N? Please," Dwight scoffed, shaking his head, "I was merely preparing the new employee. If you’re not ready for a surprise stab from a ninja on your first day on the job, then I really don’t think you’re ready for work at all.” Dwight huffs out a breath, crossing his arms. “Besides, Jim made me use the dull blade.” He looks away from the camera in a strop, shrugging his shoulders. “If he hadn’t taken my sharp one I wouldn’t have had to pull out the dull one. I had to put extra force behind the attack for it to do anything, so really it’s Jim’s fault for the bruises.

“Michael? He couldn’t hurt a fly.” Dwight scoffs, then scoffs again for emphasis. “The fact that he tripped and fell that day means nothing, he was merely catching himself from falling with the closest available thing to grab. Which happened to be Y/N’s body, which he then happened to pull down with him. An honest mistake, that.”

[ ֎” ]

— "Now," Oscar continued where he left off with a smirk, "You'd think Jim flirting with Pam, and her egging it on while engaged, should be drama enough for you. But, then you have to figure into the equation that Y/N also likes Jim. I have a pretty good view of the receptionist area when Y/N sits in a certain spot, and I can hear whenever they talk to each other... Sometimes.

"Now I don't know if Jim realized he's a little flirty," Oscar wiggles his fingers with this, "But certainly not as much with them as with Pam. But- man, it's almost painful how hopeful Y/N's voice gets when they talk with Jim. Almost, but mostly just entertaining. And of course, none of the three know about this. It's basically the office soap opera at this point, and no one wants to say anything to disrupt the saga."

Oscar leans back, chuckling to himself before glancing at the camera, "Oh, almost everyone. Don't tell Dwight or Michael either, they're sure to give it away." He pats his leg for a second before smirking, "I'm team Pam. Now don’t look at me that way! I would love for Y/N and Jim to get together, but he’s just too obsessed with Pam! And that woman really needs to get herself a new man, that Roy is a real piece. of. work."

[ ֎” ]

"Team Pam or Y/N?" Phyllis asks, her smile soft as she raises a hand to cover a giggle, "Now I don't like drama, but absolutely team Y/N. Pam is engaged, it's inappropriate."

[ ֎” ]

"Team Pam, all the way." Meredith nods, smirking to the camera. "She was here first. Gotta be loyal to the branch."

[ ֎” ]

"Oh! Team Y/N!" Kelly squeals, wiggling her body in excitement.

[ ֎” ]

Jim sits in the seat, smoothing his pant legs down and sighing. "So, uh, what exactly do I say?" He places his chin in his hand, his fingers tapping restlessly against his bottom lip.

"Anything interesting?" Jim repeats, glancing out the window in the general direction of Pam and Y/N before looking back. "I mean, there's nothing really interesting about this job. Toner prices, how much each piece of paper weighs or costs-" Jim sighs, shaking his head and dropping his hand, "Honestly, the only reason I'm still here at this point is probably my friends. Pam, my desk-mate over there, we've been here for a while together. And then there's Y/N, the relatively new hire. Or, are they new?" Jim tilts his head to think about it, squinting his eyes toward the ceiling. "Has it almost been a year already?"

Jim shrugs, smirking before tapping his leg, "Oh, and also pranking Dwight. Gotta make your own fun here."

"What the- Jim!" Dwight suddenly yells, drawing half the office's attention. The other half continued blandly on with their work, used to their antics it would seem. Jim glances wearily over toward Dwight as he lugs something up from his bottom drawer, placing a plate with yellow jello and a stapler floating inside onto his desk. "What did you do?"

Jim struggles to hold back a laugh, his hand curled in front of his face and chin resting on his palm. Instead, he shrugs, leans back and crosses his arms while trying to maintain a poker face. "Nothing, Dwight. By the way, what happened to your stapler there?"

"You should know, you did it!" He sits there for a moment, glaring at Jim before bounding up, running and calling out, "Michael!"

You were half standing behind your reception desk to get a good look, sniggering to yourself about this prank- it was a good one. You look over to Jim and see him give Pam a high-five, mumbling something to each other before Jim looks in your direction and shoots you a full smile instead of the smirk he had been wearing. You smile back, sitting back down in your chair and scooting up closer to your computer.

The camera swings around closer to Jim, listening more in on their conversation. "How did you even do it?" Pam asks and snickers quietly before straightening up suddenly, grabbing her phone to press to her ear in an attempt to look as if she was doing her work as their boss exits his office.

"Let me see, let me see-" Michael finally lays eyes on the prank, laughing loudly. "Wow, just- wow!" He laughs some more, patting Jim on the back. "This is a creative one, good job Jimbo!" Dwight scoffs, moving to be in Michael's line of sight. Michael jumps slightly as if remembering he's the boss before clearing his throat and looking at Jim. "Oh, but don't do it again."

"Do what again?" Jim asks, playing dumb still and raising his eyebrows at Michael. Michael barks a laugh in return and pats his back again before wandering back into his office, mumbling about jello under his breath. Jim turns toward Dwight with a victorious grin while you stand, carrying your lunch box toward the kitchen. You tap Jim's shoulder twice in passing as if to say good job, and Jim barely has enough time to lift a hand to yours as you gently pull away to continue to your destination.

"Get it out," Dwight demands, standing near Jim and glaring at him.

"Get what out?"

"My stapler!"

"Well, it is your stapler, Dwight." Jim turns back toward his computer, chuckling under his breath.

"Oh, and how am I supposed to get it out?"

"I don't know, eat the jello?" Jim suggests, causing Dwight to scoff loudly as he plops in his chair.

"I can't just eat the jello, Jim. I wrote my name in whiteout on the stapler so everyone would know it's mine." Dwight pauses for a moment before narrowing his eyes. "Unless you knew that, and you'd assume I'd eat this. You're trying to poison me!" Jim sighs loudly, widening his eyes toward the camera before shaking his head.

"Ok, and with that, I'm going to take my lunch." He stands, turning to make his way toward the kitchen.

"If you need something to eat, I have a whole plate of jello right here for you Jim!"

Jim enters the kitchen, watching you press a few buttons on the microwave to heat your lunch. He dons a small private smile before sneaking closer behind you, reaching out and grabbing your sides while calling out a quick, "Boo!"

You jump heavily and yelp, turning around quickly with a hand pressed to your chest, panting out your breaths. "Fuckin- Halpert!" You yell out, smacking his arm before slumping against the counter behind you. Taking a few more breaths as Jim bends over laughing, you call out, "Unfair!"

"Oh? Unfair?" Jim replies, grinning toward you, "This is just payback for that email!"

"Hey, I sent that yesterday!"

"And I just opened it today." Jim grinned, not at all sorry, as you remember the jumpscare chain email you had forwarded to him, hoping to see his reaction.

"Well, that's unfortunate. I wanted to see you jump, I must've missed it." You pouted slightly and Jim's face did a small change, becoming softer and crinkling slightly at the eyes. You don’t seem to notice as you turn toward your food once the microwave beeps.

"Yeah, you were being harried by Michael, something about new shoes?" At which you groan loudly, holding up a finger with an eye roll.

"Don't even get me started on that." You thought back to that same morning when Michael came in with muddy shoes, whining about how he had just bought them even though you could’ve sworn you had seen Michael wearing them for the last half a year. How exactly did time pass in Michael's world, you wondered? And how had they gotten muddied? It wasn’t even raining outside!

"If you need to talk about it, I'm here," Jim said, sounding oddly sincere, but then continued quickly, "Although if the opposite is true I'm also very willing to go into detail about the newest book I just finished of my series."

"Oh? You mean your nerdy novels about swords and dragons?" You reply, raising your eyebrows and smirking at Jim as you stirred your lunch. “Aren’t you supposed to be a jock or something?”

"Don't pretend like you don't love the series, you listen to me ramble about it every week," Jim replied, never losing his smile and never looking away from you. His focus felt like fire on you, and there was nothing you could do to put it out. You weren’t even sure you wanted to. “And it is possible for someone to like sports and reading at the same time.”

"Hmm." You hum, pretending to think about it. It really wasn't a hard choice- while the stories sounded interesting enough by themselves, it was Jim telling them to you that made the whole week worth it. Listening to Jim become so passionate about something he found interesting was almost infectious, you practically waited for these days just to gain inspiration for your own writing. And if you happen to write fanfiction about the stories you've never actually read- well, Jim didn't need to know about that. "Alright, fine, if you insist. So what's new with Salamander and Patterson?"

"It's Sally and Parker," Jim began in disbelief, rolling his eyes fondly as you pick up your lunch, the both of you moving to the break room. You had known that, of course, but watching Jim try to explain for the seventh time why Sally is absolutely not a salamander and is, in fact, more like a snake than anything else just brings a smile to your face and a warm feeling to fill your chest.

You sat down at a chair, thankful for the empty break room as Jim wandered over to the vending machines. He put in some money and roughly pushed a few buttons, complaining all the while about his book characters. He ends up chuckling and shaking his head as he states that he needed to 'start from the beginning.'

A packet of double chocolate chip cookies lands in front of you, and you grin brightly while reaching for the gift. "My favourite, how did you know?" You look up to see Jim looking quickly away, not noticing the red starting to stain his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

"You eat it every week," Jim replies quietly as if that explains it, fetching his own lunch. "Anyway so then Parker-"

It was later in the day, and you sat bored at your desk, a word document pulled up on your computer that was half written with a personal story. Though you weren't actively typing it, instead spinning a pen in your hand as you stare in the direction of the sales associates.

"I honestly don't know what I'm looking for here," Jim speaks lowly, chuckling as he held Pam's hand in both of his, her palm facing upward. He looks up into her eyes as she giggles, shaking her head.

"No, look closer, here," Pam takes one of his hands, taking a finger and tracing a line on her palm as if this would help him read it, "This is the life line. Or- wait, maybe it's the heart line?" Pam giggles again, though misses Jim's almost yearning gaze as he holds her hand a little tighter.

"I don't know what either of those mean, Beesly," Jim replied, his voice low, and Pam finally looked up. Their eyes met and you finally had to look away, the pain in your chest becoming almost too much to bear.

And, almost as if on cue, Roy pushes in the door to the office, walking forward with his hand holding a leather jacket over his shoulder. You glance up quickly, about to start your usual introduction before realizing who it is and clearing your throat loudly, throwing a worried glance toward Jim. He glances over in time, thankfully, yanking his hands back as if burned when spotting Roy turning the corner. It seemed as though Roy hadn't noticed, smiling at his fiance as he approached before leaning down and kissing her forehead.

You watched the pained expression cross Jim's face for just a moment before he managed to school his features into a poker face. You felt for him, honestly. You knew how it felt when the person you liked, well, liked someone else. You just wanted him to be happy above all else, and you knew pining after Pam was not it. If only Pam wouldn't egg it on constantly, maybe he'd have a chance to get over her.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me just pack my things and print out one more file, I'll meet you down there," Pam replied to her fiance, smiling blindingly bright at him before they kiss once more. Roy turned around, passing the reception desk before grabbing a few pieces of candy that you kept out on the top of the desk. He popped one in his mouth before choking dramatically, turning around and coughing a few times before looking directly at you.

"M&Ms? Really? I liked it better when it was Skittles."

"I've never put out Skittles, I like chocolate."

"It doesn't matter what you like, it's for the guests, isn't it? Pam used to put out Skittles and no one complained." He tossed the remaining few pieces onto the floor beside him before walking out of the office. Pam ran up quickly, a worried look on her face.

"I'm so sorry, he must've had a bad day-"

"It's fine, Pam, really." You paste on a smile, annoyed not just at Roy but at Pam for earlier. Pam nodded slowly, her smile regretful as if knowing how you felt before turning around and pressing the last few clicks on her computer to shut it down. She gathered her things in silence, sliding her newly printed paper into a file on her desk. Meanwhile, you stared at your computer screen, not really reading what was there.

"Bye Jim. Bye Y/N, see you tomorrow!" Pam called out, and you replied with a little wave before pressing save on your word document, downloading it to your flash drive. The door to the office hadn't even closed before a new presence was at your desk, leaning over to try and spy on their computer. You looked up to see Jim smirking, looking directly into your eyes.

"Did you close that document just 'cause I came over? Hiding something from me, Y/L/N?" His teasing tone had you smiling against your better judgement, leaning back and crossing your arms.

"Well, I wouldn't want you discovering my master plan. It's a secret for a reason, you know." Jim laughed at your joke, leaning back and taking a handful of M&Ms to pop into his mouth. Watching this, you felt their face deflate just slightly before you hear Jim’s whispers.

"You know, I think I prefer the M&Ms over Skittles any day." He winks, then dumps more from his handful into his mouth, walking back to his desk to finish up his day. You once again couldn't help the small smile that adorned your face in response.

[ ֎” ]

"I've always had a thing for chocolate," You said, shrugging, "I'm the one who sits there all day anyway." You bite your lip for a moment, trying to suppress a smile. "Besides, who cares what Roy thinks? Other people in the office like them, that's all that matters."

[ ֎” ]

"What kind of person do I like?" Jim makes a baffled face, blinking a few times before resituating in his seat. "I don't know why that's relevant, but if I had to choose..." He trails off, his eyes taking on a far-off look, "Someone sweet, smart- someone who laughs at my jokes while also making me laugh. Someone who will help me with my pranks and listen to my ramblings." He looks back up to the camera with a small smile, "Someone with a sweet tooth that I could spoil."

"You coming, Y/L/N?" Jim calls out, the office dark. You're the last two in the building now, it seems, and you glance up from your desk where you're standing to smile at him.

"Oh, I just have a few more papers to print, you go on ahead."

"Don't work too hard, Y/L/N. The effort isn't worth it." You laugh in response, waving him off. You both exchange a quiet goodbye before you wander over to the copier, which was printing multiple copies of what looked like Dwight's face on the 'Scranton Strangler' wanted poster. The camera swings between the pages and back to you, where you only shrug and smirk.

"It'll be funny," Is your only excuse as you take the pages and start hanging them on the pillars of the building around the office, sliding an extra copy into Jim's desk as a memento.

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x you #jim halpert #the office us #the office #fanfiction #the office of chocolate and pining #michael scott #pam beesly #dwight schrute

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