#i love the banter in the office and one of my coworkers is literally a close friend at this point. i just feel so content.

[psychesmoon]

godddd there are so many things happening in my life that i know will eventually fix me. i am so excited to live the life i am cultivating for myself and just so happy i get to be here

[jungkookstatts]

University Superstar

[Summary]: Jeon Jungkook is your University’s biggest rock-star-athlete-hot guy. It literally prides itself on his attendance at the school — walking around with his “big name” (captain of the lacrosse team), tattoos, and rude, jock-like personality. You hate him. You hate that he can’t apologize for being a complete asshole. But what you don’t hate is how he visits your office every day. You also don’t hate that your feelings for him are crawling back into your system…

[Theme]: Jock!Jk, LacrossePlayer!JK x TeacherIntern!Y/N, Friends(?)ToLovers!AU, EnimeisToLovers!AU

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, lots of hickies, mentions of blowjob, consistent flirting, JK is an extreme asshole (he actually got on my nerves for some of it lol), insensitive JK, lots of passion, squirting, kissing, pining after one another (mainly JK)

[Word Count]: 10,291

[Author’s Note]: I didn’t plan on making Y/n an education major…? But then I was thinking of JK in a bomber jacket and jock x teacher!AU and…yeah no, it had to happen.

[Masterlist] [Sequel] [Drabble (1), (2), (3)]  

Jeon Jungkook.

The name makes you hurl a little in your mouth. Yesterday’s lunch makes its way to the back of your throat. But you swallow it down, telling yourself to be strong and that he will go away soon.

“So,” he banters a smile at you. That stupid yellow and blue lacrosse bomber jacket puffs out around his shoulders, the number “07” poking out in the ugliest school-sprit font you’ve ever seen on his sleeves. His elbows rest on your desk, arms delicately pushing some of your papers and trinkets out of his way. The action only fuels your anger.

“7 o’clock. You and me. Chipotle.”

“In your dreams, fuckboy,” you scoff. The audacity he has to ask you out. The audacity he has to find the school you intern at (literally on your universities campus, but still), interrupt your work, and ask you on a date for the nth time since a few weeks ago.

You think this might be the 5th time this week he’s asked you out on a date. And it’s only Wednesday.

The amount of explaining you still have to do to your coworkers, and even your kindergartner students, is exhausting. Everyone knows who he is. He’s the captain of your Universities lacrosse team, probably the most popular guy on campus…one of “the hottest” guys in the school (according to your coworker and best friend, Aecha)

You remember asking her a while back why he was always “the talk of the town”, and all she could say was: “Well, look at him. How could he not be?”

You get it. He is hot. But that doesn’t stop you from absolutely hating his guts. Not after he spilled his hot, black coffee all over your white shirt and pants a few weeks ago. Not after he stained all of your precious student’s artwork with his scorching hot Americano.

You were on your way to the school to hang them up in your classroom. Stopping at your University library’s coffee shop, you decided to start your day with a little bit of matcha before you decorated your space.

Your students had just completed a “What I Love About Me” project, and their responses literally made you cry…maybe made you ugly cry. So innocent and honest in their responses, this project was probably the most precious to your heart. You had wished you did something like this back when you were so young. Maybe then you would have a reminder on your bad days what younger you always admired before nasty comments and puberty hit your system.

So, when Jeon Jungkook completely drenched them in his black coffee, your stained (and very expensive) white work shirt and pants didn’t even matter. The sopping-wet look of your student’s artwork made you fight to gulp back tears. But you couldn’t help the water that begged to break free from behind your eyelids.

“Oohh!” he laughs, the stupid jock in him making a scene. “Jeez! I’m sorry.” you can feel the antagonizing smirk on his lips as he looks at what he’s done to you. “Here, let me get a napkin,”

Jungkook exits your line of vision and you try to make your way out of the library before he comes back. But, ever the athlete he is, Jungkook is back before you can blink with a giant wad of the coffee shop’s crappy brown napkins.

You don’t even know who is talking to you until you take the napkins from his hands, recognizing those ugly, stupid, hot hand tattoos. Who couldn’t recognize them when the whole university makes Jungkook’s tattoos each and every one of its personality traits?

The realization of your perpetrator being Jeon Jungkook only makes you more upset. Had it been anyone else, the hurt in your heart from your damaged projects might have been less painful.

You immediately start wiping off your student’s projects, placing them on the nearest table and patting them dry, trying your best not to smear the Crayola marker on some of them.

“Woah, hey,” he chuckles to himself again. “Nice line work. Didchya draw those?”

“Please, stop talking.” you spit at him. Finally, you look up at his face, hoping he gets the point.

You think he does, because the minute he catches your gaze, his face freezes. The look adorning your features was angry, but that tear in your eye from what he did to your papers made you really upset. Which, for some reason, made Jungkook's heart clench. Hoping he can’t see the tears trying to break free from your eyelids, you look back down and continue your previous actions.

“I-I, um,” he stutters, his voice much meeker than what it antagonized you with just moments ago. “Look, is there anything I can do? A free drink? New clothes? A personal invitation to Min Yoongi’s New Year’s Party? An escort around the men’s lacrosse team's locker room? …During uniform change?”

“Thanks, but the best thing you can do is leave,” you reply. Just about done drying your projects up the best you can, you gather them in your arms and face the man once again. This time, you stare at his face for more than just a few seconds. You hate that he’s handsome; it only makes it harder to stop looking at the playful smirk forming on his lips from mentioning the men’s locker rooms.

“You sure? Heard this year’s party is supposed to be a banger.” he bribes, the mole under his bottom lip showing as he smiles.

“Min Yoongi is a close friend. I am invited to his parties every year. Now, I have to go—”

“No way?!” he exclaims, the permed dark curls over his eyes bouncing as he places a large hand on your shoulder. You shrug it off, but he acts like he did nothing wrong at all. “How come I haven’t seen you before? I’d totally recognize you. You’re smokin', by the way.”

Your lips and nose cringe at his statement.

“I don’t usually go,” you explain. “Now, please move before I push you out of my way myself.”

“Hah!” he laughs. “Like you could. Hey, are you an elementary teacher or just a shitty artist?”

“I’m not answering that,” you say.

His comment hurts you. This is precious art to you. The fact that he has no regard—didn’t even say sorry meaningfully—for your papers that you are obviously upset about makes your heart sink. All you can see are the faces of your students.

“Okay, well, that offer for a free drink, or clothes, or uh—oh yeah. The men’s locker room deal,” he winks. “Is still on the table.”

“I’ll pass,” you flash a tight-lipped smile his way before brushing a shoulder past him and exiting the library.

The first tear makes its way down your cheek, and you quickly wipe it off before anyone has the chance to see it. You think Jungkook might have through the window of the shop, but you assume he is looking at his order number he placed for a new coffee on the screen above it. It would appear more fitting. He clearly has no care in the world that he did something that made someone else upset. From his own actions. But are you really surprised that he wouldn’t care?

The rest of your walk to the elementary school is filled with blasting music in your headphones and a scowl on your face. What was once sadness is now anger. You’re angry. So fucking angry. Your blood is boiling.

“How could he?” you exclaim as you barge into the teacher’s lounge.

“Woah—” Aecha observes. “Is this a new print or something?” she asks, referring to your white-brown shirt and pants. “Please don’t tell me this is a new ‘thing’? No offense, but it’s kind of ug—”

“No, it’s that stupid Jungkook-jock-fuckboy-asshole-bitch—”

You silently thank an existing god that the kids have off today.

“Jeon Jungkook?” Aecha’s jaw drops.

“Don’t even start. I hate that man. Look what he did,” you seethe, slapping your student’s projects on the table.

“Awww,” Aecha’s eyes go beady, her fingers delicately shifting through the precious artwork. “Did he ruin them?”

“Yes,” you fight the urge to swipe all the shit on the coffee bar onto the floor. “Yes, he did. And now I have to give these back to the kids, hoping that when they’re 15 years older they can actually make out what it's saying.”

“I’m sorry,” she pouts. “That’s really shitty. Did he apologize?” she asks, sorting through the damp papers. “They don’t look too distraught. I can still read them,” she assures you.

“He apologized as the third phrase he said to me. The first was an ‘Oohh!’ accompanied by a mocking laugh and then a ‘jeez!’ Didn’t even realize I didn’t care about my damn shirt until he pointed out how ‘shitty my artwork was’.”

“Wow,” she gapes. “That’s totally Jungkook, that’s for sure,” she nods in agreement, thinking upwards. “You know, now that I’m imagining the scenario, it’s kinda hot.”

“Aecha!”

“Okay listen,”

“No, I won’t.”

“Okay, fine,” she gives up. You dig underneath the coffee cabinet, pulling out a spare hairdryer and plugging it into the wall. Your school is filled with mostly women teachers, so finding something like this in a coffee room is not that unordinary here. The room is soon loud with the sound of the machine as your try to dry them completely. “You going to Yoongi’s party, by the way?” she asks you.

You remember Jungkook’s offer to invite you to said party. You scoff at the memory. What was once a plan to tell Yoongi that you were, in fact, going to attend...is now a “no” from you. Not when you know Jungkook will be there. He is always there, just too drunk to remember you, probably. He even danced with you a few times, grinding on your ass with a beer in his hand and his other on your waist.

You remember it all too well. That was back when you had positive thoughts about the man. But then he became the captain of the lacrosse team. And then he became obsessed with the amount of “get out of jail free” cards he suddenly obtained from his popularity, hotness, and good standing on the school board. When you heard about what he was like from Aecha, your friends, the school news, YouTube, etc., you stopped finding him fancy. You couldn’t see the same man you saw that night. Especially not with how he treated you just an hour ago. Sad, but you washed away any hint of a crush you might've had on him after then.

“No, not anymore,” you reply, loudly speaking over the blow dryer. It is loud enough to where you don’t need to yell, but you wouldn’t be able to hear her response if you both talked normally.

“What?!” she drops her shoulders in disappointment. “But Hoseok is going to be there…you told me you’d go with me if he was!”

You know Aecha has been chasing after Hoseok since she first talked with him at last year's party. She doesn’t know anyone else who is going besides Yoongi and Hoseok. Being they’re both men, she doesn’t know if she feels 100% comfortable going alone, even though you and her both know they would never dare to hurt her or make her feel unsafe. It is more of a girl code—arriving and leaving together—than it is anything else. So you understand.

You had forgotten about said agreement, and you groan in frustration. Now, you have no other choice.

“Y/n, I need to bag this man. I need to,” her voice is laced with determination. “I am like—I am tired of waiting and this is my one last chance and—”

“Okay!” you hush her. “Fine, I’ll go.

She claps her hands and does a happy dance. You wish you could find her reaction endearing, but now you’re dreading the upcoming events of this party.

----

The week is going by fine until you get unexpected amounts of bouquets and Edible Arrangements all addressed to you from…Jungkook. You send them all back, just to get an angered Jungkook storming into your office a few days later.

“You know how expensive those were?!” he half-shouts at you. He quiets his voice, noticing the quiet setting he is in. However, he doesn’t seem to care that he has intruded on your space during your work time. He closes the door to your office anyways, trapping you in it with him.

“How did you get this address…and how do you know I work here?” you interrogate, going back to typing on your computer. The things you type are a mix of keyboard slam and words you’re thinking, faking work at its finest because some abnormally hot jock-asshole needs to make it known that his gifts are not to be returned.

“Min Yoongi is a man of many talents,” he responds. Taking a seat in one of the chairs across from your desk, you watch him as he plays with your nameplate on your desk. “Ms. Y/n L/n. Cute.”

You snatch the gold engraved tag out of his hands and place it back on the desk where it was before. “Please don’t touch my thi—”

“So, you are a teacher, then, I suppose?” he interrupts you. You don’t know it, but Jungkook is really trying here. It took a lot and nothing at all for him to walk in here. Truthfully, he has no idea how to apologize to you. A simple, sincere, “sorry” would probably do it. But he even practiced it in the mirror. Literally impossible. It’s like his mouth was forbidden to say the word without gagging at himself.

Apologizing was never his strong suit. Before coming to college, he was a good boy. Sweet and kind, never once a popular kid until he hit puberty and was suddenly his high school’s prom king. That’s when he started doing things he is not that proud of. It became a habit, but the good boy in him has a hard time practicing apologizing. Mainly because... he never really had to do it before becoming a total high school popular kid and a university super-star player.

But he really fucked up this time. And, he was hoping you would just let it go like people always seem to do when he can’t admit things correctly. But after seeing that tear fall down your face after you left the shop, that clench in his heart followed as you walked away. He couldn't stop thinking about how bad he felt all week. Those really meant something to you and he knew it. He just didn’t know how to admit he was being an asshole.

“I am,” you reply. “You here for some lessons?”

“Stop,” he grins. “Teacher—student sex has always been a fantasy of mine.”

“Please,” you scoff at him. The audacity. “As if I’d fulfill that for you.”

“A man can only dream,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, well keep doing that. What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I want to know why you sent back my flowers. And my Edible Arrangement! I was fighting the urge not to just eat it when I picked it out for you.”

Truthfully, you were too. You love Edible Arrangements.

“Because I don’t want your sympathy because you realized you were an asshole,”

“Why not?”

“Because none of that matters to me. I’m not an ex-girlfriend who caught you cheating on me. I’m just a stranger you met last week. I want an apology. An honest apology from you. And that’s it.” you explain.

Jungkook puffs his cheeks out.

“You’re difficult,” he raises his eyebrows. “I like that,” he smirks at you.

“I don’t have time for your flirting, Jungkook,” you roll your eyes at him, focusing back on your screen. “Please go home.”

The next time he comes in is around 3pm the following day. The kids are out of school by then, but all your coworkers are still here. So is Jungkook, apparently. Aecha tells you he’s been talking it up with the principal since he got here.

You groan, hoping he is just here to speak with the principal and not you. It is a farfetched hope, though. You don’t know what business he has with the principal, or anyone else here besides you, for that matter.

It is around 5 when he barges into your office again. You’re packing up your things, dreams crushed when you thought you could exit work without running into the alleged lacrosse star.

“Hey, sexy,” he flirts, eyeing your flowy, loose, figure-hiding, ugly, dark-brown art dress. You roll your eyes again, knowing he’s making fun of you. It was art day, and you had to wear your paint-stained art-apron dress. It’s the only one you don’t care about other than the shirt he ruined just a week ago.

You ignore his comment, zipping your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Reconsidering tutoring?” you mock. Jungkook laughs at you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. You’re really cute when you mock him. It kinda gets him going.

“How’s about 9:00pm next Saturday at Min Yoongi’s?” he asks, trying to get you to go to the party again. Little does he know that you’re going. But you don’t want to amuse him too much.

“Funny,” you banter, making your way to the door. But he blocks your path, his arms resting against the door frame as he stares down at you with those white teeth and bunny eyes. You want to squish his cheek between your forefinger and thumb for reasons you don’t understand. All he has done is make fun of, flirt, and annoy you since you two met. Why do you feel the heat in your cheeks when he slips a finger underneath your chin, dark eyes staring into your soul? Why does your heartbeat in your throat when you look at the glossiness of his lips so close to your own?

You back away, releasing yourself from his flirtatious actions.

“What if I begged on my knees?” he blurts out.

You snort out in laughter at that. The thought of Jungkook: the tall, big guy with tattoos and an award-winning lacrosse scholarship? On his knees in front of you? Begging you to go to some party? That’s rich.

Jungkook blushes harder at your laughs. Fuck, your laugh is so cute. He wants to make you laugh like this a lot. Maybe forever, even. You’re music to his ears.

“What’s so funny?” he chuckles with you. “Think I can’t?”

“Please,” you smile wide, a hand covering your mouth, trying not to muster up any more laughs. “That would be too much. You sure you want to pleasure me?”

Jungkook’s mouth grows dry. Um…yes?? He would, in fact, like to pleasure you. Maybe not in that way, but he’d do it if it meant you were pleased with him. Fuck! If only he could admit things properly.

“Um, no, never mind” he goes against his wish. “I don’t think I could stand the content look on your face.” He totally could??? What the hell is he saying?!?

Jungkook runs a hand through his thick, brown locks, looking at you as you die down your laughter. If only you knew he’s been after you since two New Year’s parties ago. You think he doesn’t remember, but he totally does. The way your hips swayed against his, pressing your ass into his front. He remembers how soft your skin felt underneath his tattooed hand. All he remembered is how he wanted to mark you up, kiss the skin of your lips, neck, and shoulders and claim it as his own. But he had one too many drinks that night, and he found himself passed out on Min Yoongi’s couch the next morning. Jungkook started off the New Year with his clothes on, cheeks flushed, a terrible hangover, and no sight of you anywhere.

He had been trying to find you for a while on campus, but little did he know you were all the way on the opposite side of it in the Education sector. When you didn’t show up to Yoongi’s New Year’s Party the following year, he realized he may never see you again. Until he ruined your clothes. And your valuables. And your heart. And god-knows-what else. If only apologizing didn’t completely break his fragile ego, maybe he would be kissing you right now. Maybe he could have been spending all his time kissing you and holding you every day since the incident.

“Whatever you say, fuckboy,” you smile at him. “Now let me go — and stop coming into my office. It’s annoying.”

“Principle Green is actually so rad, though. I might come back just for him,” he comments, moving out of your way.

“I don’t care who is rad, I don’t want you interrupting my work.”

“Oh, so I’m a distraction?”

“No, you’re a nuisance,”

“Ouch,”

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you flash him a grin, turning off the lights in your office. You look at Aecha in the teacher's lounge where you exit. She is completely baffled, eyes wide, her mouth dropped, and her bagel falling out of her hands and onto the table. Cream-cheese side down. She heard everything, and you know what she’s thinking.

Luckily, you can leave without either of them making conversation with you.

Entering your car, you let out a huge breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in. You look at yourself in your sun blocker's mirror. Cheeks red and lips cracked from all the laughing, you’re a total mess! As if your crush on Jungkook is coming back. It can’t be. He’s a total asshole now.

But a charming asshole.

Fuck! Stop it, y/n. You can’t do this to yourself.

And so, you don’t. You blast your music and drive away, pretending you don’t see a waving, smiling Jungkook from the school’s entrance in your rearview mirror.

----

Three knocks on your door and an uninvited Jungkook makes his way into your office. Again.

Jeon Jungkook.

The name makes you hurl a little in your mouth. Yesterday’s lunch makes its way to the back of your throat. But you swallow it down, telling yourself to be strong and that he will go away soon.

Last night, after Jungkook’s daily visit to your office (one that ended up with a 3-hour conversation about how Thor is the best Avenger next to Spider-Man), you realized that it’s been almost two weeks since you met him in the coffee shop. Almost two weeks and you have yet to receive a proper apology like you had asked him to give you the first time he visited you at work.

This is the 7th visit since two weeks ago, and still no apology. Despite his charm and how easily you were almost tricked into letting it all go, you remembered you were still supposed to be mad at him. And that you should still be mad at him no matter how many bunny-smiles, flirtatious comments, and talks about the Avengers and Principle Green that shoots straight to your heart. And to other places…

“So,” he banters a smile at you. That stupid yellow and blue lacrosse bomber jacket puffs out around his shoulders, the number “07” poking out in the ugliest school-spirit font you’ve ever seen on his sleeves. His elbows rest on your desk, arms delicately pushing some of your papers and trinkets out of his way. The action only fuels your anger.

“7 o’clock. You and me. Chipotle.”

“In your dreams, fuckboy,” you scoff. The audacity he has to ask you out. The audacity he has to find the school you intern at (literally on your universities campus, but still), interrupt your work, and ask you on a date for the nth time since the start of this week.

You think this might be the 5th time since Sunday he’s asked you out on a date. And it’s only Wednesday.

“Woah, why the ‘tude?” he defends, putting his palms up as he slides back into his “designated” chair in your office.

“There is no ‘tude.”

“There totally is ‘tude!”

You glare at him from over your laptop screen. "See!” he points at your scowl.

“Jungkook, get out please,” you sigh. You really don’t want to deal with his antics today.

“What? Why?” he asks you. His voice is defensive like you just told him his dick is short and thin. Which, it totally is not by the way. He’d tell you about it, but it doesn’t appear like you’re up for that conversation.

“Because, Jungkook, I’m done with this.”

“With what?" he scoffs. "We’re not even a ‘this’,” he says the last part with finger air quotes.

“Exactly, so please stop visiting me. I don’t want your distractions to make me forget about the fact that you still haven’t apologized.”

“Oh, please, y/n,” he drags out a laugh, slouching on your chair. “I don’t even need to apologize. They were just some shitty drawings. I can assure you that if you go back into that classroom and call an ‘art sesh’ they’d make up a bunch of equally as shitty pieces for you.”

You can feel your fingers nearly breaking the screen of your laptop before shutting it close. You stand up in your seat, motioning your finger toward the door. “Get out.”

Jungkook knows he stepped over the line with that one. He really doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying. He knows those meant something to you! Why is he acting like he doesn’t? Why does he choose to say words that hurt you? It only hurts him, knowing that even though he wants so badly to be the person that comforts you and who tells you you’re okay; saying the opposite is only going to make it worse.

Duh!

Right now, he wants to beat himself up so badly that he’s lost the ability to speak another word.

That clenching feeling he has in his chest is back. He can see the anger in your heart, reaching out to protect the innocence of your students. It’s endearing, really. But he’s in the crossfire. And he’s on the side of your wrath he doesn’t want to be on. He’s the reason you’re protecting your students in their absence. He is the reason why you might never forgive him for this one.

“Y/n, I,” he stutters, standing up. He really thinks he’s about to apologize until something within himself blocks him from doing so again. His heart wants to say it, but his egotistical brain isn’t allowing him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean it as?” you ask him. Hands running through your hair, you laugh at yourself in disbelief. “You know, I don’t even know why I’m asking you that. I don’t even know why I expect anything from you at all. All you’ve been doing since you got your damn scholarship and your damn popularity has been treating others like how you are treating me right now. Like their feelings don’t matter, like no one else exists in this world besides Jeon Jungkook. Maybe if you had a project like the one I assigned to my students, then maybe you’d have a reason to look back on what it means to be kind to others. Maybe you’d realize that people get hurt because of people like you. Me included. So please, leave my office and don’t show your face in this school ever again.”

Jungkook is at a loss for words. What can he say? You called his bluff. He taught himself how to block out others as a defense mechanism a long time ago. Its consequence: confidence as a new defense mechanism. Confidence is always good, right? So why it felt wrong when he started showing that side of him 100% more than it was before was beyond him. And, well, this is why it felt so wrong. He's lost the ability to humble himself down. And he hurt you because of it. He’s hurt a lot of people because of it. If only he knew how to balance himself properly.

Jungkook leaves your office, not batting an eye at you, feeling like a student who just got expelled. The jock in him would say it was hot, but that part of him is not there. Nothing but shame fills his body. He feels ashamed of himself. Especially as he catches light of one of the coffee-stained projects on the lounge-room walls.

[I love my _______ because it makes me feel ________] is the prompt. This one had the most outrageous spelling he thinks he’s ever seen. Backward “e”’s and random capitalization and sizing and all. But he makes out “heart’ and “wanted”.

Something in him pulls on his heartstrings again. He can see why those projects meant so much to you. Just that one simple response was enough to feel regret all the way from the follicles of his scalp to his big toe, as if he didn’t regret it already. How is he going to make it up to you? He has no idea. But he can’t lose sight of you, even when he knows he's pissed you off and hurt you. He has to find a way to make it right.

He has to apologize. Sincerely. Like he’s been practicing in the mirror and with his roommates, Taehyung and Jin, for the past two weeks. It’s easier with them. They don’t make his heart beat abnormally fast. They don’t send smiles (other than teasing, antagonizing ones that make him feel embarrassed and give up) that make him want to kiss you until you’re breathless beneath him.

But he needs to. And it needs to happen soon.

----

“So,” you smile at Aecha across your kitchen counter. She’s wearing the skimpiest hot pink dress you have ever seen. No doubt trying to be a tease for Hoseok. No one would guess she’s a preschool teacher with the way she’s dressed. “What’s the plan?”

She turns around, pinning the last bobby pin in her stiff, hair-sprayed-bobby pinned high bun.

“Okay,” she smiles. “We go in, right? Then I see Hoseok. Then we dance. Then we kiss. Then we f—”

“Okay!” you stop her, laughing. “I get it. Go in, dance, fuck. What do I do?”

“Hmmm,” she thinks. “Drink?? Get high? Maybe mock my actions on a certain captain of the lacrosse team…?”

You give her a knowing look.

“I know!” she puts her hands up. “Was just a thought.”

A great thought, at that. You’ve been wanting to jump his bones since three New Year's parties ago. But you’ve long accepted that’s no longer on your agenda. Jungkook has proven to you that he is a lost cause. You can’t expect anything from him, no matter how charming his smile is, no matter how well he dances, or how his touch makes butterflies flow through every vein in your body.

You have to put him in the back of your mind and move on. Maybe tonight you can find someone to do that with.

“You know that guy from Bread Club?” you ask her, fingers pinching the skin between your eyebrows in thought.

“Which one? That club was full of male nerd—oh! The hot one? Park Jimin?” she recalls.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Him! Do you know if he is coming?”

“Oooooo,” she coos at you. “Does y/n see a potential crush on bread-boy Jimin?”

“Not a crush. Although, he is really handsome.” you blush. “I just never gave him a proper chance.”

“You’re right. I did suspect an underlying mutual attraction. My guess would be that he is going. I’m pretty sure he’s with that whole group. If I’m not mistaken, I want to say he’s Taehyung’s brother. Tae rooms with Jungkook and Jin.”

“Ah,” you nod, understanding the explanation. Although, all you hear is Jungkook. You hate that even his name in a conversation not even about him puts a sad feeling in your heart. You really do pity him. You also really want to forgive him. But after what he said back in your office, you don’t think you have the means to. His words hurt. They always do. But, he doesn’t know how to apologize. At least not to you. You remember how Aecha was surprised when you explained the situation and told her that he still hasn’t apologized since the incident. It made you wonder if you were the only person he refuses to apologize to.

“Okay, I’m ready. We both look hot. Let’s go,” Aecha says, matter-of-fact. She slaps her pocket mirror closed and shoves it into her purse.

----

You arrive at the sickest party Min Yoongi has ever hosted. Jungkook was right, this year’s party is a banger. Endless drinks, endless space for dancing, endless games, and endless men…boy you have many options tonight.

Aecha claps your shoulder in excitement, telling you that she sees her prey. You understand, letting her make her progress towards bagging Hoseok.

You continue smiling until your eyes land on Jungkook’s. He’s at the beer pong table, a beer in one hand and a pong in the other, ready to throw his next shot. Although, his progress towards throwing it stops when he sees you.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to keep looking at him. Dressed in all black with silver accents accompanying his wrists, ears, eyebrows, and lips. One could say he completely complemented your own outfit.

The fact only makes your heart hurt more. Why? You don’t know. You dropped him. He’s done. Wasn’t even a crush for longer than a day three years ago. Why you’re so hung up on him, you don’t know. The realization has you tearing your eyes away from his man-bun that looks too perfect framing his face, and onto the drinks in the room next to you.

You grab a shot or two. Or three. Or four. But who’s counting? It’s New Year’s Eve, you’re single, have nothing to lose, and have strange feelings toward a man you want to forget. Tonight is the night to get so wasted that you end up achieving that goal.

You think you will be successful when a familiar voice calls your name. Turning around, your eyes meet with Park Jimin’s. The bread-boy. Just the man you wanted to see tonight.

“Jimin!” you hug him. “No way! How long has it been since we baked banana nut bread together?!”

Jimin laughs out loud, hugging you back. “About a year, I’d say,” he smiles. His smile is really cute, reaching from cheek to cheek with that insanely addicting voice of liquid he uses to coat his words. “You’re looking really good tonight, Y/n.” Maybe he will be your saving grace tonight, after all.

“Thanks,” you smile. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

“Glad to know you’re pleased.”

“I am,” you smirk. “Somewhat.”

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Come,” you change the subject. For some reason, flirting with Jimin feels wrong. Even though you want parts of him, even though you want to be able to flirt with him, something about it just doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s the intense eyes you feel at the back of your head when you dance on Jimin in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe it’s when you kiss Jimin that you feel as if you’re imagining it’s Jungkook who you’re pressing your lips to.

It’s all wrong. Everything is wrong.

But Jimin touches you like it is right, and you feel somewhat assured until an extra hand is pulling you away from him. Suddenly, you’re drunken vision sees Jimin standing on the dance floor moving farther and farther away from you as this mystery person takes you away from him. Stumbling to keep up with this person’s pace, you turn around and attempt to pry off the strong arm that wraps around your wrist.

“Wha-What do you—who are you?” you ask this person. It isn’t until you realize that the person’s arm is tattooed. It isn’t until you realize that these tattoos are familiar and that they belong to Jeon Jungkook. “Jungkook, let go!”

To which he does, but only when he’s pulled you out of the house and into the alleyway between another house and Yoongi’s. Jungkook pins you against the wall, his forearms pressing against the brick next to your ears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, voice low and eyes foreboding. Those eyes you’ve never seen before. They’re dark and angry; far, far away from his playful innocent-looking ones. They scare you a little. But you’ve always been good at facing your fears.

“I’m having fun,” you respond, not a smidge of the jitters you're feeling consuming your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t make any mistakes,” he responds.

“Hah!” you laugh, the alcohol causing you to tilt your head back harshly. You forget there’s brick there, and you’re thankful Jungkook’s reflexes are fast enough to slide his hand beneath your head before it smacked against the brick. “You’re so funny, Kook. You know, that’s actually a good idea. Because the last time I danced on someone like that was with you. And I really regret that.”

Jungkook’s heart pangs in his chest, showing how your words affected him so by closing in on you. His face towers over yours, even though he’s been trying to keep his height as level with you as he can by bending his body at his hips to match your own height. But the closer he gets, the taller he becomes, and the more you have to look up in order to look into his eyes.

You can smell the cologne on his body along with the faint smell of booze on his breath. You hate how his scent makes you fawn over him. All you want to do is kiss him silly. But you’re still mad at him. You're still arguing with him right now.

“You don’t,” he scowls, more so at himself for letting it get this far. The sight of Jimin holding you like that when it was supposed to be him made his blood boil. Fury grew in his veins as he realized he needed to make this right. Right now. Before it’s too late and you’re truly moving on.

“And what if I do, Jungkook?” you lower your voice, words feeling heavy on your mouth. “What if I regret letting my feelings continuously be hurt by you?”

“And what if I told you that I regret it,” he holds your chin in his fingers. “Saying those things to you. I do, y/n. I regret it, and I don’t know why I kept saying those things. And I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

You pause at his apology. Are you hearing this right? Did Jeon Jungkook just apologize to you? Twice??

“W-Well,” you stutter. Tears start to brim your eyes again for reasons you don’t understand. Maybe because you’re a crybaby. Maybe because this was your reason for not chasing after the man you liked so much. Maybe because his apology gives you the ‘go’ for smashing your lips onto his, feeling his honey lips collide with yours.

They’re just as soft as you imagined they would be. And god, is he a good kisser. His lips alone make a pool in your panties. Your hands slide around his neck, fingertips intertwining in his tied-up locks.

Jungkook’s body nearly stutters when you kiss him. Out of all things, this was the last he expected. Maybe a well-deserved slap or a kick on the shin, but never the feeling of your embrace.

Nevertheless, he doesn’t complain one bit. He’s been dying to feel you. Your lips on his was an imagery he thought he would never have the chance to live out. But, here you are, holding his body close and kissing him like he is the last person you will ever have the chance to kiss in your life.

Desperation crawls into his veins, lifting you up around his waist, and pressing you against the wall.

He’s been craving this for far too long. Craving you for too long. Jungkook can’t stop touching you, your body is just as soft as he remembered. His curiosity begs him to explore more and more of you. But he’s done enough without your permission. So he waits, continuing to kiss you until you take control.

“I’ve been dying to have you like this,” you say between trailing kisses down to his neck. Jungkook moans as you find his sweet spot, and you think it was the prettiest thing you have ever heard in your lifetime. Sucking on the spot, he raises his chest, trying to control his pleasure but nonetheless fails when you bite down on him.

“Y-Y/n,” he calls out your name, just loud enough for you to hear. His breath tickles your name on the shell of your ear, and you think you might have gushed arousal out of your cunt. “Not here,” he pants, trapping your chin between his fingers again. He motions your jaw up to his, tempting himself with light scrapes of his lips touching yours. “I don’t want anyone else to see you.”

“Then where?” you whisper back at him. It is so hard not to smash your lips onto his again, but you want this to continue. And if Jungkook wants you where no one but himself can see you, then you’re bound to be wherever that is.

“My place,” he brushes his nose against your cheek before returning your trail of kisses on his neck back to yours. “No one’s home. I brought a car.” He sucks your neck, leaving bruises all over. He's determined to find not just one sweet spot of yours, but to find them all.

“Wh-Why not the car?” you ask between moans. Jungkook is so good at this. He’s suede and smooth with his touches, hot and passionate with his kisses. He knows how to make you puddy in his hands.

Jungkook chuckles in your ear. “Not with the things I want to do to you,” he bites down on your neck, eliciting a sweet panted moan from your throat. “That won’t work.”

“Then let’s go,” you hold his neck firmly in your palms, stopping him from his parade of kisses. “I don’t want to waste more time.”

“Someone’s eager,” Jungkook smirks, kissing you once before setting you down and taking his keys out of his pocket.

“You have no idea.”

----

The ride over to Jungkook’s is spent palming him in the driver’s seat and Jungkook struggling to focus on the road. He’s not as consumed with alcohol as you might be, even though the effects of it on you stopped midway through making out with Jungkook back at Yoongi’s.

You know you’re doomed when the car abruptly stops. His fist pushes the stick into park, and he rips open the car door, walking around the front of it to come over to you.

You’re still tipsy, however. So, when you’re met with Jungkook’s erection right in your face you can’t help but laugh a little.

“What’s so funny?” he asks you, a little pissed off at your laughter. It’s hot.

Trailing a finger on the zipper to his black jeans, you outline the length of his cock slowly, admiring its size right in front of you. You dream of it fucking you, as if the man in front of you wasn’t on a mission to check that off your list right now.

“You’re so big,” you sigh like a teenage girl. “I want you inside of me, Jungkook,” you smirk, looking up at him from the passenger seat. Jungkook swears his heart leaps out of his chest. He thinks his voice might crack if he says another word, so he clears his throat, dick twitching simultaneously, before he responds.

“Then, c’mon,” he takes your hand, pulling you up and out of the car. “We’re here.” Jungkook smiles at you sweetly. He almost thinks that he should just wait until the morning to fuck you because of your tipsy-drunk moment until you’re kissing and palming him again. Jungkook moans into your mouth, stumbling with you toward his townhome’s entrance. Key fob in hand, Jungkook presses it underneath the door nob, hearing a sound of approval from the security system not long after.

“Teasing me in the car,” he growls against your ear, pushing you against the nearest wall once the door to his home shuts. “You think you weren’t going to get punished for that?”

All you can do is moan. Jungkook’s hands waste no time ripping off every piece of clothing you have on, dying to see you in all your glory.

“Holy fuck,” he pants. It’s almost as if he’s cumming his pants right now at the sight of you. “You’re gorgeous, Y/n,”

You can’t help but blush a little, his glare on you makes you think that he’s not actually saying these things about your body. Not this man. Not the ripped, 6-packed athlete with incredible strength and muscles that could pop you with one headlock around the neck. Maybe it's the booze.

“Take your clothes off, fuckboy,” you demand.

Jungkook shimmies off his black blazer, eyes still on your tits. He wants to suck them and leave marks all over the softness of them. He wants you to be completely covered in him tomorrow morning.

“Don’t call me that,” he walks closer to you, trapping your naked body between his half-clothed one. “I’m not a fuckboy.” he replies, taking off his mock-turtle neck tanktop. You thought it was tight enough on him before, but the sight of his muscles underneath the shirt makes you realize that the shirt did not do him enough justice. Never in a million years did you think Jungkook was this ripped. He basically has boobs. He could probably fit into your bra…

“Then what are you?” you ghost against his lips.

He would like to say “yours”, but he remembers that you’re still tipsy. Would you agree to that? Do you still hate him? He'd like to think 'no' considering how you two are both eager to have each other right now, but he's got a lot of things to ask and make up to you before any titles are made. So he holds off.

“We can decide that in the morning,” he settles on, flashing you a small smile before delving into your lips. His chest is firm against yours, his back so wide, you struggle to wrap your arms around it as he leads you to what you assume is his bedroom.

His room is just as you expected it would be. Covered in trophies and pictures, as neat and organized as you expected. But what really catches you off guard is how comfortable his bed is. The smell of him engulfs you as he gently places you on his bed. You think about how this night would be if you decided to fuck in the car. How you wouldn't be able to see this view on top of you so clearly if you did. You’re thankful Jungkook insisted on his bedroom. Now, you can see his handsome face clearly in the lighting of his room as he pulls his pants down to his ankles, leaving himself in a pair of white Calvins. They do nothing to hide the length and girth of his cock, and you shutter knowing that he’s going to completely rip you open.

“Don’t worry, I’ll prep you,” he whispers in your ear, sensing your worry. Jungkook’s lips find your neck again, gently kissing his previously left bruises before leaving more of them on the areas of your clavicle and chest.

“What if I don’t want to be prepped?” you whimper, back arching into his chest when his mouth engulfs your nipple, sucking on it hard. “W-What if I want you ri-right now?”

Jungkook laughs deeply as he twirls your nipple around with his tongue. He releases you with a quick “pop”, which makes your head fall back in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook’s body moving up to come face-to-face with yours. “Patience,” he gives you a quick kiss. “I refuse to hurt you any more than I have already.”

“Jungkook,” you coo, holding his jaw in your palm. He looks ashamed of himself. You’ve never seen this side of him, and it feels good knowing that he does harbor those kinds of feelings. Especially since he is comfortable with you seeing him display them. “I forgive you, Kook.”

“You shouldn’t,” he buries his face in your neck again, kissing you lightly as his hand trails down to your wet cunt. His fingers find your clit. You moan when he starts circling slow infinities on the sensitive bud.

“But I do, Jungkook,” you pant, hand coming up to drag your fingers through his hair. You pull out his bun, watching as his hair falls over the crown of his head and onto your skin. It smells like coconut, and you can’t help but bury your nose in it as he continues to gather your juices on his fingertips.

“I was bad to you,” he grumbles against your neck. This time, his fingers circle your entrance. Legs wrapping around his hips, you invite his fingers inside, to which he obliges. Just his index finger feels you first. Jungkook ruts against the mattress at the feeling, imagining the walls that squeeze his finger tight around his cock. Yeah, you definitely need prepping.

“But, you apologized,” you whisper to him, massaging his scalp. Your hips twitch when he adds another finger. You can’t imagine the size of him in you like this. Two of his massive fingers are enough to make you feel close to cumming around them. He’s going to be the death of you.

Pumping in and out of you, Jungkook moves his head to face yours, his nose kissing your own.

“I’m sorry,” he says once again. “I’m sorry for spilling coffee on you, and being an asshole, and making fun of your student’s art, and showing up at your work, and pissing you off, and making you hate me so much you—”

“J-Jungkook,” you stop him. It’s hard to concentrate on a response when his pace quickens with every mention of something he did wrong, as if he was getting angrier the more he realized how much he did to hurt you.

“All I wanted to do was the opposite of what I did,” he kisses your cheek. “B-But it’s hard for me to face negativity without being cocky and stupid about it. I thought that by making it worse, I could make it better.”

“What a strange tactic,” you chuckle against his cheek. Your heart thumps when he flashes you a smile, telling you with his eyes that he’d never do something like that to you ever again. “I’m proud of you.” You smile.

“S-Stop,” Jungkook adds his thumb to your clit as his fingers continue to fuck you slowly. The addition causes you to arch your back into him. Jungkook takes the opportunity to wrap his arm underneath your spine, holding you secure against his body. “You’re going to make me want to claim you if you say that kind of shit to me.”

“What if I want you to claim me?” you challenge.

Jungkook nearly growls into your neck, fighting the urge to just flip you over and ravage you. “Stop doing that to me, y/n,”

He feels your fingers start to tug at the rim of his boxers, and Jungkook can’t be any more excited to feel you around him. He presses one more finger into you before allowing you to shove his boxers halfway down his thighs.

Jungkook moans at the feeling of your soft fingers around his cock, head falling into the crevice of your neck again. His dick is red and angry and begging to fuck you hard and deep. You swirl the precum that leaks from him and circle it around his cockhead, eliciting a strained moan into the skin by your ear from the man above you. His hips jerk at the sudden movement, preparing themselves to fuck you hard and fast.

“I think I’m ready, Kook,” you whisper into his hair.

Jungkook detaches himself from your neck, standing up to quickly knock off his boxers onto the floor. He takes your calves in his hands, spreading you before his fingertips spread your pussy open slowly. Jungkook takes a long look at you. You're basically drooling from your cunt, the slick creating shiny lines off his fingers as he moves them up and off your pussy. Glistening and pulsing for him to fill you up, he knows you’re going to be a tight fit. The fact only excites him further.

He pulls himself onto the bed, pushing your thighs up with his body. Pumping his cock a few times, he lines you up with his dick, pressing his cockhead against your slick.

“You sure you want this?” he leans down to your face. Your thighs are trapped against your torso, Jungkook folding you up for him nice and good. You appreciate that he doesn’t do a thing without your consent, that he doesn’t dare to do anything unless you’re comfortable. A complete 180 from the emotionally constipated Jungkook you’ve been experiencing for the past two weeks.

You nod to him, looking into his eyes. But this doesn’t satisfy him.

“I need a verbal answer, y/n,” he kisses your cheek, dick rubbing up and down your warm entrance.

“Yes, Jungkook. I want you,” you lean into his cheek.

The feeling of his girth stretching you open is enough for you to dig your nails into the smooth skin of his back. Never in a million years did you think you’d be stretched this good.

He doesn’t go in all the way, letting you adjust to his girth before slipping his length all the way into you.

You swear his tip kisses your cervix. When he pulls out and slams back into you, you can confirm that he did, in fact, kiss it. Jungkook moans against you, gripping your hands in his own and pinning them above your head. His hips are strong, slamming into you with everything he has left in him. You’re a goddess below him, legs around his shoulders, fingers digging into the upper side of his palm, tears streaming down your cheeks as you feel all he is giving you.

“F-Faster,” you beg. Jungkook is happy to obey.

He takes your hips and flips you over, his hands pressing against the upper of your back, pushing your chest down into his sheets. Once satisfied, Jungkook firmly grabs your hips and pistons into you faster, just like you wanted. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, fingers gripping the sheets, legs twitching in resistance as he fucks into you like a madman. His nose is crunched, lip bleeding between his teeth as he tries to hold back his orgasm. Usually, he never feels ready to release this early. But, you’re the girl he’s always wanted. And now you’re in his bed, begging him to fuck you without prepping you and go faster and claim you, and—god, it's all too perfect. You’re too perfect.

Your moans are like honey in his ears, the sweetest music he’s ever heard. He slaps your ass hard—once, twice, so many times. You scream to it all, each one pushing you over the edge.

“This is mine, you hear?” he growls from behind you, gripping your ass in his hand before slapping it again. “You hear me?” he asks again, gripping your hips tighter and forcibly slapping them against his own hips. The impact makes you gush around him, your high following his forcefulness in squirts of your release. You don’t see it, but Jungkook’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sight. No way did you just squirt all over his cock. Can this night get any better?

Maybe it can, because he feels his own release closely following. But he edges himself, pulling out of you to look at the mess you made instead of chasing his high.

You’re so embarrassed, digging your face into your hands as you hear him press his hand into his sopping wet duvet cover.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whimper. You refuse to meet his eyes, even when he flips you over and sits next to your face.

“C’mere,” he pats his lap.

“Jungkook,” you whine, absolutely mortified. Is he mad? You can’t tell. He hasn’t mentioned anything about your release.

“Baby, come here,” he speaks to you with honey laced in his voice. Your heart thumps at the fact that he called you “baby”. Were your dreams coming true?

You gather yourself and weakly climb onto his lap, immediately digging your face into his shoulder.

“Was that bad? You didn’t cum,” you ask him, voice trembling into his neck. God, this is so mortifying. “I won’t do it again, I pro—”

“Like fucking hell you won’t,” he holds your waist firmly again. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen y/n,” he bites your ear. “It’s taking everything in me not to be gentle with you right now.”

Your eyes meet his hungered ones. You were wrong, and you know it not only from him saying so but also from his pulsating cock below. It is twitching and leaking with so much precum, you almost think that it is his cum itself if it weren’t for the clearness of it. And then you realize that he’s edging himself.

“I-I want this to last longer, but I don’t want to hurt you cause I—” his head falls back in a strained moan when you press a finger to his tip, playing with the precum leaking down himself. “Cause I know I will if you don’t take control of me right now…so, ride me,” he demands.

You kiss his neck, feeling lighter that you made him feel strong enough to nearly lose his control just from your orgasm. With power in your hands, you lift your hips just enough to hover your pussy over his twitching cock, sliding down slowly.

Jungkook’s hands come to your hips again, completely out of breath. “H-Holy shit, y/n,” he gasps when he stares down at his dick disappearing and reappearing as you bounce on his cock. “God, you’re going to murder me, aren’t you?”

You laugh at his comment. Although, he’s far from laughing, focusing all his energy on controlling his orgasm. Face falling into your neck, he’s mumbling things you don’t understand as you massage his sweaty scalp again. He moans at your touch, feeling overly sensitive and extremely, beyond-belief, horny. He wants to cum so bad, but he also wants this to last.

“You can cum, Kook,” you whisper into his scalp. You don’t know if you have it in you to cum again. Squirting is so powerful, and it usually takes everything out of you. But you might, considering you have the strength to ride him to no tomorrow. “It’s okay.”

“N-No,” he breathes against your neck, panting. “Can’t. Want it to last.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh against his cheek. “I don’t plan on making you a one-night, Jungkook.”

“A-Ah,” his hips twitch into you. “I-um, ffuccck, y/n!” he sways your hips back and forth on his cock rapidly. “Y-You sure? It’s going to be a lot.”

“Mhm,” you smile down at him.

“Fuck, o-okay,” he breathes out shakily. Jungkook then bucks his hips fast into yours from underneath you, unrelenting and ruthless. You feel his hot ropes fill you up just seconds later. For what feels like a full minute of him pumping his cum into you, his face resting against your breasts in fucked-out glory.

You two rest there, letting his cum pool at the connection of your bodies while you rest against each other. What finally breaks you out of your own daze is the sound of fireworks just outside Jungkook's bedroom window.

You can see the array of colors lighting up the sky, his digital clock on his nightstand reading 12:00am.

“Hey,” you whisper into his hair, kissing his sweaty scalp. “Happy New Year.”

Jungkook detaches his cheek from your chest, bringing his face up to graze his nose against yours. Smiling into your lips he whispers,

“I’m gonna make it right, y/n. This will be our year.”

---

[Bonus]

[Aecha]: Hope you got home okay.

[Aecha]: Ended up a little stuck between Hoseok’s thighs.

[Y/n]: Funny story.

[Y/n]: I never made it home last night.

[Aecha]: WHAT?!

[Aecha]: Are you okay??

[Y/n]: More than okay.

y/n sent an image

[Aecha]: No

[Aecha]: Fucking

[Aecha]: Way

[Aecha]: I—AKJDAKSJHFJKASFKLDJSAFKLJSFA!!! Y/N!!!!

[Y/n]: So like.

[Y/n]: I’m no longer a single lady?

[Aecha]: AHHHHHHHHH Y/N!!!!!

[Aecha]: JESUS DID HE LEAVE ANY INCH OF YOUR SKIN Y/S/C?!?

[Y/n]: We had a lot of…catching up to do lol.

[Aecha]: I’d say.

[Aecha]: I’m the maid of honor. Understand me?

[Y/n]: Lol. You got it.

~~

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

[tricksterlatte]

Akeshu Holiday Heist Special WIP

This was going to be a oneshot sequel to my completed Persona 5 Akechi/Joker fanfic, Chase the Joker, set nearly one year after the ending. While I still have a few oneshots set in their future planned, this one's entire concept was changed, and the fic was scrapped. Since I had fun writing their banter, I'm going to post the WIP here anyways. You can read underneath the cut! As it's incomplete, there is no concrete ending to this segment at this time.

Sometimes, life could feel just like a Christmas movie. One could find the true meaning of holiday cheer amidst the chaos, no matter who they are or where they came from. It was a special time of year, and whether people celebrated or not, sometimes beautiful magic happened. 

Joyful moments could be shared underneath the tree as families discover the true meaning of the holiday season, whether related to Santa Clause, the meaning of life, or Kentucky Fried Chicken. True love could be discovered underneath the mistletoe, all while some coworker’s annoying as hell kids at the office Christmas party went ooh or help me or perhaps ew, gross much? On occasion, the stars aligned just right each December, and picturesque moments captured in the mind’s eye forever would feel just like the more diverse Hallmark movies. All three of them, if you were being generous.

It was at these times one must remember Die Hard was also a Christmas movie…which was the evidence Akira needed to utilize for their current situation, no matter how Goro denied it, all while they drove towards some rich bastard’s Christmas bash on a hellbent mission.

Car rides anywhere were enjoyable as long as they were with each other, and in the end that was all Akira could ask for. As Goro rambled on and on about cultural variations of the holiday, and how supposedly none of them involved homicide, Akira just held back laughter while applying the reddest lipstick known to man. He hadn’t ever worn a cocktail dress before today, but no one could deny he looked incredible. He was dressed to the nines in luscious red, a silky wig, and enough makeup that not even his own parents would recognize him, and yet it wasn’t technically for a date. What a homophobic shame dealt to him by the gods themselves.

…Okay, his parents hadn’t seen him in years, and the last time had been Goro punching his father in the face. It was better stated that not even his cat would recognize him, but Akira didn’t want to think about that either. So instead he just bickered with the man he loved.

“Honey, listen,” Akira countered, after Goro ranted for the entire length of some bubbly kpop song about being merry and happy. “I know you pride yourself on being right about everything, and I support you unconditionally, but have you ever considered you’re totally wrong about literally everything? We are living out a Christmas movie right now. I’m right.”

“Stating I’m wrong without providing actual evidence as to why again, Akira?” Goro said with an eye roll, though his rolling eyes struggled to stay focused on the road when Akira’s dress kinda showed his upper thigh. “You would not have lasted one week in a university setting’s debate team, and it shows.”

“Hey, neither of us went to college, on account of me being a sexy criminal superstar and you being sexy and also super dead. At least I read dozens of books on mythology and cultural figures when we still had the Nav,” Akira said right back. “I’m a master debater–”

“I swear if you say ‘and also a masturbator,’ I’m hitting the brakes at mach speed.”

“I mean no, I don’t need to do that when we’re in the same room twenty-four hours a day. Wow, you have such a dirty mind, did you know that?”

Goro finally stared not at the road nor Akira’s legs, but a secret third thing–his smug, stupid face, so he could shoot Akira the nastiest of glares. “Quite the talk from someone who made a kidnapping roleplay joke months after literally being kidnapped.”

Okay, that had been one time. And they were not talking about it. Not if Akira could help it. He finished applying the last of his makeup and examined himself in the mirror. If looks could kill, Akira wouldn’t need a knife tonight. Tragically, he still needed a knife, but at least he was pretty. 

“I never joked about that again, give me and my coping mechanisms some credit. Anyways, enough talk about my abduction. Ever heard of Krampus? He’s like the Mementos Grim Reaper used to be, except real, and festive, and I’m pretty sure he murdered children. How’s that for Christmas cheer?”

“I appreciate the sentiment behind a morally dubious Christmas special, but…Krampus aside, the holiday genre as a whole is ill-suited for activities such as murder, once we put aside frequently debated titles. There is a reason films such as Die Hard and American Psycho are commonly dismissed from a place among happy-go-lucky Christmas movies, and that’s due to them only portraying the holiday as background noise in favor of an action plot. It’s only a timestamp when all is considered, nothing more.”

God, Goro was so pretentious. No wonder Akira was in love with him. Here they were, driving towards some multimillionaire’s holiday party with a heist in mind and also assassination if push came to shove, and yet Goro was blasting some American artist’s holiday music on the Jokermobile speakers and discussing American fucking Psycho versus the concept of Christmas cheer. If he wasn’t wearing nondescript black clothing and gun holsters, Akira would blame the irritated snarl gracing Goro’s face on this Michael Buble person singing some no homo anthem about his buddy Santa.

Akira just giggled in his best falsetto, preparing himself for whatever crossdressing shenanigans he had to pull for their mission tonight, and flipped his wig over his shoulder. Brief little moments of domestic bliss were nice after everything, even if most people wouldn’t get it. 

“Okay, ignore the murder then. We’re still living in a real life romcom whether you think my jokes are funny or not, since my entire life is a joke.” Another unimpressed squint as Goro kept his eyes on the road. The self-deprecation didn’t hit like it used to for either of them. Damn their efforts to rebuild Akira’s self-esteem. Those efforts were getting in the way of dark humor! “It’s December 24th, we’re on our way to crash a Christmas party, and we are romantic and comedic. We even took that don we now our gay apparel song to heart, come on!”

Goro snorted, ever the long-suffering, disgruntled man in the face of whatever the fuck Akira was doing. “That can be said for your outfit tonight, but I don’t recall a black turtleneck ever winning one of those ridiculous ugly Christmas sweater contests.”

“No, see, you’re just dressed like the gay goth cousin who sits at the kids’ table during family gatherings because he hates his homophobic relatives.” Akira knew this because he had once been the gay goth cousin who sat at kids’ tables during their rare family gatherings because he hated his homophobic relatives.

Goro looked from Akira, to the road, to their GPS. His brow furrowed and he bit his lip once he saw how little time was left until their arrival. The plan had been for Goro to park the car and follow behind closely, and Akira would do the actual infiltration with a fake identity and a fake adoration for being surrounded by the rich and pompous. The flashy getup was excessive, in Goro’s opinion, but plenty of Shido’s affiliates, and therefore Goro’s whether he liked them or not, were occupying this little gala. Of the two of them, Akira was less likely to be recognized, especially when dressed like this.

That didn’t mean Goro was fond of the idea whatsoever, but that was only one stressor among the many weighing them down tonight. As Goro parked the car, Akira finalized his appearances one more time, double-checking his heels were just short and thick enough that he could still run in them, and that not a hair looked out of place.

He only became aware of his nervous expression when Goro turned off the radio. Turning to face his partner in crime, he saw anxiety reflected back at him, and Akira gulped down a lump in his throat. “Hey,” Akira said, reaching over to grab Goro’s hand as it held the steering wheel in a vice grip. “I know this time of year is stressful for everyone, but I’m going to be okay–”

“Are you okay, though?” Goro cut him off, flexing his fingers before letting go of the wheel. He squeezed his eyelids shut and visibly fought to unclench his jaw. “You’ve spent the entire car ride cracking ridiculous jokes and making up your own lyrics to every damn orchestra cover that played on the radio, but if you’re trying to hide how nervous you are, you’re not doing a great job. I thought we talked about this.”

Akira winced. Keeping secrets hadn’t been his goal at all, but he couldn’t blame Goro for that train of thought. Old habits die hard, whether trauma was involved or otherwise. He flopped back against the headrest, shifting their hands so their fingers intertwined. Even with gloved hands, the grip grounded both of them. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I just know if I think too much about the worst case scenarios, I won’t be able to focus on anything else. I’m worried about you too, though. What’s wrong? Is it about splitting up?”

The telltale twitch of Goro’s hand was all the answer Akira needed. He stayed silent and gave Goro a moment to find his words, taking in his harrowed expression as Goro’s thumb brushed across the various scars all over Akira’s hand. Goro had always wielded words masterfully on television and even in battle, whether they were honeyed vinegar or vulgar curses, but words conveying his innermost feelings still didn’t come easily. Akira wasn’t good at sharing his burdens purposefully either just yet, but they were trying. 

They were both getting better about trust and honesty, but sometimes Akira worried parts of them would always be trapped in the past, terrified of losing one another, or maybe in some long-lost Palace there was Goro, kneeling on some bloody floor or panicking in a hotel room, or there was Akira, trapped in a diner or tied to a chair in that hellish basement or crawling across frozen earth in a desperate rush because he couldn’t let him die, not here, not again–

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Akechi’s voice broke Akira out of the spiral before it could properly start. Suddenly Akechi’s head gently bumped into the side of Akira’s, and his thumb rubbed circles against Akira’s knuckles. Right. It was December, in the present day, almost a full year after three no good, very bad days. They were alive. They were okay. “I’ll admit I’m not fond of splitting up. I…I can’t lose you again.” Okay, so maybe Akira wasn’t the only one spiraling over that possibility. “If you no longer wanted to mingle with Shido’s trash, I would gladly take our little getaway car and drive wherever you wish–”

“Nope, I’m still going,” Akira butted in. He wasn’t offended by Akechi’s offer, but he didn’t want to back down now, and he knew Akechi didn’t either. He could do this. It wasn’t like he had to kill a million people, all he had to do was break into some big wig’s computer with a flash drive and then get the hell out of there. Hopefully no one paid attention to him, once they got over the dress and heels. “I have a dagger and I’m not afraid to use it, and I have my earpiece just in case. You have a sword and multiple guns and an actual sniper rifle. Give the both of us some credit! I killed a god three Christmases ago. A little breaking and entering is what the kids call small potatoes.”

Akechi said nothing, but at the rate he was stressing, he would fracture every bone in Akira’s hand, induce heart murmurs faster than you could say four Five Hour Energy shots, and go bald by age twenty-three. Refusing to let the man who was essentially his husband lose all his hair, Akira indulged in their old favorite vice: deflecting and changing the subject. “Also, this isn’t the getaway car. Stop besmirching the good name of our dearly beloved Jokermobile–”

“It’s not a good name at all, Akira,” said Akechi as he forced himself to relax. He didn’t buy the facade, but Akira wasn’t trying to fool him. They both just needed to calm down before they did anything reckless…even if a heist was also reckless. “Your habit of naming inanimate objects is getting out of hand. This isn’t the Jokermobile, it’s a black 2016 Toyota Highlander, and you only named it that because you wanted to make rear-ending jokes.”

Well, it was a good thing they had only been rear-ended by an actual car once, then. Akira took full responsibility for that one, it was his fault for trying to drive with a broken leg. Pour one out for the fire hydrant, the greatest victim of that hit-and-run besides Akira’s psyche. “And yet you never thought of a better name. Checkmate.”

“You’re insufferable,” Akechi sighed. 

“I think you meant irresistible, honey,” said Akira.

“Oh, pardon me. I meant to say you’re irritating and irresponsible. My mistake.” 

Goro didn’t give Akira time to reply before he unbuckled his seatbelt and inspected his holsters. “Do you have the flashdrive ready to go?” Akira reached into a side pocket of his dress and showed Goro the flash drive, shoving it back inside once Goro nodded. “And your dagger?” He flipped his skirt completely to the side, exposing lacy black underwear on top of the dagger strapped to the thigh lacking a dress slit. Goro forcibly ignored that and interrogated him again like the bastard cop he once pretended to be. “And your earpiece?”

Wow, not even a verbal reaction to his underwear of choice? Bummer. Akira rolled his eyes and gently swept the wig away. Barely visible inside his ear was the earpiece, but it was in place just as planned. Smiling and hoping the red lipstick wouldn’t smudge onto his teeth, he flashed Goro a thumbs up. “Yes, Goro, I’ll hear your illustrious voice loud and clear. What about yours?”

“I put mine on before we left. I came prepared, unlike you.”

“It’s not a competition, Goro.”

“Akira, we turn everything into a competition whether we like it or not.”

God, could Goro stop making good points tonight? He was beating Akira in the argument category of the Rivalry Olympics. Fucker. Conceding for now, Akira pouted as Goro let go of his hand to climb into the back. “Do we have any of those canned coffees left?” he asked while Goro inspected his ammunition.

“I grabbed extra at the 777 earlier, along with some other beverages,” Goro replied, briefly ignoring his mission prep in favor of caffeinating the idiotic love of his life. As Goro reached into their cooler, he continued, “Some are black, some have cream or sugar. How do you want your coffee tonight, my dear Joker?”

“Black like my soul, Crow,” Akira replied, fondly recalling his dear pal Satanael on the anniversary of a god’s death. Goro gave him a long, hard look, then hurled a bottle of milk at Akira’s face. Naturally, Akira caught it with all the proficiency in the universe. Then he hurled it right back at Goro, who snatched it from the air without even looking. Well, if Satanael wasn’t allowed, then Arsene better be. “Fine. Something with French roast, also like my soul.”

[lyonfreddie]

prolonged wailing and gnashing of teeth under the cut!!!

let me just preface this by saying that i never get super personal on here anymore but i really just need to vent!!!!

i love my job mostly because i love my coworkers. i work in development/fundraising at a pretty big museum and our team of 5 is all a bunch of young professional women with Good Taste and Witty Banter. like we are all successionpilled. i would hate my job so much if i didn’t work with these people. last week, my favorite coworker announced she was moving to another city and got a job there to be with her long-distance fiancé (he got a tenure track job and obviously... cannot move lmao), and i was SO SAD because she is SO COOL and SO POISED and i want to be just like her, but i took comfort in the fact that we would still have 4/5 of our lovely team still together.

and then my boss pulls me aside first thing this morning and tells me SHE’S LEAVING TO LMFAO

like. i’m literally going to go insane. after march 16, our team of 5 will be a team of 3, and we won’t have either a leadership giving manager OR a membership manager. i print member cards and assemble renewal/new member packets once a week each week as my Big Project but before my boss leaves she’s going to teach me how to do pretty much everything she does that she hasn’t taught me yet. which is really, really nice of her, and also kind of a vote of confidence—i seriously doubt she would take another job if she wasn’t absolutely sure she was leaving her membership program in capable hands. 

my boss is the best boss i’ve ever had. she’s so organized and she knows everything about our museum’s institutional history because she was working there before it was even built. she has always given me clear instructions and honest feedback and she’s just so, so funny. she’s great. we’re practically the same person and have the same interests. and i still have so much left to learn from her. it almost feels unfair that she’s leaving, but i’m an actual adult now and i know this is the correct career move for her. she’s not even going that far. she’s going to work at another museum that is like 800 feet away from us.

but i’m still SO fucking sad. i’ve been crying on and off all day, including at work, where i had to hold it all in. the major gifts officer saw me at the printer and was like ‘you must be feeling sad, huh’ and all i could say was ‘yeah’ and she patted me on the back and i almost lost it in the middle of the office. like... GOD

it’s so embarrassing. i pride myself on being very cool and calm and collected, and the rest of my team always tells me it’s nice how i’m so calm all the time, especially when we’re running events. but i literally walked home today and then sat on the floor of my apartment and bawled for 5 straight minutes until i was out of breath. lol. i am going to be a wreck for every single bit of their farewells and it is not going to be pretty. i’m so sad. i’m so scared. what the fuck.

i’ve also just like... been On Edge for the past week or so in a way that hasn’t really manifested since grad school. my first semester of grad school was when i developed really bad anxiety that only manifested as physical symptoms—nausea, diarrhea, constipation, loss of appetite, insomnia, weird painful muscle cramps, etc. to the point where i literally thought i was on the verge of death! i’ve been reading a book about the salem witch trials and couldn’t help but notice that the “fits” described by the “afflicted” were weirdly similar to how my anxiety jumped out, save for, like, hallucinations. it’s a good book and i want to finish it but just thinking about the similarities almost gave me a panic attack one night... which is crazy. and then i woke up this morning and found out my stupid hemorrhoid is flaring up again. which, in retrospect, just seems like an omen. lmao.

if there is any silver lining to this at all, it’s that there is a possibility i may be promoted to membership manager. i’m currently at the coordinator level, but when my boss broke the news to me, she said that we’d be working with our external membership consultant (who i’ve met! she’s great.) to help keep renewal notices and regular mailings going out. presumable until i’m up to speed. i’ve been at this museum for over a year, and full-time for 7 months. they might wait a few months, until i get closer to a year as a FT employee. or they might just hire a new boss for me. i’m ok staying at the coordinator level for a little while longer; it’s nice not having to worry a TON about budgets and financial goals. but i could probably do it if pressed. and getting a big ass salary bump would be nice.

if you made it all the way to the end, thank you for being cringe with me 🤝 the reason this is here and not in my journal is because there was clearly too much to put into my journal without having my hand cramp up. i’ll be ok. i’ll get through this. but it’s gonna fucking suck 😭

[ennoshawty]

HQ CAPTAINS AS THINGS

i was bored and felt like doing a crackfic thing but i didn’t have any solid themes or good ideas

SO I PRESENT TO YOU - THE CAPTAINS. AS THINGS. IDK HOW TO WORD THIS BUT YOU’LL SEE AS WE GO ALONG.

warnings: VERY LONG, slandering a crybaby oikawa (lovingly), mentions f!reader, shitposting, mentions of violence in kita's, (a bit) yandere!kita, cursing, unedited, me being an idiot

officer!daichi

we are: vigilante/troublemaker

loving the enemies-to-lovers trope so much

nah bro you ain’t full criminal (bc my preppy ass could never) you just do the small vandalism things y’know like drawing peepees on government buildings and knocking over bins

u literally confessed to him by spraypainting the entire billboard by his workplace “I LIKE YOU” like way to go girl

He didn’t appreciate the creative graffiti but he rlly likes u so all u had to do was clean it and then next thing u know yall are out on a cute cafe date

but let’s talk about before yall got together

he’d CHASE u thru alleyways when he’d catch you writing “police sux” on the fuckin wall

bro is NOT AT ALL afraid to jump onto the roofs it’s FRIGHTENING to see this huge ass police officer storm after u

HES SO FAST HOT DAMN WOMAN HOW DO U GET AWAY FROM HIM??? USAIN BOLT WHOMST???

you’d almost always get away by a hair - he’s SO SO close

and it frustrates him but excites u oooooo arrest me shawty

and this would continue for a while

but yall have such fun fun banter - you’d tease him and he’d say something back and you’d bolt and he’d chase

some days he’d catch you. but in those times u slip away somehow

he’s having so much fun and doesn’t even know it

and then at one point he doesn’t even care about bringing u to justice anymore. he knows it’s bad for business and it’s unprofessional but he’s so attracted to u

he doesn’t even know it. HES IN DENIAL!!! his mind: “oh i’m just asking about her so that i know her motives” bruh no u just asked about our fav pastry this aint about crime anymore

and when he finally gets it,,,DINGDINGDINGDING SOUND THE ALARMS !!! MAN IS WHIPPED!! he’s more shy around u awww,,,doesn’t even want to chase u anymore but he will still engage in banter w u.

yall get a little peace treaty in the lil crush stage - you both are kinda aware of ur feelings towards each other but don't really wanna mess it up and jeopardize whatever's going on like bros PLEASE JUST KISS ITS INFURIATING

it’s more of a competition to see who will break the other first (and you lost he’s too hot)

he lets u joyride his cop car in an empty parking lot <3 he is the one <3 this is true love

u gotta marry him right now bro no excuses

u are no longer on the crime side of the law,,,u support him and only him fuck the rest of the cops (i’m jk of course...or am i)

u are his badass sidekick <3 unofficially of course until he marries u

u help him with the small things like helping lost children find their parents and helping old ladies cross the street

but you want to do the FUN stuff - chasing thieves and arresting drunkards.

unfortunately, he loves u too much to put u in danger so he keeps u from doing the dangerous things

after some protesting later, he trusts u to take care of urself. and now yall have a competition just like old times - whoever catches the most baddies at the end of the month wins (he WILL scold u if ur too reckless though)

THE TWO OF U ARE JUST GOOD COP BAD COP UHAHAHAHAHAHA

but it’s much more complicated than that - it’s either ur the laidback one and he’s the strict one or ur the fiery one and he’s the person like “calm down”

PLEASE HE HATES BRINGING U TO INTERROGATIONS he’s trying to be serious but you keep making him laugh istg he has to kick u out each time

u still make him laugh when u pout-glare at him thru the glass

bro says he’s not the stereotypical cop but the moment u surprise him with donuts and coffee in the morning he will make out w u right then and there

even though yall dating he still won’t let u play with his equipment

but sometimes u grab his walkie talkie when he’s not looking and prank call the others

and his coworkers know by now they’re like “oh it’s daichis gf” and go along with it HAHAHAHA “this is alpha 1, daichi just contracted ligma, over.” “roger, but what’s ligma? over.” “*inhale* LIGMA-” *daichi takes the walkie talkie back*

his coworkers are chill lmaoooo they love u two as a couple THEY ARE VERY SUPPORTIVE they planned a surprise anniversary party of when u joined the force (unofficially)

the juniors tanaka and noya are jelly ooooo but they respect their captain <3

u loooooove hanging out w the starry-eyed new recruit hinata and he’s bouncing around asking u personal questions “how did you date the commander!!! what’s he like as a bf??” he also accidentally exposes how much daichi talks about u in the office before he drags him away and murders him off camera

he does get u a walkie talkie that’s just connected to his line, tho. for emergencies. it’s ur second phone basically that only has his number in it

daichi LOVES it when u massage him after he’s had a long day but his shoulders are stiff as a statue,,,he’s also super stronk and can carry u anywhere <333

IMAGINE HE HAS A POLICE DOG - he doesn’t, but he’ll get one of his buddies to bring u a k9 unit so u can pet it and when he sees how happy u are he considers getting one PLSSS IT WOULD FIT HIM HELPPP

bro is VERY strict on safety. bulletproof glass in yalls house. alarms + cameras everywhere. trackers on every device. underground bunker. (just kidding lol)

daichi teaches u self-defense and gets u a bejeweled taser for ur bday <333 MARRY THIS MAN RIGHT NOW OR I’LL-

in other words i love daichi and he is husband material WIFE ME UP BUDDY

househusband!oikawa

we are: girlboss sugar mommy

somehow you tamed this bish to becoming your obedient malewife

and by obedient i mean whiny but compliant

IS MORE ATTACHED TO YOUR BLACK CARD THAN TO YOU. I SAID IT. THE TRUTH.

sure, he’s pretty and gives affection sometimes but the only time he’s bein cute and snuggly w u is when a new fendi purse came out and he wants it

his specialty is cooking but he’s so lazy he’s all “just get the maid to do it”

please give ur workers a raise he’s so demanding

when you take him to ur business parties hes ALWAYS bragging about you and ur large house with this and that and his favorite: indoor hot tub. he always brings up the indoor hot tub.

only reason you bring him is cuz he’s pretty and he whines when you leave him alone for too long

yall cant even stay for too long - he’ll practically drag u out of the building and whining that it’s too hot and his suit is too stuffy and to call a limo

he’s not afraid to embarrass u if u dont give him what he wants and he will spit out food at a formal dinner if its not to his liking

probably in competition w househusbands! makki and mattsun about who gets the best house so he’s constantly begging u for an extension to the house “please babe!!! makki has-” “no.”

8/10 times throws tantrums in public and 1465/10 times throws tantrums in the house

he wants to cry for the sake of crying. one time he lost his shirt and he wouldn’t stop bawling for 15 min

please find him a hobby

crybaby . the moment u give him the glare of death it’s over. but he’s got a cute crying face which makes up for his annoying whimpering

like he made the mistake of throwing a temper tantrum in the mall only for you to glare at him with a look that said “we’re discussing this when we get home and you’re gonna get your ass beat” and walk away. immediately stopped what he was doing and he was running after u, sniffling and mumbling apologies

please humble him and have him sleep outside. the couch is too luxurious to banish him to. he made sure of it himself. it’s reclining and has charging ports. he will not learn his lesson that way

does NOT want you to get a pet or a kid or even another sugar baby/househusband - he wants to be the center of ur attention

speaking of which he HATES it when you work for too long or work overseas. when u come back he’ll pout at u and give u the petty silent treatment

don’t bother trying to comfort him he thrives off of it and he’ll keep going so u can keep paying attention to him. if u just ignore him back he’ll come crawling back to u. “WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME IGNORING YOU?? DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME ANYMORE???”

one time yall got into a fight and he was all like “since ur being a rude mommy i’ll just find someone else !!!” inside u were like “oh god finally” but instead u said “okay”

ohmygod he panicked. he was rlly expecting for u to fight for him,,, but he doesn’t want to admit defeat first so he tries to go thru with it but you literally dont care. even when he has his chanel luggage packed and he’s standing by the door ur just like “ok bye bitch”

So he’s trying to stand by the door and wait for u to say that ur joking. ur not.

“fine! I’m leaving now!” “okay.” “...*sniffles*” “tooru, go.” “WAAAAH NO IM SORRY I DONT WANT TO-”

u knew this was going to happen sadly. u even hid the keys to all of the sports cars u own just in case he was actually going to go thru with it

tries to get in the gossip circle with the neighborhood trophy wives but they don’t think he’s cool enough. they like u though. they think ur hot asf and oikawa doesn’t like them no more bc theyre hitting on his ATM. but thanks to that u know all the gossip and shit even though u don’t ask for it

Every time u pass by a store where he thinks he wants something he’ll just cling to u and give the puppy dog eyes. like it could be out of nowhere and u see it and you’re like “where. which store.”

bro once he went luxury he never went back. he wouldn’t EVER step foot into a grocery store ever again congrats he’s been bimbo-ified

beat him with ur gucci belt pls it’s so funny

also please please PLEASE discipline him. tell him it’s NOT okay to just randomly purchase the entire swarovski store or to throw a party at ur house just bc he’s feeling petty about u being at work for too long. ofc he’ll bitch about it but you need to be firm

but don’t worry,,,he’ll get the idea when u take away black card privileges and slap him around (lovingly)

now he has to ask permission like a good boy. he’ll kneel and hug u and give a lil pout and whine

you got a bigass man child i’m sorry maam u should’ve picked tobio or ushi

ceo!kuroo

we are: secretary

bruh keeps it mostly professional during work hours

but that all gets shedded off like a snake when we on break

one minute he’s all “get these papers done by today or i swear on all that is holy i will destroy you” and then later he’s all “hey sweetheart wanna grab a cup of coffee”

flirty flirty FLIRTY FLIRTY AAAAA HES A MENACE

but you’re less than impressed bc y’know when the time clocks out and its time to go back to work he’s ruthless once more

HUMBLE HIM FOOL only when you’re on break though

will NOT stand for anyone else in the workplace bullyin u - NO WAY. only HIM

he’s got TONS and TONS of dirt on everyone in the office - NO ONE is safe so they wouldn’t even dare

RIP janet from accounting

that dumb bitch made the mistake of insulting u to ur face and in front of him. never heard from her again

it’s not even limited to the other employees - he’s not afraid to go off on a potential business partner if they dared disrespect you

bruh tries to call u on ur off days for the most randomest shit and to get ur attention

*picks up phone* “sir?” “ah! my favorite secretary ever! listen, i need you to grab my pens from my desk at the office and bring them to my place.” “...with all due respect, it’s 2 am, sir.”

but u have to comply with his ridiculous demands cuz he’s the bank

and he depends on u completely. as much as he hates to admit it - u have his schedules, itinerary, provide coffee, performance rates, stock info, you name it.

once u were out sick and he had the worst management - he’s not used to working without you

def tries to get some of ur workload off of u bc he’s worried that the stress of working for him made u sick + he doesn’t want to go thru scheduling again

prolly gets bored in meeting rooms and sends u little smirks and wiggles his eyebrows and weird looks while he’s sitting and ur standing in the corner like bruh pay attention

maybe sometimes he’s secretly makin fun of the presenter and doodling on his spare sticky note something funny to make u crack a smile

he’ll tease u for it of course “oh, secretary! you should be paying more attention! what would you do if this was important?” bruh i can multitask now keep airdropping me ur selfies i’m saving all of them (news flash: u dont save his dumbass selfies otherwise his ego will inflate too much)

sometimes likes to pull u aside from work to hug u - you say it’s highly unprofessional but he says it’s his stress reliever

you ALMOST got caught by one of the newbies and he was kabedon-ing you

he tries to play it off (since u were embarrassed too) but u know better,,,DO NOT LET HIM FORGET ABOUT IT he turns red and embarrassed every single time USE THIS TO UR ADVANTAGE !!

never goes into an elevator without you bruh is so attached to u n holds the doors open for you

but you have to open normal doors for him if he doesn’t know how it works (hint: manual doors. “why isn’t it opening on its own?” “sir, there’s a handle.” “but?? what does it do??”)

bruh acts like a dumbass sometimes so you can baby him :/// wtf man just because you’re rich doesn’t mean i’ll- ...wait...how much did you say…? that many zeros? HAND ME THAT FORK YES I’LL FEED YOU COME HERE- HERE COMES THE AIRPLANE BITCH

brings u to overseas trips and he spoils u too

no matter how much you insist that you’re ok he gives u a lot of luxurious items. “think of it as a bonus from me.” NOW YOU JUST HAVE A COLLECTION OF NICE SHOES/BAGS/JEWELRY AND HE LOVES IT WHEN YOU WEAR THEM TO WORK IT MAKES HIM SO HAPPY UGHHHHH

BRUH just a sugar daddy at this point “you have to look presentable for the next focus group so here’s a nice rolex watch” “sir, i don’t need-” “ah ah ah - it’s my treat.”

it’s pointless to refuse him but he still teases u for it like what???? “if i didn’t know any better, secretary, i’d say you’re just doing it for my money and not my fabulous looks and personality.” “exactly.” “hey!”

yall go for drinking parties a lot. whether with the whole branch or just the two of u

KARAOKE W KUROO AFTER A LONG DAY OF WORK <333 becomes a ritual between the two of u

he’s so silly when he’s drunk lmfaoooo goofy ass mf

but that’s only when it’s the two of u. he controls his alcohol around others and his uncool side is only for u <3

also ur the only one he trusts to take him back to his place and handle him

it’s the other way around too - when u drink a lot he looks after you <333

you have a higher tolerance than him and sometimes u have competitions between the two of u on who can drink more but then yall always end up shitfaced

HES the one who has a crush on you

you know the drill - gaslight gatekeep girlboss

he’ll do anything for u but wouldn’t ever admit it he simp

offers u the keys to his estate and offers for you to LIVE with him

bruh just marry me already ok WAIT WE’RE NOT EVEN DATING YOU NEED TO WORK ON THAT SIR-

he’s so awkward tryna confess to u,,,he may be this big hotshot ceo but he’s acting like a schoolgirl in love

probably prints u a confession when he asks u to go to the fax machine lmfao what a nerd

in other words ceo!kuroo is a nerd and you need to top him immediately get that bank

dog hybrid!bokuto

we are: owner

Husky-malamute breed!!! BEEG DOGGIE VERY HAPPY N DROOLY <333

OVERLY HYPER. JUMPS ON ANYONE AND U AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT

he’s well trained i swear but the moment he sees something of interest then i’m sorry you just lost him

please if a robber came in he wouldn’t even attack them he’d just tackle them w hugs

he loves loves loves snuggles <333 u busy? nope!!! hug time!!! cooking something?? oo lemme see!!! whoops look at all those tomatos on the ground. u got a deadline coming up and u really need to focus?? CUDDLE TIIIIIIME- w-wait - huh?? why are u shoving me off?? do you - do you not - huh?!?! WHY ARE YOU LOCKING ME OUT OF THE ROOM?? NO!!!! I LOVE YOU!!! IDK WHAT EXAMS ARE BUT I WANT CUDDLES!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME????!!!

the WORST things u could ever do to him is leave him and call him a bad boy

HE CRIES ON THE SPOT </3 HOW COULD YOU </3

soso bummed when u go out of the house without him </333 waits by the door patiently waiting for u to come back </333 sob sob

the moment he hears the door unlock he LEAPS and his tail is wagging like CRAZY

he is SO STRONG. almost always knocks u over whenever he jumps on u

destroys EVERY toy u bring him. u leave him for 5 seconds and there’s stuffing all over the floor and whatever u brought him is nonexistent

tugs on the leash when u walk so much that it SNAPS

loves romping w the other dogs in the dog park but he needs to tone down on his friendliness he almost killed a lil orange chihuahua

gets distracted by EVERYTHING. ooh, squirrel! oo, butterfly! OOO HUMAN CHILD!! MUST EAT!!!

ok while he might be friendly, he still gets super super jealous. you both were outside and u were petting the neighborhood black cat and bruh almost swallowed his head

which u thought was weird bc the two are normally friends and are pretty nice around each other

so now he’s more feisty around him and any other cat that’d get ur attention

If it was a person, then that’s another thing. He’d be very friendly at first but then slowly realize that ur attention is more directed on them than him. then he’d go ballistic

but when u scold him for practically assaulting the poor dude and call him a bad boy,,,he’s lost it

u have to lock him in the other room and he’s crying and whimpering, scratching at the door. all he wanted to do was protect u from that bad bad man who took away his owner’s attention !!!

def snarls at the dude next time he comes into ur house/apartment...dude never came back

“GRRR” “AAAA GET UR FRIGGIN DOG B-” “he don bite” YES IT DO GET UR-”

doggie bokuto rlly tries to be slick...it doesn’t work. like he tries to do that thing when he’s a total demon towards the guy but then act like an angel around u but it doesnt work bc he’s not smooth

doggie intelligence: 2 IQ. one time u got him a puzzle box and hid a treat in it but bruh couldnt figure it out just straight up monched the entire puzzle simply bc he smelled his fav bbq treat in it

speaking of intelligence - he only knows how to say a few words like ur name and incomplete sentences. speaks in barks and whines and sometimes a word

SO BIG THAT HE GRABS FOOD FROM THE TABLE WHEN YOU’RE NOT LOOKING

u had some delicious beef steak? oh dear, where did it go? there’s ur puppy kou with steak sauce all over his lips

big fan of hiking trips, sports, literally anything that involves going out

he LOVES getting dirty outside playing. boi cant control himself from rolling around in the mud

hates baths at first but then he likes how u spray the water on him and giggles awww he likes bath time now

we all know he’s not the brightest pup of the pack but,,,he’s somehow psychic. he knows when ur taking him to the vet

HE THROWS A BIG FUSS ALL THE TIME - sometimes he tries to hide but his huge tail under the couch gives it away

and he knows when ur thinking of taking him on a walk. he also begs u to take him outside by settling his head in ur lap and pouting until u give him what he wants

he likes the big ol doggie sweaters/pjs u buy him...but he always ruins them. no matter how much u buy him, they’re all ruined. he complains how scratchy it is and it feels weird on him

knows LOTS of tricks but if u teach him more than what he already knows he will forget one of them he’s like a damn pokemon

he feels ur emotions :((( if ur mood is down his tail droops :(( and he gives u cuddles and tries to make u feel better

he even likes to make a fool out of himself and be silly if it makes u laugh :((( he’s so precious

in other words i love doggy bokuto

pirate!ushijima

we are: kidnapped

ah yes we’re are captives of the most fearsome pirates of the seas: shiratorizawa

just so you know, tendou was the instigator. he was all “let’s kidnap a noble’s kid and get the ransom money!” (whether you actually are a noble or not is up to you)

thing is, nobody’s willing to pay (if you aren’t a noble) or the pirates really pissed off the folks in charge and are now doing a manhunt

so yeah you aren’t going back anytime soon

but he’s a pretty good sport about it - very hospitable

he notices the little things u like and gets them for u <333 sighs <333

he saw you reading that book? wow look at that, there’s suddenly a stack of them and the same genre he saw you reading

but you definitely shouldn’t test him. he’s SUPER scary when it comes down to it

you saw how ruthless he was with the rogues that had dared to challenge him on sea

mf made them walk the plank

you help on the ship bc u wanna be useful and also shirabu keeps being mean

he asks u to teach the crew how to read cuz theyre dumb as shit and only know water and treasure

speaking of treasure - when he leaves u on the ship to explore a cave, he gets u really pretty jewelry <33 anything u ask for

“oh, welcome back captain. how was your mission?” “i brought back a few trinkets i thought you might like.” *reveals whole chest of priceless gems* “are they to your liking? if not, we can set sail for something else that might interest you.” “I-”

bruh got a pet eagle - u ask the crew and they dont even know how tf it happened

hell, even he doesn’t know how it happened wtf. “oh. one day it flew down to me and i fed it. that’s all.” wtf

equivalent to diluc’s bird - he didn’t even give it a name so he gives u the honors

U name him rigatoni (you got a great naming sense btw)

oh my god oh my god oh my god HE TRIES TO PROTECT U WHEN PPL WERE TRYNA INVADE THE SHIP

it was the first thing he did no cap - burst into ur room and scoops u up <33333

“what the-” “we need to get you to safety. we are under attack.” and holds u close to his chest AAAHSIDHFPSDHFN OH MY LORD YES

HAS THE TEAM GIVE U SELF DEFENSE LESSONS AFTER THAT

tendou tries to give u a sword but ushi says no “she could hurt herself.”

“but ushiwaka! we can teach her not to hurt herself” “...it’s my orders.” “c’mon, be more honest, ushiwaka! what’s the real reason?”

he goes quiet then looks at u “...i’ll always be there to help. she’ll have me.” AOISHSDHFSNDF

HELPPPPP SIOJFDSKFJP HES SO CHARMING AND HE DOESNT EVEN TRY

but the rest of the crew are like “then what’s the point”

but tendou sneaks u a dagger just to be safe

sorry ur apart of the crew now - but they’re like a family even if they did kidnap u

oh whatever your life before wasn’t as cool as this (no offense)

they are given orders to protect u at all costs

speaking of which - ushi isn’t all that great w guns

almost blew his own head off tryna figure out how it works before reon snatched it from him

he brings you with him to towns and cities and he likes taking u to the markets to get you stuff

ushijima tell me your love language is gift-giving without telling me your love language is gift-giving-

he finds out you’re pretty good at bargaining and brings you onshore a lot more

is mesmerized at how you absolutely BERATE the merchant who was tryna rip you off like sis where is this violence coming from??? he loves it??

he also likes to stop by some pretty islands and imagines just settling down in such a nice place w you <333 SIGHS <333 VERY <333 LOUDLY <333

no matter how much he likes you...he will NOT let you drive the boat under any circumstances </3 its his livelihood c’mon man

whenever you have to stay on the ship while he’s away he sends rigatoni to give messages and the two of u talk thru messages

speaking of which rigatoni is fierce and can definitely sink his talons and his sharp beak into any bastard that dares get near you while the captain is away

wakatoshi “swimming is for pussies” ushijima - he’s water resistant

bruh so powerful he walks on water

second coming of christ who

IM JUST KIDDING he does swim but we hardly ever see it

legends say (tendou says) he looks rlly awkward doing it and only knows how to doggie paddle

speaking of our homeboy tendou - he loooves spooking the team (and especially you) with scary stories . don’t worry tho - this is all a ploy to get the beeg pirate husband to comfort u at night ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) he is ur wingman u can count on him. but his suggestions are ridiculous

“Jump off the deck and see if he’ll catch you!” um excuse me- THOU SHALT NOT PUT BIG HUSBAND TO THE TEST

he’s got good intentions...i think…

but everyone literally knows he would dive after you

in other words pirate!ushijima is a softie at heart but goddamn he probably secretly has a pet shark so dont test him or u goin overboard

mafia leader!kita

we are: associate from different group/family

kita highly respects u and yall have been acquainted since u were young with the alliance of ur families

so in a way ur childhood friends but yall do have lil bit of friendly rivalry a bit

arranged marriage whuuuutttt...yeah thats what happened but u love him <3

nobody else knows about ur arranged marriage but you two

POLITE GENTLEMAN <333 !!! HNNNNNNNN his granny raised him right even tho he’s a mafia leader

RICH BOY RICH BOY RICH BOY- ALWAYS DRESSES DASHINGLY AND SMELLS GREAT MMMMMM

he owns the majority of the underground casinos

and has lots of connections with others. countless, might i add.

you on the other hand specialize as an arms dealer so he cherishes your services the most

prob has the traditional tattoos allllll over his back and shoulders w like a dragon or sm and def a fox or kitsune

when u two were little he asked ur favorite flower and GOT THAT TATTOOED ON HIS BACK <3 probably secretly has your initials hidden in there somewhere

u both have a silent understanding of each other and he talks to u more than he does anyone

before he used to smoke but once he figured out that you didn’t like the smell of cigarettes he quit just like that

his underlings, the miya twins are so confused on how kita switches from totally brutal and ruthless to so soft around u

they can’t tease him for it, though, cuz he’d pulverize them

but they want to know more about u,,,you mysterious enigma,,,but kita would kill them if they dared asked about you

so they go to inarizaki’s most secretive informant/cyber mercenary, suna rintarou

and suna knows all about you. he saw you one time and he was curious about who you were and is now rlly scared of you because he dug too deep and you’ve got LOTS of history

he doesn’t dare tell the twins what he found no matter how much they bug him

until they bribe him at just the right price

and when aran finds out and tells kita?? ohhh boy it’s lights out for all three of them

oh my god ,,, would kill for u he loves u so much

one time you were kidnapped and held hostage

bro saw red

MAFIA ANNIHILATION SPEEDRUN ANY % NO GLITCH

he got world record time

wiped out the entire conglomerate behind it - nothing and nobody left behind after that

and of course, made sure you were safe.

yandere? ofc not...i mean...just look at him...so innocent...he would never...sharpening that knife...with splattered blood all over him...

is now joined at the hip with u,,,no matter how much you tell him you’ll be fine now and that you have tons of reliable bodyguards he won’t let it go

“don’t you have to go back to your place?” “this is my duty as both a fellow associate and your future husband.” aww,,,ur so sweet...but BRUH PLEASE GO HOME ARAN IS DOING EVERYTHING OVER THERE

makes sure to build a headquarters DIRECTLY NEXT TO YOURS so that its faster

and it’s not long until he just signs a deal to merge ur factions together (since yall getting married anyways)

and oh my god...ur underground wedding is SO SO PRETTY

absolutely DOESN’T care if he’s smuggling jewels from different countries - he’s having your ring CUSTOM MADE and the way you want it. “the diamond is too small? sure thing, darling, i’ll have it 7 times that size.”

makes sure everything is perfect in ur wedding <333 its very extravagant and even though its not really his style he’ll do anything for you

he absolutely WOULD take your last name if you wanted. FIGHT ME ON THIS

takes you to his private island for ur honeymoon so that the two of you don’t have to worry about work

meanwhile aran is scrambling around the place trying to cover for the both of you

he’s a VERY romantic husband - NEVER takes off his ring even for security. he says its practically a part of him just like you are <3

the ring has a built in tracker connected to an app. possessive? noooo...

in other words this escalated pretty quickly but i aint complaining if it gets me married to kita

--

--EXTRA EXTRA!! other characters’ roles!!--

officer!daichi:

karasuno squadron consists of:

cops: daichi (duh), asahi (mostly patrol, he hates confrontation), tanaka & noya (mostly accompanied by ennoshita), hinata & kageyama

investigators/detectives: sugawara, ennoshita, yamaguchi, tsukishima, kiyoko, yachi

surveillance: narita, kinoshita, tsukishima too

househusband!oikawa:

makki and mattsun are also househusbands

iwaizumi is a malewife fhasodjkasdhf-

ceo!kuroo:

lev is the newbie that walked in on u two-

janet still a bitch

kenma is his fellow ceo buddy. he also owns a multimillion dollar company and kuroo’s and his have a sort-of contract so you see him a lot in meetings

yaku is like one of the top performing managers so whenever yall have branch meetings he’s there

dog hybrid!bokuto:

kuroo is the black neighborhood cat bokuto almost murdered cough cough i did that on purpose yes i did

kenma is also another neighborhood cat. you don’t see him around that often but now that bokuto got jealous he stays far away.

hinata is the orange chihuahua i briefly mentioned

i couldn’t decide whether akaashi would stay human and be his previous owner or also be a cat/dog/owl. so lets say he’s ur human friend that is your bestie and comes over a lot. bokuto likes him, though. still gets jealous a bit.

pirate!ushijima:

tendou is practically is right hand man

the rest of the team have something to give idk how to explain pirate team members okay-

BUT BUT BUT- they do have sea rivals which are the seijoh pirates. you ran into them one day and oikawa thought you were kidnapped (you were, but you liked it there) so he tried to do you justice and failed miserably. ushijima ragdolled him into the ocean when he flirted w you.

mafia!kita:

the twins are something akin to mercenaries basically. or just plain lackeys.

suna is an informant/cyber mercenary. he gathers information about ppl which is how he knew about you. and he’s a hacker lol.

aran is his second-in-command, omimi + ginjima are his bodyguards

a/n: im going to regret posting this

[evelights]

hello everyone, someone asked me for my lawlight fic recs so i took it as an excuse to make a proper list. enjoy!

complete works:

achromatic - soulmate au, once you meet your soulmate you see color

four - 3 + 1 things, 3 times light kissed L and one time L kissed him first

sugar and pumpkin spice - coffee shop au, i love this one sm for no reason

hot chocolate - just some short quippy + fluffy banter, mostly dialogue

remaster - an ep 25 fix-it in which L makes a deal with rem to save himself and light (and misa)

ignorance is innocence - a yotsuba arc + post-yotsuba arc rewrite of sorts

riddles - an au, light and L meet at a masquerade

accidentally on purpose - an au, light and L are coworkers who keep ending up under the office’s mistletoe

just spit it out - a confession scene, very cute

age of foolishness - yotsuba arc, hurt/comfort + mutual pining, very soft (content warning for eating issues)

frostbite - snowball fight. fluff and (slight) crack

4 times L and light destroyed something while fighting and the 1 time they didn’t - the title is self explanatory LOL

how the mighty fall (in love) - a Rain Scene rewrite, soft and kinda bittersweet

phototaxis - to-oh timeline, L has dinner at light’s house. light’s gotta cruuush

we’re gonna nuke each other up - post-yotsuba arc but its pure fluff. light brushes L’s hair and has gay thoughts

orbit - to-oh timeline, L has lunch with light and his ‘friends’ at uni. except they are embarrassingly gay and said friends are very clearly third wheeling.

unfolding of miscalculations - to-oh timeline. light is just. so gay.

rhythm of your heart - yotstuba arc, pure raw mutual pining to the max. literally so soft i melt every time i read it.

moth to a flame - light and L meet at a concert and fall in love before light finds the death note

white chocolate roses - au, light is a cardiologist and L is his terminally ill patient. fair warning, this fic made me genuinely sob for a good 10-15 minutes. it hurts. it is beautiful and it hurts.

incomplete works:

icaras (grow your wings and burn) - (ongoing) one of my favs ever. au in which the death note gives light wings. so beautifully written.

midnight equinox - (ongoing) au in which light (and sayu!) are brought to wammy’s orphanage and light and L work on the kira case together

stories about stars (relight) - (discontinued) reincarnation au mixed with college/university au, so beautiful i love this one so much i am forever sad that it is incomplete

the execution of all things - (ongoing) canon divergence of the tv drama in which light gets shot by higuchi before he can get the dn back

throw the dice and play with me - (ongoing) an L wins au, L visits light in prison two years after kira’s defeat asking for help on a new case. SO much tension/pining it is unreal. another one of my favs

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||   chapter 3   ||  chapter 4   ||   chapter 5   ||  chapter 7  ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.  

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

---

well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos​. 

||||||||||||||||

You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

 Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat. 

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness. 

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it. 

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.   

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around. 

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up. 

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks. 

 Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state. 

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

 It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned. 

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right? 

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right? 

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour. 

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

 During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message. 

 [birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

 The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself. 

 [you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

 You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all. 

 [you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny 

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

 There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

 [birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

 You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

 [you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos 

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

 It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

             ...

 Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took. 

Maybe he even wanted to. 

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

 You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID. 

 [birdboy] calling...

 Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line. 

“Yes.” 

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call. 

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

 Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped. 

It didn’t have to.

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual. 

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

 Keigo did too, notably. 

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof. 

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all. 

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected. 

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice. 

 You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony. 

Oh my god. 

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches. 

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal? 

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen. 

 Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few. 

Your home was the exact opposite. 

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter. 

 You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.” 

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge. 

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance. 

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg. 

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back. 

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him. 

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile. 

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close. 

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own. 

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

 Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you. 

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe. 

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke. 

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon. 

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating. 

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened. 

 You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don’t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?” 

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

 Keigo hadn’t either. 

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks. 

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap. 

 …

 His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

 You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs. 

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

 Do what exactly?

 The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

 You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up. 

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped. 

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N). 

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

 “You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks. 

 “It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?” 

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

 “Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression. 

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

 “Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

 He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful. 

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

 Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes. 

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.” 

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer. 

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—” 

“(Y/N).”

 Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

 Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions. 

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

 The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him. 

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply. 

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention. 

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull. 

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

 “It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move. 

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer. 

You braced for the worst. 

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it. 

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

 Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once. 

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly. 

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to. 

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home. 

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.  

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly. 

||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw

[deepdarkdelights]

Hello love! I’m the one who wrote to you about the potential inspo for a story. Again you can throw it away or use it, it doesn’t matter haha. I just truly enjoy your writing so I thought that if anybody could make something out of nothing, it would be you. Anyways, I was inspired by the picture above. Oh and I was going to send you this anonymously, but then the picture wouldn’t have been saved (and I’m super shy about this lol, seriously I’m blushing).

Story Begins:

The world holds its secrets, and I hold mine. Deception is never formed by intention, it’s mere collateral damage based off promises and dreams of distant futures.

My dreams were based off my family at first. Based off my brother and mother. Based off the memory of my sister.. But that’s all in the past, and now that I’ve awoken from the imagery of delusional hope. I’m left to deal with the cost of my deception.

—————————————————————

“Mr.Kim, I see you’re yet to finish you’re meal. Oh my! You couldn’t even have a bite?!” The petite young woman shrieking at the untouched meal moved forward to retreat the “warm” mushroom soup that was meant to be in the belly of her boss by now.

With a heavy sigh “Mr.Kim” turns around in his chair. Face still in concentration from whatever is in his hands, he reaches toward his cup of coffee (the only thing for consumption that didn’t occupy too much time).

His secretary stood in front of him speechless at his lack of response. Yes Mr. Kim was young for his profession, his grayish blueish strands contrasting from the dark wool of his turtleneck, his glasses modestly framed to his face, and shiny gold watch that clung to his wrist all precedent to what would be considered a young bachelor -but no, instead this demeanor belonged to a top detective in the field of criminal justice.

From what Jisoo, his secretary knew of him, he was a very bright and professional detective. She was aware of his battle with prostitution rings in South Korea, who’s successful case landed him a job in the New York station of private affairs and criminal justice, where he also succeeded in bringing down one of the most influential law firms for the involvement of illegal transactions and drug smuggling. His work on the field had provided him with a private, yet comfortable life. Not long after his station in the New York City department of justice, he and a couple of team members were asked to work for the The General Directorate for Internal Security in France.

“Jisoo, I know we both were born in Korea, but could you please drop the formalities? I’ve known you for 3 years now “, said the heavy voice in the chair.

At this Jisoo felt a pang if guilt for her earlier charade. Mr.Ki-Na..Namjoon’s voice sounded tired. ‘Of course he is’, she thought to herself. He had spent the last 2 years and a half perusing an unamed organization whos’ motive was unclear, but actions centered around the illegal transaction of money.

“Jisoo? Are you even listening?” The young secretary looks up, “Sorry what was that?”

“I guess I’m not the only one who has had a rough day. I asked you.. am i not a nice person?” At this Jisoo meets the eyes of Namjoon without hesitation.

“What?”

“Have I been mean to you in anyway? Have I thrown your sandwiches out or made fun of those ridiculous pens you bring to work?” He asks with his eyebrows comically lifted.

Jisoo, finally understanding where he is getting at responds, “Not until this point you haven’t”.

“See! We even banter for crying out loud! If that doesn’t scream friendship I don’t know what does!” Namjoon is practically out of breath delivering his sermon on how good of a friend he had been throughout the past three years until it gets to the point where Jisoo has listened to it twice.

“Okay, okay! Enough... friend”, it’s not that she dislikes thinking of Namjoon as a friend, but more of the fact that she doesn’t perfer to associate herself in that aspect with any of her coworkers -much less higher ups. Her lack of attachment also has to do with the fact that back home, in the same position she stands today, she had seen a handful of her beloved coworkers in caskets in no less than 5 weeks of knowing them. However, despite all of this, she can’t deny that Namjoon has acted out the role of a bigger brother during her stay in France, especially in the sense of bringing her Korean food from one particular restaurant on the outskirts of the city. Their relationship has always been comfortable and despite his undeniably handsome features, there was no physical attraction between them... it was nice.

“Okay now say it with enthusiasm, as if you actually like me. Come on FRRI- “ all the sudden the phone rings. Jisoo turns to quickly take her exit, but not before she hears a curse from the man who was a second away from singing the friends theme song.

‘Namjoon i really hope you don’t come close to catching these guys’ she silently prays. She knows the consequences of bringing justice, she’s seen the red splatter that the name decorated itself with.

—————————————————————

“Joon this just turned from a fraud to a murder scene. We are not just talking about big investments, but the murder of two prime ministers and the chief of justice in Germany.”

Namjoon looks at his fellow detective and reaches out for the stack of papers near his desktop. “What did Germany say?”

Yoongi, his literal partner in (fighting) crime answers with a simple, “jack shit”. “They don’t believe it’s connected”.

“Then why do we?” Namjoon at this point is at a dead end yet again. This same secret organization has plagued his office walls, desk, and even bed for almost three years. It’s normal for a case such as this one to take time, but when your teammates and you are specifically placed in an international office for one specific case, it gets a bit frustrating.

“Because.. both the German officer and the Prime Minister in Bordeaux had their tounges taken out.”

“What!?” Had this been any other criminal investigation, this piece of information would not have surprised Namjoon. This however was not just any case, for the duration of his stay in France, and the additional years he was not assigned to this area, this was the first similarity between the crimes. Whoever these people were, made sure to not leave a single message, nor fingerprint, nor act of pride that would give them away. It was almost as if these crimes were committed themselves, and the world was forced to accept it for the time being.

OKAY IT IS GARBAAGGÉÉ, but hey if it works as inspo I’m all for it. Oh by the way, the first part is from jungkook’s perspective. When I initially started I thought about there being a mysterious “sister” aka y/n (didn’t plan out how or why she disappeared yet lol), and because I’m a garden hoe for yandere, I thought about making jungkook slowly progress into a ridonculous yandere. As you can see it’s a bit all over the place. But anyways, I freaking love your writing and throw this away or change it up or use it as it is, it’s all yours.

Ps. Love ya

Hello my lovely!

First off, I am so proud of you for being brave and sending this off of anon! I know how vulnerable that can be, so thank you really for feeling comfortable enough to do so!

Secondly, omfg you have skill! Like I was getting into it and I legit screeched when I realized there wasn't more to read! You did so well sweetie!

Moving on, I really enjoyed this, I don't think you realize just how much skill and potential you have as a writer. I want to read more please!

I do really like this as a concept, although I am coming off of an investigator Joon fic so I think I would need to take a break from that theme lol.

I would like to talk about this more if you're up to it, I think you should pursue this idea because it has great foundations. Let's talk more please you little genius you!

P.S. (ILY TOO 💜💜💜)

[choupichoups]

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.14

Eliott may be all that; rich, handsome, instagram famous— but the basic plebe inside comes out to play when his crush follows him from out of nowhere.

Or: Press F but Eliott’s POV

Parting is such sweet sorrow has gained a whole new meaning as Eliott stands in front of Lucas, bouncing back and forth on his heels in a bid to stall some more before he truly has to go. 

“You really don’t want me to stay with you until Yann comes back?” He finally pushes out the question, brows furrowing in concern despite the reassuring smile Lucas gives him. 

“I’ll be fine, Eliott.” Lucas picks Champ up from the ground when she starts spinning around in place, looking about ready to lay down and have a nap right at their feet. “Go see your mom.”

"I mean... she’ll probably survive one day without eating my dad’s cooking.” he reasons, pouting when Lucas gives him an exasperated look. 

“Bring your mom her rightful lunch, just like you told your dad you would. I don’t want there to be any reason for them to hate me.” 

“That’s impossible, they already love you.”

Lucas pauses, bottom lip caught behind his teeth as he looks up at Eliott uncertainly. “Really?”

Eliott softens, sighing out a quiet, “Really.” His hands move on their own accord, brushing against the line of Lucas’ jaw. He can’t imagine how a single person in this universe could ever be capable of hating Lucas. 

“Really, really?” 

“Really, really.”

“Cool. You really, really have to go now, though.” Lucas laughs, nuzzling into Eliott’s hands like that would help his case. 

“Okay, but if you need me for anything at all, you’ve gotta promise to tell me.” The grip he has on Lucas tightens just a little, firm enough to have his boyfriend tipping his head back to see the resolve in Eliott’s eyes. “I mean it. Anything.” 

Lucas can honestly ask him to do his grocery shopping right here right now and Eliott would undoubtedly agree. Hell, if Lucas tells him that the windows rattling from the wind bothers him, he’d drop everything and run back to him. Eliott has no qualms about the lengths he’d go to protect Lucas, to keep him feeling safe. 

Champ yips, gazing happily up at Eliott as a comfortable silence embraces them otherwise, the sight of Lucas’ precious smile warming the crystallizing fear creeping up on him. The mere prospect of leaving his boyfriend alone for hours until Yann gets back is frankly a no go in Eliott’s books but he understands that Lucas might need some space, and Eliott has his own responsibilities to uphold. 

Fuck if it doesn’t scare him, though. The atrocious start to their weekend has really done a number on him. 

“I promise,” Lucas whispers eventually, leaning up to kiss the beginnings of a frown off of Eliott’s lips. 

Eliott watches him carefully, running a thumb over the shadowed smudge under Lucas’ eyes. He’d waited until Lucas fell asleep first before slipping into dream land himself, but Lucas had already been awake by the time Eliott next opens his eyes— and Eliott is an early riser. He forces himself not to dwell on it, he had been privy to an offhanded comment about Lucas’ complicated relationship with sleep before so maybe this morning is nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Stooping down for another kiss, Eliott lets this one linger a little longer, breathing in once they pull away and brushing a final kiss to Lucas’ forehead. He peels his hands off of him, squishing Champ’s tiny head in between his palms to make up for how his mind is screaming for him to hold on. “You’ll take care of him for me, right tough girl?” She licks his hands in enthusiastic answer. 

Lucas snorts out a laugh. “You take care, don’t miss your stop or you’ll get back too late.”  

“Yes, sir.” Eliott playfully salutes as he walks backwards, stopping just out of reach before he gestures towards Lucas’ still closed door. “Well? I’m not leaving until you’re inside.”

He’s expecting the eye roll that comes— it’s sweet and fond, familiar. The exact kind Eliott craves to soothe his fraying edges. 

Lucas turns around once he’s inside, grinning at Eliott and blowing an exaggerated kiss in his direction. It’s so ridiculous that Eliott’s laugh is ripped right out of him, loud and startled, echoing in the empty hallways, nipping at the sound of Lucas’ door shutting with a heavy bang. 

All alone, he finds himself despondent, kicking imaginary dirt off the floor as he trudges on with a pathetic pout. There’s no proper way to explain this feeling— they’ve literally almost managed to hole themselves up in Eliott’s apartment the entire weekend. It’s not like Eliott can help it, though, he did just get Lucas back and his needy little melodramatic heart misses his boyfriend for every minute they aren’t together.

He drags himself out of Lucas’ apartment building with visible difficulty, feet shuffling against the rough gravel below his feet all the way through his journey to the bus stop. 

It’s going to take him quite a while to get to his mother’s office without a car. Usually, his father has no problem dropping by himself, but he’d answered a favour for an old coworker out in Lyon and will probably be stuck there until the next morning. 

In a not so shocking turn of events, his mother forgets to take her ready packed lunch to work without his father being present to remind her of it. And obviously that’s an abomination, she can’t go without a homemade lunch Eliott, she’d get so hungry and her brain won’t be as sharp as usual, her work ethic would suffer because of it. Eliott had cut off his papa’s rambling with a groan and a reluctant agreement to bring the goddamn sandwich to its rightful owner just so the guy would stop worrying already. Hopeless romantic runs thick in the blood of the Demauries apparently. 

adam.fk plans today??

idrisomd sleep

abebkhellal oof yeah 

emir.yous buncha boring old men

omarions says you?? didn’t you spend fall break last year learning how to play chess lmao

emir. yous we don’t talk about that

idrisomd shut up emir not everyone is a free bird like you I was editing some stuff and I realized I need that dumb triangle still lol eliott can I borrow yours pls

emir.yous maybe if you don’t procrastinate you’d have more free time I thought you were keeping that triangle??

idrisomd maybe if you shut up you’d get more dates I had to sacrifice it for the greater good

Eliott laughs under his breath, contemplating whether he should add his two cents into the conversation. In the end, he keeps to himself for now, reading through the childish banter that inevitably starts up.

The triangle, huh. He’s glad the bus is mostly empty at present, else the giggling he can’t quite suppress would’ve probably worried some people. Fucking unbelievable, really. It’s ridiculous how it all started, now that he thinks about it. It feels like a lifetime has gone by since then.

Eliott still remembers it, vividly. That moment he set his eyes on Lucas. It’s the week before their new semester officially starts— a Thursday to be specific. He and his friends are scrambling around frantically attempting to maximize their remaining days of freedom to get ahead on his and Idris’ new film project.

“Props.”

“Props?”

“Yeah, we’re missing some props.”

Eliott struggles with the cardboard boxes he’s dragging behind him— they’re saving all the money they can by building the set for filming themselves. The rest of the guys get pulled into the fray, as always, so it’s a bit of a disaster when they’re all going around picking up stray cardboard and styrofoam just in case they need it for later.

“What’s the thing you were talking about earlier?” Abe snaps his fingers, trying to recall everything they need before leaving campus.

Idris jumps. “The triangle!”

“What do we need a triangle for?” Adam asks, fumbling with the styrofoam cups he’s balancing in one hand.

“For that one scene in the forest.”

“There’s a scene in the forest?” Omar pipes up from behind their circle, returning from the storage room where he’d gone to dig out some black garbage bags they can borrow.

“Well, it’s Emir’s backyard but whatever.” Eliott mutters, scratching things off of their checklist. “Can’t we just fake the triangle sounds?”

“Too much effort for a little scene. Don’t you have one at yours?”

“Yeah, but my place is out of the way, it’ll take too much time going there and then to Emir’s.” He shrugs, tapping the pen against his chin. “We can take the one from the theatre.”

Emir gives him a look. “We are not stealing the orchestra’s triangle.”

“Nobody will miss it,” Abe dismisses, already walking off to load their things in his car.

“What if someone tells the director it’s missing?”

“Emir, who would notice a missing triangle?” Idris raises his hands as he talks, incredulous at the question. “When you watch your classic live shows, do you hear anyone go oh, yes, the triangle was on point today? No you don’t, cause nobody gives a fuck about the goddamn triangle, man. Eliott, can you please grab us the triangle so we can get outta here?”

“If we get in trouble, I get plausible deniability,” Emir mumbles defiantly. Eliott snorts, patting Emir on the shoulder on his way out.

The theatre is only a short jog away from the parking lot so Eliott slips through the doors in no time, rooting around backstage for the instrument. He finds the little thing buried underneath a broken flute and a... tambourine?

Single piano notes echo along the walls without warning, and Eliott jumps from his crouch, heart beating fast from shock. He doesn’t run, though, because whoever is out there is obviously not going to spot him if they’re preoccupied with playing the piano.

He’s just about to leave again, grab his stolen goods and sneak his way back out, when the aimless piano notes begin to blend together with effortless flow, a sudden transition tickling his ears so pleasantly that Eliott can’t bring his feet to move along more than two steps at a time. Transfixed, he walks closer to the curtain, curious as to who would play such a beautiful melody so delicately.

Eliott has always wished life would be as easy as the films he's grown up watching— with twists and turns that cause crushing moments, yes, but with the comfort of a happy ending to cushion against the pain through it all. He’s always dreamt of something cliche to happen to him once in his life. Maybe he could win the lottery and live the rest of his life as a billionaire. Maybe he could meet someone so inspiring he’d gain the courage to pack up and explore the world with nothing but a boat and backpack. Maybe he could fall in love at first sight

The boy on the piano is turned sideways but Eliott can clearly see him from where he’s hidden behind the curtain. The smile on his face is plain adorable and the way he’s swinging his feet under the piano (he’s not even using the piano pedals and it still sounds so good) goes straight to Eliott’s heart.

His feet carry him forward, as if entranced, so helplessly drawn into the boy’s gravity—

“Stop,” the boy says, laughing. Eliott stops, startled. “You’re gonna ruin it, Yann,” his angel continues, head swinging to the side where another person who Eliott has apparently not seen is sitting.

The other guy, Yann, laughs too, picking up a violin. “No I swear, I can do it. I took classes once, remember?”

“Yeah, like ten years ago and you quit after two days.”

The two boys giggle at each other and the angel stops playing, attention fully on Yann. There’s a profound affection in the way they interact together, which makes glum little stones fall heavy against the bottom of Eliott’s stomach. 

Jesus, he needs to calm down. He doesn’t even know the boy’s name yet.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Eliott’s glad he’s forgotten to put the ringer back on. He doesn’t know how he’d explain it if the two boys catch him skulking around backstage.

Eliott runs out of the theatre soon after, remembering how pressed for time he and the guys already are. He tries to put the thought of the boy behind him, making vague hand gestures in lieu of explaining what delayed his return when the guys question him.

He fails miserably.

The bus lurches and Eliott almost drops his phone, fingers grappling for a firm hold on the screen as it slips and slides from the abrupt movement. He still has the group chat with the guys open so the scrabble has him accidentally scrolling up, up, up around a month back.

When he looks down at the screen, he's taken right back to that delightful moment Lucas had unknowingly caused back then.

The doors open and close, one person exiting but a whole crowd entering right after. Eliott presses himself more comfortably into his back seat corner and settles a hand over his mouth, covering the widening grin stretching his lips as he reads through his own moronic words.

Good god, looking back on it now is hilarious, but Eliott will never forget the all consuming panic he’d felt at the time.

Eliott exits out of the chat, frantically scrolling down his barrage of notifications to stare reverently at the one that matters most. 

lucallemant started following you

It’s almost two hours past midnight, with him having just finished up the sketch for the side project he’s working on by himself. He’s been looking forward to falling into bed ages ago but now he’s wide awake, brain swirling with jumbled thoughts and with no hope of falling asleep within the next second.

srodulv when should I? should I wait til later?

adam.fk maybe wait til its not 2 in the morning lmfao

srodulv what if I wait too long and he unfollows

abebkhellal god almighty 😂😂😂 sorry bro no one can help u now

srodulv help me

emir.yous why does it matter? just follow him now

idrisomd he’s probably sleeping so he won’t know you’re a nocturnal beast

srodulv he won’t think that’s lame?

omarions he’ll eventually figure out how lame you are so might as well run with it

srodulv fuck off

idrisomd yeah man you can’t hide lame

emir.yous sorry we can’t help with that

abebkhellal rip

srodulv has left the chat

A bunch of useless hooligans, those guys are. He needs better friends.

His phone pings with more notifications— Idris has added him back in the group chat but Eliott ignores the messages for now, knowing full well that there’d be nothing but more of them poking fun at his current dilemma.

He opens up Lucas’ profile, heart palpitating as his thumb hovers over the follow button. Looking at the boy’s feed brings him the same mix of apprehension and fondness, as always. The latter because he’s an idiot who apparently falls head over heels for snippy little piano players and the former because, well—

I’m sorry, bro. I saw something, I think they’re maybe together? I’m still not a hundred percent on it, though.

Eliott sighs, clicking on Lucas’ latest post, of that guy playing the guitar for him. He scoffs, he can play the guitar too. He can even do the Star Wars theme song. On the guitar and the piano. Lucas needs to see that he’s the better choice over here.  

He lets his screen go dark, closing his eyes as he urges himself to relax. It is quite an ungodly hour to be awake so he drops his phone on the bed, turns over, and hopes that morning comes with a newfound game plan to get the love of his life to love him back.

The good news is that morning does come, but the bad news is that all the plans he comes up with throughout the day are steaming piles of shit. 

“I think I’m in love,” he blurts out, sitting in the basement of Emir’s house. Idris is standing on the couch, trying to cover the ceiling spotlights with printer paper so as to ‘dull’ its luminosity. Adam and Omar are struggling to hold up some desk lamps while Abe holds coloured file folders over the bulb, changing the colour of the lights for the correct ‘ambiance’. Emir is elbow deep in crushed styrofoam pieces.

They all exchange looks of confusion before Abe goes for a hesitant, “Uh... just now?”

Eliott scowls, waving a hand as if they’re so stupid to be unable to read his mind. He gestures to his phone, still open to Lucas’ Instagram page. 

"Oh yeah! Any progress on that front?” Idris hops down, eyes glued to the ceiling as he backs up, slowly as if one wrong move could shake the house so much that his pieces of paper would dislodge themselves. 

“No.” Eliott pouts, flailing his legs in unashamed frustration. 

“Okay, well, have you followed back?” Adam asks, twining some rope around the lamp once they’ve figured out the best angle to go with. 

“No. Shit,” Eliott hisses, sitting upright and immediately hitting the follow button. He’s been so focused on figuring out how to start a conversation with his angel that he’s neglected to think of much else.

One of them sighs, but Eliott doesn’t bother to look up at the sound of it. 

“So what are you gonna do next?” Emir abandons his crumbly work of art, now sitting cross legged across from Eliott. 

“He’s vague posting.” Idris grins, scrolling through his phone. “Ooh, Polaris. When did you even sneak off to take this? That caption though. Much mystery, so cool.” 

“Shut up, it’s an old picture.” Eliott throws a couch cushion at him, then proceeds to slide onto the floor, diving flat on his stomach closer to the guys, as he comes up with the most brilliant idea. “What if I’m not?”

“Huh?” Abe goes to sit on the floor as well.

“What if I’m not cool or mysterious? Would that get him to talk to me?” Eliott’s thumbs are working on overdrive before the words are fully out of his mouth, scrolling down each and every one of Lucas’ photos and hitting like on as many of them as he can manage. 

He looks up just it time to see the dawning realization on Abe’s face. “No!” he screams in horror, reaching out to snatch the phone from Eliott’s hands. “No, you— oh man, you guys, he did a weird thing.” 

“It’s not weird,” Eliott dismisses, trying to retrieve his phone back but every attempt is slapped away by the annoying people he unfortunately calls friends. “It’s called reaching out.”

Idris is cackling, bent over in half as Abe shakes his head in wonder. “That’s kinda genius, though? How very Eliott of you,” Idris gasps out once he’s done wheezing up a lung. 

“He’s getting the Eliott experience way too early in the relationship.” Omar mumbles, curiously going through the rest of Lucas’ older posts. “Aw, cute.” 

Eliott scrambles towards them, wanting to see which post Omar’s referring to despite the fact that he’s seen every single photo twice over. 

His hand slowly creeps up above the phone and double taps on the post.

“Oh my god, someone restrain him.” Adam says, dragging a hand down his face. He sounds like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh which is more than what he can say for the rest of them so Eliott appreciates his effort. 

“Come on, Eli monkey, time to break off from Insta for a bit, hm?” Idris walks forward, still chuckling as he tries to pull Eliott off the ground and away from his stolen phone.

Eliott wraps his arms around Idris’ ankles, almost making the latter fall on his face in the process. “But he’s so beautiful.”

“Yes, yes.”

“His eyelashes are the 8th wonder of the world.”

There’s a collective groan from everyone in the room and then Eliott feels a placating hand patting the top of his bowed head. “Yes, we get it. But you gotta get up now, lover boy. We‘ve got shit to film.”

By the time his stop comes up, Eliott has to squeeze himself past a godawful amount of passengers. He gets it’s break week for a lot of the students but considering it’s a Monday afternoon, Eliott is of the opinion that there really shouldn’t be this many people out and about. 

His mother’s office is a towering structure of reflective glass and one way windows. Eliott pushes at the revolving doors, nods a smile towards the reception desk, and settles into one of the many armchairs in the lounge area. He shoots a message for his mama to come meet him downstairs and doesn’t wait for a response before switching tabs to pull up the film he’s been wanting to see all day. Initially, he’s planned on seeing it with Lucas, knowing that it’s just the right amount of lengthy and boring (for his boyfriend’s taste) to have Lucas cuddling for a nap on his shoulder instead.

But alas, his plans are impeded by none other than his loving parents. Again. He still hasn’t quite forgiven them for poking fun at him being grumpy at brunch after that first night he’d spent with Lucas. 

About ten minutes in, someone walks towards him and sits directly across from Eliott’s armchair, never mind that the entire lounge area is devoid of any other person than the two of them. 

Eliott doesn’t pay it much mind, unmuting his phone speakers just loud enough for him to hear the background music coming from the film— he wants to record the sound and see if that kind of music score would work well for the mini project he’s planning to put up in the future. 

The stranger lets out a faint chuckle but Eliott ignores him, watching the minutes rise on the recording to make sure that he doesn’t miss a single note. Never let it be said that Eliott doesn’t take his films seriously. 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Violence is never at the forefront of Eliott’s mind. In fact, he thinks it doesn’t solve much, and should be considered as the last resort. But as life would have it, there are always a few exceptions to the rule and unfortunately for his good mood, the sole exception he’s found in his twenty one years of existence has decided that today is the day that Eliott will commit murder. 

Eliott’s eyes flick to where Raphael relaxes back in his seat, legs crossed and fingers delicately twined in his lap— to any outside viewer, he truly looks the perfect representation of an educated, well-bred gentleman. Eliott sees why people are drawn him.

“Fancy isn’t the right word,” he says, just as casual. He pauses the film, music cutting off just in time for him to hear another one of Raphael’s grating chuckles. “Why are you here?” The answer is obvious; pressed slacks and dark suit a dead give away. He remembers Lucas mentioning that Raphael works in a law firm but Eliott needs to hear it, to make sure that fate has really handed this opportunity over on a silver platter. 

Raphael spreads his arms. “I work here,” he answers, smug. “What about you? Someone trying to pin murder on you?”

Funny how he’s asking that, but Eliott doesn’t answer his question. “New York too much for you, huh.” 

Eliott watches the minute narrowing of Raphael’s eyes, taking pleasure in the fact that the guy hasn’t expected Lucas to divulge their story in such detail. 

“New York was great, actually, they offered me a spot there as well but eh, I need to think about it.” Raphael leans forward, elbows on knees as he brings one hand up to rub across his lips, faux thoughtful. “I left a little something behind here.” He looks at Eliott, then, and the latter sees the fabricated warmth in his eyes freeze over, ice cold in barely restrained anger. “I want it back.” 

Don’t mess this up, Eliott reminds himself, fists clenching and unclenching as he reigns in his temper. How he’d love to feel the crunch of Raphael’s nose under his fists right now, but it’s not that kind of battle. Eliott only has one shot to play his cards right. 

“Cut the bullshit,” he responds, surprisingly calm. “Lucas isn’t yours to take back.”

Raphael laughs. “Why, he’s yours now?” 

Yes. “Neither. I’d appreciate it if you stop talking like he’s something to pass around.”

“How chivalrous of you.”

“I’m surprised you know what that means.” Eliott wants to say more, but he grits them back. There are more important things for him to needle out. “What with all the shit you put him through.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Raphael falls back into the cushions once more, infuriatingly unaffected. 

“Do you want an essay or a list?” 

“So quick to believe everything you’re told, are you? Did he cry and look at you with those big blue eyes? He does that all the time to get what he wants.” There’s a strain at the corners of Raphael’s eyes, nonchalant facade slipping down the longer Eliott stares on without a word. “You know there’s no evidence for any of these, right?” 

The quick dismissal of Lucas’ personal recounting almost does it for Eliott. But if Raphael is a master of manipulation then Eliott is of restraint— he won’t let Raphael win. “Yeah? You gonna tell that to the marks on his wrists?” 

Raphael scoffs, “That was an accident. Friday was a big misunderstanding, trust me. It’s called tough love, he likes it.” He smiles, obviously waiting for a reaction from Eliott but the latter maintains an impassive exterior. 

“It’s called assault.” He barely refrains from tagging on a spiteful fuckface at the end of that.

“Whoa there, that’s some heavy accusation you’re dropping!” Raphael laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you know who I am?” 

“A sad excuse of a man who takes advantage of vulnerable minors?” 

Raphael clicks his tongue. “You think you’re so perfect, huh?” 

“Far from it.” Eliott shrugs. “But I don’t hurt the people I’m supposed to love.” 

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest.” Sarcasm drips from Raphael’s words. “You think if we both stand here, right in front of Lucas, and make him choose.” He leans forward, a desperate glint in his eyes. “You’re positive he’d choose you? Cause let me tell you, Eliott, that boy is wired for my touch, for my voice, for my own to do as I please, and he will choose me no matter how much I hurt him. He will always come back to me and you can’t do shit about it.” 

Victory feels good when taken by a landslide. Eliott grins, and he sees confusion, frustration, and wariness warp Raphael’s carefully constructed expression into that of something… human. Human, unlike the impenetrable monster Lucas has painted inside his head. Human, who, despite the cunning and intelligence, very much fucks up like everyone else. And oh, has Raphael fucked up big time. 

“My turn,” Eliott says cheerfully, just to mess with the bastard even more. “Do you know who I am?” Slowly, so as to make sure that Raphael catches the movement, Eliott stops the recording on his phone. 

Raphael shoots up from his seat, panic dousing his face red all over before seething rage takes prominence. He hisses out a quiet, “Get rid of that, right fucking now. You don’t want to mess with me.”

Eliott stands, huffing out a small laugh as he notices that they’re of equal height. None of Raphael’s tactics has worked, or will ever work on him. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” 

“Eliott?” 

Georgine Eloise Demaury, part time managing partner of the law firm, part time vicious criminal prosecutor, and full time doting mother, makes a tall, intimidating figure in her navy suit and sky high heels. Her eyes are steel blue as they land on Eliott and Raphael alternatively. The red on her lips is a sharp scowl, striking against the paleness of her skin. 

Eliott presses his lips together, amused at the sight of what he fondly refers to as her working bitch face. She’s forbidden Eliott from visiting her at work too often just because he’s the only one capable of cracking her diabolical attorney persona. He keeps quiet, shrugging innocently when she raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Hi, mama.” 

He hears Raphael’s sharp intake of breath and fuck, that feels good.

Her lips twitch the slightest bit. “You two know each other?” 

“Just having a friendly chat,” Eliott says, looking over at Raphael with a tight smile. He relishes the startled loss he sees there. 

“I’m waiting on a call from Mr. Schutt,” Raphael says, rearranging his face, posture straightening under Georgine’s gaze. 

“And you?” She addresses Eliott this time. 

“I brought lunch?” Eliott gestures at his bag on the chair. “Papa got worried you’d starve when you told him you forgot it.” 

She rolls her eyes at her husband’s dramatics. “You didn’t have to come here.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to papa. You’re gonna have to eat it now, I ditched my boyfriend for this.”

“Ah, how’s Lucas? Come up to my office, you didn’t finish telling me how he’s doing last night,” she says, rigid frown compensating for the soft tone in her voice. Across from Eliott, Raphael flinches at the mention of Lucas’ name. “I need to grab something from IT and then I’ll be right there.” 

“Will do.” Eliott smiles, throwing his backpack over one shoulder when his mother walks away. He waits until the click clacking of her heels fade off completely before he turns to face Raphael. “So anyway, I suggest you think very hard about that offer in New York.” 

“You’re insane,” Raphael mutters behind clenched jaws. 

Years ago, that might have stung. Coming from someone else, it might still hurt. But as it is, Eliott revels in it. “You have no idea,” he says, raising his hand for the most condescending pat on the back he’s ever delivered before heading off to the elevators. 

Eliott ends up taking a long nap on his mother’s office couch, tired from interacting with Raphael and his stupid mind games. Sure, he’d come out on top of that one but lengthy confrontations are most definitely not Eliott’s cup of tea. He thinks if Raphael still has the audacity to show his face after that, Eliott will let loose of inhibitions and just start a proper fist fight. 

Recording their conversation had been a gut reaction— he’s not even sure it would help much if push comes to shove. But his mother has quite the terrifying track record and judging from Raphael’s reaction, he knows that too. He almost wishes for Raphael to do something stupid, to trip up the wire on Eliott’s half baked, convoluted plan to take him down permanently. The idea of delving into it scares him a little. He knows shit all about the justice system and Raphael is literally part of the goddamn system. 

Lucas wants to leave it to karma, and maybe he’s right.

But then Eliott remembers the tears streaming nonstop down Lucas’ face, the blank disconnect in his eyes throughout that night. His worn voice begging for Eliott not to let go. The hours spent in bed coaxing for an unresponsive Lucas to sleep just a little, I’m right here. The events of that night have taken permanent residence in his mind, painfully unwanted, but there to stay. 

lucallemant Eliott, I know I said I’d give you all the time you need And I mean it, you can have more right after this  But please, can you pick me up at work? I need you please Please

Call him dramatic all you want, but Eliott’s world comes apart when he reads Lucas’ pleading messages. His vision narrows, the path a blurred vignette, and time slows as if he’s thrown into the fucking matrix. Except there’s nothing exciting or amusing with this development, and his limbs work through honey as he turns and grabs a jacket, shoves his feet into mismatched shoes, and makes a run for it.

It’s not the messages itself that cost him his breath— though those do have him worried out of his mind, unable to even begin guessing as to what would scare Lucas enough to send them. It’s the timestamps that have his heart rattling with unease. The faint chanting of too late too late too late a mournful echo in his head. 

He pays no mind to it when he begins panting, head pounding as the freezing wind bites at him with heavy force, unbothered that he hasn’t eaten much for the past however long. He’s not going to stop until he reaches his destination. 

However, when he gets there, the cafe is dark and empty. You’re too late, the voice is screaming now. Eliott tells it to shut up, paces the area for a bit, and then checks inside the darkened alleyways. It’s empty. He walks the opposite direction, headed towards the parking lot— and there, that’s when he hears the hushed voice speaking.

Eliott swivels around, rushes towards the sound, and doesn’t allow himself to hesitate on the idea that it’s not Lucas trapped in between the wall and that man’s body. 

“Get the fuck off of him.” When he’s close enough, he shoves them apart, fighting against the urge to take Lucas in his arms right away. He has to get rid of the man first. The visceral clutch of anger simmers inside of him, a heat of gargantuan proportions boiling his blood. Eliott imagines this is what one would feel like just before committing a heinous crime.

His interaction with the stranger barely sticks to Eliott’s mind, more focused on the way Lucas presses close to his back. His hands shake with barely constrained fury but he doesn’t move, afraid Lucas will fall if Eliott isn’t there to hold him up. “You can fuck right off or I swear to god.”

The man raises his hands, chuckles ringing malicious as he shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Eliott doesn’t care for his cryptic bullshit. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

His smile is visible in the dark and Eliott’s been around enough of those with questionable morals to pinpoint the lack of kindness in it. “Fine.” He tilts his head as if to catch a final glimpse of Lucas but Eliott tucks Lucas in tight behind him— this guy doesn’t deserve to even look at him. 

When the sound of a car engine fades out, Eliott turns around, engulfing Lucas as best as he can, hoping that his embrace would provide a temporary shelter from it all. He knows it’s impossible, knows he can’t do much on his end other than watch with powerless clarity as painful sobs wrack the small body in his arms. He repeats a litany of apologies into Lucas’ hair. “I have you, I have you.” 

Their walk home is silence in its strangest form. Eliott realizes there’s something wrong, he can feel it at the tips of his fingers but he puts it down to Lucas gathering his thoughts and lets him be. 

“Lucas,” he says as the apartment comes into view. “I know we haven’t… I don’t… listen, can I stay with you for the night? I’ll sleep on the couch, anything, I just want to be there.”

Silence. 

Eliott bites his cheek, fidgeting nervously when Lucas continues to not say anything. He chances a glance at the boy beside him and sees him looking straight ahead, expression blank as if nothing’s been said.

“Thanks,” is all Lucas says once they reach the steps to the building, failing to acknowledge Eliott’s request.  

“Lucas, wait!” 

Unheard, just like the last time. 

There’s something really, really wrong. 

Eliott picks at his head, staring up at what he knows to be the window to Lucas’ apartment. He tells himself he’ll only wait until the lights flicker on, but seconds turn to minutes and the window remains dark. Chest tightening, Eliott changes his mind. He’ll wait until someone goes in or exits the building, will plant himself outside of Lucas’ door— he doesn’t care if Lucas or Yann don’t want to see his face right now, all he wants is to make sure that Lucas stays safe for the rest of the night. 

Except the next person to exit the doors is Lucas himself, Champ cradled in his arms. 

“Why are you not inside?” Eliott is familiar with the feeling of helplessness but it always pertains to his own mind, his own body. He’s rarely ever so taken off guard that he doesn’t know how to make it better for someone else. And yet here he stands, frozen with panic, speechless in the face of the one he loves most. 

Yann isn’t home, Lucas is hard-pressed on buying extra locks for their door, and there’s no way Eliott is letting him back inside the apartment all alone. 

“Lucas,” Eliott reaches out, wants nothing more than to cradle Lucas’ face in between his hands, but he’s afraid of what touching him would do. “Come back to me.” It sounds unsteady even to his own ears and maybe Eliott’s having a little trouble breathing, but he’s more desperate for Lucas to meet his eyes than worry about his next inhale. 

Lucas doesn’t. Come back to Eliott, that is. 

The entire walk up to his apartment, and then the walk back to Eliott’s are both filled with a strained distance that has nothing to do with physical proximity. Eliott’s no longer surprised when Lucas doesn’t answer any of his questions but he keeps firing off either way, hoping against all odds that something would click. But it doesn’t work that way, he knows. He, of all people, should know better. 

He tries again once they’re inside the safety of Eliott’s home. “Lucas, are you with me?” Eliott asks and he’s not. He’s not. 

Running out of options, Eliott’s hand hovers over his mom’s contact info, his dad’s, Idris’, Lucille’s— he just wants someone to tell him what to do. 

In the end he doesn’t get to call anyone, as a loud thud comes from the bathroom where he’d left Lucas and Eliott trips over himself in his rush, crashing into the kitchen counter, banging his arms against the potted plant hanging in the living room. 

But the pain from those clumsy little accidents is nothing compared to the sight of Lucas crying on the floor, blue eyes running red from the force of his tears. “Lucas?”

“Eliott.” His voice is so quiet, so broken that it takes Eliott down to his knees, colliding harshly against the tiled floors as he brings Lucas into the circle of his arms. Tears gather in the corners of Eliott’s eyes but he knows for certain that they’re not from the sting of his fall. 

“Don’t let me go back,” Lucas pleads, breath caught between one word and the other. 

“You’re never going back,” Eliott swears on his life. 

Lucas quiets down after what feels like hours upon hours of tears and stuttering breaths. Eliott knows he isn’t asleep, though— his wet lashes brush softly against the skin of Eliott’s neck for every blink. Left without much option, Eliott detangles their legs and carefully lifts Lucas into his arms, a mustard seed of hope swelling in his chest when Lucas twitches at the movement. There’s a pause as Eliott waits for the boy to protest, grumble for Eliott to put him down, he can walk on his own. 

It doesn’t come, so Eliott goes to tuck him into bed, receives no protest when he quietly dresses Lucas in the clothes he’s brought out. Lucas’ eyes remain downcast the entire time, immovable no matter how many times Eliott brushes a hand through his hair, wipes at the tear tracks smeared on his cheeks. 

Lucas doesn’t sleep until well past two in the morning. Eliott doesn’t sleep at all.

“You okay, honey?” 

His mama looks like a whole different person in private, Eliott’s always marvelled at her ability to switch off just like that. Her eyes are all clear skies and motherly affection, no trace of the savage G.E Demaury to be found as her hands card gently through his hair. 

He wants to tell her so badly, but this is Lucas’ story to share. Involving his parents to ask for help with anything is a foreign concept to Lucas and would make this a bit more complicated, yes, so Eliott will just have to wear patience like it’s going out of style. 

“Yeah,” he croaks out, still groggy from his nap. 

“Do you wanna wait for me to finish up here and I can drive you back?”

“Uh…” Eliott rubs his eyes, forcing his brain to catch up with his mama’s words. He checks his phone before answering, blinking while his eyes adjust to the brightness of his screen.

lucallemant Do you wanna come over for tonight? I know we were just together but It’s fine if you’re gonna be back too late though

He thinks he’s actually physically melting just from reading those. “It’s okay, I have to get going now.” 

srodulv If I didn’t fall asleep I’d be begging you to come over anyway

lucallemant You were asleep at your mom’s work??

srodulv 😂 See you soon  ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ☹️ ♥️

lucallemant ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️ ♥️

srodulv 😊 ♥️

He stops to get some take out on the way, knowing Yann will be there and would most likely not be so chummy with Eliott after the whole thing from the past few weeks. He figures he can extend a truce through food— the way to a man’s heart and all. 

When he knocks on Lucas’ door, he hears a couple of thuds, some rapid, illegible whispering, and then the door finally opens only for Lucas to catapult himself into Eliott’s arms. The door slams shut behind him and Eliott might just be seeing things but he’s pretty sure that’s a glimpse of Yann’s unimpressed form standing on the other side of the door. 

“Hi,” Lucas breathes out, one arm slung around Eliott’s neck while the other is bent awkwardly behind him, holding onto the wriggling doorknob as if to keep a ravenous beast from escaping.

Uh oh.  

“Hi,” Eliott greets back. “On a scale of Champ to Jurassic Park, how scared should I be of Yann right now?” 

Lucas bites his lip and Eliott can’t help it— he kisses him before Lucas can respond. He means for it to be a chaste touch, but Lucas lets go of the knob (thankfully no longer rattling) and throws both arms around Eliott, pressing closer and opening his lips to deepen the kiss. Eliott lets himself indulge in it but is quickly brought back to reality when he tries to wrap both arms around Lucas only for the take out bag to hit Lucas’ ass with a dull thunk.

“Ow, what the fuck.” Lucas pulls away, spinning on the spot as he looks for the offender.

“Sorry,” Eliott laughs, lifting the bag. “I bought food. Peace offering.” 

“Oh my god, you’re so smart,” Lucas says, sounding genuinely pleased. “I apologize in advance though, he thinks he’s my dad sometimes.” 

“Damn right!” Yann shouts from behind the door. 

“Jesus.” Lucas mutters under his breath. “You ready?” 

Eliott nods, rehearsing the quick speech he’d made up in his head during the ride back to Lucas’ place. All that preparation’s for nothing, however, when all Yann does is look at him when the door finally opens. He looks at Eliott like he’d done weeks ago, when Eliott had taken Lucas home after the encounter with his father, unspoken understanding passing between the two of them as easy as that.

I technically have no right to be mad but I am, Yann’s usually kind eyes are hardened earth. There’ll be hell to pay if you pull that shit again, the look in them all but screams mistrust. 

Eliott nods, hoping Yann also understands his most sincere but wordless response— never again. 

The stare off probably only lasts a few seconds but to Eliott, it feels like an eternity before Yann’s eyes start to squint, one hand reaching for the take out bag that Eliott has stuck in the space between the two of them. Slowly, Yann takes a hold of it, snatches the bag from Eliott’s grip, and sniffs into it. He’s still squinting at Eliott as he walks backwards to take the food inside the kitchen.

“Okay, weird but blessedly silent. I’ll take it,” Lucas huffs, taking Eliott’s hand and dragging him past the living room and into the little hallway. Belatedly, Eliott realizes that they’re headed straight for the bedroom, Lucas marching them towards the door like a man on a mission. 

“Don’t you wanna eat?” Eliott asks, pulling back to slow Lucas down. “I bought that for you too.” 

“Later, I just,” Lucas pauses, his door already wide open once they reach it. “I have to ask you something.” 

Well that doesn’t sound foreboding at all. Eliott clears his throat. “Okay.” 

They arrange themselves on the foot of the bed, legs crossed and facing each other. When Lucas starts fidgeting, Eliott reaches over to intertwine their fingers together. 

“I know we joked about it before… or more like just yesterday actually… but uh,” Lucas starts, looking around the room to avoid meeting Eliott’s eyes head on. “So Marie’s home now and I’m taking Champ back to her on Thursday.”

“Okay,” Eliott says, smiling when Lucas discreetly looks at him from the corner of his eyes. 

“Okay, um.” Lucas takes a deep breath and spills the rest out on a long exhale. “My mom will be there too and I was wondering if you’d like to come?” He’s wincing by the time the question ends and Eliott, endeared, can only stare. “Maybe? You don’t have to. I understand if it’s too early or whatever—”

Eliott brings their tangled hands up to his lips and rains down kisses to the back of Lucas’ palms until he shuts up. 

“I’ll come,” he says, and then after a short silence continues with, “I’d love to.” 

Lucas’ relief is palpable. 

“Okay. That’s… that’s good.” 

“You’re cute when you’re all nervous like this,” Eliott teases, wanting to see Lucas’ smile. Sure, it’s only been a couple of minutes since he’s last seen it but Eliott’s one greedy motherfucker when comes to Lucas. 

“What?” The corner of Lucas’ lips tilts up, but it’s not quite the smile Eliott’s looking for.

“You’re all nice and cute when you’re nervous. No room for snarking or swearing at me.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, it was good while it lasted.”

“Shut up!” Lucas laughs, kicking at Eliott’s knee.

“Oh you’re kicking me now too, my god, such violence from a tiny human.”

“You’re so dumb.” Lucas pushes at his shoulder and Eliott goes down easily, but not before winding an arm around Lucas so that his boyfriend falls on top of him in their descent. “Such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Eliott retorts as cheesily as can be, grinning when Lucas laughs again, eyes scrunched and mouth open. 

“God, do you ever shut up?” 

“Yeah, there’s one way to shut me up.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re really good at it.”

Lucas leans down and Eliott feels the smile on his lips. The kisses start off as innocent pecks, short and dry, until Lucas brushes their noses together and teases the tip of his tongue in between Eliott’s slightly parted lips. 

Eliott surges up then, locking their lips together as he moves, sitting upright with his arms still secured around Lucas. His boyfriend goes along with it, easily shuffling around so that he’s sat comfortably on Eliott’s lap, hands slightly cold against the back of Eliott’s neck, but the latter doesn’t mind— Lucas’ mouth is scorching enough to make up for it. 

His jacket gets tossed to the floor at some point and his hands wander inside Lucas’ hoodie, searching for the warmth of his skin under, encouraged by the way Lucas tightens his arms around Eliott’s shoulders when he runs a hand from the nape of Lucas’ neck down to the dip low on his back. The intensity reminds him of their first time— only slightly, because Eliott doesn’t think anything could come close to that night. But he recalls the warm weight of Lucas on his lap, against the wall, over him, under him. Recalls the way he’d jokingly asked Lucas how many fingers he’s holding up. How Lucas had very non jokingly slipped the two fingers in his mouth and licked around them until Eliott lost his mind.

The memory of it has heat rushing up and down Eliott’s body in frantic jolts, melting away his higher functions until he finally flips them over, gently laying Lucas down below him just like he’s always done. His fingers lightly dance along the line of Lucas' jeans and the latter lets him, Lucas’ hands exploring the wide expanse of Eliott’s back under his shirt. 

And that’s something new— not Lucas touching him no, but rather the confidence he exudes in bed. Eliott doesn’t think he’d ever forget the shakiness of Lucas’ breath, the furious drumming of his pulse, the flinches he’s tried so hard to cover up. Eliott’s noticed every single one of them, often pausing to suggest for them to stop only for Lucas to hold him by the sides of his face and mutter a determined, keep going.

Back then he couldn’t figure out if there’s a story behind it, or if Lucas is only nervous about being intimate with someone else. Now that he knows, can extrapolate the details from what Lucas has told him so far, Eliott’s heart is close to bursting with the realization of how much trust Lucas has placed in his hands that very first time. Of how much trust he continues to have in Eliott despite all that’s happened. 

I love you, his touch speaks, lingering and light over the smooth skin of Lucas’ waist.

I love you, his eyes repeat, insistent, hopeless, as they meet Lucas’ wide, adoring gaze.

I love you, his mouth whispers, soundless against the brush of Lucas’ lips, plush softness falling open under the gentle touch of Eliott’s tongue.

I love you, he wants to say, out loud, with all his anxious, fragile heart but what comes out instead is a nearly inaudible, “You’re so beautiful.” 

Maybe someday, he’ll be able to speak as it is. Someday, he’ll work up the courage to stop hiding behind soft touches and pretty words. But as Eliott opens his eyes on a slow blink, he looks down at Lucas and catches the most tender of smiles directed up at him. Maybe words aren’t needed right now. For Lucas, in this moment, maybe Eliott is enough. 

“No, you,” Lucas retorts childishly, arching up to press a giggle into Eliott’s amused smile. 

“This is a losing battle, baby.” Eliott nuzzles his cheeks, nose instinctively wrinkling when Lucas kisses the tip of it. The sweltering heat has cooled between them, replaced by a softer kind of warmth.

“Yeah, your losing battle,” Lucas says, trying to shift from under Eliott’s weight. “Baby,” he adds in a whisper, smile cheeky when Eliott’s head snaps up to look at him. He sputters, unfairly flustered at hearing Lucas use that pet name, any pet name in fact, for the first time—

“Are you being a brat?” Eliott tries to keep his voice stern, but he’s pretty sure his eyes give it away as Lucas dissolves into helpless giggles. “Are you being a brat?” he repeats a little louder, hands splayed widely over Lucas’ sides, curling up where his boyfriend is most ticklish.

“No!” But it’s too late, Eliott’s already found his weakest spots and proceeds with the attack, relentless despite Lucas’ half formed begging in between his laughter. “Eliott, no! Wait!” he squeaks, turning red when one of Eliott’s hands slide up to tickle at his neck. 

Eliott only stops when Lucas, breathless and teary-eyed, pouts pitifully up at him. Honestly, what human being with a heart could resist that? So he leans down and brings the jut of Lucas’ bottom lip in between his teeth, waiting until his boyfriend opens his mouth on a groan before diving in for a kiss. Lucas’ hands immediately tangle themselves into Eliott’s hair, legs pulling up to wrap around him as if Eliott has any batshit plans of leaving the bed any time soon. Eliott’s shirt is halfway off his back when Lucas’ door creaks open.

They barely let up, both expecting to see Yann coming to interrupt them for whatever reason but the entry way is empty. 

“What—” 

Soft, fast-paced panting is their answer and Eliott’s completely unprepared for when Lucas shoves him off the bed with all his might— Eliott hangs onto the sheets to keep from cracking his head open.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Lucas shouts, dragging Eliott back up to the center of the bed. “I just— Champ’s just a baby, she can’t see that!” 

Eliott doesn’t know whether to agree or laugh. He figures responding with a deadpan she’s just a dog won’t go over too well with Lucas so he keeps that thought to himself. With a sigh, Eliott smooths down his shirt and walks over to where Champ is still panting happily up at them. 

“Are you happy now?” He asks the dog, crouching closer to her level and tapping her tiny nose with a finger. He carries her in his arms on his way out to the living room, turning back to see Lucas attempting to fix his hair as if Yann doesn’t already know what they’ve been up to, alone in the room for at least half an hour. “Come on, baby, let’s keep Yann company before he decides to take back my rights.” 

[heykillmongerluhme]

Meet Me In The Breakroom

Erik Stevens x OC Reader

I N S P O: I had a daydream about this the other day, plus I’m being a Filthy McNasty now; Need to get my creative sauce back up

N O T E: Read while alone hehe or be a filthy McNasty like me and react all loud; Could listen to I Wanna Sex You Up x Color Me Badd

W A R N: Smut

T R I G G E R: None

W O R D: 3.9k

“Let’s get down to brass tax here” Mr. Whittington, CEO, said abruptly through your presentation “What is it going to cost me?”

The room, including yourself, fell into laughter as you clicked through the next three slides heading towards the graph indicating cost. This was the presentation that you had been preparing for. The company was going down for being too old fashioned and targeting the older demographic and they needed a fresh new perspective. Mr. Whittington himself called you to be lead on the project, promising you a spot for VP of Communications. You were beyond excited because since you stepped foot into that office, it has been your goal to eventually lead a department for the firm.

“Roughly, we estimate the cost to be around $532,000 but profit would be projected to” you dragged out as you clicked out to the next slide “$1.7 million”. Low audibles of gasps surrounded the room and smiles from your team shone to you.

“And how do you suppose we are to receive those funds?” he interjected the elevating atmosphere. Erik Stevens. It just seemed like he had a vendetta against you, every idea you had, even if it was great. He just always had something to say. Something to ask, just something to nitpick at. Maybe because you were the only other younger, black executive on the team. He was the “star” before you came along and he really didn’t care for it.

“Well, Mr. Stevens” you kept a tight smile but your eyes were burning him “We still have leftover funds from our charity raised last month, I have compiled 5 different investors, even those relationships that were lost” the shade that was thrown from you to him. No one really likes to bring up the 2017 investors meeting, that was not one of Erik’s best moments.

Eyes roamed between you and him trying to see who was going to fight back first. The office knew that you two were in competition with one another and that tensions were high. His jaw clicked before you watched his thick tongue cover the plump bottom lip before it tucked in anger.

“Any other questions?” You called out to the room and no responses availed to you.

“Great job, Y/N!” Mr. Whittington clapped before standing to his feet. The room followed suit as you stood proudly. Shoulders back, chest forward, and head held high. A reluctant Erik stood up last as you looked at others directly. A smile on your face and grimace on his.

x x x

“I can’t believe that Mr. W is going to name you VP!” your coworker gleamed as you guys brought in the remaining materials.

“We have to wait and see” you calmly reminded her “It is between Erik and me, and he has a longer track record than me”

“So! He’s been here for how long and only has been promoted once. Besides ever since the fuck up in 2017, Mr. W is making sure that he is monitored. Who knows, he might be in your department” the brunette bounced before placing down the rest of your materials.

“Thank you” you mentioned breathlessly before pushing your curls out of your face “Who knows, but I am completely starving and I am about to head to lunch. Do you want anything?”

Shaking her head ‘No’, she opened the screen on her phone before stepping out of your office. You took a well needed to exhale before preparing for the next half of your day. Meeting after meeting after meeting. You already knew that caffeine was in your calling, so before you decided to leave campus for lunch. You needed your third installment of coffee.

x x x

With the company being as prominent as it is, it created a break floor for all their employees. It was implemented that current year but not a lot of individuals wanted to use it. Due to the comfort of their own break rooms or they simply did not know about it.

However, it had become a sanctuary for you. Some days you had the whole floor to yourself, like today. It just seemed like the universe was working in your favor all day. First, you killed your presentation that you finished to the brim of the minute before the meeting. Next, Mr. W is making more hints for your promotion. Then, You had this break room floor to yourself to unwind from the first half of the day. And lastly, you finally had your chance to embarrass Erik. Today was beginning to look like the best day ever. It was shortly interrupted when you heard the blaring of a rap song come around the corner and the clicks of loafers followed suit. Annoyance grew in your body because you just wanted to be quiet. You still had your back turn as you pressed the brewer to begin the making of French Vanilla coffee. The scent, you knew anywhere. His Calvin Klein cologne invaded your nose before you could even turn around.

Erik looked up from the tweet that he was going to send before seeing you stand at the machine. His chocolate orbs danced across your heels, leading up to your curvy calves that connected to your holdable hips. He may not have liked you as a coworker but he couldn’t help that he was a man. He definitely found you attractive. As you did him. However, y’all pride and the race to be successful in the company got in the way of seeing each other as you really wanted to.

“So, you kissed the bosses’ ass today?” his banter began as he stood beside you, shoulder to shoulder. Your eyes focused on the machine, not really paying attention to anything that was going on. You just didn’t want to look at that handsome face. That really bothered you, that you found the one person that you could not stand in the entire office to be the one that you would throw your juices too.

He sucked his teeth when he did not get a reaction and began to prepare himself a cup of coffee as well. Knowing one way to get you to react, he smirked to himself before stating “Those pretty ass lips must be good for something then”

Your head snapped in his direction as he tried his best to keep his excitement to himself. He was always so vulgar and you hated that you loved it. Trying to keep your professionalism, your eyes lowered “Keep those nasty ass comments to yourself, clown”

His head had thrown back as he laughed. It was like you were trying to hide the fact that you were affected by what he said. He turned his body towards you, keeping his eyes to scan over the top half of your body now. The beautiful mane of afro-curls down to your illuminating face, it connected to a gorgeous neck that exposed your robust chest. He couldn’t help himself but his eyes stayed stagnant.

“My face is up here” you reminded him sharply while you examined his lustful look. The curves of his face that lead to the plumpness of his lips drove your imagination wild. You tried so hard to not dig deeper into your fantasy but it has been a bit of a minute before you felt a penetrating warmth between your legs. So anything was liable to turn you on, even your sworn enemy. Your eyes decorated along with the blue striped colored button-down he wore that day. You could see that he was active in the gym, due to the strength his upper body displayed.

Catching you doing the same dance he was doing “My face is up here” he mocked you. Snapping back to reality, an eye roll followed suit before hearing the beep of the machine go off indicating that your coffee was ready. Erik needed the coffee and you needed the additives, which were on the opposite side. You realized that you guys had to actually cross paths. “Excuse me” you stated before making your way sidestepping to the condiments table. Erik obliged but being a man, and who he was, he stepped back with just a bit of small space allowing you to step in front of him. He was not slick as he wanted to be, in reality, he wasn’t even trying to be slick at this point. You walked in front of him but not before he pressed his lower half against you, taking his hand to the small of your back guiding you to move. Electricity ran up your spine as breathy shudder fell from your lips. You tried to contain it but he heard you.

Erik turned his head to you before scanning you once more and it didn’t help that your pencil skirt showed off your shape. “Why you be so bitter all the time?” he asked breaking the growing tension between you.

“Excuse me?!” you asked while concentrating on your coffee, getting it to the way you like. You blew along with the hot contents before taking a sip of the sweet, warm liquid. “I am not bitter, I just don’t like when men have hissy fits because a woman is in power and have just as much, or maybe even more, hold as them”

“Nah, that ain’t it” he dismissed, pressing the button for a brew while he looked at you. His eyes now dark, his voice in baritone, and heat of his body closing in on yours. “I think it’s because” he started as he stepped forward and without thought, you stepped back, literally backed into a corner “You ain’t got nobody hitting it right”

How could you be so disgusted but turned on at the same time? Only you would know but it seemed like Erik knew it too. His frame towered yours, though you had on heels, you were still relatively under him. Your throat dry, you cleared before placing your coffee down “I-I do have someone ‘hitting’ it thank you” you lied. Hoping that would have him back off but it only engaged him more. Dammit.

“You ain’t hear me? I said hitting it right. Don’t give a fuck if someone is hitting it or not if they ain’ t doing it right? They ain’t doing it at all” Erik informed you. You wanted to melt right in front of him. Breath staggered, the background noise of coffee pouring surrounded you two before the unthinkable happens.

His powerful lips covered yours, a yelp leaped from you between your lips. Your hands raised to slap him before it lowered slowly once the connected kiss between you two began to reign supreme. You have been thinking about this moment for quite a while, frankly. So did Erik. Once he knew that you were not resisting, his kisses became hungrier as he tried to fill your mouth. Erik’s large hands ran down your waist, taking a nice hold of them before he mounted you up against the wall. Taking your left leg to rest on his hip, he grinded into you. The friction of his dress pants against you caused you to squirm. This would happen on the day that you decided not to wear panties.

“Oh? You a freak, too?” Erik smiled playfully on your lips before taking an intense grip on your thigh. Now there was no need for modesty, you smirked back into his lips before kissing him back.

“There is a lot that you don’t know about me, Mr. Stevens” a subtle moan left you feeling him grind against you again. He groaned back into your mouth as his unoccupied hand, drew his fingertip up your inner thighs to you waiting center.

“You keep calling me Mr. Stevens, you going to be in a world of trouble” he warned before biting your bottom lip popping it back.

“Mr. Stevens” you enticed seductively.

He warned you, but you didn’t listen. Erik’s callused fingers drew along your throbbing clit before drawing it down your lips to your hole. One finger, he dipped into the pot as he felt your wetness beginning to build. He smiled knowing that you were just as much into it as he was. Two fingers, now drawn into you as he began to slowly pump it back it and forth. Your eyes fluttered with mouth agape feeling the fingers enter you without warning. Erik has been wanting this since the moment he had laid eyes on you. He knew that you were strong, independent, level-headed but he wanted to see you vulnerable, submissive, illogical. He knew he couldn’t do it that way my work, so why not through pleasure. However, with that being his first agenda, it changed once he actually saw the look on your face. How you rhythmically moved with him, how your face contorted to pleasure as he continues to play with your ridge walls.

“Oh..” you moaned out taking your gel tipped nails along his shoulder.

By the moment, he had you completely in his care and you did not want to combat him. Erik’s coated fingers drew up your lips in a ‘V’ fashion before keeping his eyes on yours, taking them in his mouth. He was a freak just like you, however, you did not want to reveal all your dirty little kinks. Even if it was in the office break room. Once again, his fingers found his way back to the place that they had become familiar with. Now completely covered in his saliva, the battle on your clit had become one that you were not prepared for. His fingers drew quick circles on your hardening clit, as you felt your walls pulsate as if you contracting on the imaginary dick inside of you. An echoed yelp left you before he plunged his fingers into your honey pot again, realizing where you were, you tucked in your lip resting your head back along the wall, completely falling victim to Erik’s fingers.

His grip on your thigh became tighter, as your walls became the same. It was if he was matching your journey to orgasm.

“Haa..” you moaned as you reached your peak, hearing the slapping of your wetness between his fingers and your coated opening. “Mmm,” he followed before kissing you loosening his grip on your thigh. 

You grinded along with his fingers, not feeling satisfied with the orgasm and Erik’s rod immediately jumped in his dress pants. You kept your eyes on him, wrapping your hands around his neck locking your fingers. You continue to ride on his fingers, showing him that you can still be dominate, even if he was trying to please you. You knew his angle and feeling bad about embarrassing him in the meeting, you allowed him to take control. This time. Moving your hips up and down his fingers, Erik’s bottom lip hangs down as you guys’ eyes locked in time. Panting on your end and lust on his, you croaked out another moan while still keeping your eyes locked on him and Erik smirked at how you took yourself there.

“Damn, Y/N” he congratulated you.

He wanted you now and you needed him. He dropped you down, making sure that you landed on your heels correctly. A gentleman of sorts. However, within a flash, Erik knew that it was his turn to take control and he did just that. Turning you around, his grip that was on your thigh made its way to the bottom of your skirt hiking it all the way to your waist, exposing your brown, round, ass. His eyes were mesmerized and his mind was filled with the various positions he wanted to twist you in. However, the lunch break was only for an hour. Hearing the clacking of the belt buckle, turned you on as you looked over your shoulder peeking to see what he was working with.

Erik’s dark laugh surrounded you as he started to bring his pants along with his briefs down “You tryna get a peek huh?” Being as nasty as you wanted to be, you nodded a pleasing ‘Yes’ before your eyes dropped down to his package. Your mouth watered as you saw his length spring into action. “Fuck..” you whispered to herself in awe, your pussy began to form more wetness waiting for him to enter.

“You a big girl, huh Y/N?’ Erik asked sweetly as he drew your curls over your shoulder, taking the base of his head, teasing it up to your lips to your clit. A few taps before sliding it up and down teasing again.

“Hmm..” you moaned to the touch of his warm shaft going up and down. Your right leg stood but trembled as you waited for him to enter.

“I need you to speak, baby. I asked if you were a big girl?” Erik’s now quivering head waiting to enter you. He was dying from the teasing just as much as you were, but both of you not wanting to give up first. The whole dynamic of y’all relationship.

“Yes, Mr. Stevens. I’mma big girl” you moaned out feeling his head touched your hole. With that statement finished, he guided his stiff inside of you causing your head to hang low and his drawback.

“Fuck..” he groaned to your tightness, it was one thing with his fingers but feeling you around himself, he had to think of the scenery you guys were in to not bust quickly. He was a ladies man and he was very much into the ladies. He knew good pussy when he felt it. And baby, you were the platinum record to all the other records he kept.

It was if you both were confused about how good it felt that he just stood inside of you catching his breath, then he began his rhythm. Erik being the freak that he was, watched as his member pumped in and out of you. The glistening of your juice caused him to watch in awe, letting him continue to thrust inside of you. Your hand palmed on the wall and gripped along the counter as he began to rough his strokes. Rolling of moans covered your lips while Erik concentrated on his movements. The clapping of your ass crowded the entire floor and the symphony of your moans and his groans mixed followed up.

“Oh..fuck..Erik!” you whined aiding in the movements that Erik was destroying you with.

You kept your back arched and began throwing it back on him. Something that other women didn’t do, that Erik loved. They would always want him to do all the work.

He stood back and watched you go to work. He curved his hips to get your spot and by the scream of his name, he did just that. He kept his length right at your spot as you stopped throwing it back due to him grazing over it.

Eyebrows furrowed, he took his hand and a ‘SLAM’ covered your ass causing your freaky ass to whine out. “I ain’t say stop! You a big girl” he gritted throwing his hips directly back at your spot “You gon’ take this big dick, c’mon” ‘CLAP’ on your ass again.

The stinging turned you on as you continued to throw your hips back, your goal was to grab every inch of Erik inside of you. You reached that goal with the sliding of your walls falling down and the growing orgasm building up inside you. One you don’t think that you can handle or ever had experience before. Moaning again, you stopped feeling weak of how much of his dick is causing you to crash. Smirking that he has you now totally under his control, he slammed inside you once again. Dropping his callused hand to your hips, he gripped tightly and threw you back on him as he pumped in you. Different shapes filled your eyes, what felt like helium clouded your brain, and pressure that felt like a pipe bursting filled your body.

“Oh-Oh my G–” you almost belted out before he took your throat beneath his hand. He was growing close to, based on how quick his strokes were growing. The first orgasm ran through your body as you felt the literal cream leaving you onto Erik’s dick and down your lips, to your hard quivering clit.

“Mmmhm..that’s it” he coached “I know you got another one, Y/N” he groaned keeping his grip on your throat, tight but lustful. It was true, another one was building and now your body was completely under the control of Erik as you came again. Both of your movements became faster as you began to not give a fuck if someone heard y’all or shit, even if they saw you. You wouldn’t care until both of y’all nuts were finished. Groaning as he grew to close, he pulled out his throb and spilled himself on both of your cheeks.

“Fuckk..” Erik moaned as he squeezed out what seemed like a pint of cum onto your ass. Adrenaline coming down, both your panting bodies and itches scratched. You remember where you were and who you were with. Feeling a mixture of hate but lust, covered you as you turned around seeing a spent Erik. An ended kiss shared between the both of you before you snapped back to reality pushing him back, causing him to almost trip over his pants wrapped around his ankles.

“This never happened” you warned, grabbing the hard brown napkins cleaning off your cheeks before pulling down your skirt.

Erik’s licked lips shown before a smile “You got my word”

x x x

It has been two weeks since you and Erik’s escapade. Since that afternoon, you never stopped flashing back to the moment. You never came like that before. You never had public sex. It was like all of your first was being pushed by him. Since then, he has not talked to you. Not even an insult was thrown your way. You knew that you told him that “it never happened” but you went to the break room every day. You would wait for your whole break, just to see if he would show up to ignore you. But each day, you were left alone. Guess it was just a fling.

“And here, this is where our Communications department is and the VP office will be there” you heard Erik’s voice crowd the hall before approaching your office. It was normal for him to be the tour guide of the company to different partners and investors, hearing him approaching with the traditional speech you fixed your appearance just to look good to see if he would see you. Every day, you tried to go out of your way to look good but to no avail, he did not even look your way. It didn’t help that you guys' office was across from one another.

Perking up, he looked in the office and then looked forward as he began the other part of the tour “And over here is where..”

For real? You just huffed at defeat once more as you sat back going back to the project at hand. Moments had passed and it was closing into lunch. You sat back in your swivel chair and was disrupted with a chime from your phone, your heart began racing once you saw the message.

Erik: You think I ain’t noticing.. I’m tryna keep cool but today, fuck that. 5 mins. Meet me in the breakroom..

And guess what you were doing for your lunch break? Meeting him in the break room.

x x x

I hope y’all like it! I haven’t written smut in awhiiiiiile, just been trying to get back on the wagon. It will get better. Just a short for y’all McNasties :)

[alexsmitposts]

In America, Privilege is Far More Fatal than COVID Yesterday, I received a report from Syria. It told of blistering heat and no electricity, of fuel lines, of food shortages and economic suffering by the Syrian people. This is an excerpt: “I wonder if people in EU, US and UK had to deal with the repercussions of their government sanctions on Syria, would they fight harder to get sanctions banned as a hybrid war, sadistic strategy. It is 41 degrees in Damascus, the cloud cover makes it heavy and oppressive. Electricity where I am is on for an hour, sometimes two before it cuts for three or four hours, just as the air conditioning makes your environment bearable. For some living close to me, they were without electricity for 14 hours in this sweltering heat. I wet my clothes to keep me cool while I am working, it is the only thing that helps. Mobile phones do not have time to charge. Food goes rotten because the fridge is off much of the time. Syrians traditionally store enough food in their freezer to last them two or three months. They are having to throw much of it away. At the same time, food prices are sky high. Nobody can afford to eat luxury items like chicken anymore. Lemons have become a luxury item, the price of one kilo has trebled in a few months. Parents do not know if they can feed their kids every day, they are living hand to mouth. All the roadside kiosks are seeing their livelihood go down the drain, literally, as everything in their freezer section melts or goes bad. The queues for fuel, while not as bad as before, are still a stressful scrum with cars lining up to take their ration. These are only a few of the effects of sanctions. Sanctions are designed to hurt, to deprive, to depress and, ultimately, to kill slowly and more painfully than the swift ending of life by a mortar or a bullet. Sanctions strip people of their dignity and leave them beggars in their own home.” Syria is but one nation targeted by the Trump regime, there are others and the stories like this are in the millions, told by those who still live. When Syria was attacked, it was not just starvation, it was terrorism as well with up to 400,000 dead and 5 million refugees. Iraq suffered a far worse fate, 2,000,000 dead. Both nations are still partially occupied by the United States, the nation that engineered this suffering. Now it is all coming home to roost, as here in the United States, what was done to Syria and Iraq, to Yemen and Iran, and to the best of Trump’s ability Venezuela’s people as well, is being deployed against the most vulnerable of Americans. We had another police killing yesterday, one we know of, there may well be others, in fact it is likely. This was in Los Angeles, another African American, his crime was riding a bicycle “improperly.” To understand how privilege applies, Dylan Roof, white mass murderer who killed 9 a the Emanuel AME Church was arrested with considerable care and, before being processed, was taken to the local Burger King for lunch by police as Dylan told them that murdering so many people “made him feel hungry.” As American humorist Jim W. Dean so often says; “You just can’t make this stuff up.” This is not unusual, this is the norm, this is how things work but you will not know unless you ask people, people who trust you with the truth. Problem there, the divide in America is so profound that the victims of insanity and brutality that started long before the current epidemic under Trump don’t want to talk to the media, such as it is and have no faith in political process. You see, political process in America reeks of corruption and privilege as well. Privilege, as with exceptionalism, is a form of corruption whether it is state sponsored apartheid as in Israel or the other version of apartheid, the American one, with walls and children in cages and bodies in the streets. Let us be clear about something else, while the media tries to smear the most well know victims like Beonna Taylor, every person of color in the United States is victimized unless “hand selected” like Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, a despicable human being reviled for his love of all things fascist. We might take a moment to discuss Breonna Taylor as well. This is a young woman of color living in Louisville, Kentucky, employed as a paramedic/first responder. Police broke into her home and killed her based on a false warrant. This is someone who had never committed a crime of any kind, police simply kicked down her door and murdered her for being black skinned, there is no other explanation. Yesterday, according to reports in the Washington Post, local prosecutor Tom Wine, a Trump backer, offered freedom to a number of drug suspects, if they would falsely incriminate Beonna Taylor, in order to aid Donald Trump in his election chances. Sources tell us Wine would then be nominated as US Attorney by Trump appointee William Barr. This level of corruption is seen every single day, even reported every single day but as the victims are of color in a land of “white privilege,” those who protest being falsely imprisoned or murdered by police are “violent hooligans.” Again, “you just can’t make this stuff up.” To understand the violence that is sweeping America today one can easily look at the violence that has swept the world, not just after 9/11 but long before. There are two words that are one in the same, one personal, one far greater, both are fatal. They are privilege and exceptionalism. The nature of “privilege” is insidious. For those who do not have COVID, for instance, who are not on a respirator or mourning the hundreds of thousands now dead, the disease is “fake.” This is privilege, denialism of the suffering of others because they are “others.” An unreported fact, nearly 4,000,000 older Americans live in nursing homes or residential facilities. None have been visited by family for nearly 6 months. Over 150,000 have died of COVID but reports that are creeping in speak of malnutrition, bed sores and widespread abuse and there is no one to help as families are not allowed to see their forgotten elders. The result of this, of course, is that older Americans have now become defacto “people of color” and reside in defacto “cages” like little brown babies ripped away from their mothers to amuse Trump’s political “base.” The insidious nature of privilege is that it can infect anyone, whatever their race or ethnicity. Privilege has become a hallmark of some religions, such as Christian Evangelism, infecting 35,000,000 Americans who attend church, pray continually but bask in a belief system that feeds exceptionalism and hatred. Privilege and exceptionalism are most often driven by fear. For some inherited money drives the unearned feeling of superiority, though Trump has, to a large extent, destroyed this concept through his bumbling ineptitude. Even the drooling Baron Rothschild and his carriage drawn through London by a team of zebras was not able to do that. If you are poor and white in America, “at least you aren’t black.” Thus, those who are otherwise the most marginal and vulnerable, not in all cases but some, perhaps many, take solace in having someone beneath them. “The humbleness of a warrior is not the humbleness of the beggar. The warrior lowers his head to no one, but at the same time, he does not permit anyone to lower his head to him. The beggar, on the other hand, falls to his knees at the drop of a hat and scrapes the floor to anyone he deems to be higher; but at the same time, he demands that someone lower than him scrape the floor for him.” – Carlos Castaneda Turning to Castaneda, whose “Way of the Warrior” defined excellence for so many during the 60’s and 70’s, in a way defines the failures in America’s culture today. “The basic difference between an ordinary man and a warrior is that a warrior takes everything as a challenge, while an ordinary man takes everything as a blessing or a curse.” – Carlos Castaneda What can safely be generalized about how things really are in America? Yesterday I spent time with one of my friends, a painting contractor, American born Hispanic who speaks no Spanish, highly successful, and we discussed local police in my own affluent community. His experiences with the same police who are to me beyond polite and helpful, not so helpful mind you that I would ever depend on them for protection, are quite the opposite of mine. I now know there is a problem. Will I do or say nothing and if I find our community subject to disorder because of our collective indifference to the rights of all, will I be surprised? Am I privileged and exceptionalist? Were it not for time I spent as a police officer decades ago, a miserable job, his words would seem unreasonable but anyone who has worked in law enforcement knows that the greatest stress isn’t from the public, too often referred to as “potential suspects,” but rather from corrupt and ignorant coworkers. It does not take long to see that they are the real criminals. As a former police officer, one is typically never stopped by police or if one is, one is immediately not just released but usually engaged in friendly banter. To be clear, some departments are better than others, but none are perfect and some, like Kenosha, Wisconsin, are brutally incompetent and dangerous. What we have also seen at mass killing like Columbine or during the fear driven killings that are sending hundreds of thousands into the streets, many police are quite simply cowards with guns, a very dangerous combination. Many, however, are not. Many are competent, polite, professional and often end up sacrificing their lives for others. The problem there is that if you are one of these, working with the others is a nightmare. In many cases, “good police” are ostracized and threatened for failing to be corrupt, which is my own experience. This makes the job impossible and the victims are many, certainly good police suffer as they invariably are commanded by the most corrupt and incompetent but the communities they supposedly serve suffer as well. This is the case with Kenosha. There, the police department, as a whole, is generally seen by other police as very poor quality, highly corrupt, racially biased and a very bad place to work. For the community, if you are white, you won’t be arrested unless you do something exceptionally bad and if you are a powerful “insider,” you can never be arrested at all as police are likely to aid and abet in any criminal acts. In the post George Floyd world, however, it is the community that has allowed its police to degenerate into a “blue gang” that is suffering now, subjected to violent protests which are, quite frankly extremely well deserved. Each community has a choice, to stand for justice for all, which should be equal enforcement of the law and, if need be, strong but fair and legal crackdowns on criminal elements even if such elements are people of color. Police are there to investigate and take potential offenders into custody, based on reasonable procedures, where fair courts administer laws. The truth is everything, but this happens. Police administer punishment, too often based on hatred driven by misguided privilege and institutionalized corruption and extremism. As cohorts in “blue gang” violence, prosecutors and many judges throw law, justice and the constitution aside to the extent that any attorney representing a criminal defendant feels overwhelmed. Time and time again, trials are a mockery and lying police and fake evidence rule every process, all openly accepted not just by insiders but the media and the privileged and exceptionalist community as well. Worse still, in many cases those of color who manage to rise into “the system” become the worst of the worst, almost accepted by their white brethren, which is why we included the Castaneda quotes. The disease, as we define it is privilege. The byproduct is dehumanization and indifference. This is a disease so powerful that very few can stand up to it and fewer still can admit it exists or if they choose to do so, go to great lengths to misdefine it. We began by discussing Syria but what is happening there, engineered by “privileged exceptionalists” driven by extremism, is terrorism in its purist form. American policing may well be described as institutionalized terrorism as well. Every child in America can at some time be caged, certainly if of color or if one’s parents are of questionable ancestry. Every American can be murdered by police with impunity. In fact, the massive ownership of assault weapons by Americans is driven by a fear of police. Rural and suburban communities, where gun ownership is greatest, are not subject to even the rumor of “racial violence” that the media stokes with every word. Every spectrum of politics from right or left shares one thing with those of color, distrust of government and fear of assault not by armed criminals but by armed criminal police. The sad thing is that too many take solace in the fact that they will be the last to go, not the first. From Martin Niemoller: “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.” And so it goes…

[siriuslymarauders]

Coffee Stain Introductions

Summary: You and Newt Scamander have a messy introduction 

Word Count: 1410

Warnings: None 

Previous works: This is based on a Head-canon I had did Newt. You can find this HC on my Masterlist which is linked in my bio :) 

 You stared in awe at the tall blackened tiled walls, making and pushing your way out of the buzzing rush hour crowd. It was your first day on the job, being assistant to the Auror team. It was not the dream job you had always wanted, but it was a start. It has been three years since you had graduated from Hogwarts, and through those years you have bounced from career to career, always losing your interest in the tasks. But here you were, the Ministry of Magic. You were a firm believer in fate, for everything happens for a reason. And if Merlin wanted you to spend three long years of repetitive firing and rehiring, then so be it. You were meant to end up here at this time, for whatever reason. With your head held high, dressed to the nines in your new works clothes, coffee, and papers in hand you began to march your way through the crowd. You somehow managed to escape the busy main hall and into the Auror department with ease, but as you turned the corner you collided with something, or rather someone. The force was hard enough to knock you on your bum, with your papers flying and coffee spilling everywhere. You forcibly closed your eyes and mumbled a spell to reduce the burning hot coffee now seeping its way through your clothes and onto your delicate smooth skin. As the heat began to reduce you opened your eyes to see a freckled man quickly compiling your papers, muttering quiet apologizes your way. Once all the papers were collected he went to hand them to you before realizing you were still seated on the hard wooden floor. Helping you onto your feet, he clumsy handed you the papers and reached within his pockets searching for some napkins to help with your wet attire.

You smiled as he kept on handing you paper towels as if he had an endless supply. He even went to help you pat the dampness but stopped once he realized he was about to touch your breast. In any other situation you would be upset and angered at the man, but the way his adorable face was looking anywhere but your own, you let out a breathless laugh. You said your goodbyes and began to walk away, but looking back once more you were left speechless as the man was now laying on the floor, reaching for something underneath a bench.

Confused and quite frankly concerned you made your way back over the messy hair man, “Sir, are you okay?”

He seemed alarmed by your voice, hitting his head on the backside of the bench. But he continued on to crawl as if searching for something that had fallen, “Hm? O-Oh, hm, yes. I just lost my Niffler, should be somewhere around here. Ah yes, that bugger.”

Hearing something move from the far corner of the hall, the strange man quickly stood up and ran in the direction. You laughed at his eagerness and made your way back to work with questions filling your mind.

You explained to your new boss of the situation that had happened and you heard him quietly curse before showing you to your desk. You expected the day to fly by with bright colors, but instead, you boredly sat at a desk filling out the appropriate paperwork. As you read each line going by, you couldn't help yourself but think of the adorable man that had knocked you off your feet. Literally. You wanted to find him again, and you knew it would easy. There were not many people who would be crawling around searching for a Niffler, so it was safe to assume that this man belonged to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. But you didn’t just want to walk in without a trace of reason, you needed to find an excuse.

It wasn't until lunchtime that you were sitting at your desk when you saw something shiny move out the of the corner of your eye. Hearing tiny pitter patters dance across the room you were left dumbfounded as the most adorable created sat on top of your desk, slowly taking your gold pen out from your hands. You laughed at the Niffler and loosened your grip on the pen, letting it slide into the paws of the treasure hunter. The Niffler seemed surprised by your willingness and tilted its head in confusion. You smiled as you reached behind your neck to unclasp the necklace that laid between your breasts. Slowly holding the jewelry outward you were able to grab on the Niffler and bring it close to your body, trapping it from escaping. Standing up you began to make your way out of the office with your necklace in one hand and the Niffler in the other. You were too distracted by the giddiness filling your body that you completely ignored the strange looks from your passing coworker named Walter.

“Miss. L/N?” the strange questionable tone broke through you happiness, making you look up at the man who stood in front of you      “Oh hello! Don't mind me! Just returning this little thing to where it belongs” you laughed, slightly holding up the Niffler cradled in your small hands.      You saw him eye you up and down before resting his eyes on the creature in front of him. With a disgusted tone, his reached for the Niffler, “I can get rid of that thing for you if you’d like.”    Staring dumbfounded at his response, you backed away, pulling the Niffler deeper within your arms as if to protect it, “Wait, what? No!”

Quickly turning away from Walter you basically ran to the Creature Department. Once at your destination, you were able to spot the ginger hair from a mile away. He seemed to be distracted, looking and searching around. Blowing the hair out from your face you confidently made your way over the man, stopping right before him. Expecting to get his attention you were left ignored until you made a loud clearing of your throat. With that he slowly looked up, eyes resting on the Niffler cuddling its way into your body.

Slightly holding the creature out, you spoke: “I believe you are looking for this?”

With wide eyes and a red face, his hurried his way over to you, gently taking the creature from your arms. Holding it up, you giggled as he scolded the creature in such a way it reminded you of your mother. With your laugh now filling the room he looked up staring into your eyes with a glisten of happiness. It wasn't until his eyes shifted downward towards your coffee-stained blouse that his face somehow turned even redder than before as if suddenly remembering the incident that played earlier in the day. He began to mumble apologizes left and right, but this time he was looking at you directly in the eyes.

Shaking your head in amusement, “No need to worry. It was surely my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going”

His eyes widen at your statement as if you had lied in testimony. His voice cracked a smidge as his exclaimed, “No, no. I was running and not paying attention”

You two continued to banter and put the blame on yourselves until you had finally given up and called it a tie, “Then why don't we put both ourselves at fault? How does that sound, Mr?”

His hand instantly shot up to met yours as he introduced himself, “Scamander, Newt Scamander.”

Giving him a firm handshake you grinned ear to ear as a blush made its way up your cheeks at the sudden and new contact. Your hands and eyes lingered on each other for a bit before he slowly pulled away, looking leftward and smiling in embarrassment. You stood there like a fangirl basking in the adorableness. But realizing your own awkwardness, you briskly nodded your head and began to walk away. You heard some shuffling of feet as you slowly made your way out of the room. Turning around to say your final goodbyes, you were shocked to see Newt standing so close to you. Taking a step back you smirked at the man, “Say, Mr. Scamander. I was just about to go get lunch? Would you care to join me? I’d love to hear more about this little Niffler of yours”

Notes: This is my first Newt short fic I have ever written! To be honest, I felt like I had rushed it, but I was trying to follow my Head-Canon as closely as possible. I might write a second part to this since it is really fun to write for such an adorable man :) 

[wiccamoody]

phanfic finder fest rec list - old faves!

1. Space/Science Fiction AU - Virus by Lackless 

This fic blew my mind the first time I read it in its entirety. I was very lucky and honoured to have beta read it for Lackless because it’s a very special story with a special place in my heart. It’s a stunning dystopian/sci-fi universe, with rich descriptions and amazing characterization. 

2. Vibrator - know how to scream my own name by @onedirectionticketss1​ (whatdoiknowx)

This is one of those fics that’s equal parts hot, funny, and stunning characterization. The way masturbation is used as both an individual experience and one together as a couple is so well done, and very reflective of needing time to chill on your own. Or fuck with your partner ;) 

3. Oral Sex - Sweet Tooth by @phantasizeit 

This AU is just everything. Funny and sweet (literally, with all the baked goods Dan makes!), and so captivating. It’s a wonderful fic to get lost in, with such cleverly woven in bits of canon and amazing pining!! 

4. Furries/Furry Sex - take all the courage you have left by @alittledizzy

This fic has my heart. It’s a very real, raw, and emotionally powerful journey about Phil being a furry, and later Dan joining him on that journey as his life partner. It’s a wonderful and real depiction of furry culture, and characterized so beautifully through Phil. 

5. SFW Brithday Celebration - thank you for loving him by @phanbliss (ablissa)

This is such a sweet fic about Phil turning 32 from Kath’s perspective. I was very fortunate to have beta read this as it’s an adorable story, holding all the warmth and comfort of being in the Lester’s household on the Isle of Man, combined with all the love Dan has for Phil, seen through an outside pov. Very, very lovely! 

6. Office Coworkers AU - Inspire the way (aspire to be) by @i-am-my-opheliac 

This is a lovely fic to get lost in for a bit. It’s a very richly depicted world, and such an interesting office setting! Dan and Phil’s relationship in this is wonderful, passionate though with its own set of bumps, but it’s all so sweet in the end. And the very sexy scenes sprinkled through this are to die for!

7. Knotting/ABO Fic - shapes and weights to choose by @queerofcups 

The world and a/b/o dynamics in this fic are so richly portrayed, and very reflective of our own real-world gender politics. Those politics are so cleverly woven into this, and portrayed with so much nuance and beauty within Dan and Phil, and their relationship. It’s a very steamy fic too, and chapter 13 will most definitely kill you. 

8. First time - laid bare by @waveydnp

This fic deals with Dan and Phil getting tested together for the first time, and then bareback in Jamaica together for the first time. I love the way sexual health is used in this to add weight to having safe sex with your partner, and how doing that together is a very healthy and loving thing to do for each other. 

9. Motion Sickness - a place to rest. by @nihilismdan (commonemergency)

A very beautifully written fic about Phil getting car sick on tour, and Dan doing little things to take care of him. It’s so, so fitting for them, complete with little bits of banter, and despite Phil’s illness--which is very wonderfully depicted--you can just feel the love radiating off of Dan. 

10. Fic Set In 2014 - one step closer by @huphilpuffs

While this isn’t solely set in 2014, a good chunk of it is, and this is one of those stories that really pulls at your heart strings. It’s very bittersweet, watching something straight people have had the rights to for centuries finally being given to queer people. But it’s also very beautiful to see the way Dan and Phil deal with it, and how it’s woven into their relationship. 

[thaimassagegreenock]

9 Ways to Stay Healthy When Working Remotely

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{Tutorials|Some self-help training} {and|&} {helpful|useful|interesting|important} {updates|up-dates|posts|tips|info|information} on {staying healthy|being healthy|healthy living} {with|through} {Thai Massage|Thai Oil Massage}.

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Love it or hate it, remote work is here to stay. The old model of reporting to cubicles or corner offices from 9 to 5 is out. Collaborating with far-flung colleagues from the comfort of your bedroom is in.

Chances are, if you work from home you love it. While some folks miss water cooler banter and lunch breaks with coworkers, poll after poll finds that people report being more productive at home. Job satisfaction is higher. Work-life balance is exponentially better.

This forced social experiment has shown that the old office-centric way wasn’t necessarily the best (more conventional wisdom bites the dust). But that doesn’t mean there aren’t downsides to the new hybrid or work-from-home models either. Social isolation is a real concern. So is the blurred line between personal time and work time, plus the loss of built-in daily structure. Some folks are just sick of the inside of their homes and, frankly, the people they live with.

Overall, I think it’s easier to be healthy when working from home. If for no other reason, people have more time. When the pandemic forced offices to shutter, a survey from the Becker Friedman Institute at the University of Chicago estimated that American workers saved more than 9 billion (yes, billion) hours not commuting between March and September of 2020. That’s in only six months. Now extrapolate that to today, and consider that commuting consistently ranks among the top modern stressors and health hazards.

Still, for the reasons mentioned and more, at-home workers face unique challenges that can eat away at physical and perhaps especially emotional health if they’re not careful. Here’s what I’d do to mitigate that risk.

Make It Stupid Easy To Move

One of the biggest problems with remote work is how easy it is to sit at your computer all day every day. No need to leave your house or even get out of your pajamas. Suddenly it’s dinnertime, and you’ve barely taken a hundred steps, let alone or lifted heavy things.

Any behavior change expert will tell you that the first step for is to hit yourself over the head with cues to get it done:

Leave your kettlebell in the middle of the floor where you’ll literally trip over it on the way to the bathroom.

Keep a resistance band next to the coffee maker.

Schedule movement breaks into your calendar and enable notifications.

Create a sit-stand workspace. Make a game of adopting as many different positions as you can throughout the day. Sit on the floor, stand, kneel, lean. Bounce on an exercise ball or rebounder. Use a balance board or wobble stool. Stand on one foot, then the other.

Invest in an under desk cycler or treadmill.

Sign up for my to get a daily email reminder to move, plus a different exercise to try.

Challenge your coworkers to complete a certain number of walking meeting minutes each week. Hold each other accountable.

Make it harder to ignore all the cues than it is to get moving.

Set Boundaries Around Your Time

Your boss and coworkers won’t know if you take a break in the middle of the day to mow the lawn, take the kids to the park, run to the gym, or take a nap. That part is great. Unfortunately, though, when your home is your workplace, you’re constantly at work in a sense. Nobody is going to protect your time but you.

First and foremost, do your best to keep regular work hours. Don’t start working first thing in the morning. Don’t open your email or check your calendar or anything else until you’ve had the chance to rise, move your body a little, and get into a good headspace for the day.

Likewise, don’t work late at night. Besides the fact that you shouldn’t be looking at screens right before bedtime, you need time to wind down and let go of any stress from the day. When work-related anxiety keeps you up, rather than giving in and working another couple hours, do a brain dump. Get out a piece of paper and write down all the things you’re worried about. Make a to-do list for the following day and pick the two or three things you’ll tackle first tomorrow.

I’ve beat this drum before, but take frequent work breaks during the day. Five or ten minutes every half hour or so and a longer break every couple of hours.

Use your vacation time. Staycations are all well and good, but try to get out of your home/work too. Don’t bring your laptop.

Stay Hydrated

Dehydration decreases focus, processing speed, and productivity, so drink up. Don’t force it, obviously, but be mindful about .

Here’s a little movement hack. Every time you go to the kitchen to get a drink, use that as a cue to . If you were sitting before, switch to standing when you get back. Do a set of push-ups while you’re at it.

Watch Your Caffeine Intake

I love as much as the next guy. No doubt, though, you can overdo it. There’s no need to quit coffee entirely, but take care not to use caffeine as a crutch.

Eat Proper Meals

Avoid the temptation to work through breakfast and lunch. You’ll digest your food better when you’re in a parasympathetic state. That means no checking emails or working on a slide deck for tomorrow’s meeting while you eat. Close your laptop, put your phone on the charger, and take half an hour to prepare and eat a meal without stress or distraction. Bonus points for eating outside.

Also avoid the temptation to graze all day, which is easier to do when you’re working a stone’s throw from your well-stocked kitchen. If you’re hungry, eat a meal. If you don’t want a meal, you’re not really that hungry.

Leave Your Home Every Day

Take your laptop to a park or coffee shop for a change of scenery. Go for a walk. Go for several walks. Walking meetings are one of my favorite ways to incorporate more daily movement, but make sure you find reasons to leave your work at home, too.

Speaking of which…

Manufacture Novelty

If you’re one of those people who went to an office pre-pandemic, working from home was probably its own novel experience for a while. At some point, though, the luster fades, and you start to feel like you’re living your own personal Groundhog Day. Nothing ever really changes.

Your brain craves novelty. Read a new genre of fiction. Take an online course in a topic you’ve always wanted to learn more about (ideally one that has nothing to do with your profession). Buy a new ethnic cuisine cookbook and work your way through it. Go camping somewhere you’ve never been before.

Buy a Houseplant (Or Three)

I know, I know, it’s cliché at this point. You probably procured several houseplants months ago, gave them names, and talk to them on the regular. If you haven’t jumped on this bandwagon, what are you waiting for? for mood, productivity, and workplace satisfaction.

Have a Creative Outlet

Music is mine, but it doesn’t really matter what you do as long as you have a way to express yourself. “All work and no play” isn’t just a trite platitude. It’s an evolutionary truism, not to mention one of the ten Primal Blueprint laws. includes art, music, dance, all manner of self-expression that gets creative and emotional juices flowing. The act of creating provides a necessary counterbalance to the more rigid, “serious” work of, well, work.

That’s what I have for today. What would you add to this list?

The post appeared first on .

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[smoshvalentines2018-blog]

At least I got you in my bed. - Fanfic Exchange

written for: @thirst-for-math-daddy Part of the Smosh Valentine’s Day Fanfic Exchange - please note this account is not the person who wrote this fic. Check back within the next day for the author reveal. Title: At least I got you in my bed. Pairing: Courtney Miller/Olivia Sui, Shayne Topp/Damien Haas (background) Rating: General Summary: the squad takes a rest from a road trip at a motel. All it takes is one bed to make the magicSmall author’s note: the parts that are like ‘this’ are Olivia’s thoughts. I hope you like it!!

1:47 am It was the third day of the trip. The squad: Olivia, Courtney, Noah, Keith, Shayne +Damien, had all taken two vacation weeks off and went on a road trip. Normally they’d spend vacations separately since they always saw each other every day, but lately they’d been feeling some distance between one another and they wanted to fix that (except Damien, he was just along for the ride). They noticed that they didn’t talk as much, laugh as much or even hang out as much as used to. Ian noticed it too when Keith and Olivia got into an actual argument during a script writing session. They didn’t make jokes like they usually did. It was unsettling and made the room feel empty. With tension being high and chemistry being low, Ian decided to give them two weeks off but it was more like a retreat that people go to when they want to rebuild friendships and relationships. There were enough videos that they didn’t have to worry about filming for a while so it was perfect. Joe gave them a nice spending budget for various necessities and activities and they were sent off. They were given the task of driving to as many states as they could in that timespan and collect an item from those states each. -
After taking turns driving (with the exception of Keith), everyone was too exhausted and they all agreed to find a hotel or motel to spend the night in. They took the nearest exit and found a motel. Noah and Keith walked in first because they were the most tired and didn’t feel like waiting for everyone else.
Then the remaining four walked in. Damien checked in a room for him and Shayne to share and it was the girls turn. “Hi, a room with two beds please.”, Courtney said in a way that was way too chipper for almost 2 am. The lady at the desk was older and had a very inconvenienced look on her face. She had a lit cigarette in one hand that was stained from her dark red lipstick and a pen in the other. She took a long drag without breaking eye contact and exhaled deeply. She peered over at her log book and then back at Courtney and then Olivia, and then back at Courtney who now was visibly growing annoyed by how long it was taking the woman to give them their room. All she wanted was a shower and sleep. “Sorry hun,” she finally spoke, in a raspy voice most likely caused by the cigarettes, “there’s only one room left and it has one bed.” “Oh, that’s okay, that’s no problem, right Olivia?” Courtney looked over at Olivia, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Right! Absolutely no problem at all, whatsoever!!”. She gave two thumbs up and then turned around to “pick up their bags”, but in reality to hide her very red face. It was a problem to share a bed. A REALLY big problem. The act of sharing a whole bed with the person you have romantic feelings for and the other person not knowing about the way you feel is an absolutely Gigantic problem. It was a problem but also wow she’s going to share a bed with Courtney. It would be a chance to become even closer, even though she wished it was something more. Damien and Shayne, who for some reason were still there, spoke up. “Actually Courtney, we can switch with you guys if you want. I know how you like your space when you sleep”, Damien offered. “Oh Damien that’s really nice of you I’d lik-” “NO BACK OFF THE ROOMS OURS”, interrupted Olivia. Everyone looked at Olivia who was now even more red because of her outburst. Olivia covered her face with their luggage. It was going to be a long night. -
 After everyone was settled in their rooms, Courtney immediately went into the bathroom which was surprisingly not absolutely disgusting like other motel bathrooms portrayed on tv. While she took a shower, Olivia changed her clothes and flopped onto the bed. She turned on the tv and started flipping through the channels. Time passed and Olivia was lightly sleeping when she jolted awake to see the steam release from the bathroom as Courtney stepped out. She looked angelic with messy, tousled, wet hair and a refreshed expression. She dried her hair as she walked over to her suitcase. Olivia just followed her with her gaze. She looked so beautiful that Olivia even shed a tear. Then Courtney walked up and laid next to Olivia. “What are we watching?” “I dunno, some old timey movie in Spanish, I can’t tell what they’re saying but it looks intense” “Cool! Hey, do you think Shayne and Damien have a thing together?” Olivia looked at Courtney, her inquiry taking her by surprise. “What do you mean?” “I mean, I know that they been friends for forever and have probably shared a bed before, back when they were both ‘starving artists’ or whatever but tonight was really weird. Damien seemed way too eager to switch with us and share a bed with Shayne. Or maybe he’s the one with feelings and Shayne doesn’t know anything about it and he just wants to get closer. Ya know?” That last part struck a nerve in Olivia. Courtney literally just called her out but she just didn’t know it. ‘How are you literally about to sit there and actually call me out like this??? HOW DID YOU KNOW ABOUT ME HAVING FEELINGS??? WHO TOLD YOU?? Was it Noah?? I knew I shouldn’t have told him. He can’t even commit to a single hair color, much less to committing to keep a secret.’ Olivia pushed her thoughts away and played it cool. “Yeah that was pretty odd. Maybe there is something there but also maybe not. Who can ever be sure?”, she shrugged and turned back to the tv, hoping that Courtney would forget the situation and not enquire anything else about anyone’s behavior in the reception area. “Actually, now that I think about it…” ‘Oh no’ “you seemed pretty eager to share a bed also” ‘PLAY DUMB!!!’ “W-what do you mean are you talking about? I wasn’t eager, was just….ready to get outta there. The lady was freaking me out and I just wanted to leave. Of course I’d NEVER want to share bed with YOU. Yikes ha ha!” Courtney looked hurt. “…oh” ‘CRAP! WHAT DID YOU DO?? FIX IT!!! Wait, what did that “oh” mean?? Did SHE want to share bed with me?? Does she have feelings?? For me?? Oh no I stayed quiet for too long.’ Courtney turned on her side facing away from Olivia. She was upset because of the words Olivia said and now just wanted to sleep. She closed her eyes and hoped to forget what happened for a while. “Hey, that all came out in a wrong way. I didn’t mean to say that like that. Actually I didn’t mean any of that. Of course I’d love to share bed with you. You’re my best friend and my favorite person at the office. I’d love to share a bed and so much more than that. I know we’re already close but it’s not enough for me. I want more. I need more.” Olivia looked over at the blonde who was sound asleep. She was even more beautiful when she slept. She sighed. How did she manage to fall in love with the one person she absolutely wasn’t supposed to? Why couldn’t she fall in love with literally anyone else at the office? Why Courtney? “I’m sorry”, she spoke, after a few moments of silence. “I’m sorry that I said those mean things, I didn’t mean any of it. You know I love you so much. We say it all the time but I really do love you, a lot. I love you in a different way than you love me though. You love me as a friend, coworker and sometimes roommate, while I love you as all of those things but also as a ‘i wish you were my girlfriend’ way. I love you in a ‘i want to hold you and kiss you’ kind of way’. I love you in a ‘It hurts my heart that I could never be with you in the way that I want to’ kind of way” Olivia was softly crying at this point. She, unexpectedly started pouring out her feelings to the woman she loved with all of her heart. She sat up and away from her sleeping beauty and cried harder but still just as quiet so she wouldn’t wake her. Suddenly Olivia felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Courtney’s face, which was covered in tear streaks. Olivia stood up startled and stared at Courtney terrified. Oh god, what did she do?? “Olivia I-“ Olivia bolted out the door. - 
“OOF!” She crashed into something hard and fell. It was Shayne. “Hey woah slow down, you’re gonna crash into someone hot and fall”, he said smugly. ‘Barf’ “Ha ha, real funny.” Shayne held out a hand and helped her up. “So why are you running? Is there a killer? Are you a killer and running away from your crime?” Olivia looked at him and he saw her red and now puffy eyes. His expression changed and so did his playful tone to stern and concerned. “What happened?” Now he was really worried about a killer. Olivia proceeded to tell him everything and as she told him everything, his mouth curled up into a smile. “Why are you smiling like the grinch?” “I know something real funny that’s gonna make your suffering look real insignificant” ‘Excuse me?? What the hell does he think he is? Make my suffering look insignificant?? I swear to god I’m going to punch him in his gross, smug face. “Tell me real quick what you know because Shayne, I spilled my very important feelings for the second time tonight and I don’t need you demeaning me. I know we banter but that’s too far to call my suffering insignificant.” She felt her eyes stinging from tears, except these were mad. “Okay slow your roll there peanut, I didn’t mean to make you feel gross that was so far from my intentions.” He cupped her face and looked in the eyes, “Go back to Courtney, and please talk to her. Please Olivia, for once listen to me and go do what I’m telling you.” He kissed her in the forehead, turned her around and sent her off. “Goodbye little one! Go on and be happy!” - Shayne waited for Olivia’s door to close. “Psst! Damien! The coast is clear!” “Oh man that was close.” The boys laughed and then embraced each other again. They began making out and then went behind the old vending machines. - Olivia walked back into her room and saw Courtney laying on the bed. “Hey…” Courtney turned around and stood up. “Hey.” “Sorry I ran out like that, I was just freaked out. I didn’t think you could hear me. I’m sorry, I know that you don’t feel that same probably and I’m totally okay I just-“ Courtney kissed Olivia. She kissed like she’d never kissed anyone before. Olivia was briefly in shock but her lips quickly responded back. There’s was fire between them. Passion. They looked at each other and they both felt like they were in a dream. Neither could believe that they felt the same things all along. They laid together on the bed, embracing each other, kissing, and looking into each other’s eyes. In that order. During one of those cycles, Courtney stopped kissing abruptly and and looked serious. “What happened? What’s wrong? Did I do something?” “No, actually it’s me. I did something, or more like I didn’t do something.” She sat up. “Olivia Sui, do you want to be my girlfriend?” Olivia silently screamed with delight. “YES! YES! I DO!” - The girls spent the rest of the night tangled into each other and enjoying one another’s embrace. Olivia smiled to herself as she was dozing off. If it was only a shared bed that would’ve given her what she desired, she would’ve found a way to make it happen sooner.

[taenqueray]

office co-worker!jungkook au

there would be those for some reason certified and yet unspoken of races up ridiculous flights of stairs that neither of you know who started but it still happens everyday anyway

like seriously neither of you know why, and yet there’s this mutual agreement not even made through words that it’s a stupid habit because all it does it knock the breath from you by the time you reach the top

and yet you continue to do it, despite there being a lift you could use that has heating and air conditioning where the stairs don’t

but not once does he actually ever say, “why do we do this?”

him going to the coffee machine, coming back with two and leaving one on your desk when he walks past just because

laughing at each others unfortunate coffee slurps amidst silence, like really laughing but trying to hide it, because everything is funnier when you shouldn’t be laughing

he’s that guy you know that’ll mess around sometimes but always gets the work done quicker than you, as opposed to that guy who should probably have been booted from the company months ago but they keep him around because they love him

don’t get it wrong though, everyone does still love him

but he worked hard for that so you can’t really complain

lots of corporate puns

serious business

making faces over the computer monitor because he’s finished and you haven’t

then back to serious business 

can and will comment on aftershave or perfume

then i just imagine more giggling at coffee related mishaps, honestly

another unspoken of mutual agreement to always meet at the coffee machine when the two of you are on break

why does my mind go to coffee i’m fairly sure there’s more to this career path than just this one beverage but oh welp let’s be stereotypical here 

“hows the wife and kids?”

punchline is, neither of you have a wife, nor any kids

probably cute little shoulder shimmy dancing when he has earphones in just to make you laugh, and probably by the same damn coffee machine

he knows all too well how to tie his own tie but makes you do it for him anyway just because he insists that you do it better which is debatable

fight me, he would have all the best gossip, the best at coworker banter

today was known as the first and last time i will ever type banter i’m so sorry for that

his gossip is soccer mom level, you know the stuff, “susan send her son to school with the wrong uniform and you didn’t hear this from me, but timothy got kicked off of the honour roll”

but obviously just not about susan and timothy

sharing an umbrella while waiting for a taxi after work

him waiting for you to bring up coffee once again so he can smoothly work in the idea of getting better coffee someplace else

it doesn’t come out smooth but nevermind

literally a relationship formed by a mutual bond of finding humour in small things and a mild distaste of having the same coffee everyday

i’m not sure if that sucked less or more bUt tHat’s ThaT

(why am i avoiding anything romantic i’M laUghINg everything i’ve written this week has been so platonic but ya know that’s okay we’re all okay here)

as for the office thing i’m just going off of numerous books, movies and video games because i do not work in an office please correct me

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