#honestly stop hiring men

[firelise]

I've had 4 female bosses and 3 male bosses in my career so far and the women are so much more competent it's not even close.

I've been trying to sus out what exactly it is, and so far I've concluded that generally the men have this "bought into the system" level of fear (I don't know of WHAT?) that the women don't have. So they approach everything from a "the customer/my overseer is always right, let's just please them" attitude that is fundamentally opposed to my being.

Whereas the women generally understand that everything is bullshit, often give me the benefit of the doubt if a client or someone else is being difficult, know how to say no, and have an innate righteous anger that keeps them from being ass kissers like the men. They are active and bulldozers (because they HAVE TO BE), where the men are passive weak links with poor sense of boundaries.

[justaboutsnapped]

Why you shouldn’t support the upcoming game Black Myth: Wukong

Simply put, the creators behind Black Myth: Wukong are raging misogynists.

Founders and creatives of the studio have:

Joked about former female employees hypothetically doing prostitution

Used suggestive/objectifying/derogatory imagery & phrasing in their hiring flyers (under the cut), e.g. “In addition to hookup buddies, we promise to provide more thoughtful services” , “fatties fuck off”, etc.

Written entire think pieces on how video games don’t need female players or developers, how women are biologically inclined towards “softer” modes of gaming than men (there’s also a bit of homophobia mixed in through language such as “fuck sissies”), how some things should just be made for men, etc. “Fuck sissies, fuck tragic love stories, fuck moon-lit peach blossoms and flute-playing scholars! You don't need the reverse motivation of female players, you don't need to take care of those worms who just want to date chicks. Some things are just for men, their depression, their anger, their pain...”

Made numerous sexually explicit (& honestly incel-like) comments including ones about a female character in Black Myth: Wukong, e.g. “once you get used to this [character design] you can jerk off to it”, etc.

Boasted about how they’re losing followers, who must be women

To no one’s surprise, when people criticise the studio online, they’re met with vitriol about how they’re hypersensitive feminists, too politically correct, etc.

Chinese women have been YELLING non-stop on social media about how bad it is so it’s pretty depressing to see that a lot of non-Chinese gamers, even after reading an IGN article covering the situation, are apathetic. I get that a lot of people are excited about the novelty of a soulslike game based on Chinese mythology, but do you really want to support a studio that actively contributes towards and benefits from misogynistic gaming culture?

Talking about separating the artist from their art is bullshit if you're financially supporting them. Boycott! Pirate!

Here are some sources if you want to see detailed translations, learn more about the situation as well as the misogynistic gaming culture at large China:

[mithrun-house-of-kerensil]

Lately, I've been thinking about Mithrun and the ways he is dehumanized in canon.

Before I get started, we know that elven society is incredibly afraid of death and illness. This is obvious in how they look down on the short lived races and see them as weak and childlike. We also know that Mithrun himself had ableist views toward his brother and these values did not leave him once he, himself, became disabled. He is a product of the society that raised him, but I also think how Mithrun is currently being treated contributes to his view of himself.

Mithrun has had three different caretaking groups over the years. The first are the ones his brother hired for him. From what we can see, they did the job, but we can understand that they did not know what to do with him. No one had ever recovered from having their desires eaten so the focus was less on rehabilitation and more on keeping him alive.

Later we see Milsiril take an interest in him because of his desire to return to the dungeon. Since she did not bother to visit him for decades after finding him, we can assume that there is an ulterior motive here. Timeline-wise, this was when the majority of the canaries had just been wiped out. They needed more men, and Mithrun is set up to be the perfect single-focused soldier.

Honestly, we can assume that Milsiril doesn't really care about him or see him as a person. Mithrun is just a new project for her to play with. We can see this in how she's focused on superficial level concerns like the fact that he doesn't look nice and wanting him to be overly grateful toward her. She also talks about him like he's not in the room and can't hear her. This is a dehumanizing trait shared by many characters when talking about Mithrun.

When he finally does recover enough to return to the canaries, the military does not make any effort to accommodate his needs. We know the canaries are understaffed and the ethics are already bad, but they really did not even try to care about Mithrun's safety at all.

Entrusting a criminal with his care was questionable at best, especially when Cithis immediately took the opportunity to abuse her power over him and no one stopped her.

While acknowledging the light-hearted nature of the manga, it's uncomfortable that Mithrun was treated like a child and an animal by Cithis for her amusement. Regardless of her 'learning to respect him' later, the point is that Mithrun was taken advantage of and degraded because she believed he couldn't say no. No one bothered to do anything about this until Pattadol yelled at her.

Truly his treatment is summarized well by Milsiril here. Mithrun is extremely vulnerable to being abused by those taking care of him because he won't advocate for himself. He has one desire so he won't fight for himself in any other way.

It is obvious that Mithrun was not treated well by his caretakers and this has resulted in him identifying his needs through a disconnected and frankly, infantilizing lens.

I understand that it may have been a translator's decision, but I always thought it was interesting that Mithrun says that he's "not sleepy" which is a childish term. Otherwise, he speaks like everyone else, if not rather posh.

This, followed by the fact that he is responsive to Kabru treating him like a literal infant to get him to eat, paints a clear picture of the fact that Mithrun is not unfamiliar with being treated like this. He responds to it because he's used to it and has no desire to argue with being treated this way. When we consider the fact that the chapter started with Milsiril treating an older child Kabru in the same way, it is likely that she also did the same thing to Mithrun when he was under her care.

In these panels, we see that Mithrun does not believe that he can sleep without magical assistance, even though it is immediately refuted when Kabru takes the time to bundle him up and help him relax. Not only does he fully believe he can't sleep without external assistance, but he states directly that there is no point in him getting comfortable.

As Kabru observes, Mithrun's inability to recognize his needs applies to needs such as hunger and exhaustion, but it obviously also applies to emotional needs. Kabru just wanting to feed him something delicious and not wanting him to give up on life is the most consideration someone has given Mithrun in years.

The relationship they form over the course of a single week is enough to shape Mithrun's behaviour completely. Mithrun ignores Cithis's demand in favour of asking Kabru's opinion. It is Kabru's hand Mithrun takes to pull him out of his defeated state. It is Kabru Mithrun confessed his true desire to.

Do you realize how depressing that is? All it took was the new perspectives from Kabru and Senshi to make him consider the fact that he should keep living despite no longer needing to fulfill his duty. Being treated well could have helped Mithrun much sooner and this shift in the way he sees himself contributes to his recovery going forward.

TLDR: Mithrun has no desire to be respected, but why does that make people feel comfortable acting like he doesn't deserve it? Someone not caring about being treated well doesn't give you permission to treat them poorly. This feels like a playschool-level consent lesson: just because he's not saying no to a humiliating or degrading act doesn't mean it's a yes and therefore okay to do. Acknowledging this is the bare minimum of treating him as a person.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley Date Night Things

A/n: I wanna bet all my money that this will do better than my series ever will because ya'll have such short attention spans (Like me), honestly it's just difficult for me to see people who have like 9k+ notes when before I ended up at 2k at least, and now I'm stuck at 100+. Thinking of giving that up, I'm never satisfied with just a 3-digit number, let alone the number starting below 5. Anyway, something to feed my children <3

My CoD Masterlist <3

Please check out My Series 🥺

Husband!Simon Riley who is enamored whenever he sees you getting ready for a date night, he avoids reservations as much as possible when planning it, so you have as much time you need to get ready.

Husband!Simon Riley who loves watching from the bed as you're putting on your preferred lip product at the time, (which he always takes pride since it happens to be the one he recently bought for you) all the while you're bouncing your baby girl on your hip.

Husband!Simon Riley who tries his best to entertain your other little ones, emphasis on "tries" because he can't stop staring at his gorgeous wife who takes her time and effort just to doll up for him.

Husband!Simon Riley who also volunteers to take the baby when he hears you huff and readjust her on your hip when you're trying so hard to make sure your blush is even.

Husband!Simon Riley who's only ever made an Instagram account to like your posts which mostly consist of you, him, your babies and pet/s. He only has you (and maybe Gaz? Due to a lost bet) followed, granted he has Soap on his follow requests but he's currently messing with him by ignoring it.

Husband!Simon Riley who always leaves little comments on your posts in response to your very long captions during anniversaries. He insists that you post him more.

Husband!Simon Riley who "hires" Uncle Gaz as a babysitter because it saves him money, as much as Kyle insists that Simon doesn't have to pay, Simon gives him a little something. The kids adore him! (Simon doesn't trust Johnny with the kids anymore after he found out from you that Johnny overcharged him because he had no idea about the average prices)

Husband!Simon Riley who only lets you sit across from him for the pictures because you claim that it looks better that way, as soon as you're done, you better get your ass on the seat next to him before he flips out. He hates it when you're too far from his reach, "Lovie, sit back here please".

Husband!Simon Riley who notices how some of the men from the restaurant stare at the way your outfit complimented your figure, how the necklace he gifted drew attention to the perfect cleavage your dress showed off. So, he drapes his coat over you because he'd be damned before he lets another ogle at his wife. (He may or may not be glaring at them all the while)

Husband!Simon Riley who after a nice night out, also bought your daughters separate, smaller bouquets so that they won't be jealous that mommy has flowers, but they don't. Flowers for all his girls <3

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @duck-a-doodle @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @poohkie90 @drewsmusee @sommii @yveevie

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #28

(#) = Notes at the end of post

✦

Chartreuse

Due to the high levels of ambient ectoplasm, all the citizens of Amity Park gained a permanent change in eye color. They don't glow or flare in response to rampant emotions like true ghosts or the halfas though. They're just an unnaturally bright yellow-green.

The thing is, nobody else on Earth has this eye color, and it's never been seen in the human race until the recently graduated Amity Parkers started branching out to other cities to find jobs.

Nobody paid this any mind at first, though. Many just thought the individuals liked strangely colored contacts or it was a trick of the light. It's not until Danny and Tucker are both hired for positions in Wayne Enterprises that questions start popping up.

At first, the other employees thought the two might be related. It could happen, it's not that strange. However, when both of them said they're nowhere near related, just childhood best friends, it left everyone confused. If they aren't related and they aren't wearing colored contacts, then what are the odds of too completely unrelated people having the exact same strange and unseen eye color?

After a while, everyone just stops asking questions. After all, both men are easy to get along with and are excellent at their jobs, so a strange eye color isn't really something to complain about. Their stares were just a bit more intense than most people, and honestly, they've seen stranger things.

It helps that they've started seeing other people with the same eye color popping up in celebrity, sports, and activist circles. (1)

However, It's not until the power goes out during a late meeting/presentation, and Tim Drake accidentally turns on and shines his cell phone light into Tuckers eyes, that he starts seriously digging.

Needless to say, the animal-like green shine of his pupils scared the shit out of him and got him wondering if two of his new employees were part of a previously unknown alien race that'd recently settled on Earth without anyone noticing. When he looks into the middle of nowhere town they came from, this idea is even further cemented when he sees every person he finds a photo of have the exact same shade of chartreuse eyes. Ignoring the ghost rumors and "sightings" as just a strange tourist trap for the strange little town to make extra income, he brings the info he found to the other bats and birds.

They aren't exactly welcomed when they go snooping around Amity Park, unfortunately... (2 & 3)

✦

Now. To make this a bit more cracky, when confronted, do Danny and Tucker just come clean or do they milk the idea of them being aliens for all it's worth? (4) Add in a few strange, but perfectly normal for them, things they do that have people scratching their heads and make the assumption even worse/more irrefutable. This includes the unexplainable eye shine Tim discovered.

✦

(1) Paulina became a supermodel and is coveted for her striking eye color and beautiful complexion. Dash became a coach for a well known college in Metropolis, while Kwan became a fitness trainer and sponsor for health related items that actually work, also partnered with the college Dash coaches at. Sam became a notorious environmental activist and is the enemy of many companys who are determined to turn the world into a toxic wasteland. With the help of Danny's parents, she's found many eco-friendly chemical compounds that dissolve many of the toxic substances damaging ecosystems around the world. Etc, etc.

(2) Ectoplasm exposure has made everyone a bit more territorial over the town, including their protectors. They don't need outside heroes/organizations interfering with their work and don't/won't take kindly to the sudden interest hero organizations gain over them and their strange little town. That hasn't worked out too well with other government sanctioned organizations in the past and they don't want a repeat, thank you.

(3) Maybe Team Phantom even established themselves right around the same time or even before the Justice League was formed and they just flew under the radar until now. Maybe Amity Parkers feel a bit superior due to their seniority in having an excellent team in the know about the supernatural/non-human side of the world/universe? Who knows? You pick! Amity Park has been through a lot by themselves, so it's no shocker if they have an extreme amount of solidarity towards those they call their own.

(3 cont'd) Also! Since Amity Park has become so rich and saturated in ectoplasm over the years, they were eventually annexed/became an outside part of the Ghost Zone. Jack and Maddy are border patrol and any ghosts coming through need a passport now. Amity Park is basically a vacation hub for ghosts? Ghosts can freely roam the streets, they just don't wreak havoc anymore. That'd basically be terrorizing their fellow citizens at this point anyway and that's a no no. That means jail time with Walker. Amity Parkers also aren't afraid anymore and in fact CAN hit back now. This does not stop the Bat Clan and eventually the Justice League from thinking they're a town full of aliens tho. Some are just more human looking than others. Or they've been on Earth and procreating long enough with humans that their hybrid offspring have also started looking more human, is the ongoing conclusion.

(4) The Anti-Ecto Acts are not an issue here! Team Phantom already dismantled and annihilated the GIW years before they even thought of leaving Amity Park on its own. Before graduating highschool even. Yes, Team Phantom is perfectly self-sufficient and able to handle their own problems and have kept the city-wide ghost infestation pretty isolated outside a few events that were handled quickly and with the world none the wiser. So the world is still pretty ignorant of the existence of ghosts/the Ghost Zone. Would Team Phantom and Amity Park prefer to keep it that way though?

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent

—

Tw: vivisection mention (not in detail), bad Fenton parents

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 2 here) (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a dark, cold, miserable night, and Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, wanted nothing more than to be home, covered in blankets with the heater set to max as he worked on his most recent strain of fear toxin.

Instead he was at the docks, standing in as backup for the Penguin as he made a deal with some sleaze-bag smugglers. Something about some sort of body armor for his hired help. Crane hadn’t really paid much attention to the Penguin’s words, only caring enough to show up because of the reward.

But honestly, he couldn’t care less about the money at this point.

He was cold, and miserable, and his leg hurt something fierce (he’d had chronic pains ever since being mauled by Killer Croc some time ago), and he was so, so close to a breakthrough with his new toxin, and he really couldn’t stand the Penguin anyways. The only thing keeping him there was his reputation as a rogue.

Just as Crane was deciding that the whole ordeal wasn’t worth it, he heard the sound of a chase a few blocks down. With a deep, heavy sigh, he moved from the wall he had been leaning against, looming in the alleyway as he waited for the potential threat to reveal itself.

A few moments later, a boy came careening into the alleyway, sliding to a stop when he noticed the Scarecrow, his eyes growing impossibly wide. Beneath the mask, Jonathan grinned.

The boy swore, loudly, glancing between Scarecrow and the exit of the alleyway. As the echoing sound of footsteps grew closer, he chose to face the way he came, turning his back to Scarecrow.

What an idiotic way to get killed. Either the boy was a complete and utter fool, or there was something out there worse (to him, at least) than the Scarecrow.

Jonathan Crane tilted his head slowly, considering. He could just cut his losses and leave, Penguin be damned, or he could stay and see what had the boy so spooked.

Eventually, unfortunately enough, his curiosity won out. He shifted, bringing a hand to his side where he kept several canisters of fear toxin.

Crane had to bite back a groan when the boy’s pursuers entered the alleyway.

It was those damned idiots in white suits.

They had been tailing him for weeks now. They were easy enough to fight, but they were annoyingly persistent, and always seemed to have a way to find him. (Not to mention, the Riddler had strong opinions on their outfits, and if he had to hear the white-suit-in-Gotham rant one more time he was going to throttle him.)

Led by the men in white was a woman in a teal hazmat suit. Jonathan had seen her around, too, though less frequently than the others. He had honestly assumed that she was just a new C-tier rogue and avoided her like the plague.

Her eyes went wide as saucers when she saw Jonathan standing a few feet from the boy. No one moved a muscle.

“Danny,” the woman spoke softly. The boy, Danny, flinched, glancing between her and Scarecrow, “come on, we can talk about this. Your father and I only want to help you.”

He was running from his mother?

Scarecrow paused after that revelation, choosing to fully take in the boy’s appearance.

He was lean, almost gaunt, and wearing clothes several sizes too big for him, probably stolen. His entire body shook, from fear and cold both, and he clutched his stomach with one hand. At first, Scarecrow assumed that it was due to being out of breath, but as he looked closer he could see blood staining the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt.

He was injured, underweight, and running from his parents.

Something that felt a lot like rage swelled in Jonathan’s heart.

“Danny, you don’t get it! We’re so close now. We can fix you, and then we can go home, and everything can go back to normal,” she said, smiling in a way that was clearly supposed to be reassuring. She took a few steps forward, the men behind her clearly readying their weapons.

The boy backed away from his mother, inadvertently coming closer to Scarecrow.

He glanced up at Crane again, his blue eyes shining in fear, but not of him.

Sickening. Sickening.

In one fluid motion, Jonathan grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulling him behind him, and threw a large canister of fear gas into the group who had been chasing him.

The liquid in the container turned to gas as soon as it broke open, billowing out and filling half of the alleyway with a thick yellow smog.

The boy gasped, pulling his shirt over his face in a pathetic attempt to filter out the toxin. It would have to do, though, Scarecrow thought, rushing forward to force the boy’s aggressors to breathe in the gas.

The fight that the men put up was pitiful. The few individuals who didn’t breathe in the toxin immediately were clearly unused to fighting hand-to-hand, and dropped like flies in Scarecrow’s wake.

Just as the men began to spasm and shout in their terror, as if on cue, the familiar wail of police sirens reached the Scarecrow’s ears.

He heaved a heavy, irritated sigh, fingers twitching for a cigarette. He was trying to quit as of late, but he felt that after today, he might deserve one.

Though now was not the time to be thinking of cigarettes.

Jonathan approached the boy, mindful of any signs he might run off.

The boy didn’t seem to notice his approach in the slightest, just staring at the woman in the jumpsuit as she writhed on the ground.

Right. That would most likely be traumatic for a child to see, wouldn’t it?

Scarecrow moved in front of the boy, blocking his line of sight. The boy looked up at him now, his face completely blank.

“The police are on their way,” Scarecrow spoke, his voice low. The boy didn’t acknowledge him in any way.

“You don’t want to be here when they arrive, do you?”

After several moments pause, the boy shook his head slowly. He looked numb.

Dissociation, most likely.

“You’ll come with me, then.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he waited for the boy’s response regardless. As soon as he nodded in agreement, Jonathan lifted him up, carrying him out of the cold, miserable alleyway.

Scarecrow paused briefly to warn the Penguin of the incoming officers through the comm he had been given, and then he was off, weaving through the streets and alleyways towards his getaway car.

…

The drive back to his safe house was quiet. The boy didn’t look over at him once, instead opting to stare out ahead of him.

…

Luckily, they were able to make it back without detection. Jonathan ushered the boy into his small apartment, sitting him down on the dingy couch that had come with the lease.

“Wait here, alright?” Jonathan said, the boy nodding once in response.

With that, he retreated into the small kitchen, looking for some sort of warm beverage.

It was nearly three in the morning now, so coffee was out of the question. He was completely out of the hot chocolate he had bought for whenever Eddie or Harley came over for a visit, so that was out too.

He supposed the only option was his chamomile tea. Did teenagers like tea? He supposed it didn’t really matter, the kid was on the run from his parents in the house of a Gotham rogue. Surely he had bigger things to worry about.

Jonathan made the drinks quickly, leaving the kitchen with two mugs in hand. He gave one to the boy, who looked up at him in surprise, before settling into his own seat.

It was an incredibly comfortable old leather armchair that he had gotten some years ago and stubbornly held onto ever since. He usually had one of the rogues he was at least somewhat friendly with pick it up when he entered Arkham.

Whenever Eddie and Harley were over, they would call it his old man chair, and he would tell them to leave.

The two of them sat quietly for a while, drinking their tea slowly. It was clear that the boy was leaving whatever headspace he had slipped into, becoming more alert (and uncomfortable) by the second.

“So,” Crane began, pausing before speaking more quietly when he saw the boy flinch, “you knew them.”

It was not a question.

The boy nodded, curling in on himself. He held the mug close to his chest, no doubt soothed by the warmth.

“They’ve been following me around for some time now,” Crane continued, “and you’re going to tell me why.”

The boy looked up at him, a pained expression written all over his face.

“You won’t believe me,” he murmured, curling up even further.

His clothes were soaked. Jonathan should have put down a towel before letting him sit down.

“Sure I will,” he said, ignoring the blood and water seeping into his furniture.

The landlord would not be happy.

“It’s gonna sound crazy.”

“I’ve been to Arkham.”

The boy paused, before mumbling something quietly.

“Again? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said,” the boy huffed, quickly changing his tone when he remembered who he was talking to, “they…think you’re a ghost.”

“A ghost,” Crane repeated flatly.

“I told you it was gonna sound crazy!” The boy protested, before wrapping his arms around himself.

“Well,” Jonathan hummed, “it’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard in Gotham. Explain it to me.”

The boy paused, glancing up at his face, no doubt looking for some sign of mockery. He found none.

Then, he opened his mouth, and explained everything he could.

Ghosts, the portal to another world, the GiW, his parents. It was all incredibly far-fetched, but also far too consistent to be made up on the spot, and Crane could tell that the boy genuinely believed what he was saying.

“…but, if you don’t believe me, fine. I know it probably sounds stupid and fake,” he mumbled, looking away.

“I’ll believe you for now,” Crane said. The boy whipped his head up, staring at him in shock.

“If I do trust that what you’re saying is true, though, then why do I show up on their equipment as a ghost? I’m not dead, and never have been.”

“Um,” the boy hummed, looking somewhat nervous. Understandable, really.

“Well, have you by any chance been involved in any lab accidents recently..?”

Jonathan Crane froze, his face dropping. The boy noticed his change in demeanor, flinching slightly.

“Penguin,” he hissed out, his voice slightly inhuman. “Cobblepot, that motherfucker.”

“Wait—calm down! The angrier you get, the easier you’ll show up on the radar!”

Crane glared down at the boy, seething with rage. He once again flinched, looking away from him. With an extraordinary amount of effort, Jonathan slumped back down in his chair, breathing deeply in an effort to calm himself.

When he cracked his eyes back open, the boy was openly staring at him, curiosity written all over his face.

As soon as he noticed Crane looking back at him, he glanced away, straightening in his seat.

“Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about. In the morning, we’re going to discuss this in a lot more detail,” he said, standing up with slow movements. The boy stood as well, hands clasped together.

“For now, though, you’re going to let me take a look at that wound of yours, and then you’re going to take a shower and go to bed.”

The rest of the night went rather quickly.

The boy was rather hesitant to show him his wound, instead assuring him that it had been properly sewn up and that he was fine. Crane was having none of it, though, and gave him a once-over just in case.

It was, very clearly, the kind of cut used during an autopsy. Danny didn’t offer any information, so Crane had to assume that he was either back from the dead, or he had been vivisected. Either was possible in Gotham.

At the very least, Danny hadn’t lied about the stitches, and the wound was already beginning to heal.

With that, Danny showered quickly (he leapt out with a shriek the moment the hot water ran out), and went to bed in borrowed clothes without much complaint.

Thus, Jonathan was left with cold water for his shower, and slept on the still-damp couch so that the boy could have a bed to sleep in. Somehow, he found that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

[gucciwins]

Y/N just wants Harry to like her.

Word count: 5964

A/N: Friends!!!!! I am sorry to have disappeared but I am back. Yes, I am aware this is a Halloween/October story but you're getting it now mid November (that has been going by fast). I won't work on any holiday stories because I have no idea what to write. So if you have an idea and want me to write it feel free to shoot me an ask.

Now happy reading! I love you

+

Many people go to work ready to return home, but not Y/N. No, she walks in every day with a smile and a pep in her step. She greets her coworkers by name and occasionally brings baked goods she knows everyone will enjoy. Y/N loves her job, and she’s happy to go every day.

Y/N went from working in a job she hated because it was filled with men constantly belittling her and gaslighting her that she was doing her job wrong when she was actually excelling. It all got to be too much, and Y/N decided to quit. Thank goodness she did because soon into her job search, she received an email from Carla Crain asking her if she’d be interested in joining her company. Y/N went to the interview, and after basically being pitched her dream job, she accepted and entered as head engineer. 

She’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous starting, but the people Carla had hired all shared the same values on work and life. Y/N knew she’d be in safe hands. The company is small but slowly growing. It allows for every employee to get to know each other and everyone to remember that together, they can be successful. Y/N had been at the job for two years and, with time, brought new coworkers. 

There is Estrella, who loves to talk to you about astrology, ironically enough. She states that the invisible string theory is real and that if everyone tracked it, they would notice just how small the world is. 

Carmy has a tough exterior, but once anyone gets him talking, he never stops. He loves chatting about his family and his pet Pitbull named Daisy. 

Maeve is petite, and every other month comes in with a new color in their hair. Y/N enjoys it when everyone in the office places bets on what it will be. 

Tatum is from Scotland and loves to remind everyone when they all go out for drinks on the weekend. 

Chessy is the only one who works remotely, but when she comes in, she is always laughing in the office. They also all get a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables from her garden. 

Overall, Y/N knows she had the best coworkers and wouldn’t change her job for the world, but as their company grows, so does the need in their team. The newest hire is Harry Styles, who has come in as a computer technician to help develop their website and also help with any internal security. Honestly, all she knew was that it was a complex job. 

Harry was on the quiet side. She tried to start conversations with him, but he always seemed to brush her off. At first, Y/N wondered if she should take it personally but soon learned he did that to everyone. Even though he didn’t open up to them, they still invited Harry to join them. 

The thing was, he rejected all their dinners. Y/N loved going to a Korean BBQ Maeve introduced them to, and Harry claimed not to eat meat (not that she didn’t think it wasn’t true. Chessy was vegetarian, after all.) They would go to a bar and share a few drinks when they knew they would all be having a long weekend off. Harry always claimed he had an early morning. It didn't matter if they offered to meet earlier. Y/N’s favorite nights were trivia nights that happened at a local brewery. Y/N was a beat, especially in history. Harry declined, and this one hurt her the most.

 Everyone would ask Harry to join. 

Karaoke. Can’t hold a tune.

Bowling. Too loud. 

It seems there was an excuse for everything.

Everyone began to stop inviting him out, and while Y/N didn’t enjoy being told no, she would send notes to the office with the time and place of what they would be doing. She’d always keep an eye on the door, but Y/N went home disappointed each time.

The thing was, Y/N was determined to make a friend out of Harry. She soon learned large public settings must be overwhelming for him and decided to find a new way to approach him. Everyone took lunch at the same time in the office except for Harry. Sometimes, they all ate at the sub shop across the street. Most times, Y/N brought food from home, and she cooked. While she liked eating out, Y/N preferred a home-cooked meal. She caught Harry taking his lunch half an hour later than her and used that to her advantage. 

They had a conference that always remained empty as everyone preferred the main lounge. Harry went in there every day for his lunch hour. One day, Y/N walks in, smiles at him, and sits as far away as she can. She made sure to only be there for ten minutes. The next day, she stayed for twenty and wished him a nice lunch when she left.  

Slowly, Harry begins to spare her glances, but Y/N keeps to herself until the day she sits across from him. 

“Hi, Harry. Is it okay for me to sit here?” 

No answer. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” 

He fidgets with his fork. 

“I saw a lime bike out front. Did you ride that today?” 

Harry looks at her briefly before staring back at his plate. 

“I’ve always wanted to try one, but I’m honestly scared of being hit by a car. Chessy lets me ride hers when I go down to visit her. She’s got beautiful trails. You’d probably enjoy it.” 

Y/N thinks that’s enough for today and excuses herself. She doesn’t realize Harry noticed she didn’t take a bite of her lunch. When she goes back to her desk after using the restroom, she finds three chocolate chip cookies sitting on her desk. Y/N rushes to try one, doesn’t even think of who delivered them or that a green-eyed man was standing right outside waiting to hear her reaction. 

With time, it seems Harry is coming to appreciate Y/N’s presence. He has never expressed it, but she knows because he nods when he agrees to something she says or tightens the hold on his fork when Y/N shares something upsetting. Y/N had not gotten more than two words out of him. At this point, Y/N felt like Harry knew everything about her; all she knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair always looked soft. 

One day, after many lunches together, she finds Harry reading a book. Y/N knows he might want quiet, but her curiosity gets the best of her. 

“Any good?”

Harry looks up and grimaces. “Think it’s really boring.” 

Y/N laughs because she wasn’t expecting that response. “Then put it down.” 

He shakes his head. “Don’t like not knowing the ending.”

Y/N shrugs, “if you don’t like a book, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture of it all. Skip to the end if you're curious.” She understands she spoke too much and excuses herself. 

The next day, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, but this time, a new book is in his hand. Y/N bites back a smile. 

“What’s this one about?”

“My sister recommended it,” he defends. 

Y/N isn’t halted by his harsh tone. “What’s it about?” 

“Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice.” He shows her the book cover. 

“Like the movie?” Y/N asks.

Harry laughs, and Y/N feels successful. His laughter rings in her ears. It’s a lovely sound, and she wishes to hear it more. “Yeah…I like the movie.” 

“Me too,” she gushes. “Do you think I’d like the book?”

He frowns, “if you like Jane Austen.” 

“Might have to pick it up next time I’m in the shops.”

+

Their interactions are solely during their lunches but sometimes spills out during work. Y/N seemed to have an issue with her computer and radioed IT. She needed to submit her document, but her desktop appeared to freeze whenever she opened a new file. Harry knocked on her door, and she welcomed him in. Y/N explained the issue, and Harry was quick to get to work. It was only a few minutes when she noticed that her document was open and her computer wasn’t having a meltdown.

“Thank you so much, Harry!” Y/N cheers, knowing he saved her. 

Harry shrugs because it’s his job. “You have a nice photo.” He’s pointing to her picture frame on her desk. It’s a picture of her and a dog in Iceland at the end of her hike. It was taken back when she was nineteen years old. 

“Thank you. I took that on my first solo trip.” She bites her lip, hoping Harry takes the bait. 

“Where to?” He asks curiously. 

She silently cheers, “Iceland.”

“Is that your dog?” 

“I actually found him mid-hike and took him back with me. I hoped to see his owner on the trail, but there was no luck. He didn’t even seem worried. Once I returned to the car park, his owner was there. After that hike, I decided I liked the company of a dog and returned home to adopt Tutter, a Jack Russel Terrier who loves to play fetch.”

“Why isn’t Tutter on your desk?” 

Y/N feels her face flush, “now, don’t be mean. I love my son, but that trip taught me I can do anything I set my mind to, whether alone or with company.”

Harry gives her the slightest smile. “I-I learned Italian because I always dreamed of having an Italian home.”

Y/N’s eyes brighten. Harry is opening up to her, and instead of pushing, she offers more of herself. “I’ve dreamed of visiting. The Amalfi coast is my dream to swim in. Silly, I know,” she brushes off, trying to downplay her excitement. 

Harry doesn’t let her. “You’ll make it.”

He finally excuses himself. Y/N is happy for the rest of the day because she realizes Harry is allowing her in.

+

September means the preparations for Halloween have begun. It starts with little things, from coasters and mugs to the occasional treat. One day, a tiny spider sits on his desk for a second. Harry believed it was real until it began to glow purple. Harry kept it on his desk next to his sticky notes. He doesn't do anything about it; there’s no need. By the second week, the office is entirely decorated. Harry admits a few decorations have scared him, especially the skeleton in the corner of the restroom.

It’s a quiet day when he’s walking by the break room on his way to the secluded office to have lunch when he hears people talking. Harry pauses because he hears Y/N’s voice mixed in with everyone else. 

“But it seems like he doesn’t like us,” Harry hears quietly. 

“It’s hard,” Y/N defends. “You’re all extroverts. It can be overwhelming.” 

Harry knows she’s trying for them to understand.

“But Carla is all about unity in the office. This is a concern.”

“It’s not, Carmy.” Y/N shuts him down, clearly upset she had to defend him.

Harry decides he’s heard enough and decides to eat lunch alone in his car. He’s thankful it was a sandwich and nothing he had to heat up. For the entire lunch and the rest of the day, all he thinks about are the words of his coworkers. 

Y/N looked for Harry, excited to talk about a book she started, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have been concerned, but it’s clear no one saw him since before lunch. She wishes Harry could confide in her even if a fraction of what she shares with him/ 

The next day, everyone walks into the office at their usual time, everyone making their rounds together to the break room to prepare their coffees and store their lunch in the fridge. When Y/N walks in, she sees her coworkers huddled around the table and peeks around them to see what has captured their attention. There on the table is a box of Halloween cookies from a bakery uptown with a note attached. 

Enjoy - HS

Y/N lets a smile take over her face. She knew Harry cared about them but understood why he finally did something. She tells her coworkers they owe him an apology, and they all agree. Y/N makes sure to head to Harry’s office and thank him for the cookies. Harry tells her it’s nothing. She bounces away to her office, where Estrella, Carmy, Maeve, and Tatum are standing outside her door. 

“Can you come with us? Feel like he likes you.” Tatum tells her. 

Y/N sighs and tells them to follow her. Once again, she knocks on his door, and they all file in when he welcomes her in. Harry looks at them confused. 

“Uh, is there an issue?” Harry asks, concerned. 

Carmy starts, “we want to apologize if you overheard us yesterday.” 

“Right,” Harry sighs, knowing it might be a good time to share with them. If he trusted Y/N and she trusted them, he knew he could also start to. 

“It was wrong of us,” Maeve continues. “Y/N raves about how smart and nice you are, but we don’t get to see that. We’re sorry.” 

Everyone else repeats the sentiment while Harry looks at Y/N, who offers him an encouraging smile. She must know his anxiety is through the roof. 

Harry takes a deep breath, “right, uh.” He looks down at his shoes, untied lace on his black Adidas. “I struggle with social anxiety and new environments. It’s better than when I was a kid, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed even more when being the new guy.” 

“No worries. We get that,” Tatum expresses. “Estrella gets bad migraines.” 

“Don’t air other people’s personal stuff,” Y/N reminds them. 

“We’re sorry,” they offered one last time. “Thanks for the cookies.” 

After that, they hurried out while Y/N stayed behind. 

“I wanted to apologize,” he begins.

“You don’t–” Harry cuts her off. “You’ve made me feel comfortable.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “Not enough, it seems.” 

“It can just be too much sometimes.”

“I-I get panic attacks.” Y/N shares, surprising herself. “When I overwhelm myself, it can happen. It’s uncommon and has not happened at work, but I understand.” 

“Thank you for sharing,” Harry tells her honestly. “Lunch?” 

“See you in a bit then.”

+

Through September, Y/N and Harry have lunch together every day. They read together, Harry more into classic literature, and Y/N loving to devour a juicy romance that has her pausing every few minutes, trying her best not to scream because the love interest brushed hands. Some days, Y/N will do a sudoku game while Harry does the daily crossword. Y/N likes to solve the Wordle of the day and most times asks Harry for help if she fears she might not get it. Some days, Y/N brings in her laptop during lunch because she is behind and needs to catch up. Harry reminds her to relax. He knows it’s easier said than done, so he tells her about the book he’s reading or asks about her dog and the snacks he eats. 

Before she knows if they’ve made it to October. One of the best months of the year. Y/N loves planning events, and this is one she wishes Harry would say yes to. She knocks on his office door, and Harry freezes, staring at his computer screen. He glances at the calendar; it's the first Monday of the month, and Harry knows they’ve planned a fun event. 

Harry is practicing his excuse when Y/N walks in with a bright smile, wearing a “Great Pumpkin” shirt with Snoopy and Charlie Brown. She has told him it’s her favorite movie to watch during the month and “The Conjuring” Harry wasn’t sure how the sweetest girl he knew could handle a horror film like that. He had told her she was fearless.

“Hi, Y/N, pretty shirt.” 

Y/N looks down at it as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. She beams at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry!” 

Harry asks how her day is going and shares how there was traffic on the way down and how she didn’t have time to stop by her favorite coffee shop because there was a line out the door. “Pumpkin spice isn’t even that good, H. I mean, it’s okay, but I wanted my coffee.”

He laughs at her pouting and promises to make her one during lunch. She perks up at his mention of their shared time together. 

“Speaking of our time together. We plan to go to a haunted pumpkin patch in the next town over if you want to join us. It’s two weeks from now, so it's the 21st.” Harry could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t think he could say no to her.

“Everyone is going?”

“We invited everyone, but only Carmy, Estella, Maeve, Tatum, and myself are going. Carla was not for it. Dan is warming up to us but still says no. Though he did agree for trivia next week.”

Before he can stop himself, he says, “yes.”

“You will?” Y/N answers surprised. 

“Mhm…uh, it sounds like fun,” he says unconvincingly.

Y/N’s smile brightens, “I’m not hung on haunts, but they’ve got amazing apple cider you’ve got to try with me.” 

“Happy to join,” he tells her honestly. “Let me know the ticket cost or if we need to purchase our own.”

She nods eagerly. It’s clear Harry has just made her day. 

+

The day comes faster than he’s ready, and while a part of him is excited, Harry feels his nerves will get the best of him. Y/N had told them no one was dressing up in costume and even went as far as to send him a photo of her outfit to assure him she wasn’t playing a joke with him. She was wearing bell bottoms with a Mickey Mouse in a pumpkin shirt. She told him it was his favorite to wear each year. 

Harry knew it would be cold, so he wore a simple Halloween shirt in his closet and loose-fitting jeans. His jacket in his car he knew would keep him warm throughout the night. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone (only Y/N) but also wanted to look nice outside of the office for once. When Harry parked, Y/N told him she’d wait by the entrance for him, and he couldn’t miss her as she had a cute pumpkin headband on.

It seemed Y/N spotted him, too, because she rushed towards him. “Hi, Harry,” she greeted with a cheery smile.

“Hi, you look lovely,” he offered her a small compliment that made his hands sweat.

“You’re too sweet. Come on, we were waiting on you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along to where everyone else is. 

Everyone offers their greeting, and he receives a few compliments on his tame outfit. It’s an old Halloween shirt he got at a vintage shop in New Orleans five years ago. His sister went on a trip and asked him to join. Harry could never say no to her. 

Harry notices everyone begins to drift off into conversations, but Y/N stays by his side. He takes the time to admire her as she looks around at all the decorations. There are a lot of people, but it seems they are heading to the pumpkin patch. There are stalls selling sweet treats, and he keeps in mind to buy Y/N a cider, remembering she mentioned loving it. Harry has always thought being in a relationship to be intimidating. He loves love but struggles to put himself out there, to allow someone else to get to know him, but here is Y/N, who managed to worm her way into his life, knocking down all of his walls. 

Harry likes Y/N.

It’s something he took a long time to figure out, but when he realized the excitement of seeing her each morning, he looked forward to it. He let it consume him, but he had no idea if she could feel the same way. 

“Did you drive here, Harry?” Y/N asks, breaking their silence. 

“I did,” he answers. 

“Do you think you could maybe take me home?” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I came with Tatum, but she’s been wanting to take the time to connect with Estella, if you know what I mean,” Y/N gestures to them kissing on hay bales. 

Harry had no idea that there were feelings between them. “I can do that, Y/N.” 

“Great!” She cheers gratefully. “I owe you an apple cider, then.” 

Y/N eagerly walks them to the stand, and before she can pay for both, Harry slips the kind older lady a twenty walking away with their drinks. Y/N stays behind, shocked, but quickly catches up, pouting at Harry. “Harry, I was going to pay.”

He shook his head, “my mum would have my head if I let you pay.”

Y/N bends her head, careful to take a sip of the warm drink. “Well, thank you.”

Maeve bounces over to them. “Hi beauties, we’re ready to start if you all are.” 

Harry eyes Y/N, waiting to see her response. Y/N offers her friend a large grin, and Harry agrees he’s ready. He throws away their ups, and once he finds Y/N with the group, he slithers to stand behind her. Y/N offers him a tense smile as the group tries to decide who will lead. 

“I can go in front,” Harry offers, sensing no one wanting to make the first move. Everyone thanks him and heads to the first maze. Y/N informs him it’s once based on the catacombs in France. 

“There’s a movie based on the catacombs,” Y/N shares as they walk together.

“As Above So Below,” Harry says. “It spooked me.” 

“You’ve seen it,” she laughs, holding onto his arm for a second, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s a good one,” he agrees. 

They fall into silence as the chatter of their coworker fills the air. Harry sees Y/N get fidgety, but she’s smiling as she leads the way to the short line. “I’m actually really nervous,” she tells Harry. 

“We’ll be fine. I got you,” he assures Y/N.

Harry extends his hand, and she accepts it. He intertwines their fingers and pulls her along as the line moves slowly. Y/N does her best not to think about the feeling of his hand, but it fits perfectly between hers. She feels her hand begin to sweat and wants to pull it away, but Harry has a firm grip on her. 

“Is it okay?” Harry nods, gesturing to their hands. 

“Safe, uh, I feel safe.”

The worker asks how many, and Y/N peeks behind Harry to tell her six. Harry is grateful Y/N knows when to take charge because while he can lead a scary maze and knows everyone is dressed in costumes, he still feels nervous speaking to strangers. Harry squeezes her hand once in thanks. She gives him two quick squeezes in return.

Harry guides them in. Y/N lets go of his hand to hide behind Harry, her hands on his shoulder as she peeks behind him. There is a group ahead where she can hear the people in front screaming, which allows her to prepare for the scare, if that is even possible. 

Her eyes widen in amazement as she takes in the darkness of the building. Everything is covered in black cloth. She can see the spots where actors will jump out. Y/N mumbles an apology to Harry for holding on to him tight. Estella is behind her, screaming at everything that moves. Harry steps through the curtain, and she feels her hold on him loosen. As she is stepping closer to reach him, a man screams in her face, making her rush forward and propel Harry into a wall. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Y/N apologized repeatedly as Harry rushed them to finish the maze. She felt her heartbeat in her throat and knew she needed to calm down. One look at Harry, and he rushed her to a dark corner, not concerned about their friends. 

“Y/N? I’m okay. You’re okay.” Harry tried assuring her.

She repeated it in her head. They were okay. They got out of the dumb maze, and Harry wasn’t hurt. It took her a few minutes to realize she had a panic attack. Y/N had not even felt it coming and didn’t think a haunted house would trip her into one, but with all the overthinking she had been doing, it made sense it led to this.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Y/N bashfully looks away from him. She can’t believe she embarrassed herself in front of him like this. 

“No apologies,” he brushes her off and doesn’t ask her any questions, only to ensure she is okay. 

They rejoin the group after ten minutes by the looks of everyone's sympathetic smiles. She knows they saw her freak out, but they’re her friends. She knows she’s in safe hands with everyone, especially Harry.

“What’s the next maze?” Y/N asks cheerfully. 

And so they continue on. 

The next maze is much smoother than the first. Carmy leads, tucking Harry and Y/N in the middle with Tatum and Estella in the back. That order seems to comfort Y/N for the next few mazes. Each worker makes her scream but then falls into giggles when Harry traces comforting shapes on her hand. It takes her mind off these scarers trying to get her to scream and instead focus on the gentle touches of her crush. 

While doing the mazes is fun, Y/N is soaking up talking to Harry in line. They’re in a new environment where they do not need to discuss work. She feels free to ask him anything, but sometimes she is unsure where to start. Y/N doesn’t know if she wants to hear about his weekend plans or ask him about his favorite movie or who his favorite Muppet character is? 

Talking to Maeve and everyone else is easy because she’s gone out with them. She knows them personally, but with Harry, he always kept that guard up, and now she’s unsure what to do if he decides to keep it up. 

To her surprise, Harry always starts the conversation with her. Harry shares about a new show he started watching and how it makes him anxious for the main character when they do something out of character. When he asks Y/N if there is a show she recommends, her mind goes blank, and the first thing that comes to mind is “Fleabag.” 

“It’s the saddest but most comforting show I have ever seen,” Y/N gushes. 

“With Phoebe Waller-Bridge?” 

“Mhmm…the second season has Andrew Scott. Irish treasure.” 

“Paul Mescal,” he adds. 

“Hozier.” 

“Saoirse Ronan,” they say in unison before falling into fits of giggles. 

“You’ve got taste, Styles.” 

“As do you.” 

The line moves, and they change conversations to talk about the best musicals they’ve seen. Y/N swears “Waitress” is the best thing created, but Harry tells her “Moulin Rouge” is his favorite. Y/N loves how easily the conversation with Harry seems to flow. He feels like a long-lost friend. Someone who once was in her life has now found his way back to her. 

Not only is he getting along with her, but everyone is getting to see the Harry she had come to know. The one who makes cheesy jokes and loves to hear every detail of the story being told. It turns out he and Maeve frequent the same record store. There’s a Stevie Nicks vinyl Harry is on the hunt for, and Maeve promised to keep an eye out for him. Tatum learns Harry can play guitar and asks him to show them sometime. Something he agreed to with pink cheeks. Y/N knew tonight was a big step for Harry, and she was glad everyone made him feel comfortable.

As the night was coming to an end, the maze lines got shorter, and the more Y/N screamed. It made her laugh right after, but still not her favorite part of the night. Before the cold can settle in, they all call it a midnight night. Tatum and Estella head out hand in hand. Y/N can’t wait for the details of that on Monday. Carmy is telling Harry a story, so Maeve uses the opportunity to remind Y/N to make a move.

“It’s now or never, girlfriend.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please don’t pressure me on this.” 

“Y/N that man is, head over heels for you. If I was antisocial this is not an event I would ever do. Unless someone I fancied asked.” 

Y/N toes her food in the sand and, in a low voice, asks, “do you really think he likes me?” 

Maeve smiles, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her eyes. “That man lit up every time your eyes were on him. I don’t know Harry as well as you do, but I can notice a guy with a crush from miles away. Trust me on this.” 

Y/N backs down, relaxing, “okay.” 

“Good. Now text me when you get home. Carmy’s got me.” Maeve gives her a tight hug and then pulls Carmy away from Harry. 

He walks over to her with a shy smile on his face. “Have a good time?” 

“The best,” she tells him. “Though I might need another apple cider. Think my heart needs it.”

“By all means, lead the way.” 

After getting one last warm apple cider, they reach Harry’s car. It’s an electric car because he’s conscious of his environmental impact and knows one person can go a long way into the future. Harry opens Y/N’s car door and waits until he sees her seated and buckled to close her door. As he gets ready to drive off, he turns on the heater, knowing if he’s cold, Y/N must be too. 

The car ride starts off quietly, Y/N guiding him every so often when to make a turn. Y/N sees her favorite coffee shop and knows she is almost home. “That was fun,” Harry starts. “I’m happy I went.” 

“Mhmm…it was a good time. Glad you joined us,” she tells him honestly. 

Harry notices at a red light that she’s fidgeting with her hands and thinks he might still be cold. “Do you need me to turn up the heater?” 

Y/N shakes her head, “no, sorry, I’m fine.” 

Harry drives down a few more streets when Y/N tells him to turn left. “It’s the third one on the right.” 

He parks right outside her driveway. From here, he can see her decorations hung up. It’s decorated charmingly. It’s clear no scaring would happen here. She’s got two pumpkins outside her door. One has stars carved all around; the other is a cat on a witch’s broom. Bat lights are hanging up the railing of the steps. She even has a few inflatables. His favorite has to be the one of Mickey Mouse as a vampire.

“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciated it.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Harry gets out of the car and opens her door. 

“Let me walk you up.” 

Y/N feels her cheeks burn and leads the way. 

“We’re planning trivia soon,” Y/N says, testing the waters. 

“Hmm…only if you’re on my team.” 

“We would all be on the same team,” his flirting going over her head.

Harry’s face turns pink, “uh, right.” 

She laughs, placing her hand on his bicep. “Only joking.”

Y/N pulls him in, whispering good night, except when she pulls away, she locks eyes with his emerald eyes, and it’s like she’s in a trance. She feels herself leaning in closer, and before she knows it, Y/N presses her lips to Harry in an airy kiss.

She pulls back, shocked. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “I-I should have asked.” 

“Ask me,” he pleads. 

“What?” Y/N isn’t sure if she heard him correctly. 

Harry doesn’t care anymore. He raises his hand to rest on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” 

She feels how close he is. She can feel his breath mixing with hers. “Yes.” 

When their lips meet, Y/N swears she feels time stop. Harry is starting slow as he begins to learn what she likes.  Y/N places a hand on his chest, needing to have a secure hold as she feels him take her breath away. Her emotions are all over the place. His lips are smooth as they move against hers in a dance that feels like they’ve done a hundred times before. Harry deepens the kiss, pushing her up against the door, making Y/N grab a fistful of his shirt, not wanting him to pull away. Y/N lets herself get wrapped up in all her feelings because she knows that a kiss this special means it won’t be her only one, and she finally allows all her feelings to pour into the kiss. 

Y/N isn’t sure how long they spent kissing outside her door. It seems she’s lost track of time since she got a taste of Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she mutters against his lips when she feels him begin to pull away.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he promises. 

“Too far.

Harry laughs, “you can call me tomorrow when you wake up.” Knowing she likes to sleep in, he would rather not wake her up. 

“Okay,” she whispers in defeat. 

“Good night,” Harry takes a step back. 

Y/N bites her lip and gives him a wave. “Do you want a kiss goodbye?” 

Harry can’t say no.

+

Monday morning, Y/N walks in with a large smile. It makes everyone stop and stare. She makes her rounds, wishing everyone a good morning, and saves Harry for last. 

“Hi, Harry.” She chirps. 

“Morning,” he answers timidly. 

Y/N pouts because he didn’t even look at her. She wanted to see his beautiful eyes. “So I was thinking…” she trails off. 

Harry turns, giving her his undivided attention, and Y/N’s smile widens. “How does a date sound to you?”

“A date?” He echoes. 

“With me,” she giggles.

“Best thing I've heard all day.”

Y/N claps her hands together, “wonderful.” 

“How does this weekend sound?” 

“Too far,” she teases. “Saturday?” 

“I’ll pick you up,” he promises. 

“Good. Good.” Y/N lingers by his door. 

“Yes, love?” 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but doesn’t look away from him. “Are we still on for lunch?” 

Harry gives her a dimpled grin, “I’ve got a new book for us to discuss.” 

Y/N tells him she can’t wait and walks away. Harry watches her go, and as if she can feel his stare on her, she turns around and gives him a wink. Harry knows he’s way in over his head with someone as amazing as Y/N, but he can’t wait to prove each day to her how much he deserves to be with her.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tastes of Home and Cake

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!baker!reader

Summary: You own a popular bakery frequented by celebrities, but when the Mid-Wilshire police station hires you for a luncheon, you go out of your way to make cakes, cupcakes, and favourites to make the day special.

Warnings: fluff, Tim bring grumpy toward everyone except his wife who makes him a softie

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“The cast of Rings of Power will be here at 10:00 tomorrow instead of 10:15, is that okay?” your assistant, Kasey, asks.

“Of course,” you respond as you spin a tart pan to remove an air bubble from the filling. “Did you hear back from the Scuderia Ferrari people?”

“Oh, yes. I fit Charles and Lewis in for a lunch and tasting five days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix in November of next year.”

“Perfect!”

You pass the tart to one of your bakery sous chefs before you follow Kasey out of the kitchen. The small dining area of your bakery is full, and the door has been closed and locked to give your clients a private meal.

“Good afternoon,” you greet after removing your apron and straightening your outfit. “It’s a pleasure you have you here, and I hope you enjoy everything.”

After several minutes of speaking to your customers and promising to fit them into your booked schedule when they finish filming in several months, you return to Kasey’s side.

“How do you keep your cool talking to celebrities every day?” she inquires. “I talk to their agents on the phone and get a little starstruck.”

“Well, he’s one of the nicest people on the planet,” you point out, referring to Pedro Pascal sitting behind you. “And, at the end of the day, they’re still people. Well-known and sometimes really mean, but they’re customers, just like the small population of Los Angeles that we serve for a few hours every morning.”

“Speaking of that, I need to get back to the people in the LA Times about the feature they want to do on the bakery. Do you want to do it?”

You stop by a tray of cookies and sigh. “I don’t know. Part of me says yes, but then the side that isn’t caught up in the business wonders if it’s worth it to get longer lines and higher wait times.”

“Did you talk to your super-secret boyfriend about it?”

“I did. He wasn’t much help, basically said to do what I thought was right. Just… tell them not right now. If they take that as a no, that’s fine.”

Kasey nods and jots a note in her always-present journal before she notices the whiteboard where you make plans for tastings and events.

“Is all of that for the LAPD luncheon you’re catering?” she inquires, wide-eyed at the quantity and quality of items. “You know they’re paying a flat rate, right?”

“Kasey, I’m going to tell you a secret,” you reply as you slip your apron over your head. “My ‘super-secret boyfriend’ that you constantly ask about… He’s a cop. And my husband.”

“That explains the Madagascan vanilla shortbread cookies,” she mumbles. “Wait, can I meet him?”

“Me first!” one of your regular celebrities yells from the dining area.

You roll your eyes in amusement and then begin working on the croissants for the sandwiches and the dulce de leche cake for Mid-Wilshire’s annual officer appreciation party.

“This is Officer Thorsen,” Kasey introduces as you exit your car at the police station.

“Aaron,” you greet, welcoming his hug.

“Please tell me the department sprung for my favourite,” he replies.

“I might have thrown in a few goodies.”

“You are the best. I was honestly surprised when I heard they’d chosen your bakery.”

You shake your head at Kasey to remind her not to say anything. To her surprise, they didn’t contract with you because your husband works here, just because of your reputation in Los Angeles. The people working in this station don’t even know you have a relationship with one of their own, so your expanded menu should appear to be a nice surprise, showing your appreciation for the brave men and women who keep you and your city safe.

“This is my watch commander, Wade Grey,” Aaron introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer as you shake his hand.

“You, too. My wife has been wanting to visit your bakery, but we never seem to make it in time,” he replies.

“I’ve got some extras packed away in the van if you’d like to take her something. It’s the least I can do.”

“Baker to the stars… how do you like dealing with so many high profile people every day?”

“Most of them are great, just looking for a place to eat some carbs without the paparazzi. There are a few that I try not to have availability for, of course, but it’s the baking that I really love. My assistant handles most of the people side of things.”

“Well, we can’t thank you, and Kasey, of course, enough for fitting us into your schedule. We’ve been looking forward to it for a while.”

“Of course. I hope you don’t mind but I did throw in some free treats, just my way of saying thank you.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you. Let me know if you need any help setting up or finding anything.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Grey.”

After he returns to his duties, you try to let Aaron return to work, but he insists on helping you set up. Thirty minutes later, the bullpen has been turned into a space of food, appreciation, and more cakes and cupcakes than you remember making.

“I thought you said a few freebies?” Aaron murmurs. “Did you leave anything in the bakery?”

“I hope so. Ryan Reynolds will be a little disappointed if I didn’t,” you respond lightly. “I think I’m done here. Thanks for your help, Aaron.”

“Of course- I’m sorry, Ryan Reynolds?”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

Someone gasps, and a moment later, Officer Chen runs up to Aaron’s side and smiles as she says your name.

“I watched the Food Network special on your bakery,” she exclaims. “I’ve never been more excited to eat in my life.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” you reply. “Thank you for all you do.”

“You might want to get food now, Lucy. It looks like a lot but it won’t last forever,” Aaron suggests.

“Precisely my plan,” Wade agrees as he exits his office. “It looks great.”

Standing back, you watch officers come in, chat with one another, and get plates of food and treats.

“That’s a lot of cake,” someone says behind you.

“It’s like you’re trying to set up the joke, Tim,” you respond without turning.

His fingers dance across your back before he moves to stand beside you.

“Too much?” you ask.

“No. I for one appreciate it. I’m glad my getting shot at equals roughly that much cake.”

You lean sideways to hit Tim with your shoulder, and he smiles as he rights himself. He moves away from you when he sees several officers walking toward you with cake and cookies on their plates.

“This is by far the most delicious cake I’ve ever had,” one says. “My mother-in-law is throwing me and my husband an anniversary party and if I have this cake, I’ll actually go.”

“She’s booked through spring of 2027,” Tim interjects. “So, unless you want to get on the waiting list for a tenth anniversary cake, it’s not gonna happen. Tell Mrs. Evers you can’t make it.”

“2027?” the woman beside her muses. “Good for you.”

“Thank you,” you answer. “You all have much more important jobs than me, though. Maybe my assistant can fit you in, so you don’t have to miss your own party.”

“See, Timothy? That’s what being nice gets you,” Angela taunts.

“Well, he’s actually the reason I even brought that cake,” you point out.

Angela cocks her head slightly, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth as she looks from Tim back to you. The woman beside her, who you assume is Nyla Harper based on Tim’s detailed stories, watches you with similar interest.

“It’s not even my favourite,” Tim grumbles.

“Don’t start with me, Bradford.”

“You made me taste test a bunch of stuff last weekend and I told you it’s good but not Malibu Rum cake good. There is no Malibu Rum cake.”

“Tim, she brought way more than we expected,” Lucy says as she joins your small circle. “Be nice.”

Tim sees your smile and rolls his eyes. Kasey walks by, on the phone with assumably another agent, and passes you three small boxes.

“For you,” you tell Tim. “Though I’m not sure you deserve it now.”

He sees your writing on the corner above the clear plastic top, Malibu Rum <3, and tugs your belt loop to reach a plastic fork on the table behind you.

“Officer Chen, this is for you,” you say, passing her a box. “And this one is for Aaron, who-“

“I’m here. Don’t give it away,” Aaron says, seeming to appear out of nowhere to take the box of his favourite cake with a new cookie.

“Maybe I should get on your waiting list,” Angela muses as she finishes her slice of cake.

“You can jump the line,” you promise.

“What do I do to get Bradford’s taste testing position?” Nyla inquires. “Because if everything you make is a quarter as good as that Pumpkin Maple Biscotti cupcake was, I’ll do anything.”

“I think that privilege is limited to marriage,” you explain with a frown. “But next time I make an entire test batch, I’ll bring some by.”

Sergeant Grey stops behind the three silent women standing before you. They watch you, ignoring Tim as he enjoys his cake.

“So…” Angela begins before shaking her head.

“You bake for celebrities, and you’re married to Tim Bradford?” Lucy inquires.

“You turned down my proposals for him?” Aaron interjects, his brows furrowed together as he returns with a croissant sandwich (after his cake, you notice and make a mental note to tell his mom to watch his reaction).

“One, you proposed just because you like the way a caramel apple souffle tasted, and two, I was already married to Tim,” you reply. “Which seems to be very surprising for some reason.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I said I wanted to hire her for this?” Wade asks Tim.

Tim shrugs and says, “I didn’t think she’d work you in regardless. Kasey and I told her to charge double.”

“Hypothetically,” Nyla begins, “if I invite you over for dinner and ask for your help, would you cook like this?”

“She wouldn’t help,” Tim answers. You elbow him gently and say, “Of course. It’s the only way I can cook, I think. I prefer baking though.”

“I have so many questions,” Angela murmurs.

“Me too,” Lucy agrees. “Like where’s the farthest place someone has come from to eat at your bakery? Are you allowed to say names?”

“Most of the time I can, after they’ve left, of course. And I think Chris Hemsworth coming from Australia was the farthest.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t know Tim was married,” Nyla points out.

“Yeah, yeah, you can ask questions later,” Tim interrupts.

“We can?” Lucy asks excitedly.

“You can ask, didn’t say I’d answer.”

Tim takes your hand and pulls you away from them, but you wave over your shoulder and thank them once more before you’re in the privacy of a hallway.

“I could fit Angela in,” you tell him.

“Don’t really care,” he admits – honest and blunt as ever – before he kisses you.

“You taste like cake,” you whisper as you pull back.

“What time will you be home tonight?”

“Probably before you. I’ve got an appointment at three and then I’m done. You?”

“Around six. I’ll bring dinner?”

“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Bradford.”

“And you want me to give Angela and Lucy your number,” he guesses, squeezing your waist playfully.

“Smart and handsome! Yes, please, oh and Nyla and Wade. I need to make sure his wife gets to come in, apparently she’s been trying.”

“Isn’t this Kasey’s job?”

“Kasey is mad that I didn’t tell her I was married, and you have to see them all the time. Be nice and help me out and I’ll bring more of the rum cake home.”

Tim kisses you once more before you leave the station to prepare for your next celebrity visit. His subsequent interrogation at the station makes him more eager to get home to you. When he finally walks in with your favourite takeout, welcomed by the smell of brown sugar and butter, Tim knows he’s home.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Can I request #56 with good old grumpy Quinn 🫶

Okay but this prompt is also me, I don't do hugs unless forced and I look like I am in physical pain every single time. Now if it was any of the men I stan yeah I will take a hug from them any day, any time.

Drabble Masterlist.

"I don't do hugs."

Everyone knew Quinn was the captain of the Canucks and hockey was everything in Vancouver. But you first met Quinn when you started working for the Canucks in their social media team. It was no secret the Canucks social media was just depressing. They needed help keeping their social media up to date on trends and stop being dragged on Twitter for looking like it was ran by a 45 year old man.

That was during last season when they entered playoffs. Quinn hated you when you were hired he thought it was stupid that you forced the guys to do TikTok's, and made dumb little polls on their Instagram. But somehow over time you both got to a point of mutual respect for each other. Both of you may not like each other but neither of you rolled your eyes when you both passed each other in the hallway. It was now September and the preseason officially kicked off in days. Media day was a such a long day for you, trying to fit as much filming as possible around players other obligations. Your day was filled with meeting with different members of the social media team, editing, trying to plan out all when you were gonna post during the season, more editing, and meeting with photographers to see camp photos that are being taken.

Caught up in all the things you had to do today you didn't even notice what time it was until you heard someone knock on your office door. Without even coming in you shouted "come in." The last person you ever suspected that would walking into your office / social media room would be Quinn Hughes.

"hey." His voice caused you to stop typing for the first time since he entered looking up making sure your ears identified the voice currently as Quinn. "I - uh - I noticed your office light still on and uh well it's almost 6 at night." You could tell he was getting nervous for some reason his hand going to the back of his neck as he continued to stumble on his words. "And I uh remember you told Petty last year that you don't eat when you get focused on work. So I - eh - I thought I'd bring you some food from catering staff. Hope you like salmon." As he put the to-go container from the catering department on your desk and suddenly you felt your stomach begging for food. Looking up at him your eyes soft in how much Quinn cared enough even though you aren't even friends. It just showed you agian that even though he hates the media aspects of his job he really is a sweet guy who cares about everyone in this franchise.

Standing up making a way around your desk you mumble out a thank you. "Honestly Quinn I could hug you right now." Taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around Quinn.

As you wrapped your hands around Quinn, it was the exact moment he said "I don't do hugs" and made a face that seemed like he was uncomfortable but you couldn't see it as your arms were wrapped around him.

"Well too late were already hugging." you mumble, your voice muffed by his chest. Even though Quinn Hughes hated hugs, he let you stand there and hug him. Just when he thought about hugging you back you pulled away and his mood became sour suddenly. Even on his way home that night he found himself annoyed for not just hugging you back and he's not really sure why.

[solarmorrigan]

Steve and Robin are going to need new jobs after spring break because, let's face it, they left the video store in the middle of their shifts and just never came back. That's kind of a fireable offense

They see one of the local diners is hiring both cooks and servers, so off they go to apply. The manager assumes Robin is there for a waitress position and Steve is there to be a cook

This is not so

You think Robin can stack dishes up her arms and carry them around like that? You think she can balance an entire tray of glass on one shoulder and weave around other servers and tables and not drop anything? You think she wants to pretend to be interested in people's inane small talk and put up with men flirting with her so she can get a good tip? Absolutely not, she's here to be a cook

Meanwhile, Steve thrives on other people. He doesn't want to be stuck in the back getting sweaty and covered in grease from the grill (that would be hell on his skin, honestly). Besides, his balance is excellent, he has zero trouble lifting heavy trays, and he's great at pretending to be interested in small talk and flirting with people. He's here to be a server

The manager doesn't really have any better prospects, so even with Steve and Robin's suspiciously vague "resignation" from Family Video, they're hired

The uniform for the cooks is basically just jeans and a clean t-shirt, and Robin kind of loves it. She likes dressing up sometimes, but under her terms; she doesn't want to be expected to do it, and she enjoys the lack of expectations placed on her appearance when she's just here to sling burgers and pancakes

The uniform for servers (well, the uniform for the waitresses, because up to this point the diner has been the kind that has sassy, middle-aged women as servers almost exclusively) is a collared, short-sleeve shirt and a good black skirt (or pair of slacks). Also a frilly half-apron

The manager, awkwardly holding the apron up for Steve: I'm sure we can find you something a little less...

Steve, already tying the apron on: I've worn worse things

(They never bother finding him another apron. He rocks it)

The other servers are a little suspicious of Steve at first, but they eventually become his number one fans. He's a hard worker when he wants to be, he'll carry anything for anyone with only an amusing amount of complaining, and he gladly takes the tables with creeps who come in and make the waitresses uncomfortable

The cooks (all men, because that’s how it works, isn’t it) didn't think Robin would be able to keep up with them at first, but damn if they don't come around real quick. She has no problem yelling when she needs something, she has damn pointy elbows that she will employ if someone gets in her way, and finally—finally!—someone has skinny enough arms to reach in and clean the spaces they usually have to pull stuff out to get to

She absolutely extorts favors out of the other cooks in exchange for reaching into these tiny spaces. Is cleaning the kitchen already part of her job? Yes. Does this stop her? No.

No one who works at the diner ever once thought Steve and Robin were dating. They applied together, they take as many shifts as possible together, they have no problem invading one another's personal space, but the first time everyone sees Robin yelling at Steve through the window for NOT TELLING HER HE HAS A PARTY OF EIGHT, DOES HE THINK SHE'S GODDAMN MAGIC and Steve yelling back that maybe he'd have remembered to do that if he hadn't been busy looking for the side of pancakes THAT HE'S STILL MISSING, BY THE WAY, ROBIN, they're all like ...Oh. Siblings. Okay.

If any of the other servers have lingering doubts about Steve’s character, they only have to see him the first time the kids come and invade the diner. They request Steve as their server, and he huffs and he rolls his eyes and he tells them that, no, they are not ordering all of that, but he gets them every damn thing they ask for anyway, remembers to modify some of their orders because Dustin doesn't like pickles on his burger and Mike likes extra salt on his fries, and he smiles while the kids bicker and laugh over their food when he thinks no one can see him

And Robin complains about all the special orders, but she comes out to say hello when she's done cooking it all, and she glows when they tell her how good the food is

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Office Secrets

Luke Cooper x f!reader

TW: smut, p in v, unprotected, fingering… lmk if there’s anything else lol

Word count: 1526

Friendly note, I wrote this all in one day so it’s probably not the best but I’ve been so obsessed w Evan lately I just needed to write lol Enjoy!!!

~~~

“So, who wants to bet the two newbies are doing it?” Meredith says as she puts coins into one of the vending machines.

“They so are,” Kevin says. “Have you seen the way they look at each other it’s like- Pam and Jim.”

“Hey!”

Angela shakes her head. “You people are disgusting… but I wouldn’t doubt it. I’ve seen them flirting on multiple occasions.”

“This is all circumstantial, it doesn’t mean they’re sleeping together,” Oscar argues.

“I would bet they are,” Phillas says with a laugh. “I mean I remember how fun it was being all secret with Bob, it’s so thrilling.”

Pam glances at you in the annex, Luke’s leaning back on your desk, smiling as you two talk. She looks back to the group and shrugs. “It’s possible they are.”

~~~

“Hey y/n, do you think you could make some copies for me?” Pam asks as you’re walking by.

“Yeah of course, double or single sided?” You reply with a smile.

“Double please.” She hands you the original.

You walk to the copier, but as you’re about to open it, Luke slips in front of you.

“Luke I was about to make copies,” you say, annoyed.

“So do I, you aren’t the only person in the office who needs to get stuff done,” he laughs.

“Since when have you ever had things to get done? You’re the laziest person here.”

“That’s hostile,” he replies, turning around to give you a smirk. “I might have to report you to HR.”

“Just please hurry up,” you mumble.

“Anything for you babe.” He winks.

You turn to the camera and stare, almost at your limit with this boy.

~~~

“I just don’t understand men sometimes it’s like, he’s so different when we’re alone yet in public he wants to be the biggest ass ever,” you rant to the camera, you’re in the hallway near the elevator where no one will hear you. “Sometimes I just want to knee him in the balls and get on with my day.”

“If he’s so annoying why do you sleep with him?”

You frown. “He’s really good at that stuff, most assholes are honestly.”

~~~

You’re at the vending machine getting a snack when you feel arms snake around your waist. You quickly turn around and push him away.

“Luke stop it we can’t be doing this here,” you whisper.

He looks out the windows then back at you. “Nobody’s around, come on just one kiss. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night baby.”

You and Luke were hired about three weeks ago now, both just interns to help out with the little things around the office. At first you thought Luke was an idiot slack off, but after a week of him constantly flirting with you, you decided he wasn’t that bad of a guy and of course he’s gorgeous. And, after one night where he gave you a ride home this simple work crush turned into casual sex.

You made Luke promise to keep it a secret, you didn’t want anyone at the office to think your personal life would interfere with you doing your job. So, far you don’t think anyone has figured it out, and your glad.

“Don’t talk like that here,” you say, giving him a slight glare. “We made a deal.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious Luke, imagine if Michael found out. He’d make it a whole thing.”

“It probably already is a thing, Jim and Pams was.”

You scoff at him. “Okay, that doesn’t mean this has to be.”

“Whatever,” he says as he begins to walk away. “See you later.”

You give an annoyed look to the camera and shake your head before returning to your previous activity.

~~~

“Listen, y/n is a good girl I guess, I just wish she’d stop acting like the office finding out about our thing is the worst possibility imaginable,” Luke tells the crew outside the break room.

“What do you think would happen if they found out?”

“I don’t know, they’d give us weird looks. It doesn’t really matter it’s not like me and her are gonna be working here forever. At least I know I’m not, not sure what her life plans are.”

~~~

You stare at the clock and sigh, still a whole nother hour left at the office. This whole day has been terrible, mostly due to Luke. You don’t understand why he’s acting so annoying today. Usually he’s decent toward you, probably because of what he wants from you the second work ends. You turn back to your desk and start to organize papers, deciding Luke isn’t important.

A few have passed when Luke appears beside you. He leans back on your desk, one of his hands gripping the edge. You try to ignore him, keeping your attention on the stack of paper you’ve been messing with. Luke doesn’t let you ignore him forever though.

“Can you come with me somewhere where we can speak privately… away from the cameras.”

You look up at him. Is this it? Is he really going to break it off at work? You can’t believe it. You want to give him a piece of your mind, so you slightly nod and get up, following him out of the annex and down the hall to one of the stock rooms. You’re ready to start giving it to him but before you can he smashes his lips on yours.

At first, you’re caught off guard, he’s never kissed you at work before. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back however. He backs you up till the back of your legs hit a spare desk. You let him guide you onto it, your kiss turning into something more.

He bites down on your lip, his hands roaming up and down the sides of your body. You have to admit, you’d been craving this too. Even though you saw each other last night. Luke was the best you’d ever had, how were you supposed to not want him again? Even though he’s been annoying you all day you can’t help but melt into the palm of his hand, he’s just so damn attractive.

“Luke, we can’t do this at work,” you whisper, the sensible part of you taking over.

“Nobody will know, come on baby, I’ve been thinking of you all day. I need you,” he replies.

Your stomach fills with butterflies at his words. He knows exactly how to persuade you. You fall back on the desk as he kisses down your neck, Your legs wrap around his waist, he makes you feel so good. He brings his lips back up to yours as one of his hands starts to slip up your skirt and under your panties.

He starts to rub small circles on your clit; you to moan into his mouth. He smirks against your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, you love the feeling of his body against yours. It’s the best you’ve ever felt.

“You’re already so wet baby,” he mumbles on your lips.

“Luke,” you moan.

“Do you want it baby?”

You nod, moving one of your hands down to rub the bulge in his pants. He grins at you and removes his fingers, beginning to undo his belt and fly. In seconds you feel his tip brushing against your entrance. He leans back over you as he begins to slowly thrust inside of you. You bite down on your lip and close your eyes, the familiar feeling of him filling you taking over.

You throw your head back as he starts fucking you. The sound of the desk hitting the wall doesn’t even register in your head. You’re too engulfed in how good Luke’s dick feels inside you, hitting that special spot that makes your legs shake. His head rests in the crook of your neck, he’s moaning and whispering all the dirty things he wants to do to you. It’s all too good to be true.

Eventually though, you feel that tightening in your stomach, your orgasm approching. Luke must realize this because he doesn’t stop his violent thrusts for even a second. You hold on to him tightly, biting down on his clothed shoulder as you finally cum. He finishes with you, pushing himself so far inside you he’s hitting your cervix.

He lays on you for a few seconds before pulling himself up enough to look down at you. His chest is still heaving as he speaks in a soft voice, “I really like you y/n.”

“I really like you too Luke,” you say with a weak smile.

Both of you get yourselves decent fast, you’ve been away for at least fifteen minutes by now. You give Luke one last kiss before exiting the small room alone, he promised to wait a minute or too before following.

As you sit at your desk and resume your previous activities, Luke walks by you, sending a quick wink before disappearing into the main office. You give a small stare into one of the cameras, your face turning bright red. This was only the beginning.

[ginsengkitten]

☆ Hint by ginsengkitten ☆

☆ Slash One - Shot

☆ A/N: giggling and kicking my legs

☆ Synopsis

Current Slash starts taking favor of his young new assistant.

☆ Tags: heavy smut, age gap, daddy k!nk, size k!nk, fluff, praise

☆

At some point, the agency had contracted you out as an assistant for Slash. It was rumored that he had selected you specifically by his own request. It was a big job for you, but you admit you were such a fan of GNR, so you accepted graciously at the opportunity. You were young and new to the industry, but committed to doing your best! It ended up not being too difficult really. His primary Manager had delegated to you some basic duties like scheduling, errands and random loose ends type of things, and the rest of the time was usually free to hang around. You’d met Slash briefly when you were hired, but for the most part he remained a hidden figure behind the curtain with a few brief meetings.

He was preparing to release a new solo album, so things were a bit crazy recently. Maybe that’s why he had requested your assistance more and more. He’d specifically ask you for things that his primary manager could have done. Small things but in a closer vicinity to him. Getting coffee, organizing, etc. Rumors began to spill of favoritism. Soon, wherever slash was, you also followed behind. Paparazzi also began to take notice. Due to the large age gap, rumors spanned from you being his “daughter from secret affair?” Or even londons girlfriend. It was no secret that Slash had taken favor of you. You didn’t mind one bit. Plus, you always had found older men attractive, and he was no exception. It definitely made the job easier. However, conversations and interactions remained a professional surface level. Well, except for the time he accidentally brushed up behind you in the tour bus. Simple mistake. Or the time you caught him staring at your legs when you wore a skirt to work for the first time. Also a simple mistake. No need to make a fuss. Any attention from him was preferable honestly. You became addicted to it. -

The conference room was stuffy and full of the usual music heads and managers. Briefing Slash on certain agenda items for his album release, metrics, things of that boring nature. You sat in your usual seat, the seat that one day, suddenly had your name written on a place card on it. And everyone knew it to be your spot. Coincidentally the spot was directly across from Slash’s usual seat as well. Giving each-other a perfectly clear view of one another. Your seat was a high sitting directors chair in the corner of the room. It lifted you high up off the floor, almost like a pedestal. You’d sit every meeting there and take your notes as instructed. Almost like a trophy he was showing off. One time- a guest had mistakenly sat there before you, and Slash, with his rockstar power, declined to begin the meeting until you had your seat back, and made the guest switch with you. And then he’d watch you. The entire meeting. Glances and gazes over at you. He’d appear so concentrated on the meeting but you could always see him looking at you in between words. You secretly loved feeling his eyes on you. Watching you like a Hawk.

-

It was a busy week, and finally the weekend. You’d wrap up items around the house and prepare for Slash to come home and then normally, you’d take off before he got there. When it would be a few days before you’d see him again, you began playing a little game. You would leave small hints of yourself around his bedroom for him to find. One time it was your necklace on his dresser, then another was a spritz of your perfume on his pillow. Your lipstick on his bathroom countertop. He had caught on but never addressed it or asked you to stop. So you didn’t. A continuing tension between the two of you would rise. Each conversation still seemingly so surface level. Never very long or un work related really.

You were just finishing up things and decided to leave your hint in his closet. You loved this playful game you’d invented and he did too. You couldn’t think of anything to leave as the hint this time. Shoot. Then a wild idea struck you and you grinned devilishly at the thought. Would it be too far? Too risky? It could cost you your job. But fuck it would be so good! You knew it would be. You decided to risk it.

-

The next day on your day off, your manager called you and asked if you could run into work. Said it was an emergency, and Slash had requested you. Shit Shit Shit. You second guess everything. Fuck- okay well, this is it then. End of your career.

You dolled yourself up as you always did. You did your typical Barrettes in your hair. And the usual skirt and blouse. Nothing crazy.

You entered slashes house. Closing the large door behind you as you slipped in. It was quiet. You could smell the cigarette smoke from upstairs. You took your usual route around and then made your way to his office in the den.

“Knock Knock.” You nervously poked your head into the office. Slash was sitting at his large desk, that he himself made seem tiny from his own stocky and built up stature. “Hi Y/N” He greeted you politely enough. “You wanted to see me….?” You continue nervously. “Yeah, I did. Why don’t you come in here doll.” He requested. The nickname gave your heart a little flutter. You obeyed and stepped in fully. His eyes instantly scanning your body up and down. Glued to you. So unapologetically gazing at you like a piece of meat. “W-what’s up?” You ask. “Come over here sweetheart.” He commands with the beckon of his large, ringed fingers. You obey and join him behind his desk. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out your hint.

The black lace panties you had worn yesterday, you had hid them in his jacket pocket. The jacket you knew he would be wearing to a meeting earlier this morning. “I believe you left something of yours.” He says. Your stomach drops. “I-I oh my god I’m so sorry I -“ you start to scramble but he suddenly reaches out and pulls you closer to him with his large hand around your waist. You stood in between his spread legs. “Shhh doll. You can be loud later.” He says. Wait what? You start to blush. He traces your face and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear gently. “My pretty girl….” He whispers in a trance as he eyes you. Your heart thumping wildly.

Your legs weak with desire and adrenaline as you stare back at him with Bambi eyes. He patted his lap, ushering you up. You pause for just a moment. “Come here baby. Come to Daddy.” He coos and pulls you up onto his lap in a straddle. Instantly you feel his hardness pressing up onto your panties under your skirt. His large hands cup your ass under your skirt and start toying with your hemline from behind. “Am I…in trouble?” You ask earnestly. He chuckles low and heavy. “Well, there has to be some repercussion doll..” he says as suddenly he lifts up your skirt and lays a hard smack on your ass cheek. The metal rings increasing the impact. You let out a gasp of pain and feel him bulge under you. He smiles devilishly at your pain. You’re too stunned to speak but really don’t have much to say except that you don’t want this to stop. He cradles your neck in his hand and pulls you to his land plants his lips on yours. You immediately reciprocate.

Things get sloppy and heavy quickly. You connect with wet passionate kisses. Months of tension and craving unleashed. You grind your hips into him and rub yourself on his hardened bulge. He lets out a pleasured grunt and you a series of soft moans. It feels so good you just want more but he stops you. “Be a good girl for daddy and get on your knees.” He commands. You happily comply and slip down to the floor in between his open legs. He unzips his jeans and releases his thick hard cock. He gives it a few pumps as he looks at you. “Such a pretty girl down on her knees for me huh?” He coos. He smacks your face lightly with his reddened bulging dick and you open your mouth for him to enter. He slips inside your mouth and fills it completely to the throat as he lets out a long groan. “Fuck sweetie.” He instantly grabs a fistful of your hair and starts face fucking you to the point that tears well in the corners of your eyes but you don’t wish to stop. He watches you through repeated loud scratchy moans. “That’s a good girl, that’s my pretty girl.” He huffs.

After choking, he drags your head off of him in strings of spit. “You’re my pretty girl aren’t you? You’re just for me.” He coos down at your disheveled state as you pant for air. He helps you up onto your feet, only briefly before pick you up effortlessly and place you on the desk. He leans in and kisses you again, forcing your legs to open with him standing between. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you doll.” He whispers in between wet sloppy kisses. Goosebumps run throughout your body like wildfire. “Really?” You ask in disbelief. “I knew it from the moment I chose you. My doll. My perfect doll.” He cooed again cradling your face roughly in his big hands.

His stature towered over you. He traced his fingers up your skirt along your thighs. You felt the cold metal of his rings along your skin. He thumbed your clit through your panties. “This is mine too.” He whispered, as you feel a finger slide into you. A moan escaped your mouth. “So wet for me already sweetness?” He held the back of your neck as he pumped two fingers into your pussy. He let out of soft groans of pleasure and satisfaction just from pleasing you. “I think its time to make you mine little doll.” He pulls out of you.

The two of you make your way - one clothing item falling to the floor with each step, onto the large pillowy sofa by the fireplace in the den. He throws you down onto the sofa. He towers over you, his eyes eat up your naked body as he gives his cock a few strokes. “Open those legs for me.” He travels his big calloused hands up your chest as he pushes into you. You both moan in unison. “Fuck you’re a tight little minx aren’t you?” He groans huskily. He swiftly starts pumping into you mercilessly. His size filling up your entire abdomen. You let out yelps of pain mixed with utter pleasure with each thrust. He smirks at each noise you make. “That’s my good girl, taking it all in that tight pussy. You’re doing so good doll.” He coos out.

Sweat beading on his brow as his dark gorgeous curls bounced around his face into yours. “You’re mine now. Mine.” Sweat beading down his happy trail and up his muscular, thick body. His grip on you was tight as he pounded stars into you. “That pretty body. You’re mine sweetness.” He said as he bit into your neck greedily sucking on your skin. More pain with more pleasure. His massive stature overpowered you and you felt like you might break in two if he wasn’t careful. Knots were tying in your tummy as the pleasure increased. “Oh fuck Slash-feels so-fucking good.” You moan. “P-please don’t stop.” You whimper out.

Your desperate whimpers leave him smirking, sending him to the edge as you came to it as well. “I-I’m gonna-“ “Cum for me sweet girl, my little minx, cum for daddy.” He encouraged. He had you seeing stars as you rode out your orgasm on his cock. Your walls tighten around his cock which sends him over.” Oh that’s it, that’s daddy’s good girl. I’m gonna fill you with my cum now doll.” With quick hastened thrusts you feel his warm cum flood your walls. The two of you panting as he leaves you. He kisses you and pats your hair tenderly. “You did so good. My perfect pretty doll.” His obsession with you was so magnetic and addicting. “I didn’t know you liked older men so much Y/N.” Slash smirked teasingly. You blush incessantly.

“I’m going to take such good care of you doll. You just wait. You’re mine now, all mine.”

[houseofanticipation]

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

[captain-joongz]

we're entering into the final stretch of hard hours! today and tomorrow are our group scenarios, because i can't help myself and want all of them all at once <3

these are the two final days, so if you haven't askes for anything yet, now's the perfect time!

HARD HOURS THOUGHTS

warnings: foursome (kinda? more like a train situation tbh), boss!rapline, sex in a public space (locked bar), multiple orgasms, voyeurism, unprotected sex, oral (f. rec.)

when you were hired as a barkeep into the exclusive jazz bar owned by three talented musicians, you didn't expect it to change your life forever. while yes, just as the people said, the three owners were extemely handsome and you would be a liar if you said you didn't find them attractive, you really didn't have any hopes. you got along with them just fine, maybe even more than fine, but that was that. was it?

maybe the chemistry between you guys was actually a little insane

whenever Namjoon was in his office slaving over finances and book-keeping and you'd bring him a drink and a little snack, his response of "thank you baby" shouldn't exactly make your knees weak and your cheeks warm

or when Hoseok helped you on the bar during rush hours and you'd always brush against each other, after a few weeks of getting comfortable his hands freely grabbing onto your waist to move you out of the way, you shouldn't be finding yourself so breathless and startstruck

or when Yoongi sat down behind the piano to amuse himself by playing for their guests, and the whole time he'd cheekily send you smirks until you caved and brought him whiskey, when he told you "that's my good kitten", you shouldn't have needed a moment outside because the response of your body was so intense you worried you'd get wet right there in the middle of your shift

and you definitely should have realised sooner that they were hundred percent doing it on purpose. but who would have thought that all three of their extremely hot bosses wanted to fuck them?

who in their right mind would have expected that after weeks of rising tensions and wandering hands, you'd find yourself lying naked on top of the bar with Hoseok on his knees and face buried in your cunt while Namjoon jerked himself off watching from the doorway to his office and Yoongi watched it all while leisurely sipping his drink sitting down at a table. not you, that's for sure

but you didn't really have to think anymore, which was quite nice actually. the shift was over, the bar was empty and closed, and you were tired. exhausted. so when the three men nonchalantly offered that they could help you relax a little before you went home, you expected maybe a luke-warm friendly shoulder massage. not cumming all over Hoseok's face while Namjoon pushed his trousers down and prepared himself to fuck you. not that you were complaining at all

and they really didn't stop until you could barely have a single thought, ploughing your pliant body to their heart's content until you weren't even sure what was happening, just that it felt like heaven and hell all at once and you wanted more

one moment Namjoon was fucking you on the bar and the next Yoongi was eating his cum right out of your swollen pussy. one moment Yoongi had you bent over the table he was drinking at and the next Hoseok was pulling you down on his cock and moaning about how nice your cunt felt when it was full of cum while Namjoon kissed you breathless and played with your tits like it was his favourite thing to do

you lost count of how many times they made you cum, how many times they passed you around their mouths, fingers and cocks, but you loved every fucking second of it, until you were delirious and barely awake, moaning for them and spreading your legs on instinct while they snickered at you

waking up the next morning, it honestly all could have been an insane fever dream, had you not found yourself on the sofa in Namjoon's office dressed in only his white shirt and caked in dried cum, both yours and theirs

and you could see they enjoyed playing dumb, like they didn't just spend the better part of that morning moulding you to the shape of their cocks, only sending you cheeky smirks and watching you with dark glints in their eyes.

but even you couldn't lie - the dark anticipation was eating you up after that, every time your shift came to an end and you closed up the bar, locking the door, you found yourself looking to the men's hungry eyes wondering whether that particular morning would be a repeat

and they did love to keep you on your toes

divider by @cafekitsune

[gh0stsp1d3r]

a bodyguard!kraven fic would be so good!!

YESSS I LOVE THE WAY YOU THINK.

Warnings- weird men (sergei saves the day tho), mentions of guns, slightly suggestive towards end, anyone wanna part 2 😵‍💫?

Part two

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝

Sergei Kravinoff was your bodyguard. He was hired by your parents even though you had said that you were an adult and old enough to take care of yourself.

He was over protective, maybe more than a bodyguard should be. But that’s how your parents liked it.

He followed you everywhere, and you never left his sight.

Today was supposed to be a fun day, where you relaxed at the club with a few friends.

Sergei opened the car door for you, and you got in, thanking him.

“You don’t have to come, you know. I’m an adult, I don’t even know why my parents hired you.” You said when he got in the car, and sat in the drivers seat.

“I don’t know either, but I get paid to do it, love. You’re stuck with me.” He said, looking back at you and starting to drive.

You sighed and leaned back into the seat.

After you got there, your friend immediately hugged you. Sergei looked around carefully, and watched your every move as you walked into the place.

He followed behind, one of your friends making a comment.

“You couldn’t get him to go?” She asked, glancing back at Sergei who was now staring at her. She quickly turned her head.

“Nope.” You sighed and shook your head. “I tried.”

“He’s fine. You know I wouldn’t mind having him as my bodyguard-“ your friend laughed when you hit her in the arm.

Sergei kept his composure as he heard that, ignoring the comment.

So you danced and drunk, and as soon as things started to get crazy Sergei stepped in.

“We should go.” He said, hands behind his back and staring at you.

You looked at him, your friends laughing at the man.

“Oh, come on, the party just started..” you slurred, and you were about to move when he suddenly and quickly grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

Your friends, in their drunken state, had already left you both and were now dancing with some random people.

“You’re far too drunk. And honestly your dad is gonna murder me if you come home drunk so please-“

You took your wrist from his grip, rubbing it and leaving him again.

He sighed and shook his head, the bartender asked him if he could get him anything.

He looked at the bartender and back to you, and sat down.

——————————————————————-

Soon after he saw you, and a man come up to you. He watched closely and the man said something that made you laugh.

The man then grabbed your wrist, and you looked confused slightly. But you followed him anyways. Sergei quickly stood up, and made his way through the crowd of people.

You tried to take your wrist away from the man, and he would not let go.

“Hey!” He shouted, you and the man turning back.

The man then started to run, still holding on tightly to your wrist. Sergei was faster though, and soon they were in a more secluded spot.

He pulled out his hidden gun, and pointed it to the man. The man quickly let go of your wrist and you walked behind Sergei, who put his hand in front of you quickly.

“Aye, look man-“

“Touch her, or anyone else again I will pull this trigger.” He said sharply, interrupting the man.

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.” He put his hands up, and slowly went away, and he soon was running outside.

“You alright?” He turned to you when he was gone.

“‘M fine.. just… take me home.” You mumbled, he nodded and followed you to the car.

He was opening the door and you stopped in front of him.

“Thank you. I know I seem all annoyed by you or whatever but..” you looked at him, he nodded.

“Of course.” He said softly.

You went closer to him, he was slightly taken aback when you kissed him suddenly. He put his hands on your waist and kissed you back.

The small kiss soon turned into a much more heated kiss, and that led to you both scrambling to the back of the car.

[cho-aaacho]

(HC's) JJK men and their prom experiences with you.

Masterlist

Characters : Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, and Fushiguro Megumi.

Gojo Satoru

He wants to dazzle at the prom because, of course, he is Gojo Satoru.

Hiring a skilled tailor and designer to make a suit for him. Well, he's rich after all.

Inviting you to be his prom is easy for him. Of course, he makes sure no one asks you to go out with them.

Gojo realizes that he is not that good at dancing or waltzing, so his mom hires a dancer to learn how to waltz.

Spamming your inbox with an annoying message, "I can buy a nice dress for you, you know."

"Hey, Nanami. Don't bother asking her to the prom; she's already going with me." Nanami, baffled, responds with, "What the heck?"

As the days approach, Gojo can't contain his gentle smiles, imagining all those romantic scenes he envisions with you. He's a man, after all.

However, on prom night, his confidence melts away as he meets your gaze, with your arm wrapped around his neck and even your nose touching his. 

He suddenly forgot the dance moves he had practiced. Everything gets overwhelming for him whenever your face is close... close... to his. He almost fainted.

"How did you transform into an angel like this? Darling, how do I say thank you to an angel?"

"Oh, God. I want to kiss you."

Geto Suguru

He makes sure that Gojo doesn't invite you. Because it would be a mess if he asked the same person as his best friend.

Honestly, Geto invites you to be his prom date at the library, with him whispering those words. "Would you mind if I asked you to go to prom night with me?"

You always walk with him after school and talk about the prom. He just wants to know anything that would make you happy.

Geto's mom enthusiastically supports the idea, and, harboring genuine affection for you, she's tailored a dress for you.

He expressing his thanks with remarks, "You know, I'm genuinely happy that you've agreed to be my prom date. Thank you."

He is surprisingly good at dancing, and it makes Gojo so jealous of him.

At the prom, he makes sure that your gaze only falls on his and his alone. He didn't want anyone to get you distracted. 

So gentle... so warm... so romantic. You have never experienced something romantic like this with a guy.

"You know, I love everything about you—the way you immerse yourself in a book at the library or the way you call my name under your lips. Thank you for letting me into your life. I hope to meet again after graduation." 

Nanami Kento

He was listening to your complaints about the dress because you couldn't find a good one. But Nanami is Nanami. He just smiles and remarks, "Honestly... you are pretty in everything. I don't mind it."

Though he's not a waltzing expert, he's putting in his best effort to make everything look beautiful. His goal is to see you smiling and the happiest woman ever.

Despite having his own preferences, he didn't leave a bad comment when you're choosing your dress. Nanami is still leaving a positive comment.

He boldly proclaims to everyone that you were his prom date; he makes it clear that he has already laid claim to you.

Throughout the prom, he never stops showering you with compliments, asserting your beauty, kindness, and the way your eyes fall on him.

"Your fingers are so comforting and warm, and I'm so lucky to have the privilege of touching them."

"I find it surreal to be sharing this prom with you. I always thought that you might choose Gojo-san over me. Thank you for your kindness."

"I hope this night never stops because I love everything about us. I love you."

Fushiguro Megumi 

He wasn't eager to attend in the first place. He didn't care about it at all. However, everything changed when he learned that you didn't have a prom date.

Asking you out proved to be quite challenging for him, not because he's too shy to talk to you but because he fears Yuuji might mock him.

When you said "Yes," it was the first time you saw Megumi smile—a cute, very warm expression.

He hurriedly met Gojo and asked for help, although Gojo initially struggled to understand due to Megumi's poor explanation.

His barrage of questions makes Gojo dizzy, it seems like it was his first time asking a girl to prom.

He spoils you excessively, inquiring if you need a new dress, shoes, a necklace, or even something silly like new makeup. "Don't worry, Gojo-sensei pays for us."

He worried about being too boring for your prom date. Sometimes, he suggests that you pick another guy, as long as it's not Yuuji or Todo.

At the prom, he can't stop smiling. He always wants to be close to you. Close enough until you can smell his cologne.

"I know it might sound a bit silly and corny, but Gojo-sensei once told me that if you find yourself smiling four times with someone, it's a sign that you love them and genuinely enjoy their company. Perhaps... I'm starting to believe in that sentiment. You know what I mean?" 

A/N : Hello, thanks for reading, and I hope you love this! Honestly, I'm not familiar with prom because we don't celebrate it in my country. I only learned about it from TV. So I'm sorry if I made a mistake.