#i'll go back to my cave tomorrow

[nymphaforesta]

[prael]

Day 3: Reciprocation

Itzy Yeji x male reader smut

words: 6,714 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

If there's one thing you've learned dealing with the rich, the famous and the devious, it's that there's always a deal to be made.

-

"Not often that I see a girl like you in a place like this."

"Well, you're an incredibly difficult man to track down."

It's the girl who's supposed to be on the main page of your site starting tomorrow morning. You gesture for Yeji to sit by your side, and while there are more than enough empty seats around you, she prefers to stand. What is this, a fucking power move?

"Well, you could have just called my office and made yourself an appointment."

It doesn't amuse her. She simply brings her hands up to rest on her hips as she looks at you.

"Look, let's get to the point. You can't post the article." There is something rather endearing in watching how she talks to you. Her hips are cocked and her face bears a look of determination, but she lacks confidence. You're not sure she even believes herself. Maybe she's just hoping that you'll cave.

You meet her eyes and hold her gaze for a few moments, searching for a crack in her armour. It's hard to say for certain when the only lighting in this club is what little neon they have on display, but there seems to be something else hiding behind her stare. A nervous energy, perhaps. So, you correct her, "I can post the article."

"Look— I, I have money." She takes a single stride towards you, with her long slender legs of which only part of her thigh is covered by the bottom of her dress. That thing clings to them like it does every other inch of her body. One hell of a figure.

"I'm well aware."

"Okay then, how much money will it take for you to drop the article?"

"Money doesn't compare to an article like this one—you know that. Come on," you lean forward a bit. "You should be smarter than that."

"How much?!" Yeji says again. There's an edge to her voice now and a stern look in her eyes. She must feel that you're not taking her seriously—honestly, you aren't. You can't count the number of times an agency has tried to block an article by simply throwing money your way. The novelty has worn off. 

"Listen, Miss Hwang, I appreciate the effort you have gone through to manufacture a meeting with me, however, just like I told your PR team, I'm not for sale. Should you want to avoid this sort of thing, then I'd recommend being a little more discreet the next time you want to fuck around." You glance at the door leading out. The exit sign above is blinking erratically, but it serves its intended purpose nonetheless. "I'll see you in tomorrow morning's news."

"No."

"No?" You raise an eyebrow. She may be a star and she may make people go crazy in more ways than one, but if you've learned something about yourself over the years, it's that you aren't as easily swayed by beauty alone, nor impressed by fame.

Yeji remains silent, her eyes looking down to the table in front of you and your mind instantly starts conjuring up scenarios where the girl goes into a screaming fit or starts throwing a tantrum until security drags her sorry ass out the door.

Her head snaps up again. "Fine." Yeji turns sideways and steps around the small table. It becomes apparent that she plans on sitting by your side, after all. She isn't exactly looking at you as she plops herself onto the cushioned bench. "You said 'next time', right?" She begins quietly.

In spite of yourself, a smile appears on your face when you see the wheels turn inside of Yeji's head. "I don't think I understand."

"Yes, you do," Yeji replies dryly. And with the certainty now back in her voice, it appears you've misjudged her.

When you remain silent for a few moments, Yeji eventually gives in and takes a quick, inconspicuous breath before looking up again. Her face is but inches from your own. "Have sex with me tonight."

It takes effort not to burst into laughter in response to such an absurd offer, and as a result, the amusement is probably pretty damn clear in the tone of your reply. "You're cute."

"I'm serious."

You look the girl in the eyes once more, leaning backwards. "You know how much trouble you could get into for trying something like this, right?"

Yeji's jaw clenches momentarily. "Yeah."

You gaze down along her body again. The skin on her thighs seems smooth and silky; definitely worth a closer inspection, and you would be lying if you said the knowledge of her dirty hook-ups didn't have your mind wondering about all the ways she might be willing to work her body in an attempt to sway you. You wonder if she likes it rough; likes having someone grab hold of those black locks of hers and yank her head back. Likes having a cock slammed down her throat. Your thoughts quickly go into a tailspin which has you imagining Yeji crawling towards you dressed up in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a hungry smile plastered across her face and a yearning desire to find out what sort of mess you could turn her into.

"So," you begin quietly. "I don't release an article about the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked—and in exchange, I get to sleep with the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked. Do I have that right?"

You see the embarrassment cross Yeji's features briefly, yet she still manages to bite out her reply with certainty: "Yes."

For some reason, even though she's been found out and forced into making such an absurd deal, she refuses to lower her gaze away from yours, almost daring you to judge her. You've seen her music videos online—goddamnit, everyone has—and she's sexy as hell. No one would deny that, and she looks stunning in that black dress of hers. It really compliments her figure. Legs go on for days, a toned physique and looking down the front of her dress as she leans into you, a pretty little pair of tits hidden somewhere in there as well.

"I've been propositioned before, you know, but usually that's to get their face on the front page, not off it." You cock your head at her. "How badly do you want this dropped, anyway?"

"What are you trying to say?"

You lean back slowly, deliberately, resting your shoulders against the seat as you feel Yeji's eyes study your every move. Despite the terrible lighting, you can tell she's biting her lip nervously. She's so close that the scent coming off her fills the air around you. It's a pleasant smell. One you wouldn't mind having all over your bed.

"I'll be blunt." Your eyes fall to her chest and you take note of how Yeji squirms under your stare. A tiny smile appears on your lips. "I'd love to fuck you. Hell, anyone in their right mind would love to fuck you. You're a very attractive girl, after all." You nod in her direction. "So, that part will happen if I agree to this deal of yours, however, there's one thing you haven't accounted for."

Yeji meets your stare. Her voice is low, yet resolute. "Which is?"

"You have no idea of whether or not I'm actually going to uphold my end of the bargain."

She pauses in silence and then moves her hand across the table, scooping up your drink and raising it to her full lips. As she knocks back the remainder, the way her slender neck stretches makes you wish you could wrap your hands around it.

The glass hits the table and Yeji licks her lips softly. The sight has you licking your own and for just a second, the both of you simply gaze at each other in silence, almost sizing each other up. Yeji finally shifts closer to you until she's right by your side. Her breasts press up against your shoulder and you feel her warmth on your arm.

One of her delicate hands lands gently in your lap and slides upwards onto your thigh where she starts to draw small circles with her fingertips. You wonder if she notices the slight hitch in your breath as she touches you. "We can go to your office. Sign a document. Legally binding. Non-disclosure. And agree to write a favourable piece about me. You can send out the request to your best columnist there and then. And then you can take me right there." Her words come out in soft whispers and her eyes dart over your face, trying to read your reaction.

Yeji is young and beautiful and she's clearly horny enough to get herself into this kind of mess. It doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, then, when you feel a delicate fingertip trace over your crotch. "Take you?"

"On your desk. Over your desk," she elaborates shamelessly and with a hint of cheek in her voice. There's a smug expression on her face. She's enjoying herself but also relieved to be getting through to you. "However you want me."

"So, it's an exchange? A dirty deal done in the darkness?"

Yeji smirks. "I prefer to call it reciprocation."

-

Friday night in the office and it still has the passive hum of life, though not much of it. Cutting through the air is the loud clack of Yeji's high heels as she follows you silently past empty room after empty room. The interns putting in the long hours are all on the lower floors, giving you just enough discretion.

You glance back briefly at her before rounding the corner. Just like you had imagined, she seems rather timid now. Head held slightly down and glancing around the place, almost like she's embarrassed to be here with you.

Finally, you reach your private office near the far wall of the floor and wave Yeji inside. As you step up to your desk and turn, Yeji closes the door behind herself and watches you intently. The soft light in here gives you a much better opportunity to appreciate her.

"Come." You gesture her over while simultaneously logging into your PC.

It only takes a few simple clicks to bring up a basic confidentiality agreement which you proceed to edit. "As requested," you begin. "This agreement prohibits me from writing anything related to your numerous encounters with nameless men and women in various hotels throughout Seoul. Failure to abide by these terms enables you to take legal action against me and my firm to any extent deemed necessary."

She places her palms on the desk as you turn the monitor to show her. She reads it. You read here. Leaning forward has the front of her dress hang open a bit further. It's the first glance you get of her red bra underneath and the swell of her chest, just big enough for handfuls. She sees your wandering eyes, yet continues to scan the terms of the contract. It makes you curious if the idea of being looked at like some cheap slut turns her on. Maybe you should try referring to her as such. Would she object? Or encourage?

Yeji nods in approval and you click 'print'. She looks past you, watching it emerge from the machine.

"That's all we need," you say, never looking away from her. There's something mesmerising about her eyes. They're large, they're dark and they tend to draw you in. "Now I can't expose your whorish tendencies."

She looks offended momentarily. "Whorish?"

"Two months. Forty-two hotel visits were recorded. Thirty-five different partners." The chair rolls away as you push it back and stand up, towering over her frame. "Yes, you're fucking whorish, Yeji. Our research was thorough."

"I'm just having fun." She stops leaning on the desk. You both take a step in unison, beginning to round the desk while staring each other down. The moment feels tense. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, I agree completely."

Another step. Another inch towards each other.

"There's no shame in being a bit of a slut. An incredibly beautiful slut."

A third.

You're face to face. Those heels make her almost as tall as you, and you glance at Yeji's lips as the tip of her tongue suddenly darts out over them. The only sound between the two of you is your shared breathing. Yeji tilts her head back slightly and gazes into your eyes, waiting expectantly for you to act upon your desire. Waiting for you to throw her onto the desk and fuck the living shit out of her, just as she asked for.

You wait.

Her lower lip disappears beneath the bite of her teeth.

Wait.

A sudden flush rises up onto Yeji's cheeks, undoubtedly born from her frustration, but you don't miss the excitement hiding within it either. Then, Yeji takes another step forward, one which has you taking hold of her waist, pushing yourself hard up against her body.

Almost instantly, the pair of you go from hesitant to frantic, moving without a single word being spoken between either of you.

Your mouths meet in an open-mouthed kiss of heat, passion and impatience. There's a gasp coming from somewhere, a mixture of a moan as the two of you collide. It takes more willpower than expected not to shove your tongue down Yeji's throat as you feel hers slide against yours in an instant. Fingernails dig into your neck; not hard enough to leave marks, yet not soft enough to be mistaken as anything else than a woman showing what she wants. It's exactly what you wanted to do when you first saw her tonight.

She bites on your lip, sucks on it and goes straight back in. You grab hold of her tightly and shuffle her backwards towards the desk. You can barely restrain yourself. A groan rises up in the depths of your stomach when Yeji parts her legs slightly, welcoming your body in between them.

Every part of you tells you to bend her over and start hammering yourself into her, yet there's still one last detail you must attend to. You break free of Yeji's grasp and shove her roughly down onto your desk.

Her hair fans out around her head and her gaze looks darker somehow, more lustrous under this light. You follow her shape, down, over the bumps of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips and then to the hem of her dress, where bare thigh begins again. She shudders under the weight of your stare. Legs falling apart, invitingly.

You feel Yeji tremble under your tender touch as you run your hand up the outside of her thigh and push up the fabric of her dress. The tips of your fingers bump along the rim of her underwear before reaching her hip where you trace shapes absentmindedly. She's smooth and silky everywhere.

"What is it?" Yeji asks breathlessly when you don't move for a few moments. Your attention remains firmly locked on that final detail. The thin lace material covering her cunt.

You look her dead in the eyes and curl your fingers around it. "Just wondering how many different people have had you like this."

The red lace is pulled aside. Yeji stares at you, seemingly taken aback by your bluntness as you lean down a little further and angle her leg to the side, letting cool air hit every inch of her bare sex. And it's a lovely sight, all things considered. Neat, trimmed and glistening wet. Your hand moves across her thigh to hold her in place. "Usually I'm on top," Yeji replies, finally regaining her confidence.

"You'd rather be riding me, huh?"

"Yes." Yeji's answer comes immediately. Your cock is stiffening already at the mere thought of having her small body bouncing in your lap as she rides your length like a bitch in heat.

She runs her own hands up her slender frame, feeling up the sides of her own waist, skirting around those perky tits and letting out the smallest whimper of anticipation as she caresses the side of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter with desire. It seems the girl enjoys being admired just as much as you enjoy admiring.

"Don't worry, you'll get to ride it soon enough." Slowly, you drag your middle finger up between her folds, making sure you put enough pressure down against the sweet little bud of nerves to make her arch her back at the sensation. A deep inhale catches itself in the back of Yeji's throat when you sink your fingertip inside of her, only for it to turn into a disappointed sigh when you withdraw.

She bites her lip in embarrassment, no doubt mortified that she couldn't keep quiet at such a simple action, although that doesn't stop you from repeating the movement, applying more pressure and then sinking further into her. This time you withdraw and then taste your finger curiously. If the sweet scent wafting off her wasn't enough indication, she tastes as good as she looks.

"How are you so wet already?" you ask. "All from thinking about getting railed over my desk, hmm?" You ask teasingly, lowering your mouth down closer to her pussy and holding your breath for a moment. You can feel the warmth coming off her.

"It's exciting."

"What, fucking a stranger?"

"Yes," Yeji says bluntly. She wets her lips. "There's nothing quite like giving yourself up to someone completely random."

Your hand slides down her calf and gently pulls off her heel. As soon as it hits the ground, it's replaced with a slow and tender kiss on the inside of her ankle. The skin is just as smooth and supple as the rest of her. From here you have a much better view of how her delicate little flower pulses in longing.

Your head dips and you suck hard on Yeji's inner thigh. You delight in the surprised yelp leaving her mouth as you rake your teeth over her soft skin, pulling at it before letting go. It leaves behind a lovely purple bruise which you blow cold air over, soothing the irritated skin. It makes you smile, knowing that mark will remain for a week, to be seen by whoever she fucks next.

"Do you get excited thinking about having me join the list of cocks pounding away at you?"

Without allowing Yeji time to think, your tongue finds her clit and starts drawing shapes around it. "Yes!" You hear her hiss. Your left arm reaches under her thigh and keeps her pinned down to the table while your right does the same, only giving your tongue freedom to dance over her wet cunt.

You sample her thoroughly, getting her used to the feeling of your warm tongue running over every part of her. You apply more pressure to your work once you notice Yeji bucking her hips upwards to grind against your mouth.

"Oh shit." Yeji is panting heavily now, gasping for breath whenever you pay special attention to her clit. Her thighs quiver every so often, tensing around your head. "Don't—don't stop."

Yeji has the nicest legs you've ever laid eyes on. The way they wrap tightly around your head, squeezing the air out of you when you suck down on her swollen clit, it feels heavenly.

Suddenly, Yeji's hips thrust forward, throwing your rhythm off momentarily.

"Mmm, oh—fuck," she whimpers as you feel her body shake and quiver underneath your touch. Your pace doesn't slacken even once throughout.

"Fuck," Yeji whines louder this time. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Already?

You put more pressure on her hips, keeping them pinned down as best as possible, whilst your tongue attacks her with fervent desperation, spurred on by Yeji's declaration. As the seconds pass by, Yeji becomes more vocal, though not with her words—with her actions. Her breathing picks up noticeably. Soon it becomes short and ragged. Her chest heaves. Her fingers claw into the surface below her. Her spine curves beautifully and her lips hang open wide, allowing loud cries to escape her.

She practically sings out for you as her nails scratch at your desk, looking for something to hold on to, something to ground her. Her whole body tenses up for several moments.

Then it happens.

Her mouth opens up wide yet no sound comes out, her back arches almost unnaturally and her juices coat your chin. The silence hangs in the air, heavy, palpable as her walls contract in ecstasy. Then it's finally broken with a loud snap. One of her fake nails pops off and flies across the room as she grips too hard on the edge of the desk.

Then she moans. Guttural, wanton, unrestrained, absolutely filthy. It fills the room, reverberating back to you in a delicious chorus of hedonism and pleasure. She lies there limp with her eyes shut. Her mouth open. Panting heavily. Basking in the glow.

"So easily?" you ask quietly. Yeji takes a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate. Your hands leave her hips, caressing her trembling flesh, sliding upwards, running up her dress and over the curve of her waist until you reach her shoulders. You tug the straps down the length of her arms and lean closer, pushing the soft material down to reveal the top of her matching red lingerie. Your hand cups the back of her head. She instinctively knows to lift it.

You lower your lips down to her collarbone as you reach behind her to unzip her dress. The sensation of your kisses against her neck draws another moan out of Yeji. A quiet one this time, however. Gentle. Contended.

You kiss upwards, planting several against the underside of her jaw and the corners of her lips. "I can't stop myself," she whispers, opening her eyes just in time for you to press your lips against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness in your mouth. She smiles.

"Let's get you out of that dress," you say and she nods in agreement. "Up," you order softly and Yeji complies, lifting herself high enough for you to pull the material down her waist and over the length of her thighs. It falls to the ground in a heap at her feet. All that remains is the expensive-looking red underwear set she chose for this occasion.

The two of you exchange looks. She bites her lip. She can see the burning lust raging within your eyes. You don't care if it gives the game away.

There's an absolutely wicked smile that draws across her lips as you start to unbutton your shirt. Her voice is all sultry seduction when she says, "I've been meaning to ask you, are you always swayed so easily?"

"Honestly? Not really," you respond calmly, watching how her eyes eagerly take in your torso as you shrug off your clothing. "Maybe there is something about you that's just..." you trail off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

Yeji sits up on the edge of the desk and throws her arms around your neck, dragging you in closer so that your bodies connect. You feel her lips press against your chest in soft kisses. A finger trails over your abdomen, drawing patterns over your skin before moving downwards. "Yes?"

"Different." Your belt is quickly undone and dropped alongside her dress. Nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your trousers. You run your hands through her hair, appreciating how silky it feels running through your fingers.

Yeji has her gaze focused between your bodies, on her hands as they push your jeans down to the floor and you notice the change in her breathing the moment she wraps her hand around your cock.

She kisses her way up to your neck where her lips tickle your skin as she mumbles: "In a good way?"

Yeji presses the flat of her palm against the base of your erection, rubbing slowly. Your head tilts backwards slightly and you allow yourself a low groan. There's a warm puff of air as she giggles quietly against your neck.

"In a great way," you answer.

"Good," she purrs, suddenly tightening her grip on you and giving you several deliberate strokes. You watch intently as Yeji runs her thumb over the tip of your dick, circling it a few times before continuing with her motions. She leans closer, wrapping her legs around your body and placing her mouth by your ear. "I know what I said earlier about loving to ride a cock and all that," her voice is filled with lust. Pure, unbridled desire. "But honestly? I'd do just about anything right now to have you fuck me against this desk."

And that does it for you.

All semblance of control vanishes entirely in a heartbeat.

You drag her from her perch, only to turn her around and push her right back against the desk. Yeji bends over the edge and places both her palms flat atop it. You watch her toned legs move apart as she spreads them invitingly. Your hand reaches out to rest on her ass.

Soft. Round. Supple. Just begging to be fucked. Your dick rests comfortably between her cheeks, which are covered by the flimsiest piece of lace you've ever seen. The pair of you groan together in anticipation at the sensation of feeling each other so intimately. The anticipation of what is soon to come.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" you ask.

Yeji turns her head to look at you, dark strands of black hair hanging before her beautiful, desperate eyes. "Please."

She waits expectantly as you move back just enough to hook your fingers into her underwear and pull them down slowly, revealing the pretty little cunt you had tasted earlier. The desk is ever so slightly too tall for her, and her long legs stretch to rest on her tiptoes.

You run your hand down between Yeji's pert cheeks, delighting in the gasp of relief leaving her mouth as you cup her heat. Your fingers slip through her slick, coating themselves with her natural arousal before one sinks inside effortlessly. You push it deep, drawing a content sigh from her lips as your digit bottoms out.

A second follows shortly after and she clenches hard around the pair of them.

"Your cock," Yeji demands. You curl your fingers inside of her, delighted by how she struggles to speak when you graze her weak spots. "Want it..."

"But this is fun," you state simply, continuing to explore every inch of her, learning which places cause the biggest reactions and relishing in her quiet hums of satisfaction every time you stimulate them. You'd be lying if you said it didn't make your cock pulse with the need to be inside her. That warm wetness wrapped snugly around your fingers would feel downright amazing around you.

Yeji wriggles her body, pressing her ass against you and whimpering as your digits push inside again. "Please... your cock." Your eyes drop from the beauty bent over in front of you and focus instead on the sight of your fingers disappearing repeatedly between those gorgeous legs. How her muscles clench and her toes curl against the carpet with each and every motion of your digits inside her. She looks ready. She feels ready.

"Well, seeing as you're asking so nicely—"

You slip your fingers out. The whine of loss from Yeji barely has time to fade as you grab hold of her ass with both hands, spread it out, line yourself up with her cunt and sink inside without hesitation. Fuck it. Why go slow?

"Oh god," Yeji moans as your hips meet. Her knuckles turn white as she claws at the surface of the desk in an effort to cope with the feeling of fullness that she's clearly experiencing right now. Her eyes widen and she bites hard into the back of her lip as her cunt stretches around you, accommodating you perfectly. She exhales deeply.

It's all worth it—the workplace compromise. This moment right here where your thick cock rests deep inside of Hwang Yeji's warm, wet cunt. Finally. And holy fucking hell—it's everything you could've ever asked for.

"I knew you'd feel so fucking good," you murmur, trailing your hands up Yeji's slender figure, feeling her back tense slightly when she lets out a small moan of agreement. Your fingers tangle into her long hair, wrap it around your fist, give a harsh tug to pull her head backwards, earning a sharp intake of air—and then you start rutting your hips into hers. Long, forceful strokes fill the air with repeated claps of skin slapping against skin.

The choked moans which tumble from Yeji's lips are music to your ears, encouraging you to keep her pinned down against your desk with a strong hand on the small of her back. Your fingertips press into her flawless skin hard enough to bruise, yet neither of you cares—not when there are far more important matters to attend to. Namely, pounding Yeji's brains out and filling her tight little pussy with ropes of hot cum.

So, you pick up your pace, quickening the tempo and making sure each thrust of your hips goes harder than the previous. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream with each movement of your body against hers. Every slap of your hips against her ass elicits a reaction.

You're already addicted to her. Everything about Yeji makes you want to hold nothing back, and as you pull yourself out only to slam back inside her depths, you can't help but notice the absolute debauchery dripping from her words when she begs: "Harder. Fuck me harder."

And who are you to refuse her request? She looks incredible anyway, but seeing her eyes screw shut in bliss while a strand of saliva escapes past her open mouth? Nothing would convince you to let up now.

The constant clatter of objects rattling and shifting across the surface of your desk adds a nice soundtrack to the experience. So do the increasingly frequent moans spilling freely from Yeji's lips, each one higher-pitched than the last. They spur you on. Give you the incentive to chase after her pleasure.

And then you feel the telltale clamping down of her walls around you. Your cock is held tightly in her warmth, refusing to relinquish its grasp on you until you've filled her with cum. Until you've pumped your load deep inside of her wanting cunt. You know it's coming and you adjust accordingly. Forcing yourself to maintain rhythm as you pound her pussy into submission.

You yank on her hair and tug her upwards, forcing her back to crash against your torso. You bring your other hand to her chest, sliding beneath the fabric of her bra to cup at her tit. Her hands desperately search for but fail to find, purchase on the desk. She's helplessly suspended between your grasp and your cock as she cums. Helpless to do anything except take it. Take what she's given.

An indecent series of shrieks and wails erupts from somewhere deep within her chest as Yeji's body seizes up and convulses violently against yours. It sets you off. You bury yourself hilt-deep inside of her and explode. Your vision goes blurry, your toes curl, your jaw clenches shut and your teeth grind painfully together.

It takes everything within you not to collapse forwards on top of the girl you're filling to the brim, instead relying solely on the strength of your grip to stay upright as your cock jerks erratically inside of her, pulsating again and again, releasing stream after stream of creamy spunk deep into her.

As soon as the world stops spinning and the fog starts clearing from your mind, you're met with the sight of Hwang Yeji trying desperately to regain any semblance of control over her own body as well. She's slumped atop your desk, panting heavily, her body twitching occasionally.

You lean down, peppering a gentle trail of kisses down the side of her neck, stopping briefly at the space just below her ear where you whisper, "You look stunning like this."

It takes Yeji several seconds before she manages a reply. She eventually opens her eyes halfway and gives you an exhausted smile. "Like what?"

"Sweaty. Thoroughly used. Filled to the fucking brim."

Your comment draws a faint giggle from her which ends abruptly the moment you drag yourself backwards, slipping your softening cock out of her cunt along with the rush of semen that spills from her and trickles onto your desk.

"Oh god," Yeji mutters as the mess slips from between her legs. She pushes herself up from her prone position and lifts herself off your table, leaving behind a lovely sticky patch where her crotch had rested. You stumble towards your chair and plop down on it, resting your back against the cool leather whilst admiring Yeji's flushed features.

"I still haven't gotten to ride your cock yet."

"I don't know if I—"

Yeji drops to her knees in front of you and grabs the base of your shaft without a second thought, squeezing it lightly and causing it to stiffen slightly. "Well I do," she declares.

She leans closer.

You catch sight of your reflection in her dark brown eyes just before Yeji extends her tongue, running it carefully over the sensitive skin of your cock before planting a wet kiss against the tip. Then she does it again. And again. The movements become a pattern until, suddenly, you're enveloped by the heat of Yeji's mouth.

"Ah," you gasp as she takes you. So sensitive to the touch of her tongue as it swirls around you. She hums approvingly at your reaction and slides deeper, taking your semi-erect cock further into her mouth as she continues to suck you off. Her head bobs slowly up and down, gradually coaxing you back to life until she slips you out from between her lips with a pop.

"That got you hard fast enough." Yeji grins. She stands up straight, and then your jaw falls open slightly at the sight of Yeji reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. It falls to the ground in slow motion. Delicate pale skin stretches beautifully over perky breasts topped with cute pink nipples. God damn.

Yeji straddles your lap, trapping your body underneath hers. It doesn't take much to push you inside. To have her slide down the length of your shaft once again. She sits still for a few seconds, grinding her hips subtly against yours whilst biting on her lower lip. "Fuck, this feels good." She rotates her hips in little circles. "Feel that? I'm still full of your cum."

The pace is slower now. You're content to sit back, listen to the sounds of wet, sloppy sex filling the office air, and watch how her beautiful features contort with pleasure when your cock scrapes against a weak spot. There's something incredibly arousing about having such a famous idol sitting in your lap, fucking herself silly on your dick alone. She uses it like a toy to chase after her own pleasure.

One of her hands laces itself into your hair, tugging on it harshly. You retaliate with equal ferocity by sinking your fingers into Yeji's plump ass. It earns you a wonderful hiss of approval which comes accompanied by a tight squeeze around your shaft as her free hand moves down between your bodies and furiously rubs at her clit.

It's not long before you realise that she's close, and judging by her frantic behaviour, you figure she isn't looking to make it last longer.

Yeji whimpers cutely. Her head falls backwards, exposing her perfect neck. An expanse of unblemished, untouched skin that simply demands to be marked. Claimed. Taken.

And so you lean forwards, place your mouth on the soft skin and start sucking on it, nipping at the supple flesh. You feel her tighten around you instantly.

"Oh god!" She cries out. Yeji tries to bounce in your lap but fails miserably. She's no longer in control of her body. All she can do is quiver, cry out, and gasp in ecstasy as another orgasm surges through her. It's nowhere near as powerful as the previous two. Instead, it's drawn out. Lasting longer and keeping her moaning throughout.

When it's over and done with, you release your hold on her neck. In return, her exhausted head comes to rest against your shoulder. Her hot pants hit your cheek as she lay there limply against your frame.

"Too much?" you tease and Yeji scoffs. You give her a gentle spank and ask, "That's all you've got?"

"Just catching my breath."

She puts action to word immediately and picks herself back up. There's a determination etched all over her face as she brings both arms to rest on your shoulders, locking you in place and supporting herself on top of you. The expression she wears leaves little room for misinterpretation; this one is yours.

Yeji begins riding you again. Slowly at first, letting herself grow accustomed to the sensation of being filled again. Then faster. Harder. Using your cock to fuck herself on. Taking charge once more. You happily allow her to have it. Glad to let the beautiful starlet do whatever the fuck she wants with your body. Relishing the fact that you're balls-deep inside of her and she loves every inch of you.

"I need it," Yeji whines, slamming herself down on top of you again and again, her soft ass smacking against your thighs repeatedly. Her hair billows wildly around her, sticking to her sweaty skin, flying every which way without rhyme or reason, driven mad by her insatiable desire to keep on going. She keeps saying things under her breath, nonsensical at best, unintelligible at worst.

But her efforts get results. As much as you want to prolong the moment forever, your body can only handle so much. Pleasure courses through your veins like electricity, setting alight every nerve ending within your body until finally, you feel that familiar heat rise from somewhere deep within.

Yeji must sense it because she suddenly kicks it up yet another notch, crying out incoherently as she drops down on your shaft once more, twice more—a third time sends you toppling over the edge. You grip her hips tight, digging your fingertips deep into her flesh as your cock pulses powerfully inside of her cunt, painting her walls white.

She drags it out. Uses gravity to force you as deep inside as possible, allowing every single drop to spill inside of her again. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you grunt loudly. Any coherent thought becomes impossible as you cum.

Once more, it takes several moments before you come back down from the clouds. When reality sets in again, Yeji is still straddled atop your lap, watching you with an amused grin stretching from ear to ear. You're left with nothing else to do except admire how her flushed cheeks accentuate her gorgeous features even further.

"I know. I know," she says while stroking your cheek. "I'm amazing."

"You're trouble," you correct breathlessly.

She rolls her eyes at your choice of words and then glances downwards. You follow her gaze just in time to see her raise herself off your spent member, allowing several thick strands of cum to dribble from her cunt and onto your leg. You both share a brief laugh at how filthy it looks before Yeji clambers off you and steps away, leaving you completely bare whilst she reaches down to retrieve her panties.

"No," you blurt out immediately. Your interjection catches her attention and she halts mid-motion, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"No?"

"You can leave them."

She gives you a knowing look but acquiesces anyway, stepping aside and grabbing her dress instead. "Disgusting," she winks with a coy smirk.

[libraford]

Today was supposed to be my last day at parks, but I've been fighting a cold for the past week and the temp outside is below freezing. So I went to work to turn in my keys, told the boss I was sick and he said 'see you in spring.'

And I am always thinking about how, last season at the photo studio, I gave my boss a 24 hour notice that I was having a serious bronchitis flare-up and that I wouldn't be able to make the 1.5 hour trip to work. And she said 'wow, you're never sick, so it must be serious. But we really need you tomorrow, you know how important this account is and your efficiency is key to getting everyone done on time. If you can make it on Wednesday I promise you can have Thursday off. But we really really need you!"

And I'm coughing up a lung, I'm disoriented, head hurts, body hurts, chills, fever- if you didn't know about bronchitis you'd think it was covid.

And I caved, because I'm a people-pleaser. And I got up at 5am to drive 1.5 hours to a town out in the middle of nowhere that pays us big money but i only get a little bit of, sat there with a box of chloroseptic cough drops, stressing myself out, stressing the teachers out because they think I'm contagious, stressing the kids out because they think it's covid, no lunch break because its 1600 students and they never scheduled us any downtime, 1.5 hours back to crash when I get home and be miserable for 3 days, when I could have taken the day off and recovered in less time.

Only for her to then turn around at the time of employee reviews and tell me that I'm difficult to work with because if I don't get my way I throw a tantrum and that my noncompliance is a liability, and that I go too fast.

And this morning I walked into the break room said "Hey jim- I hate to do this to you on my last day, but I've been fighting a cold all week and I don't wanna get everyone else sick."

"You wanna go home?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"You coming back next year?"

"Thats the plan."

"See you then. I'll take your keys."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Efficiency" left the Big Three vulnerable to smart UAW tactics

Tomorrow (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tomorrow night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

It's been 143 days since the WGA went on strike against the Hollywood studios. While early tactical leaks from the studios had studio execs chortling and twirling their mustaches about writers caving once they started losing their homes, the strikers aren't wavering – they're still out there, pounding the picket lines, every weekday:

https://www.cnbc.com/2023/08/09/how-hollywood-writers-make-ends-meet-100-days-into-the-writers-guild-strike.html

The studios obviously need writers. That gleeful, anonymous studio exec who got such an obvious erotic charge at the thought of workers being rendered homeless as punishment for challenging his corporate power completely misread the room, and his comments didn't demoralize the writers. Instead, they inspired the actors to go on strike, too.

But how have the writers stayed out since May Day? How have the actors stayed out for 69 days since their strike started on Bastille Day? We can thank the studios for that! As it turns out, the studios have devoted so much energy to rendering creative workers as precarious as possible, hiring as little as they can getting away with and using punishing overtime as a substitute for adequate staffing that they've eliminated all the workers who can't survive on side-hustles and savings for six or seven months at a time.

But even for those layoff-hardened workers, long strikes are brutal, and of course, all the affiliated trades, from costumers to grips, are feeling the pain. The strike fund only goes so far, and non-striking, affected workers don't even get that. That's why I've been donating regularly to the Entertainment Community Fund, which helps all affected workers out with cash transfers (I just gave them another $500):

https://secure2.convio.net/afa/site/Donation2?df_id=8117&8117.donation=form1&mfc_pref=T

As hot labor summer is revealed as a turning point – not just a season – long strikes will become the norm. Bosses still don't believe in worker power, and until they get their minds right, they're going to keep on trying to starve their workforces back inside. To get a sense of how long workers will have to hold out, just consider the Warrior Met strike, where Alabama coal-miners stayed out for 23 months:

https://www.thenation.com/article/activism/warrior-met-strike-union/

As Kim Kelly explained to Adam Conover in the latest Factually podcast, the Alabama coal strikers didn't get anywhere near the attention that the Hollywood strikers have enjoyed:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvyMHf7Yg0Q

(To learn more about the untold story of worker organizing, from prison unions to the key role that people of color and women played in labor history, check out Kelly's book, "Fight Like Hell," now in paperback:)

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Fight-Like-Hell/Kim-Kelly/9781982171063

Which brings me to the UAW strike. This is an historic strike, the first time that the UAW has struck all of the Big Three automakers at once. Past autoworkers' strikes have marked turning points for all American workers. The 1945/46 GM strike established employers' duty to cover worker pensions, health care, and cost of living allowances. The GM strike created the American middle-class:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-18-uaw-strikes-built-american-middle-class/

The Big Three are fighting for all the marbles here. They are refusing to allow unions to organize EV factories. Given that no more internal combustion cars will be in production in just a few short years, that's tantamount to eliminating auto unions altogether. The automakers are flush with cash, including billions in public subsidies from multiple bailouts, along with billions more from greedflation price-gouging. A long siege is inevitable, as the decimillionaires running these companies earn their pay by starving out their workers:

https://www.businessinsider.com/general-motors-ceo-mary-barra-salary-auto-workers-strike-uaw-2023-9

The UAW knows this, of course, and their new leadership – helmed by the union's radical president Shawn Fain – has a plan. UAW workers are engaged in tactical striking, shutting down key parts of the supply chain on a rolling basis, making the 90-day strike fund stretch much farther:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2023-09-18-labors-militant-creativity/

In this project, they are greatly aided by Big Car's own relentless pursuit of profit. The automakers – like every monopolized, financialized sector – have stripped all the buffers and slack out of their operations. Inventory on hand is kept to a bare minimum. Inputs are sourced from the cheapest bidder, and they're brought to the factory by the lowest-cost option. Resiliency – spare parts, backup machinery – is forever at war with profits, and profits have won and won and won, leaving auto production in a brittle, and easily shattered state.

This is especially true for staffing. Automakers are violently allergic to hiring workers, because new workers get benefits and workplace protection. Instead, the car companies routinely offer "voluntary" overtime to their existing workforce. By refusing this overtime, workers can kneecap production, without striking.

Enter "Eight and Skate," a campaign among UAW workers to clock out after their eight hour shift. As Keith Brower Brown writes for Labor Notes, the UAW organizers are telling workers that "It’s crossing an unofficial picket line to work overtime. It’s helping out the company":

https://labornotes.org/2023/09/work-extra-during-strike-auto-workers-say-eight-and-skate

Eight and Skate has already started to work; the Buffalo Ford plant can no longer run its normal weekend shifts because workers are refusing to put in voluntary overtime. Of course, bosses will strike back: the next step will be forced overtime, which will lead to the unsafe conditions that unionized workers are contractually obliged to call paid work-stoppages over, shutting down operations without touching the strike fund.

What's more, car bosses can't just halt safety stoppages or change the rules on overtime; per the UAW's last contract, bosses are required to bargain on changes to overtime rules:

https://uaw.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Working-Without-Contract-FAQ-FINAL-2.pdf

Car bosses have become lazily dependent on overtime. At GM's "highly profitable" SUV factory in Arlington, TX, normal production runs a six-days, 24 hours per day. Workers typically work five eight-hour days and nine hours on Saturdays. That's been the status quo for 11 years, but when bosses circulated the usual overtime signup sheet last week, every worker wrote "a big fat NO" next to their names.

Writing for The American Prospect, David Dayen points out that this overtime addiction puts a new complexion on the much-hyped workerpocalypse that EVs will supposedly bring about. EVs are much simpler to build than conventional cars, the argument goes, so a US transition to EVs will throw many autoworkers out of work:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-20-big-threes-labor-shortages-uaw/

But the reality is that most autoworkers are doing one and a half jobs already. Reducing the "workforce" by a third could leave all these workers with their existing jobs, and the 40-hour workweek that their forebears fought for at GM inn 1945/46. Add to that the additional workers needed to make batteries, build and maintain charging infrastructure, and so on, and there's no reason to think that EVs will weaken autoworker power.

And as Dayen points out, this overtime addiction isn't limited to cars. It's also endemic to the entertainment industry, where writers' "mini rooms" and other forms of chronic understaffing are used to keep workforces at a skeleton crew, even when the overtime costs more than hiring new workers.

Bosses call themselves job creators, but they have a relentless drive to destroy jobs. If there's one thing bosses hate, it's paying workers – hence all the hype about AI and automation. The stories about looming AI-driven mass unemployment are fairy tales, but they're tailor made for financiers who get alarming, life-threatening priapism at the though of firing us all and replacing us with shell-scripts:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This is why Republican "workerism" rings so hollow. Trump's GOP talks a big game about protecting "workers" (by which they mean anglo men) from immigrants and "woke captialism," but they have nothing to say about protecting workers from bosses and bankers who see every dime a worker gets as misappropriated from their dividend.

Unsurprisingly, conservative message-discipline sucks. As Luke Savage writes in Jacobin, for every mealymouthed Josh Hawley mouthing talking points that "support workers" by blaming China and Joe Biden for the Big Three's greed, there's a Tim Scott, saying the quiet part aloud:

https://jacobin.com/2023/09/republicans-uaw-strike-hawley-trump-scott/

Quoth Senator Scott: "I think Ronald Reagan gave us a great example when federal employees decided they were going to strike. He said, you strike, you’re fired. Simple concept to me. To the extent that we can use that once again, absolutely":

https://twitter.com/American_Bridge/status/1704136706574741988

The GOP's workerism is a tissue-thin fake. They can never and will never support real worker power. That creates an opportunity for Biden and Democrats to seize:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

Reversing two generations of anti-worker politics is a marathon, not a sprint. The strikes are going to run for months, even years. Every worker will be called upon to support their striking siblings, every day. We can do it. Solidarity now. Solidarity forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

[avatar-anna]

This is another tattoo artist! Harry x ballerina! Reader, but at the beginning of their relationship. You can find the first blurb here

"When can I see you again?"

Your cheeks betrayed your cool demeanor, something they'd been doing all evening. You wanted to appear not as nervous or giddy as you felt going on this date, as if you frequently went out with handsome, muscly tattoo artists. Was that the case? Heavens, no, but you didn't want to look like a deer in headlights all night, and the way Harry's eyes devoured you, the way his lips kept finding your neck or cheek, wasn't helping.

"I—I'm busy all w—week. Training."

Harry hadn't let up his ministrations on your jaw, making it ten times harder to speak to him than it already was. But that last little corner of your brain that wasn't totally consumed by him wiggled its way to the front, reminding you of your responsibilities.

"Mm. What about after?"

"After?"

You felt him smile against your skin, his knuckle grazing the side of your face. "Surely you won't be rehearsing all night. What time are you normally done?"

"Um...six, but I usually go to bed pretty early."

"Gee, bunny, you're making me think you don't want to see me again. Breakin' my heart here."

"I do!" you hurried to say, perhaps a little too quickly. But it made Harry smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I—I do. Want to see you."

"Tell you what," he said, leaning one hand on the door at your back, just above your head. "I'll pick you up from rehearsal and bring you home. How's that sound?"

"That's it?" you asked, intrigued by the suggestion. Your intention wasn't to be difficult on purpose, but you had a tight schedule as a dancer at a prestigious ballet company. You didn't date much because of it, most guys not considering you worth the trouble, but Harry had been persistent. You admired that about him, and it made you like him all the more.

"That's it," Harry promised, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Unless of course, you invite me inside your apartment and let me spend the whole evening taking good care of you, but I'll settle for a walk to your apartment."

He was so sure of himself, but in a way that was charming, not off-putting. He was all the time, to the point where you thought it was an act at first, which was why you initially said no when he first asked you out. But you came to realize that was just who Harry was—charming, easygoing, confident as all hell. You found it attractive now, though sometimes it made you feel like you were even more anxious than you actually were.

"It's a date."

Smiling, Harry kissed you long and hard one last time before stepping away. "Try not to think about me too much while I'm gone. Can't have you falling out of a turn and hurting yourself before I can take you out again properly, hm?"

You swooned as he walked away, leaning fully against your front door unashamed as you watched him get on his bike. He'd left it here while you walked to a restaurant a couple blocks away. The engine roared to life as Harry hit his foot against the kickstand, winking at you before driving off.

You should've invited him in, you thought as you finally turned around to unlock your door. But another part of you applauded your restraint. It was too new, your plate too full, to jump too quickly into something you weren't sure you were ready for. Slow and steady, you'd promised yourself when you first agreed to a date with Harry.

Still, when you went to bed alone that night, you couldn't help but think about his teasing about you caving and letting him inside tomorrow, and how nice it would've felt to have been tucked into his side as you fell asleep.

*.*

a couple weeks later

"Who is that?"

Your head whipped up from your phone, following your friend's line of vision. Immediately your cheeks flushed, the view nearly overwhelming you.

Harry leaned against the side of the building you emerged out of, one leg propped against it as he lit a cigarette, you narrowed your eyes a little at the smoke he puffed out, but couldn't help but admit the inherent sexiness he exuded from performing such a simple action. His tattoos were on full display, peeking out beneath his shirtsleeves and up his neck. Such a tough exterior for someone who was actually quite charming and soft.

"I don't know, but I want to."

You looked over to where your two friends were standing, drinking Harry in as he blew out smoke through his nose. Their gazes stirred something uncomfortable in you, a possessiveness over Harry that you'd never felt for anyone before.

"He's my ride," you said, even though you and Harry always walked home together. You'd casually mentioned walking by yourself or taking the bus once, and Harry had been appalled by the revelation. He'd been waiting for you after each rehearsal and class ever since.

"Oh. I didn't know you had a brother, Y/n," your friend, still eyeing Harry.

"He's not my brother. He's my boyfriend."

"He is?"

Ignoring their incredulity, you hiked your bag higher up on your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry's head raised to look at you as you approached, a small smile forming on his lips as you drew near. "Bunny," he murmured before reaching for your hand and pulling you to his chest.

"Hi," you said a little breathless.

He took his time kissing you, one hand cupping the side of your face and the other on your waist but inching south where it would be a little inappropriate out in public. You pulled away, cheeks flushed for a multitude of reasons as Harry grinned at you and took your bag and slung it over his shoulder before starting on the walk back to your apartment. Sighing dreamily at him, you let him grab your hand and pull you along.

"Were you talking about me over there?" he asked, nodding behind him to where your friends were still standing.

"No—Yes," you admitted. "They think you're cute."

Harry's brows raised as if that was the last thing he expected to hear, as if he didn't know women didn't ogle him regularly.

"Really," he said as he began to walk down the sidewalk, your hand in his. "So you told them we were seeing each other?"

Your whole career was nearly solely based on your ability to be graceful, to appear weightless as you leapt through the air or stretched your leg high above your head as you balanced on the other. Yet when Harry asked that question, you stumbled. Enough that Harry placed a cautious hand on your elbow. You didn't expect him to hear what you had said to your friends, let alone question it. You'd not been seeing each other long in the grand scheme of things, so perhaps your statement was a little presumptive. But you didn't want your friends to think he was available, either. Now you worried Harry still believed he was.

"I know we haven't been seeing each other very long, but I didn't want them to get the wrong idea. I'm sorry if I've made things—"

"Relax, bunny, I'm only teasing," he said, leaning down slightly to press his lips to your burning cheek, nudging you with his nose once before pulling away. "But I like the idea of you being possessive of me. It's cute."

This was not how you wanted to have the "What are we?" conversation, but apparently it was happening. "I...I like you a lot. Like I said, I know it hasn't been long and our schedules are crazy, but I—I like you, and I feel like you should know that even if I could I wouldn't be seeing anyone else."

You purposely kept your eyes forward, not wanting to see Harry's expression as he took in what you said. He'd been nothing but a gentleman since you met him, but you also wouldn't be surprised if he was the kind of guy that liked to explore his options.

Harry didn't say anything for a minute, making you more and more anxious with each step you took. Maybe you should've waited until you were closer to your apartment. That way if he didn't reciprocate your feelings you could quickly hide and die from embarrassment alone.

Before you could tell him to forget it, Harry finally spoke. "You know I couldn't stop thinking about you after the first time I saw you?"

Your head whipped to meet his gaze, eyes wide. A faint blush dusted Harry's cheeks, something you'd never seen before. He'd been cool, calm, and collected since you'd known him, never once showing an ounce of nerves. Now he looked almost bashful as he walked beside you.

"Really?"

Harry briefly covered his smile with his free hand. "Really. I was crushed when you said no the first time I asked you out. And since you've said yes I've been trying so hard to impress you and be the kind of guy you'd normally be interested in. Shit, the guys at the shop give me hell because I wear shirts with less holes in them and walk with you everywhere because I know how you feel about riding on my bike and sometimes I stare at the clock or my phone like an idiot until I can pack up and finally see you. I've even been smoking less because I know you don't like it."

You didn't know any of that, but how could you? You smiled a little at the idea of Harry's friends teasing him, imagining him stressing about what to wear or what to say before a date the way you did.

"Harry, I—I don't want you to try to be anyone else," you said. "I mean, the smoking is a terrible habit and you should absolutely quit, but that's besides the point. I like you already. I liked you before you started buttoning your shirts more, and the motorcycle, while dangerous, is really sexy."

Harry's responding grin was immediate. "Sexy, you say?"

You scoffed. "Shut up. I've seen the way you look at me while I stretch."

"It's because you give me so many ideas when you do," he said. "So many ideas, bunny."

Your entire body warmed, the suggestion in Harry's tone impossible to ignore. You hadn't slept together yet, though not because neither of you wanted to. You liked to be sure about a guy before taking that step, and Harry had been understanding and waited for you. After everything you talked about on the walk to your apartment, you wanted nothing more than to pull him inside with you.

Neither of you spoke for the short remainder of the walk, but Harry's arm eventually draped over your shoulder and you were tucked into his side. His hand played with the ends of your hair, distracting you while you tried to decide whether or not to throw caution to the wind and let him into your apartment.

When your apartment finally came into view, you snuck a hand beneath Harry's shirt, running your hands along the solid planes of his stomach casually. "About those ideas..."

"I know, I'm sorry I brought that up when I'm just dropping you off. We'll have to—"

"I have ideas too," you said, trying your hardest to keep your voice even as you took the final steps to your door. Untangling yourself from Harry, you fished in your bags for your keys. "Maybe...Maybe you can come inside and I can show you?"

Harry's eyes widened, clearly not anticipating the direction of the conversation. "Are you sure? I know you have to be up early and have a whole routine and everything."

He was too sweet. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to do nothing more than to join you but was respectful enough of your space to walk away. But you knew what you wanted.

"You can be part of my routine," you said. Unlocking the door, you turned to face him. Your hands shook a little, but your voice was clear, if not hushed despite being alone, as you said, "You can help me stretch and relax before bed. Don't you want to help me, daddy?"

It was a bold choice, letting that little vulnerability slip. Very few knew about your...preference for a certain moniker, and you'd never brought it up to partners in the past. But this was Harry, who you liked so much and trusted even more. You wanted to share that side of you, even if it made your cheeks flame to say it before you were safe within the confines of your apartment. but you figured you'd revealed so much already, what was one more thing? At least that was what you kept telling yourself.

And guessing by Harry's reaction, it paid off.

"Yea—Yeah. Course, bunny," he said after swallowing. "How do you normally start?"

You grinned. "I like to take a shower. Or a bath, depending on my mood."

Harry picked you up by your waist, causing you to squeal. His lips didn't leave your neck as he asked, "Which one is big enough for two?"

"I barely fit in my bathtub," you giggled against the vibrations from his voice and the giddiness you felt at being held in Harry's arms.

"Shower it is then," he said, kicking the front door shut behind him and locking it quickly. "I'm gonna need to hear that at least three more times tonight. At least."

You began kissing Harry's neck instead of answering, still a little embarrassed that you'd said it at all. Harry seemed thrilled, and part of you was thrilled that it all worked out in the end, but it would take more coaxing than that before you worked up the confidence to call him "daddy" again.

"Don't be shy, bunny," Harry teased. "I'm proud of you for being so forward. Think my good girl deserves a reward, hm?"

You could only whimper with anticipation as Harry deposited you on the limited surface of your bathroom counter. As he shrugged out of his shirt, then his socks and shoes, then his jeans, revealing his body little by little in all its tattooed glory, you couldn't help but feel as though life couldn't get any better than this.

[thevoidstaredback]

"Guys!" Nightwing shouted once he and Batman arrived in the main are of the Bat Cave, "I have some fantastic news!"

Bruce pulled his cowl off, his amusement no longer being hidden as he nearly failed to keep from laughing.

Everyone had gathered in the Cave to await the two who'd gone to the Watchtower, so everyone was already there to hear the exclamation. Even Alfred was with them all.

"Calm down, Big Bird," Jason said from his place on the meeting table, "What's going on?"

Dick was bouncing on the balls of his feet, "Can I tell 'em, B? Can I, can I?!"

Bruce chuckled, "I'm not stopping you."

He cheered before turning back to the rest of his family, "They think there's a total of three-" he held up three fingers on his left hand, "-of us operating within Gotham, myself excluded because I'm in Bludhaven."

"Wait," Stephanie called, "They think Batman only has three people helping to cover Gotham? They know we're human, right?"

Dick shook his head, his grin only getting bigger. "Nope! They think Batman only has two sidekicks covering Gotham with him."

This caused everyone to laugh, the humor breaking any seriousness anyone would've tried to control to keep on topic. It was nice, Bruce smiled, to be able to let loose with everyone like this. His family was altogether, spending time with one another, doing things that didn't include head hunts or injuries.

Alfred took his place beside Bruce. "This is nice, isn't it."

"It is."

"You can die a happy man now?"

A chuckle. "You killing me off so soon?"

"Of course not, Master Bruce," He's smirking, "I'm simply stating a fact."

"Ha!"

"What're you guys talking about over there?" Tim called. Everyone had gathered at the meeting table to go over final details and slight changes for the set up tomorrow. "C'mon! We've gotta finish putting this all together."

Duke nodded from over his shoulder, "Yeah! New information allows room for some much more fun!"

Jason smirked. "Yeah, old man, Alfred! We want to see if we can get away with switching out with each other. It'll confuse the hell outta the Leaguers."

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he and Alfred joined the kids at the table. "How are you going to pull that off? Despite what you all may thing, the others are all a lot more observant than given credit for-"

"Except the Flash and Green Arrow." Cass cut in.

"Hey!" Dick said, "Don't dis Barry like that!"

"Yeah," Barbra agreed, "And Ollie's whole thing is spotting details. He prides himself on it!"

"If that were true, then we wouldn't be planning on how to mess with them, now would we?"

Tim nodded, "Damian's right."

"As you were saying?" Bruce prompted.

"Well," Jason continued, "You, Damian, and Dick have to be here as Batman, Nightwing, and Robin. They all probably know about me, so I'll stay out of the Cave, but you can bet your ass that I'll be in the Clocktower with Babs, listening in on everything." He looked to Tim and Babs. "Should we set up cameras?"

Tim thought for a second, "If we want to record this, then yeah. I can have them all set up by morning."

"I'll help you set it up before I head out tonight," Barbra agreed.

"Anyway," Stephanie interrupted, pulling the attention to herself, "Tim, Cass, and I could totally get away with running around and messing with their senses and shit. And if we can get Kate and Selina in on this-"

"You've already talked to them, haven't you." Bruce asked. The matching grins on everyone's faces was answer enough. He sighed.

"Having fun," Cass patted his arm, "Bonding."

He snorted. 'Bonding', yeah right. Maybe letting his coworkers be the target of his childrens' whims is a bad idea. Then again, their not hurting anyone. It's all fun in games.

Bruce sat at the head of the table. "Alright. We all know about Superman's ability to hear heartbeats and breathing patterns. He's able to memorize someone's vitals, especially his friends. It's safe to assume he's got mine down, as well as Robin's and Nightwing's."

Damian scoffed. "Changing my vitals will be no issue for me."

Bruce nodded, "Me, either."

Dick nodded along, "Soundseasy enough. But what's the plan?"

"Oracle will call you out for an emergency in Bludhaven. Red Hood will call me out for some information at the docks. We'll met up at the Clocktower and switch costumes." he explained.

Barbra had a manic look on her face. "We should have Steph and Cass stay away from the Cave at first, then have them come in separately, but sharing a costume." SHe turned her attention to the blonde. "You have a spare Spoiler costume, yeah?"

Stephanie matched her grin, "Naturally."

"What about me, Tim, and Damian?" Duke asked.

"How would you and Tim like to be actual bats?" the red head wondered, "Or maybe ghosts?"

"Do we get to mess with shit?" Tim asked.

"Naturally."

"I'm in," the two responded.

"Damian will run distraction," Jason said," He'll be the only one who stays with the JL the whole time they're here. Alfred will have to keep cover upstairs. I'll bounce between the Manor, the Clocktower, and patrol."

"Are you quite sure?" Alfred asked, "That's quite a lot to be doing."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he assured.

Brice cleared his throat. "If everyone's ready?" Looks around the table before nods of affirmation. "Good. Finish up any last minute changes and preparations. They've agreed to meet at the Watchtower at fifteen hundred New Jersey time so that I can bring them here. Damian, I want you to come with me."

"Of course, father."

"Ready? Break."

Part 3 Part 5

Tag List: @sebas-nights

[bruhstories]

Muse III

p.1 && p.2

minors dni

summary: one way or another, the inevitable happens - circumstances force you to talk to viktor

pairing: viktor x painter!reader

warnings: some angst, swearing, super slow burn, p with plot?? unprotected p in v, kind of creampie, reader on top, fluff, comfort, afab!reader with she/her pronouns, some mentions of y/n (i think maybe once), canon divergent, bickering and banter

w/c: 6k...

a/n: there we go, the series is now complete! i do hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! liking and reblogging are encouraged! thank you for being on this journey with me haha

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The constant ticking of the clock irked Viktor and he pinched the bridge of his nose. The downside of becoming a professor were the exams — sitting down, waiting, wasting hours was unproductive. He could've taught, could've researched, could've experimented with new elements. Instead, he was stuck in a classroom with a handful of students who looked like they were about to shit themselves.

And then there was you. In the back of the room, watching said students like a hawk, circling them like a predator, like you wanted to catch at least one of them cheating. He hadn't spoken to you since the academic year started — two months and two weeks, to be precise.

Viktor tapped his cane, impatiently counting the minutes until the exam was over. It felt like an eternity, watching the sand in the hourglass flowing ever so slowly. The thought of counting each particle of sand amused him. It probably would've been the most productive thing in the past hour.

The sudden noise of a book being dropped caught his attention. Viktor got up from his chair, but you were already at the source. Some little shit thought he could cheat his way through the semester, but not with you there.

"Get out." You told the student, your rigid voice reverberating in the classroom.

"Professor, please-"

"Get out of my classroom." You repeated, eyes burning holes into the poor student's head.

Trembling with fear, he gathered his belongings, tripping on his way out. You just knew the gossip that would start around the campus about you being a bitch, a horrible teacher, the worst he'd ever seen. But you only had one single rule — no cheating. That was it. You allowed your students to eat during your lessons, to call you by your first name, to approach you with any issues they had, whether academic or not. But you did not tolerate cheating.

No one dared to move until the end of the exam, and even Viktor was shaken by your hostility. He remembered you so differently, still visualising how you knelt between his legs to take off his brace, and how sweet your scent used to be whenever you visited him in the laboratory. But now you built metaphorical walls around yourself, changed your clothes, your hair, even your perfume — jasmine, bergamot, musk. Anything but sweet. And Viktor couldn't help but blame himself for that.

The grandfather clock in the classroom struck once, and every single student put their quills down. No one wanted to get on your bad side. Still watching them intently from the back of the classroom, they gathered their belongings quietly and placed their papers on Viktor's desk on their way out. With the last student out, you walked up to the desk and counted half of the papers, stacking them in a separate pile.

"Can we talk?" Viktor caved in. He couldn't stand seeing you like that anymore.

"Here's your stack of exams." You ignored his question. "I'll mark my part, then drop them off at your lab once I'm done. Tomorrow or the day after."

"Of course. I shall try to finish them as quickly as-" He watched you leave, hips swaying as you walked out the door without even saying goodbye. "-possible."

There was no denying that Viktor found your attitude insufferable, albeit it being his fault. He misunderstood you, he got that now. But you refused to give him a chance to explain himself, to apologise, and that drove him mad. The worst part? He couldn't blame you. You basically saved his life, and he repaid you with disdain. Viktor would've probably done the same if the roles were reverse, really.

You walked back to your apartment with the papers neatly organised in a leather bag, careful not mix them with other files and textbooks. The air was getting colder, winter was approaching, and you rushed to get home before the wind froze you to death. You appreciated the warmth of your apartment more than ever, and began marking the papers as soon as you took off your coat and boots.

Thinking back at how you reacted when you caught that boy cheating, you began to consider it might have been too harsh. He still had the chance to retake the exam in summer, but you scared him shitless, you could see that in his eyes. And you didn't want to be the bad professor. You didn't want Viktor to be the good one. The mere idea of him being loved by students while you were hated by them made you cringe.

No, you needed a different approach, one that wouldn't compromise your position at the Academy, or your title of Master of Arts. You needed to kill them, and especially Viktor, with kindness. But you only had two options to be able to do that. You could tell Viktor you got over whatever happened in the lab last year, which was unlikely that he would believe you, or you could actually talk to him about whatever happened in the lab last year, which was highly improbable of you to do.

Okay, so maybe being a spiteful bitch was the way to move forward, only it wouldn't work on the long run. Not when the exams were half science, half arts, and you needed to speak to Viktor about them. Or when the curriculum needed to be revised, and you needed to speak to Viktor about that, too. Or when there were staff meetings, or half term parties, or social gatherings.

The bottom line was that, one way or another, you would end up in a situation which required you to speak to him more than just hellos and goodbyes, and the longer you avoided him, the harder your life would be. And what could you even say? Sorry? Fuck no. Viktor was supposed to apologise, not you.

True to your word, like you had always been, you visited the lab to drop off the papers. Some things stayed the same — same doors, same walls, same floors. But there was something new within the laboratory, something you did not expect. A woman.

She smiled at you, a sickening sweet smile that made you gag, but out of politeness, you nodded, acknowledging her presence. Her tight curls were neatly gathered in a top bun, and she pushed back her half-moon glasses that hid the freckles on her cheeks.

"Hi." You clutched the exam papers at your chest. "Is Viktor here? I need to give him something. "

"He should be back any minute now. I can give him whatever it is you need." She still smiled.

"No, I can wait."

Why? Why did you say that? You could've given her the damn papers and left. You and your stupid mouth. Silence echoed in the lab as you shifted your weight from one leg to another, impatiently glancing at the door in the hopes that Viktor arrived sooner. She, on the other hand, tidied up the place, careful to not throw away anything useful, organising tools and materials that belonged to him. You knew Viktor didn't like it when others touched his stuff, so why was she just casually picking things up like she lived there?

"And you are?" The words came out before you could stop them.

"Oh, silly me, where are my manners?" She shook her head and walked towards you, a hand reached out to shake yours. "Sky Young. I'm Viktor and Jayce's assistant."

"Assistant?" You nodded, stunned by the newfound information. Since when did Viktor need an assistant? "Y/N Y/L/N, Master of Arts." You shook her hand, gripping it a little too tight for her own liking.

"Ah, you're the painter who saved Viktor's life!" Sky looked at you in awe. "I used to be his nurse. Whatever you did baffled the medical community! I became his assistant to help around, but to study him as well."

Study him? You studied him for your portrait, that didn't earn you a spot in his lab. Why was she any better?

"How... nice." The fake smile on your lips betrayed the jealousy in your heart. "On second thought, you can give him these papers. There's no need for me to be here."

"Are you sure? Vik should be here any minute now." Sky's nod of encouragement only added fuel to your desire to leave.

Vik?? They were on a nickname basis now? Bullshit, she wasn't just his assistant.

"I'm sure. I need to prepare the lectures for next term anyway. I don't suppose you know if he finished marking his part of the papers?" You kept your cool.

"He did, actually! Let me get them for you." The girl rushed into an annex of the lab and came back with the stack of exams.

You took a quick look through them to make sure they were all marked, so you wouldn’t need to come back, and shoved them in your bag.

"Thanks."

"No problem! What you are doing is groundbreaking! If there's anything I can assist with, please let me know!" Sky smiled.

Okay, you got it — she was nice and you weren't. Was that how she got under Viktor's skin? By being insufferably nice and sweet? It didn't matter. She was there, in the lab, working with him. And you? You went back to your apartment, alone and upset.

Viktor spent his holiday revising the curriculum for the next term. While Sky was a brilliant assistant, she could be quite overwhelming sometimes. He learned his lesson about not assuming that anyone who treated him with an ounce of respect wanted to secretly mock him, but he forgot about boundaries. As a consequence, Sky waltzed into his lab every day, talking, singing, bringing him food, coffee, tea — Viktor took your silence for granted. He missed that.

He missed you.

Snow crunched under his feet, each step heavier than the previous one. Viktor should've known better than to go to the Academy during a blizzard, but he needed to return a few books back to the library and to write down the grades in the register. Sky offered to do that for him, but there were personal details about his students that she wasn't allowed to see.

He locked the back door to the staff entrance once he was inside the Academy, wiped the snow off his brace and boots, and walked straight to the library. It was hauntingly quiet and dark, and although he appreciated silence, the empty hallways of the University gave him anxiety. Viktor was a rational man, he knew there was nothing there, but the lack of students and staff simply sent a chill down his spine.

With the books returned, he traversed the library and walked downstairs to the staffroom. He would have to write down the grades quickly — the blizzard was getting worse, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in an empty University for who knows how long. It would be ironic, poetic even, to die of starvation in a place where he starved for knowledge.

The door to the staffroom was ajar, and the lights were on. Strange, he didn't think anyone else was there. Not in this weather, anyway. Pushing the door open with his cane, Viktor froze on the spot when he saw you sitting down, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, forehead creased as you copied the grades into the register. He would never get another opportunity like that. He needed to finally clear things out with you.

"Hello-"

The wooden chair fell to the floor as you recoiled in fear, one hand on your thumping heart. You sighed in relief when you saw Viktor standing in the doorframe, the panic stronger than the hate you held for him.

"For fuck's sake, Viktor." You grabbed the chair to put it back in its place and sit down. "You scared the shit out of me."

He wasn't used to your colourful vocabulary, not when you posed as an elegant, educated professor. But he couldn't deny the joy it brought him to hear you say his name.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." Viktor propped himself on his cane.

"No, it's fine. What are you doing here?" Averting your gaze, you looked down at the register.

"I came to return some books and register the grades. I see you're doing the same."

"Yes, well, no rest for the wicked, I suppose." You shrugged. "Why in this awful weather, though?"

"I thought you'd do it when the term started and I didn't want you to feel obliged to speak to me then." Viktor said.

Ouch. His words made you feel horrible. You had been horrible to him. It was a deserved jab at your behaviour and attitude.

"I can come back later-"

"Don't." You almost launched yourself across the table. "You walked all this way in a snow storm, don't leave because of me. If anything, I should leave."

"Eeh, we've both been pricks." Viktor shrugged.

There it was, the crucial, inevitable conversation you dreaded for so long. The one that kept you up at night and stopped you from functioning. The one that would make or break you.

"Listen, Viktor, I-"

"I'm sorry." He cut you off. Taking advantage of your shock, Viktor pulled a chair and sat down, his leg hurting too much to stand. "There's no excuse for the way I reacted, but you must understand that I haven't met a lot of people who genuinely wanted what was best for me. Most people either mocked me or pitied me for my disability. No one really saw past that, with very few exceptions, like Jayce or Heimerdinger."

Shit, you didn't think about why he reacted the way he did. You just assumed he had a god complex and thought your art wasn't comparable to his science. You really took it the wrong way, and drowned him in pettiness and loathing. How could you not think he must've been bullied his whole life? Just because you saw past his illness didn't mean others did. Oh, you were an idiot.

"You don't need to apologise, I need to. I just thought you considered art to be beneath science, and by extension that I was beneath you." You cringed at your own ignorance.

"Why would I ever think that?"

"I don't know, I've been stupid, alright?" You scoffed. "I'm sorry, Viktor. Peace?"

"Peace. Do you mind if I register these exams? That snow storm looks terrible and I’d like to finish before it gets worse." He took out the papers from his bag.

"Not at all! I'll make us some tea, it's bloody cold in here."

When you turned on the stove, Viktor dragged his chair next to yours, and your heart skipped a beat. Rationally, you knew he did it so you could both access the register, but the idea of sitting so close to him gave you heart palpitations. You stirred the honey in his tea, and you smiled to yourself at the memory of you doing the same thing a year ago, when you were in his lab. Who knew you would do it again?

"There you go." You placed two mugs on the table and sat down.

The scent of roses, cinnamon and vanilla filled his nostrils, and Viktor couldn't think anymore. It was the same perfume you wore when you spent time in the laboratory, when you put all your blood, sweat and tears into his portrait. He wondered if wore the other perfume, the one that didn't suit you as much, just to spite him? No. Surely you weren't that petty. But if you did, it stroked his ego to know you cared so much. And just like you did in the lab, you jotted down the grades in complete silence, both of you focused, and so close to one another. It felt normal, and he realised how much he needed your presence around him.

Between writing and sipping tea, you occasionally glanced at Viktor's profile, and it sparked something within you — a burning desire to sketch. He didn't know, but you finished registering the exams a while back, and reached out for a pencil and a scrap piece of paper. Your other hand shielded the lines and circles that began to take shape and look more like him, and as inconspicuous as you tried to be, it was futile.

"I know you're drawing me."

"Damn it!" You huffed.

The staffroom echoed with your laughter, and how could you not laugh? It was such an innocent moment between the two of you that both you and Viktor found it amusing. You really couldn't stop yourself from drawing him — your muse. But all good things had to come to an end, and Viktor finished writing down the last grade in the register. You didn't know why, but the idea of having to go home left you feeling hurt.

You walked with him down the dim hallway and unlocked the back door, but were unable to open it. Something was in its way. Viktor looked out the window, amber eyes wide in genuine panic. When he didn't say anything, you scoffed and moved in his way to try and look outside, but you couldn't see anything but white. The thick snow was blocking the door. You were effectively stuck. One more push, and the door didn’t budge. Another push, and you hurt yourself more than you moved the door.

"Well, looks like we're going to have to dig our way home." You mused.

"You're joking. We'll freeze to death!" Viktor leaned again the window for support.

"I don't see you coming up with a better idea, Mr. Scientist."

"Oh, and digging through snow was your master plan?" He snorted. "I'm sure me and my leg are going to make it back home safely."

"What would you rather do, then, if you're so clever?" You folded your arms across your chest. "Go on, genius."

"We can just... wait for it to end." Viktor pondered. It was definitely better than going out in the cold, and you hated to admit that he was right.

"Ugh, fine. But it's getting late and it doesn't look like it's going to stop any time soon. We need to find a place to sleep in."

"My office has a sofa. I can sleep on the floor." He suggested and you stared at him in shock and disbelief.

"Office? You have an office? All I got was a fucking closet."

"Well, I was the Dean's assistant." Viktor chuckled.

You didn't reply, for fear of saying something you might regret later, and instead huffed, puffed and stomped up the stairs, trailing behind Viktor like a lost puppy. That part of the University was foreign to you, and you stopped to examine the portraits of some members of staff — Professor Heimerdinger had one, Jayce had one, Viktor had one, but whoever painted it couldn't capture his real grace.

"Hm, I could do this with my eyes closed." You judged the technique, the colours, the proportions. It was a fantastic portrait, it just missed Viktor's essence.

"Is it not up to your standards, Miss Painter?" He tapped his cane. You got the hint and carried on walking.

"No, the painting itself is fine, but it didn't do justice to your beauty." You said with so much nonchalance that it made Viktor short of breath.

Did you really think that about him? You probably meant it as a painter — most artists found beauty in ugliness, or in the mundane. But there was no possible way you meant it as a woman, not when you were so perfect and he was so broken.

Viktor stopped in front of an oak door with a thin tinted window in the middle of it. He pulled out a set of keys, all of them identical, but he knew exactly which one unlocked his office. Curiosity got the better of you, and with inquisitive eyes, you began examining his study. The first thing that caught your attention was the bearskin rug on the floor. A bit distasteful, you thought, but it looked soft enough to sleep on it. In front of you was a brown velvet sofa, and to your right was a fireplace. The mantle was decorated with trophies from competitions and a picture of Viktor and Jayce, which brought a smile to your face.

On the other side of the office, across the fireplace, was his desk — a few papers were scattered on it, but otherwise it was tidy — and behind it were a bookcase and a wardrobe.

"What's there?" You asked, head tilted towards a door.

"The shower."

"You have a shower, too? I'm sorry, do you live here, fancy pants?" Your reaction to his answer made Viktor chuckle, but he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for that.

"Eeh, Professor Heimerdinger found that some of us spent so much time buried in work that he had showers and toilets installed. They're powered by hextech, so regardless of the weather, there's hot water. Feel free to use it if you want." He shrugged, hanging his coat by the back of his desk chair.

"There's only one problem, Mr. Scientist. I don't have any spare clothes." You saw the grin on his lips. "Don't tell me you have that, too."

"Plenty of clean shirts in the wardrobe. Please help yourself to one." Viktor nodded.

"Wouldn't your girlfriend mind if I wore your clothes?" The hint of jealousy in your voice betrayed your nonchalance.

"Girlfriend?" He looked at you dumbfounded. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Come on. Pretty girl with glasses and freckles and a sickeningly sweet smile? Sky?"

"Ah, Miss Young!" Viktor remembered. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but she's not my girlfriend."

It did not disappoint you at all. In fact, it made you hopeful. You weren't sure what you were hoping for, but it felt as though a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders to know that Viktor wasn't involved with Sky.

"Very well. I shall take that offer, then. A shower will warm me up." You walked up the wardrobe and examined the collection of identical shirts. "I suggest you do the same, you shouldn't stay cold." You chose a top that looked a little bigger than the rest, as you didn't want it to be too tight and uncomfortable around your chest.

"I'll start a fire for us, then. The office should warm up by the time you're finished." Viktor dragged his feet to the fireplace.

You thanked him and entered the bathroom, searching through cabinets and drawers for a clean towel. You found one and brought it to the shower, then stripped down and let the hot water clean your body. There was nothing wrong in what you were doing, right? You were two professors stuck in a university until the snow storm settled down. Nothing wrong with taking a shower. Nothing wrong with scrubbing your skin with his body wash. Nothing wrong with drying yourself with his towel. Nothing wrong with wearing his shirt. It was just a professional predicament, nothing more, nothing less.

Gathering your belongings, you exited the bathroom, tugging at the hem of the shirt to cover your thighs. It was shorter than you had hoped, but you knew Viktor was an honourable man. He understood the situation you were both in and it wasn't as though he would jump your bones. Mostly because he didn't like you, and while that comforted you, it hurt your ego. He was an attractive man, and his mind was complex and intriguing — of course you had certain feelings for him. You didn't entirely understand those feelings — respect, admiration, adoration, leftover spite. It was an amalgam of emotions and you didn't have time to process them because you spent a whole year being a bitch.

Viktor's heart throbbed when he saw you awkwardly pull down his shirt to expose less skin, even if it was to no avail. He pretended not to notice your bare thighs and how tight his shirt was around your chest, the buttons barely keeping your breasts from spilling out of it. He poked the fire instead, and you walked around the desk in the hopes that it would cover your lower body.

"I don't suppose you have a blanket I could cover myself with."

"I only have one blanket." Viktor said, back facing you to give you privacy. "Top shelf in the wardrobe. You can use it tonight, I'll sleep in my coat."

"Absolutely not." You stretched, tiptoeing to reach the shelf and he could not stop his head from turning, eyes darting at the shirt that did nothing to cover your lace underwear as you struggled to grab the blanket. "We'll sleep on the rug, back-to-back."

If Viktor didn't know any better, he would've thought you did everything you could to get closer to him. But that was just his imagination. He had no chance to be with you, and understood you were only trying to protect him from the cold. You snatched the blanket and wrapped it around your body, and while it irked him that he couldn't see the skin he would never touch, Viktor found the way you looked all snuggled up to be adorable. It was a stark contrast from the heartless mask you wore for so long.

He left to take a shower, and you guarded the fireplace, cast iron poker in one hand like some knight of flames. The blizzard wasn't getting any better, and the darkness of the night coupled with the snow made it impossible to tell when it would stop. One thing was certain — you were grateful you brought food, and enough for both you and Viktor. Who knew how long you would be stuck there for? Surely Jayce would come looking for Viktor considering he wouldn't be in his lab any time soon.

A great friend he was, you thought. Not just to Viktor, but to you, too. It was Jayce who forced you to draw again, who managed to get you out of the house and who brought some sort of stability in your life. You should thank him at some point. Him and Mel. Things were somewhat back to normal, and it wasn't because of you, but because of them and Viktor.

As if he knew you were thinking about him, Viktor walked into his office, wearing only a pair of loose linen trousers that barely clung to his waist. Beads of water glistened on his pale chest and a few strands of wet hair stuck to his flushed cheeks. You assumed he would put a shirt on, but instead he crawled on the bearskin rug, wincing at the pain caused by his leg, even if it wasn't as bad as it used to be.

You reached out for the leather strap of your bag and pulled it into your lap, taking out the bread you baked that very morning. Breaking it in two, you offered one half to Viktor, who eagerly took it.

"We make a good team, don't you think?" He said and you looked at him with inquisitive eyes. "I provide shelter, you provide food."

"We even make a whole outfit together. You have the pants, I have the shirt." You joked and Viktor rolled his eyes at your attempt of a joke, but his smile was there.

With food in your bellies and the fire dying down, you lied on your back and pulled the blanket over you and Viktor. You could still vaguely distinguish the patterns on the ceiling in the dim light — leaves and vines, flowers and curved lines.

"Back-to-back, yeah?" You told him, turning on your side.

"Yes." Viktor murmured, doing the same.

In the silence of the night, he could hear his own heart pumping blood through his veins. Viktor could've sworn he heard your hear beat, frantically thumping against your ribcage, but he blamed it on his imagination again. You were probably sound asleep, dreaming the sweetest dreams.

You weren't sleeping, you were staring into the darkness of his office, eyes wide and refusing to stay closed. There wasn't an ounce of tiredness in your body, but you thought Viktor had already fallen asleep, and didn't want to bother him with late night conversations about the meaning of life.

His left side was going numb from the pressure of his weight, pins and needles in his arm and shoulder. Viktor sighed, uncomfortably sighing at the sensation. He turned on his back, feeling better already. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, vaguely distinguishing the shapes around him. He raised his head to look at the fireplace — the last thing he wanted was to set fire to the Academy. His mind spiralled, thinking about the next term, about the work he still had to do in the lab, about how his interactions with you would be from now on. Viktor was so used to you ignoring him that he couldn't even imagine you smiling and greeting him in the morning.

"Are you sleeping?" You whispered, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"No, not really." He said. "I don't feel tired."

"Me neither." You turned on your back and faced the ceiling.

"What happened to back-to-back?" Viktor playfully mocked you.

"I got pins and needles in my arm." You admitted. "Can I ask you something?"

"You already did."

"Oh, wow, okay, fuck off." You frowned in the darkness and he laughed.

"I'm only joking. You can ask me anything."

"Would you model for me? I swear on my life I'm not making fun of y-"

"Yes." Viktor cut you off with no hesitation in his voice. "If that will make you happy, then yes.

"Oh. Since when do you care about my happiness?" You laughed, hoping he was jesting, praying he would say something witty.

"Since I lost you." Came his all too serious response, enough to make your blood freeze in your body.

He meant that platonically. He must've meant it platonically. There was no way in hell Viktor cared for you more than a friend, not after the way you treated him. You waited for him to chuckle, to say he didn't mean it that way, but he was quiet. Only one way to find out how he meant his words.

His breathing was heavy, like he had a weight on his chest stopping him from functioning properly, and Viktor flinched when he felt your hand touch his under the blanket. He brushed it off as an accident, until your pinky found his, hooking around it.

"I'm here now." You told him, voice sweet and soothing. "If you'll still have me."

Viktor boldly intertwined his fingers with yours, and you could feel your cheeks burning. But friends held hands, didn't they? It wasn't out of the ordinary. The room was getting colder, and the thin blanket barely offered you any warmth. When your body shivered, Viktor dared to scoot closer to you, his body radiating heat. How was he so hot when he looked so pale?

"Do you want me to hold you?" He asked — platonically, of course.

You didn't reply, but instead crawled under his arm, resting your head on his chest, feeling his frantic heart beats. Friends did that, didn't they? Particularly in such a situation that required you not to freeze.

"I missed you so much." Viktor confessed, burying his face in your hair. You smelled less of you and more of him, and it drove him mad. You were so close, and so far at the same time that his heart almost exploded in his chest from the overwhelming emotions.

"Missed you too." You mumbled, intoxicated by his scent and warmth. "I don't ever want to be a petty bitch to you."

"I promise I won't give you any reason to be one." He smiled into your hair. "Although I must admit, it was quite exciting."

"Mm, how so?" You looked up at him, even if you could barely distinguish his features in the pale moonlight.

"Well, as frustrating as you were, I really wanted to put you in your place." Viktor purred, fingers combining your hair. "I still do."

There was nothing platonic about his words, nothing platonic about the way he held you, and nothing platonic about how you lifted your leg to straddle him, hovering over his body.

"So do it, then. Put me in my fucking place."

His hand slithered behind your head, pulling you into a wet, feverish kiss with newfound strength. Toes curling, you let out a guttural moan, grinning against his lips — you needed him, not as a muse, not as a model, but as a man.

Viktor's hands travelled up your thighs, up your hips, pulling the shirt over your head. There was no time for foreplay — he wanted you, and he wouldn't stop until he had you. With the shirt tossed on the floor, you leaned back for another kiss, another taste of him, and he gladly obliged.

The room wasn't cold anymore, not when you could feel him hard against your clothed cunt, and you automatically rolled your hips, aching for any bit of friction.

"So needy." Viktor's lips curved into a grin, and he dug his fingers into the plush of your thighs, earning a whimper from you.

"Not needy." You shook your head and pouted. "Greedy."

He couldn't see the lust in your eyes, but he felt your hand slip between your bodies, under the fabric of his trousers as you tugged on the waistband, yanking it down. That same hand found his cock, fingers gently wrapping around his shaft and Viktor bucked his hips, yearning for much more than just your fist.

"So needy." You mocked his words, and he found your panties, sliding them to the side.

"Greedy." Viktor corrected you, his digits poking at your entrance, slick coating them.

Lifting yourself to manoeuvre his aching cock, you pushed his fingers away to slip the tip inside of you. Inch by inch, you sunk lower, feeling him stretch your spongy walls. He was bigger than you had anticipated, and you sat there for a good minute to get used to the girth, hissing at the pain caused by the intrusion. It had been a while since you did this.

"Tight." Viktor bit back a moan, struggling not to move — he wanted you to take the lead when you were ready. Perhaps skipping foreplay wasn't such a good idea.

You placed a hand on his chest for support, slowly rolling your hips, his cock reaching deeper than you thought was possible. It was no easy feat taking him all in, but what little stinging pain you felt was soon replaced by pleasure, and the hissing turned into whimpering, weeping.

Viktor was on the verge of a panic attack when he heard your quiet sobs, almost pushing you off him until you bounced up and down his cock, riding him like it was the last time you would see him.

"Fuck- oh, fuck, Vik-" You broke when he held you in place by your hips, fucking you deeper, harder, and you were pliant for him. Obedient for him. Good for him.

Viktor wouldn't last long, not when you chanted his name like a prayer, cunt clenching around his cock. You were made to take him, he thought, his hand on the back of your head pulling you into another sloppy kiss.

"I'm close-" He shamefully admitted, wanting this moment to last forever, but his stamina was weak, and you didn't want to push his body over the limit.

Your fingers reached out for your clit rubbing frantic circles over it to help you climax. Not that his cock couldn't do that, but you could feel it twitching inside of you. He lost himself when your orgasm crashed down like a tide, having the privilege of finishing inside of you. Your body was limp as you struggled to get off him, falling backwards on the rug, his fingers firmly wrapped around yours.

The silence in the office wasn't haunting anymore, but rather peaceful, natural. You didn't feel the need to fill it with meaningless conversations, or petty bickering, or silly jokes. No, it felt good just lying there next to Viktor, holding hands and breathing. Two lost souls — mind and heart, logic and feeling, science and art — coexisting, completing each other, fusing with one another to create something so delicate — love.

[goldsbitch]

Hypochondria

part 4 to p1, p2, p3

He can sense her emotions, she feels his pain. Baby steps, that's the only way to go.

author's note: guess who's back - and a promised smut chapter turned into slow burn. any reported typos are appreciated. there will be p5.

"I'm sorry, Lando - this all just so bizarre. I'm barely taking it in. Literally don't understand how you're so calm."

He laughed gently. "Well, I did have few extra days to process. And hearing my name roll of your tongue is distracting enough," he said flirtatiously.

Her cheeks went red and her mind stopped, head getting filled with desire and lust. Lando's lips turned into a wide smile, him feeling her arousal as if she was screaming it loudly to his face.

"Glad to see my words have an effect on you. This is indeed going to be fun..."

Lando was on cloud nine. He was just staring at her as if she was a miracle. Her deep eyes unable to stay away from looking at him and lips that had a silent invitation written on them.

He was high on the way how relaxed she felt, proud that he made her feel like that. It was as if there was no yesterday or tomorrow. Just them and the couch. And after few moments of silence and collecting his bravery, Lando leaned in and kissed her.

It was clear to him from the moment he took her upper lip in that he'd give anything for this moment to take at least a thousand years. She did not hesitate and kissed him back immediately. The sweetest touch a woman can give. Leaned in and let nature do its miracles. He smiled into her lips and pushed himself closer to her, making her sink in the couch.

It was right then when a loud, impatient knock nearly sent them both into shock. Lando froze and back away from Y/N little bit, furious with whomever that dared to disturb a key moment in their lives.

"Lando, I apologize, but we have an urgent matter on our hands."

He rolled his eyes and let a deep breath out, recognizing the voice of his workoholic PR manager. This was not the first and probably the last time he had to tell his team off in the dark of the night. Internet never sleeps.

"Can it really not wait this time until tomorrow?" he said before he gave Y/N shameful and apologetic look. She just kept herself quiet, sunken into the comfy couch.

"I'm afraid we will need some immediate action," came from behind the door after another impatient knock.

Lando got his phone out to check the time, only to see 17 missed calls from several people.

"Ok, I'm coming."

He half opened the door to a very flustered PR manager, who looked like he was about to announce a coming tornado. Lando just raised his eyebrows, encouraging him to spill the beans and then planning on dismissing him.

"Anita released a break up TikTok. It's going viral."

As far as emergencies go, this one felt to Lando like a second-tier one. He was more concerned about the anxiety he felt coming from Y/N. Kind of wished she was kept out of it, for her own good.

"I'm sure we can address this in few hours," Lando replied calmly.

"She accused you of cheating. In a very colorful manner, I must say," the guy continued, as if he was not confident enough to fully explain the situation. "I'm in touch with her publicist, so that we can come up with a joint statement online. Apparently she won't talk to anyone but you."

Lando stayed silent, the only thing he really wanted was to close the door and return to the couch.

"We can't have another cheating scandal. McLaren will get involved," he pleaded once again in hopes of finally convincing Lando.

Deep breath. "Sure. Can I meet you at the lobby or somewhere in few minutes?" Lando caved in. A puzzled look flashed over his PR's manager, because usually Lando preferred to solve his crises in the comfort of his suite. The driver hoped no comment would come his way. After few seconds, the guy finally nodded.

"Understand, sure. I'll see if we can get the conference room."

He closed the door and tried to brace himself for any type of reaction Y/N might have. But deep inside he knew - seen it countless times. She abruptly got up, fixed her clothes, flashed him only one quick look before avoiding his face completely.

"Um, I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," he said, letting her pass by. The reality hit hard. She barely knew him. Somehow, the air got flooded with inescapable loneliness.

//

Y/N tried her best to follow her daily routine the following week. The memory of her running away from Lando's room like a little child chasing her like a nightmare. It was just so humiliating. The guilt, unjustified, was eating her up. She tried to stay away from social media, but her will was not strong enough. Late night scrolling included absorbing lot of Lando hate.

He also did his best to keep himself busy and focus on his job. If it had been any other person, he'd already be chasing Y/N down and try to reason with her, get this experience behind them and keep starting fresh. Perhaps he was lucky, that he knew her and if he's pushed immediately, she'd just hide even more.

He found himself on the track during free practice, constantly stealing glances over to the medical tents, just to get a glimpse of his guilt-ridden soulmate. All he wanted to do was shake some sense to her. That evening he finally snapped. No more hiding. He was about to get creative.

So there he was, alone once again, in a random hotel room, in a city he barely remembered the name of, trying to get a hand of morse code. Something he never thought would be his issue, ever. It was a shot in the dark. Pinch a message into his arm and hoping she'd understand his intention. After all, she felt his pain, so he figured if he was annoying enough, she'd have no choice but to show up. Many curse words were uttered about the absurdity and difficulty of it all, before Lando got a hand of it. He opted to focus on the rhytmn and after he felt confident enough, abandoned tapping into a table and began pinching his left hand.

Let's talk. Room 1014. Please.

Over and over again. It was so incredibly annoying. But, he was going to persevere even if it meant having a bruise tomorrow.

After what felt like like seven thousand years - a knock on the door.

This was it, he thought as he opened the door to equally annoyed person. She shot arrows from her eyes and he could not help but smirk. She cracked the code, but he won.

"Now, let's get one thing clear," she opened with, hands firmly on her hips, "you are not going to use this trick outside of an emergency. Ok?". Her face did this strange twitch, she obviously had a hard time admitting he won that round. He leaned over the door frame, not caving in to her anger. Stood like a patient anchor, waiting for the sea to calm down. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, failing at keeping her look so stern. It's been few days since they last locked eyes. She could practically sink in his. He just gave her a small nod, definitely not planning on misusing this ever again. Absolutely not.

"I'm glad you understood," he said and let her walk in. Was he nervous? That was probably the closest thing to describe it.

"I don't know the Morse code, so that made it super fun," she proclaimed and stopped in the middle of the living room, not sitting down on any of the chairs or couches.

"Me neither. But you better learn it, you never know..." he teased and walked dangerously close to her. She kept her gaze down.

She spoke before he could say any more cheeky lines. "So, I'm here. Anything specific you wanted to say that exceeded your ability of speaking in Morse code?" Her attitude hurt. However, he was not going to let her push him away so easily. "Y/N, this is not going to work on me. You can't push me away so easily, so just try and stop it. Please." Big gulp on her part followed by a light nod. "Good. Listen, I don't want to let this fizzle out so easily. It's hard to think about anything else once I've met you. I'm sorry about the whole break up mess. It's not fair to you. But, in my defense, I had no idea I'd just randomly be sat next to...you," he said, practically breathing out the last word.

She began walking frantically. "It's...um, it's a lot. Your world. And then the fact you seem to know things and are so far ahead in this game."

"It's not a game to me, Y/N," he said, watching her pace around the room.

She stopped by the bed and sat on it, finally able to look at him again. "Ok, bad word, but still," she paused and searched for the right words. "We have nothing to connect with...I mean nothing real."

Lando was not going to buy into doubts. His mind was set. Slowly, he walked towards her and sat next to her.

"Does it scare you? That you are tied to me basically against your will?" he asked the one thing he was afraid to hear the answer to. But he figured that the beginning was never suppose to be easy anyway.

"A little bit. Actually yes, it does," she said, in a strangely releaved tone and his heart sank just few stories lower. Lost in his own head, he nearly missed her giving up on sitting and landing on her back with a thud, eyes locked with the ceiling.

"I never liked being pushed into things. It's my life, I get to call the shots," she began to let her thoughts run freely.

"Choosing something that comes to you willingly does not have mean giving up your free will...I'd just like to at least give this a chance. I know already that I can't be your friend," he whispered, turned his look towards her and slowly lowered himself on his back as well, lost in his thoughts once again.

Lando's body laid still, but his heart was beating as if he was in the final quali lap. He had the advantage, drew the better card. Unique insight into another human's soul. Short cuts and few cheat answers for any test ahead of them. So why did it make him feel all the more lonely? He was reaching out, confused in the exact same capacity as she was, but she was not giving him much back. Yet. If was obvious. He was miles ahead of her, not thanks to his own doing. He could be there for her, but it would take some time and a lot of luck for her to be able to be there for her.

"Can you stay here? For the night?" he asked in a soft low voice, unable to hide his own vulnerability. "Not like, you know," he added immediately, hoping he comes off the least creepy as possible, "Just like this." Baby steps. He was praying for just that.

The body next to him also laid still in a very stiff manner, the exact opposite of relaxed. But the pull towards him was just too loud to resist. It was stronger than her. Curiosity tripped over the tiny fear inside her, grabbed the innate desire for human connection by the hand, and together opened the door for Lando to enter.

"Yes," she whispered, wondering if there is anything she wanted to add.

A small smile crept onto Lando's face. He got up and shot the light off. Both of them settled in a more relaxed pose, albeit still fully dressed. If by some miracle he manages to fall asleep, he will be waking up next to this magnificent, magical being for the first time. And hopefully not the last.

They laid next to each other, like the strangers they were, for few minutes, before she found her own little hand reaching out for his. Soft fingers mixed with his. At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. Lando's heart almost stopped, his breath caught in and resulted in gulp, too loud for the current setting. She could not help but smile and tried to hide it with pressing her lips together - even though it was dark night and both of them had their eyes closed. He mimicked her movements and traced her fingers as well. Every little place he touched burned with intoxicating intensity. He held her index finger lightly while she brushed up and down his thumb.

For the first time in years, Lando was careful. He'd rather lie next to her in silence than risking her wanting him to leave. The guilt from bruising her with his crash still hadn't left his mind. But when her hand crept more and more inside of his, he could not help but circle around it, until he was covering her hand completely. The air was still. Two scared souls discovering each other, tiptoeing around as if they were made of glass. Once Lando started drawing little circles on the palm of her hand, he finally felt her beginning to relax. He was still trying to get his mind wrapped around how the whole connection worked. Perhaps the more open she was to communicating with him, the more of a window he got. His next words slipped through without much of a thought.

"I've dreamt about you probably thousand nights."

Y/N could not recall the last time she heard a sentence that sounded so honest. Raw, it was almost childlike. She thought about her own countless nights when she slept alone and longed for a soul to crawl to. And also all those times she wasn't alone in the middle of the night, yet it still felt like eating someone else's dinner. The emptiness never truly filled. Hand never fitting someone else's like a well-fitted glove. Was there ever anyone who told her something like this before? Probably not. Of course not.

"I'm scared," she repeated.

"I know," he smirked for himself only. "I can feel it...But can you please tell me what's scaring you at this moment? I'd love to understand."

This time it was her who chuckled and squeezed his hand a bit. His heart once again beating so loudly he was scared she could hear it.

"I randomly meet this man, this devilisly handsome guy, who seems to know things I've never even told anyone, is hyperaware of my emotions, as if they were his own...How am I suppose to resist this?"

"Why would you?"

"If we proceed with this, I am basically allowing you to become a weapon designed to destroy me. If, or more likely when, I fall for you...How can anyone else ever top that? If you decide that you're bored with me, I'll quite literally only be left with bruises."

He listened to every word, as if it was a gospel, and this time took a second to calculate his response. Lando opened his eyes to try and see a glimpse of her face in the dead of night, only to find her already looking at him.

"As far as I remember, you were always a part of my life. The one constant that does not leave," he said and licked his dry lips. If she was becoming vulnerable, he'd have to do the same. "If I fuck this up, if you decide that I am not worth spending time with and if you walk away...I'll still be left with the glimpses. I'll have to watch from afar, knowing you don't feel this. Funnily enough, I'd argue that you have the option to choose. I don't."

"And do you even want it? Would you-" she tried to continue with her question, but he interrupted her immediately.

"Of course. Hundred times over. I know you're scared, but I am scared too. Because there is a perfect piece of puzzle right in front of me and if I fuck it up, I am ruined for life."

She only saw a small reflection of light in his eyes, but that was enough to understand he was serious. Her shoulders relaxed and she let a breath she didn't know she had been holding, out.

"Well, good to know you are a dramatic person," she responded, trying to lighten up the mood.

It worked, his small smirk entered the chat again. "Yeah well, get use to it," he said with a new found confidence, tried his luck once more and scooted over to her just a little bit.

"Sorry, there was a hard spot in the matrace," he said cheekily and closed his eyes, trying to play it cute.

His body heat radiated towards her. "Of course, a hard spot in this top-of-the-world matrace," she questioned his argument with a smile, his magic getting her head-over-heels.

"Yes, I'll complain with to the staff tomorrow, these things can really fuck up your sleep, you know."

"So true. And what, have you solved it now?" Another door opened. Lando smiled.

"Still not perfect," he remarked, pretended to have a moment to think and finally moved all the way next to her and put his arm around her. "Yeah, this is the only way I'm afraid."

She was glad his eyes were closed, because her smile was impossible to hide. Both of them were fully aware there is no hard spot on the matrace. "Of course it is," she commented, as she settled down in his embrace.

Her face was now settled in crook of his neck, her uneven breaths leaving goosebumps on his skin. His light stubble teasing her forehead. Once again, Lando was overwhelmed just how well she fit in his embrace. He had to actively try and breathe regularly, because he was anxious about giving away just how much he was enjoying having her in his embrace. Her hand was pressed against his chest and Y/N had to fight every cell in her body, because the urge to explore his body was overcoming her. Lando shifted a bit, having to to try and find a spot where his belt wasn't pressing on his body in a way that hurt. Immediately, he felt a sudden wave of guilt coming from her and she bolted straight up. Had he fucked it all up? He cursed himself, he should have just pushed through it.

He forgot to take in the fact she felt his pain. "What's wrong?" he asked shyly, as he also sat up to match her moves.

She took a deep breath. "I don't want to seem like I'm suggesting something, but can we get out of our daily clothes? I hate sleeping like that." Who would like that anyway, was the thought that crept into Lando's mind, but he kept it for himself, more than overjoyed that he didn't have to suggest that. "Sure, no problem."

"Do you have some t-shirt I could borrow?" she asked, turning on the light next to his bed, sitting with her back turned to him, perhaps trying to hide away. Lando tried his best not to get shaken up and loose his cool. This wasn't her running away and it was also not her suggesting anything.

"Of course," he said and got up to search up the best clean t-shirt her had. She took a deep breath as she tried not to stare, guessing by the sounds that he was getting undressed. But, as she did, she was happy he did not see her blush. Just like he did before, she forgot to take in account that he felt her sudden arousal and curiosity without having to look at her. For a change, he was happy he had his advantage. He peeked over to her, seeing her abrupt turn back. It was hard not to be amused by her.

"Here you go," he said as he strolled back over to her and handed her his t-shirt. "Don't worry, I won't look," he informed her and as the cheeky guy he was deep down, added his signature wink. "I'm sure there is an extra tooth brush in the bathroom, if you wanna join," he continued and walked over to the other side of the suite, hoping she was watching him walk around in boxers only.

Finally having some distance and a minute to contain herself, she carefully undressed, leaving on only her panties and his shirt on. Only then she noticed just how intoxicating his natural smell was. Knowing well enough she was doomed.

When Y/N finally joined him in the bathroom, he gave her the second toothbrush in silence and kept brushing his own teeth. It was refreshing seeing her in such an intimate setting. He tried as best as he could not to notice just how hot she looked in his t-shirt. Watching her in the reflection, he realized he never appreciated a moment like that with anyone else before. He smiled at her, because he could see her shy nature peeking through causing her hair behind her ear.

She was about to join him back in the bed when she saw him placed right in the middle of the bed, far from when was last time she approached him like that.

"It's the hard spot, there is no other way," he brushed over it nonchalantly and tucked himself in the bed. "Come on, here, here," he patted a spot next to him. In the dim light, with shadows only highlighting his toned chest, curly hair falling over to his eyes, innocent smile and opened arms, he was like a mystical creature created only to entrap Y/N. At least, that's how that felt. No way back.

She slipped in the bed with him, to the exact position as they were just minutes ago and turned of the light once again. This time, Lando was way more relaxed even Y/N noticed the difference. With each passing moment it was becoming less and less stiff or awkward. Comfort replacing natural stress of sharing a bed with a stranger for the first time. For a brief second, it was as if they'd done this every night before drifting off to sleep. Lando was happy to take things slow. Not expecting anything more. He was content with knowing she was not planning on leaving him there alone that night and that was enough. Not for Y/N. Her body was acting way before her mind could stop her. Her now warm fingers started drawing little stars on his exposed chest. It was peaceful. Until her finger moved a little lower. Another gulp from Lando. She felt him tightening his grip on her.

"Careful now...I might get the wrong idea," he breathed out for only her to hear.

Their lips were so riddiculously close, yet too far away. The only thing she wanted to do was kiss him. All restraint suddenly gone. But she needed to be sure - did he wanted to kiss her? If she dared to ask him, he'd laugh out loud at the obviousness of it all. Poor guy didn't notice her desire because he spent all of his energy trying to hide his.

She licked her lips. "Wrong idea...like sending me away?"

Loud sigh from Lando. "No..the wrong wrong idea," he whispered, being so close to her she could feel his soft breath, as he started to move his hard up her arm, under the t-shirt he gave her. She became very aware of the fact she was not wearing a bra, something Lando noticed the moment she came to the bathroom. His arm stopped momentarily at her shoulder. " Wrong idea that you want me to do this..." he continued moving his hand again, "...or this," reached up to her collarbone while pressing her closer to him with his other arm. "Or heaven forbid..." he whispered a question as his lips were nearly touching hers. Lando was too scared to make the first move, still afraid she might vanish into thin air.

She was brave enough to close the gap. "Or this." With that, she kissed him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

@ushygushybaby

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Damian’s Pets | Damian Wayne/Robin & Reader!Magician [Fluff]

Synopsis: every time Damian comes home with a pet he must face a panel that proves how he’ll take care of the animal without making Alfred or anyone else do it. Everything seems to go well until he comes home with a demon.

There was a cow in the Batcave. 

Normally Vivian would be used to the many things that Bruce would bring home to the cave from his previous cases, such as the giant penny or the dinosaur. An orphan he picked up in the alley.

A cow was the last thing on her list.

“This is probably some sort of hallucination caused by my three-day-straight all-nighters,” Vivian massaged the bridge of her nose.

“It's not,” said Batman.

“Can I ask how did you even get the cow in the Batmobile — I don't recall the tank having that much space capacity.”

“Don't,” Batman told her. “You know the drill.”

Vivian sighed and walked up to Damian with her husband at her side. When Damian saw the shadow of his parents, he stood his ground with his chest out and a determined look on his face. It made Tim and Dick snicker to see little Damian standing up to Vivian and Bruce as if he were to face a criminal. 

“I named her Bat-Cow,” stated Damian.

“Oh, did you know?” Vivian crossed her arms over her chest. Turning to the cow she saw the black patch on the cow's eyes that resembled the domino masks of the Robins and the Bat symbol. “I gotta admit that's witty.”

Bruce cleared his throat to get her back on track.

“And where are you planning on keeping Bat-Cow?” Vivian asked Damian.

The boy smirked. “I thought you would ask that. If you recall in our many walks around the estate, there is a plot of land that has a barn.”

“Had a barn,” Bruce corrected him.

“I'll rebuild it. Fix it for Bat-Cow, besides Alfred the cat likes exploring that barn as well. They will be comfortable there. I think Titus will also like the barn,” said Damian. “You both have been mentioning how the manor has been getting more fur around — mind you, you too have a pet dog and cat. Ace and Echo can stay there as well if they wish.”

Before Bruce could have a say on that, Vivian said, “Echo and Ace are staying in our room. But a cow is not like a dog or a cat, Damian. It — you need to milk it.”

Tim and Dick burst out laughing. Both were already tearing up now and were holding onto each other for support. Damian only looked at them with confusion. Why are they laughing when a cow really needs to be milked or else its utters will swell?

“Grow up!” Vivian told them. “But looking past the innuendo that those two picked up… and I'm glad that you didn't. Who's going to milk — ” Tim and Dick laughed loudly. “ — you two, stop it or get out. Harvest, does that make sense?” She asked Bruce.

“For now,” said Bruce.

“Fine, who's going to do all of that, the harvesting, the cleaning up, the feed — and don't you dare say Alfred.”

“I will,” said Damian.

“Do you even know how?”

Dick, still laughing, said, “I'm sure he's got some practice, Viv.”

“He's ten!” 

Dick shrugged.

“I'll ask Jon for help!”

Dick and Tim burst out laughing again and were forced to march up stairs by Bruce as he saw Damian turning red from embarrassment, his rising anger, and confusion. Why were they laughing so much?!

“Man, Jason is missing out!” Tim said as he and Dick went up stairs.

“We'll tell him when he gets home with Roy,” said Dick.

Silence came to the cave with the two gone, it gave Damian the courage on his defense and continued, “As I said. I'll ask Jon to teach me how to take care of Bat-Cow. For feeding, I'll work more chores to earn more money for Bat-Cow's necessities. I'll work harder. Just… please, let me keep her.”

How can she say no to that? Damian actually said please, and he was adamant in keeping the cow as his pet. Sighing, Vivian said, “Fine. We'll start working on the barn tomorrow.”

“What?” Bruce said.

“Yes! Thank you, Mom!” Damian wrapped his arms around Vivian.

“I thought we were on the same page,” Bruce whispered to her.

“Give him a break. Dick and Tim were pissing him off. Besides, I think it would be nice to get milk from the source directly. Don't you think?”

“You're not making any sense, right now.”

“I'll take Bat-Cow to my room for now,” Damian led the cow to the elevator.

Before the elevator could open, Vivian and Batman called out: “ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

~*~

“This is your fault,” Bruce told Tim and Dick who were muttering under their breath as they cleaned up the mess that Bat-Cow made in the Batcave. When they got up that morning, Alfred immediately gave them a brush and told them to head to the cave. There they were met by the stench of the cow's stool and a couple of large lumps for them to clean up.

“How is this our fault?” Dick asked Bruce.

“If you weren't laughing at Damian then you wouldn't be cleaning up cow shit in the cave before breakfast,” Bruce stated.

“He should be the one cleaning it,” Tim muttered.

“Vivian's orders. You were teasing your brother.”

Tim and Dick groaned and went back to work.

~*~

The next pet Damian brought home was a turkey. Actually, it wasn't even at home that he presented the turkey to her, it was at her place of work. Damian was coming home from school then, and he somehow found a turkey in need of a home. He, Bruce, and Alfred walked up to Gotham University with the turkey in a cage, and surprised Vivian at the courtyard of the campus with it.

“Here, seriously?” Vivian said to them.

“He was insistent,” said Bruce.

“Well?” Vivian asked Damian.

Beside her, Justin and Catherin looked at the odd scene of the family and watched, curious to what this was about.

“He was going to the slaughter house!” said Damian.

“You can't just take a turkey who is on its way to the slaughterhouse, Damian,” Vivian turned to Bruce. “Seriously, you can't deal with this on your own?”

“He said that you were the one he needed to convince,” Bruce shrugged.

“Oh, so Via's the strict parent, huh?” Justin teased her. 

“Okay, let's hear it,” said Vivian. “Make it quick, I got a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Barn. I'll work more hours for chores and pay for the feed if I have to.”

“You won't be sleeping then.”

“I don't care. I've done all-nighters.”

“That's not okay, Damian,” Vivian sighed. “Why can't you just bring home a fish or something… Fine, but you have to promise that this is the last.”

Damian smiled. “Really?”

“Yes. Besides, fatten it up and we'll have the turkey for Thanksgiving covered.”

“Jerry is not going to be a Thanksgiving turkey!” Damian cried out.

“You already named him Jerry…” Vivian looked at her watch. “I need to go or I'll be late. You both,” she pointed at Bruce and Alfred. “Grow a pair.” She messed with Damian's hair as a goodbye and walked straight to her meeting.

~*~

“What the fuck — why is there a turkey in that place?” Jason slammed the door of the kitchen entrance. 

“Master Jason, language!” Alfred chastised him.

Vivian, who was having her evening tea with Alfred, answered, “Damian's new pet.”

“It chased me across the estate! I was going to shoot it if I hadn't run out of bullets,” Jason slumped on the seat beside Vivian and stole her grilled cheese sandwich. “We going to cook that for Thanksgiving?”

“Jerry’s not food,” Vivian told him.

“What sick fuck names a turkey Jerry?”

“That sick fuck,” Vivian nodded at Damian's direction who entered the kitchen with Alfred the cat and Echo on his head. “Jerry chased Jason across the estate.”

Damian smirked. “I guess his training is working then.”

“You little shit!” Jason pointed at him.

~*~

There was a dragon-bat in the Batcave. But compared to the cow and the turkey, this one was a small one, so small that Damian held it in his hands. Still, it was a dragon-bat. Who knows how big it could get. 

“You know what,” Vivian turned to Bruce. “You deal with this. I’ve had a long day, I’ve been feeling a little sick since this morning and I don’t want to deal with this dragon-bat. You two figure it out!”

Batman hummed and watched as his wife returned to the manor with the elevator, leaving him with Damian and the dragon-bat.

“No,” said Batman.

“That’s now how it works,” said Damian.

“No.”

“He’s all alone!”

“No.”

“Mom has a realm  that we can put him in if ever Goliath gets big!”

“That’s not her realm. That’s her uncle’s!”

“Destruction wouldn’t mind!”

“I think he would, especially when there’s dragon-bat droppings there.”

Damian stood his ground and glared at his father.

~*~

Vivian was having a nice and peaceful morning when Destruction appeared before her in his flannel and jeans, and sword. The sudden appearance of the Endless surprised everyone at the table, especially the Robins who were just seeing him for the first time. But when Vivian didn’t seem fazed they didn’t engage at the intruder.

“Vivian, there’s a dragon-bat in my realm,” said Destruction.

“I know,” Vivian continued with her breakfast.

“That doesn’t explain why.”

“Ask them,” Vivian nodded at Bruce and Damian’s direction. “We can’t have airplanes and helicopters finding a dragon-bat in the estate. And he’ll outgrow his pen in the barn, and he might eat Bat-Cow and Jerry.”

“Vivian.”

“Goliath is trained, don’t worry about it.”

Destruction sighed and left, knowing it was a losing battle. 

Damian smiled and said, “Thanks, Mom!”

“Goliath is the last.”

Damian huffed and returned to his meal.

Vivian turned to Bruce and said, “You can’t just say no, huh?”

“You never did,” Bruce muttered.

“I said no to the pig, the panther, and the lion, Bruce.”

Bruce sighed and went back to his meal. “I’ll work on it.”

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn���t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

---------------

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[shotmrmiller]

johnny en las almas

It feels like the man with the skull mask had just left when another person traipses in through the broken front door. He's not as sneaky as the big boy— the shattered glass of your windows crunching under his boots with each step. With each inhale, his breath is ragged and uneven, his teeth clattering together due to the biting cold of the rain pouring outside.

Peeking through the crack of the closet door, you watch the muscle-bound soldier with the mohawk moving cautiously through your home— first going left towards your bedroom, then right towards the bathroom.

"Picked up some tape." Scottish accent. Is he talking to himself?

A brief pause settled in the air, interrupted solely by the faint noise of him rummaging through the cupboard.

"If I have to wrap a gift?" He has a radio, then.

Following that, he falls silent, continuing his search for supplies when the plastic bucket you're sitting on unexpectedly caves in, causing a loud and startling noise. Shit. Shit shit shit—

"Out, palms flat on the floor, or I break yer neck." His voice is like steel— hard and cold, much unlike a few minutes before when he was bantering with whoever it was.

You push the door open with the crown of your head to keep your hands flat on the floor as you fearfully crawl out, craning your neck to look at him.

"Creepin' bloody jesus. Cannae be scarin' me like tha', coulda killed ye."

Perhaps it's the overwhelming stress of everything that has unfolded today— from the unexpected arrival of Americans to the uncertainty of becoming just another statistic that leads you to respond with an unwise touch of sarcasm.

"So sorry, friend. I'll be sure to let you know when I leave for work tomorrow, yeah?"

He surprisingly chuckles, wincing when his shoulders shake. "Aye, sorry, sorry," he extends a hand toward you. "Terrible hidin' spot, though."

With a single motion, he effortlessly raises you to your feet. "If you're friends with a bear-sized man that wears a skull mask, he told me the same thing."

As you glance downwards, brushing off the dust from your knees, you fail to notice the piercing gaze he directs towards you. "He came through here?"

"Mhm," you confirm. "Picked me up like a dog and threw me in this closet behind him. He saved my life, though."

Straightening, you glance up at him, only to finally notice the openly bleeding wound on his right arm. "May I?" you gesture at his injury.

His hesitance is obvious, the corner of his thin lips pulling downward and dark brows furrowing so you confess, "I'm a nurse. Well, was, until I came here. I swear to know what I'm doing. Come with me, I've-" but whatever you were about to say is smothered by his hand, fingers digging into your soft cheeks, and uses his other to place a finger over his mouth.

Silence.

He turns his head to the side; an unsettling stillness descending upon the two of you. Suddenly, he's roughly grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the bedroom, where he presses you firmly against the wall closest to the door.

He whispers harshly into your ear. "Do. not. move."

Trembling with fear, you instinctively curl up, shrinking into yourself as if trying to disappear from sight. Luckily, whoever they were left as fast as they came— merely using your home as a shortcut.

Mohawk man takes no chances, however, so you're effectively pinned under him for a considerable amount of time until he deems it completely safe.

The small grin he gives you after is apologetic. "Sorry."

You irritably soothe the ache on your cheeks. "It's alright. Can't wait to get out of this pisshole, though."

He's acquiescent after, letting you quickly clean and dress his wound. "I have no more bandages so this'll have to do." The sound of fabric being torn echoes in the bathroom. "Get seen for this injury as soon as you're able, otherwise you'll have a nasty infection on your hands."

He huffs out a small laugh. "Dinnae ye mean arm?"

Charming. "Your friend left through the back door. That's all I know."

"Aye. Thank ye." He quickly hops off the counter, jogs to the back door, and with one last glance at you, he disappears.

-

"Gimme a sit-rep." Ghost says over comms.

"Outside...Gated alley."

[berryz-writes]

Faking it

(part 1)

Mattheo x reader

Summary: You and Mattheo pretend to date because your parents won't stop pestering you and girls won't stop falling over themselves to get to Mattheo

note: ignore the title its not very.........smart

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Mattheo asked putting his quill down and kicking his legs up onto the desk. History of Magic was the perfect time to sit and chat with your friends and catch up on missed gossip.

I shrugged "It's the ball tomorrow so probably getting lectured by my dear mother" A tradition since I was 12. To nag ask me to bring a date with me to the ball. This year was especially important because I hadn't brought anyone with me last year and my mother was not impressed.

Mattheo rolled his eyes "Please. You've got it easy"

I raised an eyebrow. What was he complaining about? "And what's troubling you so much?"

He sighed dramatically "All I here is everywhere I go is do you have a date for the ball? A guy can't even eat breakfast in peace"

I scoffed. He was always so unnecessarily dramatic.

"Well. Do you?" It's not like I was wanting it to be me, I was just genuinely interested. Curious. Not at all wondering who the girl was and what Matheo's standards and type was.

"Of course I don't. All the girls that come up to me are sluts who want me to take them to my dorm after"

I shrug "At least they have the confidence to ask. You'll be left with no one soon enough"

Mattheo rolled his eyes as if what I was saying was utterly ridiculous "There's always someone. And anyways I could always go with you"

I paused. The voices in the classroom had become a background noise in my mind. I looked at Mattheo, trying to see if he was making a joke out of all this. I could usually tell because of how his lips would always pull into a small smirk but this time he was utterly serious.

"Us two?" I asked. I don't know why I said that. Maybe it was to make sure I had heard him right.

"Yeah. It would get those girls off my back and your parents will probably be happy you've found a good looking guy like me"

I rolled my eyes, trying to act like this wasn't something I was excited about or wanted to do "Someone thinks highly of themselves"

Matheo's eyes had glazed over as if he was in deep thought about something. His hand was tapping his knee in a constant rhythm and his eyebrows were scrunched in concentration. It was quiet cute to watch, honestly.

"Y'know. My idea wasn't so bad."

I raise an eyebrow "Your ideas are always bad. Which one are you talking about this time?"

He moved closer to me so I could hear his quiet voice "Me and you. We could go to the ball together. Pretend to date for a while and then act like it didn't work out between us."

My heart beat's pace increased. Why was it increasing? I'd love to tell you but I didn't know either. Maybe it was the fact that I wouldn't mind getting closer to Mattheo. Or maybe the fact that I knew if I accepted his idea I would be heartbroken by the end of it.

"But once we break up I'm just going to have to find another guy" I tried explaining. I did want to go along with his idea but I didn't want to seem too desperate. Also I don't think my parents saw Mattheo as a great influence.

He rolled his eyes acting as if I was the dumb one "Just pretend your going through an emotional...breakdown or something. And by then you'll be able to find someone you like.  It's not as if anyone would reject you" He said all this with a serious tone, as if he wasn't telling me to keep a lie going to my family but also probably break my heart in the process. I skipped over the last bit of what he said because if I thought of it for too long I would become obsessed with it and that probably wasn't a good idea.

"I'll think about it" I finally decided. I already knew what my answer was but I didn't need his ego to inflate even more...also because I had pride in myself and wasn't about to cave to on of his ideas so quickly.

*a few hours later*

"Why do you ask to play if you know your going to lose?" I asked Theo feeling slightly bad for him at this point. It was our fifth game of cards and he had lost all of them. He rolled his eyes "I'm helping pass time so you should be thanking me" It was just after our last lesson of the day and we were all in the common room or out in the gardens waiting for supper. Luckily exams weren't anywhere close so I could use this time however I wanted.

I smiled slightly at Theo's disgruntled expression "Right"

Handing out the cards again I picked up my pile and spread them out looking for a diamond. I picked out two debating on which one, choosing the nine of diamonds when I heard a slight noise behind me.

"I wouldn't go for that. I've seen Theo's cards and he's going to get you back if you put that nine down" It was Mattheo. He had taken a seat next to me on a stool having seemingly finished the shouting match he was having with Draco a few minutes ago.

I glared at him in annoyance "You've just told Theo what card I have!" Was he being deliberately annoying or did he not know how card games worked?

A slight smirk on his expression told me he was being irritating on purpose "Don't be mad at me darling. It was a mistake" He had gotten closer to me now his proximity too much for me. Luckily Theo caused a commotion by throwing his cards onto the table, me and Mattheo both turning to look at him.

"I'm not playing anymore. I've had enough of losing y/n" He said dramatically, getting up and sticking up his middle finger at Mattheo before leaving. What was wrong with everyone today?

Mattheo let out a sigh "Finally. Have you decided then?" His voice had changed to being serious within seconds, his teasing smile gone.

I knew what he was talking about but all the same I furrowed my brows and acted confused "decided what?" It was his turn to frown as he moved even closer to me "The fake dating thing? Your memory needs fixing sweetheart" He said quietly waiting for my response.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I couldn't look him in the eyes when he said names like that. Would saying yes lead to me having a broken heart and in a lot of trouble if my parents found out? Yes. But was I doing it anyways? Yes.

"My memory doesn't need fixing" I rolled my eyes but continued on "And fine I'll do it"

Mattheo grinned "Fucking finally" He got up and pressed a kiss to my cheek "I'll see you later. If anyone asks tell them your taken" He walked away out of the common room and to who knows where. I lightly touched where he had kissed my cheek. Was this going to be normal now? Him just kissing me any time of day? Not that I minded.

I looked around the common room to see a few girls in my year already walking over to me, raising their eyebrows. They were probably going to ask what the kiss was about and I'd have to tell them I was dating..... realisation hit me.

Mattheo hadn't kissed me because he wanted to but so the others could see and would come and ask me. He was smart. I would give him that but it did hurt my feelings slightly.

After a lot of explaining how me and Mattheo got together and lying for three hours straight I slipped into my bed earlier than usual, staring at my dress for the next night. It was a dark green almost the exact shade of our Slytherin robes except in silk. I turned to my other side wishing I hadn't eaten so much dessert because it still didn't seem digested to me. I could hear hooting in the distance, guessing it was probably other students owls, coming back or going out to send letters.

I had sent a letter to my parents just after dinner, telling them not to worry and how I had a date for the ball this year. I had re written the letter so many times, worried the expression when they read my words would make it obvious I was lying. After the fire had eaten up 4 parchments I finally sent the letter off hoping for the best. Pansy had ended up reading over my shoulder before I could stop her and had found out I was "dating" Mattheo. At first she was upset I hadn't told her. Her arms had been crossed and a permanent frown had been etched onto her face.

I couldn't lie to her so I eventually told her the truth, her eyes widening as I explained everything.

"I'm sure it'll be fine" She had said eventually. I hoped she was right.

The next day rushed by extremely quickly. It felt like I had just had breakfast but here I was waiting for my mother to show up. She had said she wanted to "meet me before she left for something extremely important in a different country"

She just meant she was going on holiday without me but I didn't mind. The last time I had gone all she did was talk about my grades and the clothes I was wearing or something else that annoyed me. I turned to Pansy who was starting to look at her nails in boredom.

"You should go. Start getting ready" I said to her. She was waiting with me, just inside the school gates. Pansy shrugged "I don't mind. You need support when your dear mother comes because Salazar knows you can't lie"

I crossed my arms even though I knew she was kind of right "I can. Listen I'll be fine, trust me. Go get ready"

Pansy hummed in thought "It does take me a while to do my eyeliner.....fine. See you, don't crumble under pressure" She blew me a kiss and walked back in leaving me to crack my knuckles repeatedly even though they were already cracked.

I couldn't even wait in peace because as soon as Pansy left I heard gravel crunch behind me and when I turned to look who it was, Mattheo's grin made me want to stop time. God he was gorgeous and he didn't even try.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as he stood next to me, his body heat reaching me at his close proximity. He raised an eyebrow a knowing smile on his lips "You can't lie to me forget lying to your own mother"

I huffed in annoyance. Why did everyone underestimate me? I mean they were right but still. And how could I lie to Mattheo when his chocolate eyes would make me melt in mere seconds? And how did he know what I was waiting for? Pansy must have told him on her way in.

Without warning my mother apparated in front of me before I could confirm what I was thinking. She was wearing smart wizarding robes. She had probably just come from work. Like usual she didn't hug me, just giving me a once over and then turning to Mattheo instead.

"So your dating my daughter?" She got straight to the point, tossing her blonde waves behind her, eyes narrowed. Mattheo nodded his expression serious

"Yes maam"

Her eyebrows raised slightly but she carried on quizzing him about his grades, plans and even what he thought about marriage. I wanted to die right about now. Luckily she only turned to me at the very end of her little interview "I expect you to have good grades by the end of the year. Your father sends his love" And with that she apparated away just as quickly as she had arrived.

I let out a sigh "Thanks. She's a handful sometimes" I told him, feeling bad that he had to take the brunt of her questioning. He shrugged wrapping an arm around my waist "It's fine, nothing I can't handle"

"You don't have to pretend like we're dating when no one's looking you know" I said to him quietly. It was getting dark now and no one would be out in the gardens anyways. Mattheo ignored me, carrying on walking toward the castle, his hand shifting to pull me closer

"Someone could be looking though the window, sweetheart. You can't be too careful" He whispered in my ear, his voice making my insides heat and my legs feel like jelly. I blinked at him as he straightened up acting as if he hadn't just made butterflies erupt in my stomach from a few simples words.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

I couldn't survive one night next to him without my brain cells melting how would I survive a whole fucking week?

[sigmasemen]

WHEN THEY GIVE YOU THEIR COAT. (2/2)

multiple blue lock characters x reader

tags: established relationships, tooth rotting fluff, short headcanons

taglist: n/a currently.

characters: jingo raichi, meguru bachira, yo hiori, kurona ranze, sae itoshi, gin gagamaru, michael kaiser, kenyu yukimiya, alexis ness, gender neutral!reader.

word count: 2348

extra notes: reposted from my wattpad ^- ^ !! older work... you cannot get me to read this shit. had to post it in multiple parts sorry y'all!!

MICHAEL KAISER:

- Dating Kaiser was an entire rollercoaster, so getting around wasn't too hard. He had the money to afford limousine after limousine for you two, except when you two chose to go out on a hiking trip. "Good for training!" He said. He lied.

- Now here you two were, dashing home in the rain as makeup dripped down both of your faces. Kaiser had attempted to carry you, yet nearly slipped so you refused to get back in his arms.

- Around 10 minutes of moving, you realized how deep in this trail you were. It seemed Kaiser noticed too, as he sighed and finally paused.

- "Follow me!" He grasped your hand and ran you to a small cave. It was the sort of thing you saw in those stereotypical movies. It even made you wonder if Kaiser had purposefully planned this. Still, you got in.

- "Seriously? A cave?"

- He laughed, "Well, I'm not sure we have much of a choice, now do we?" He reached towards his own front and quickly unzipped his jacket to put around your shoulders. 

- "For you."

- You pause and softly laugh, "I'm not some damsel in distress. Besides, this is soaked too."

- Kaiser just shrugged, getting closer to your warmth and leaning his head against your's. His arms soon wrapped around you as well. "Well, I might as well warm you up with my body."

- It wasn't like you had any complaints with that.

KENYU YUKIMIYA:

- You weren't aware of who Yukimiya was beyond Blue Lock before this. He was one of the top 6 to you, one of the people who had been an essential part to the U20 match. Honestly? You hadn't ran into anyone from Blue Lock since this break had started.

- However, you had chosen to go outside now of all times in a brightly lit street with gleaming lights hitting your eyes. Even so, it was raining. It dropped off the signs and right onto your faces. You were one of the few people that didn't have an umbrella and didn't see any holders in sight.

- So, for 10 minutes, you walked through the freezing cold rain. You allowed the rain to make your shirt stick to your skin and make you shiver. The dissatisfactory feeling haunted you as you walked past a bowling place.

- Your eyes eventually landed on Yukimiya. You didn't expect to see him of all people out here, but it wasn't the best time for you. You didn't look good at all.

- But, of course, he had to notice you. His eyes narrowed as he saw you, giving a short chuckle and walking over to pull off his bright orange scarf over your head and dark grey coat over your shoulders without a word.

- He paused, "You shouldn't get yourself like this, you might not be able to face off against everyone in Blue Lock."

- "Wouldn't that be better for you?"

- "It would, I would just hate to see you like this." He reached up and pushed through your wet hair, "You should focus on getting home. It's getting dark."

- You paused to stare at him, before nodding, "Right, thank you Kenyu."

- "It's my pleasure. I'll see you tomorrow?" He smiled, starting to walk off yet looking over his shoulder to wave.

- And you matched that, tightening the coat around you to make a dash for your place once more.

ALEXIS NESS:

- Oh how Ness is so doting over you. Every little thing, he wants to make sure you're perfectly pampered and feel special during the entire date! He's planned it out in his head for months, researched this festival multiple times, he won't let anything go wrong!

- Until it rains.

- You remembered being under one of the tents as it started to pour down. You just sighed and looked at your boyfriend. Yet he seemed pissed. He was biting his lip, staring at the ground and having issues with calming himself. 

- You take his hand and laugh. For a second, he doesn't notice. Until you slip his jacket off his shoulders and pull it onto your head, covering yourself from the rain.

- Ness then notices, he seems confused until you speak again. "Oh my! Thank you Alexis for giving me your jacket."

- He pauses, softening his bite as his eyes light up. "Of course!" He adjusts it, holding it on your head and wrapped his upper body around you. "Let's make a run for it to our car, alright?"

- And minutes later, Ness is running and getting soaked while you're comfortable underneath his jacket. "Thank you..." 

- "For what?"

- "For saving my perfect date." He smiled and pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

[disgustingtwitches]

"Brown skin, pretty brown eyes"

1.6k words

Gaz x Brown Reader (´⌣`ʃƪ) just makes me swing my feet in the air thinking about it

[Unprotected sex, creampie, praise, afab reader]

MDNI

You'd see him sporadically. He'd show up for a while; then he'd disappear for weeks or even months. Then he'd come back, sit at the same spot, and order the same thing,

"Just the usual with white wine please."

He kind of had a boujee energy, but when he'd hand you the menu and say:

"Thank you, darling."

He'd smile at you in a way that said, I'll bend you over the table right now if you ask nicely.

"Of course, love."

You'd smile back in a way that screamed, Please, please, please do it.

You'd wonder who'd make the first move. Christ, it's been nothing but pussyfooting for about two years now. Pretty boy like him probably wanted you to beg for his number. You almost caved at the beginning, but now it's a stupid competition. Your pride versus his ego.

One day he came in with a friend; some fidgety, chatty, Scottish thing. Shook the whole table when he bounced his leg. Smiled so brightly it was like staring into the sun. They jabbered the whole time they picked at their lunch. Occasionally, the Scotsman would look back at you with a goofy grin before turning back to his plate. As soon as you set the cheque down, they both reached for it. His friend was faster though, laughing and paying for the both of them. You rang him up and brought back his card.

"Thank you for coming, always a pleasure to see you."

You avoided eye contact in fear of melting into a puddle infront of him and his friend.

"Same to you."

He nodded. His friend oohed as you walked away, that earned him a shush and punch on the arm.

"Lovely place ye got here, take care!"

The mohawked man waved as he was ushered (shoved) out the door, pretty boy looked back and flashed that smile that made your knees buckle. You cleared the table and looked at the receipt. It was hard to make out, but it read:

Such a honour to finally meet the missus,

(020) 7946 0801

For the next few days while you were getting ready, you'd look at the paper taped up to corner of your mirror. Everyday pretty boy would come in with the same song and dance; same order, same coy looks, same touch when he passed back the menu. Friday rolled around and you were sitting home, mindlessly watching some dramedy about medical malpractice and nursing a bottle of rosé. Fuck it, you said to yourself while picking up the phone. Brrr brrr...brrr brrr...brr-

"Hello?"

There was that deliciously familiar voice. Your stomach did flips.

"Yes, hello... It's uh-"

"The waitress from Hawksmoor."

There's a moment of silence, like you both can't believe this is happening.

"I got your number from your friend, he left it on his receipt."

"Yeah, of course he did..."

You heard some hushed gibberish. You think this is a mistake.

"I'm sorry if I-"

"No, no! I'm just -shutthefuckup- I'm just watching the game with a friend right now."

You can hear a recognizable Scottish accent coming through the speaker of your phone.

"I never caught your name."

Unlike his friend, pretty boy always left cash. So you couldn't creep and read the name on the card like you did with, what was it? MacTavish?

"Kyle. Kyle Garrick."

You repeated the name, giving it a swirl around your mouth like a wine, testing the mouthfeel. Thinking about how moanable it is. Wondering if you should take his last name or hyphenate the both of yours. There's some muffled conversation from the other end, his voice came back on the line, snapping you out of your daydream.

"Would you like to go out for drinks tomorrow?"

Your heart raced.

"Yeah tomorrow's perfect."

He wished you a goodnight and it was like you were hearing the words for the first time, sounded like a song. Then you heard the word parroted in a brash Glaswegian accent in the background. Click.

~

The date started off a little awkward, two years of nothing more than a few rehearsed lines made it hard to think of other things to say. Well... you could share what's been on both your minds this whole time, but you have to work up to those kinds of things. You learn that he's in the military, just turned thirty, currently lives in Soho. Sun and moon in Leo. Likes wine. Watches romcoms even though the corny jokes makes him cringe. Likes to travel. He'd ask a lot of questions about you too; lean in and smirk whenever you'd go on a little rant about yourself. As the evening went on, the place started getting busy and it got louder and louder until you were talking directly in each other's ears. He was wearing something that smelled divine. And expensive. Sweet vanilla, with a touch of leather and cedar. You could just lick it off his neck right now if he'd let you.

"It's getting loud here, should we go somewhere quieter?"

His breath warm on your neck, hand resting lightly on your knee. You were at his place as soon as you brought up the idea. He conveniently picked a bar less than a minute away from his flat. It was warm, cozy, lived in. Knickknacks on shelves, books on the coffee table, the comforting scent of his cologne filled the room; this was his sanctuary.

"Your choice, love."

He looked at you while you both sat on the opposite end of the huge couch. You landed on Roman Holiday, it was just something nice to put on in the background. You barely paid attention to the movie while you and him slowly got closer, scooting more and more until you were touching knees. One hand slipped into another. One head leaned on the other. One arm wrapped around a shoulder. One pair of lips softly meets the other. One shirt slipped onto the floor, then one more joins it. Pants followed. His touch was so gentle when sliding off your panties. His eyes went wide and staring at your glistening folds,

"Got myself something real pretty, hm?"

He dove into your heat with pent up passion. Moaned while his mouth was sealed around your nub, the vibrations sending chills up your thighs. It felt so good, you rolled your eyes back,

"Eyes on me, love."

He looked up at you with those big warm eyes. He straightened up with your legs still on his shoulders, pushing your hips up to his face. He took long, show licks from your entrance to your clit, sucking softly and quickly, repeating the movement until you squirmed and begged to get fucked. He flashes his perfect teeth at you while he leaned over, giving you a wet kiss letting you taste yourself. He pulls down his boxers, his dick was just as pretty as the rest of him; thick, veiny, precum glossy on a tip that is a lighter shade than the rest of him, he even had a cute little beauty mark on his shaft. With one leg over his shoulder, he lined himself up. Eased himself into you, hips stuttering when you took him to the base.

"Good fucking girl."

He'd coo while taking long, slow strokes. Teasingly slow. You begged for him to go faster. His dick jumps inside you when he hears that.

"Mhm, just use your words love."

He leaned back, placing his hands on your soft mound, using his thumbs to expose your clit. Soft groans escaped him while watching your reactions to him brushing over it. Looking down at himself sliding in and out of you he'd say,

"That's my pretty brown girl, yeah?"

Grips your hips and starts pounding into you. While you whimpered whenever he'd kiss his tip to your cervix, he praises how perfect your nipples looked firm and bouncing from each stroke.

"Fucking perfect... Unbelievable..."

He'd paw and knead your chest, leaning forward and pressing desperate kisses all over your face.

"Look down,"

He pants, pushing the back of your head forward so you're watching him fuck you, foreheads touching.

"See how nice we look together, yeah?"

He'd go on to make you cum so many times you'd lose track of how many orgasms you had. One after another, over and over until you saw stars.

"Just one more, I promise. You got one more in you, right darling?"

He'd slow down, seemingly talking to your sopping wet cunt,

"Can I please finish here? Right here feels so good."

Cum drunk and senseless, you beg to feel him finish inside you. He wraps you up in his strong arms tightly, his lips pressed up right up on your neck, right under your ear.

"Little piece of heaven you are. My fucking little brown angel, yeah? My perfect fuckin-"

He'd bury his face into the couch while moaning, pumping deep inside you. Once his dick stops twitching, he covers you in kisses, singing praises between them.

"Took me so well...such a good girl...made me so proud."

He wipes you down with a warm towel before carrying you to bed. Fucked out, you're already sleeping before he slides in bed next to you. The next morning, you wake up to light kisses and bites trailing down your chest and stomach, stopping right above your nub. Those adoring brown eyes looking up at yours while sticking his tongue out and flicking it against you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, sinking fingers into the soft flesh.

"Made just for me, no one else... Only for me... Gorgeous, gorgeous girl..."

He'd say between licks. Thank God you had today off.

[occultradio]

TW: Birth, Blood, Death

Viscera: Are you doin' okay? Trace: My back and hips are killing me

V: Does it come in waves? T: Yeah... Viscera smiled, giving a soft chuckle and pulled is mate in close. V: Your sure about not wanting to go to the hospital? T: I don't want them touching me. V: Alright, It might take a while. I want you to stay by me and be as relaxed as possible.

V: I have something for you, I found a hole in the floor in the break room. I'mma go put the twins to bed first. T: Why do I want a hole? The fuck, Vis? V: Shush I'll show you in a minute.

T: YOUR GIVING ME A CAVE?? WHY IS THIS HERE?! It's so beautiful. V: I don't know, but I thought you'd like to have the baby here.

V: We need to get your hips moving to move things along. T: T....This hurts too much to fuck. V: Dork, I wanna slow dance!

T: Leave it to you to make this romantic

T: This is much better than a smelly hospital V: Good, hey how are you feeling? T: There's a lot of pressure V: Get changed and I'll give you a backrub

T: Everything hurts so much V: I know...I'm sorry

T: Ack! I'm so sorry! V: It's fine, baby's almost here

T: It's taking forever....fuck this hurts... V: You got this, I love you T: I love you too.....

T: I'm so tired.....let's try again tomorrow

V: NO NO NO YOU HAVE TO KEEP GOING! Now's not the time for playing pranks .......Trace??

V: Breathe damn it! Where's your fucking pulse?!

V: Hello! Oh you look just like your mother. Ah crap, what was it they wanted to name you?

V: Sonnet! That's right, our little song.

Prev / Next

[sweetiesicheng]

woozi - old friends

word count : 1,099

—

a simple gathering of college friends. all of you haven't seen each other in months, some of them you haven't seen since you graduated.

you've always kept to yourself in college, only being pulled into shenanigans by almost everyone else. till this day, you usually keep to yourself at work and everyday life. but being back with everyone makes you remember the fun times.

you hear a door open, "hello! we're here!" you hear seungkwan’s familiar voice announce.

"loud as ever," dokyeom comments while putting his drink down on the table.

"you're no better," one of the girls replies, causing everyone to laugh.

seungkwan walks in with two guys following behind him. "remember these two?" he asks as he walks into the living room.

"joshua, you flew in?" jeonghan asks.

joshua shrugs, "i'm making a trip out of this," he mentions with a smile and places two packs of beer onto the table. "nice to see you guys," he greets everyone.

"woozi's here? when was the last time he was with us?" one of the guys asks.

"seungkwan, how much did you bribe woozi to get him to leave his studio?" one of the girls asks.

"hey, he didn’t bribe me. i leave sometimes," woozi replies and notices you, "hi."

you smile, "hey."

everyone greets the newcomers and they settle into their places in the living room. more food is ordered and everyone has a great time reminiscing with each other.

—

"y/n!" one of your friends calls your name, "what happened to that guy you were talking to? you know, the one with the insane motorcycle?"

you shrug you shoulders, "it didn't go anywhere after awhile."

"aw, come on. y/n, you're literally so pretty. we need to get you a man!" another girl says as she stands up. "i'm grabbing drinks and snacks," she announces before walking into the kitchen.

"i'll come with you," you say and stand up, following your friend into the kitchen. your friend starts opening cabinets, looking for snacks to bring out to everyone. "did you guys really have to mention my love life?" you whisper while grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"don't worry so much. everyone's drinking, and if some of their habits are still the same, they won't remember by tomorrow," your friend replies. she opens another cabinet, "yes! okay, let's go," she says as she grabs two bags of snacks.

"i'll go back in a second," you say to her and take a sip of your beer.

your friend hums in response and leaves the kitchen. you start to clean the kitchen a little bit to help your friend who lives in the apartment. empty cans and bottles are covering the dinner table and counters. once you're done, you lean against a counter and drink some more beer.

"you okay?"

you see woozi walk into the kitchen with an empty soda can. he throws it away and opens the fridge to get a can of soda.

"yea, i'm good," you reply.

woozi nods and opens the soda can, taking a sip right after. "how have you been?" he asks you.

"normal, i guess," you reply with an awkward chuckle. "you?"

"the same. just working," he answers you.

out of everyone, you've known him the longest. you two met in a freshman seminar class, and it turned out he was in the wrong class. makes sense, what was a music major doing in a linguistics lecture? the two of you became friends and met the others along the way.

"still doing the music stuff, huh?" you ask.

he smiles, "yea. it's a lot of work, that's why i don't meet up with them often."

"seungkwan does mention how you're always in your little cave," you reply, both of you chuckling after.

"like i said earlier, i do leave...just not often," he says to you.

—

you eventually rejoin the group, where your friends are still reminiscing over a bunch of things. with more alcohol involved, some people start to get emotional. you had stopped drinking since you needed to make sure you could still drive later.

"y/n!" one of your friends latches onto you. "you're so lovely and pretty. i'm so glad people like you exist in this world," she says to you while reaching over to hug you.

"she's drunk," you say to everyone.

"oh lord. i should take her home," her boyfriend sighs before standing up from the floor.

"i'm not going home! i'm staying with y/n!" your friend whines while hugging you. you pat her back to soothe her.

her boyfriend sighs, "y/n, why does this always happen?" he questions. your friend has a tendency to not want to let go of people, resulting in whoever it is to have to go home with her and her boyfriend to get her to sleep.

"it's amazing. she won't attach to her own boyfriend," seungkwan observes.

"yea, at this point, i should be dating her," you say and stand up with your friend attached to you. "come on, time to go home."

"need help?" woozi asks. "i can drive your car over to their place," he offers to you.

"yea, that'd be great. i don't want to uber back," you reply.

—

"alright, time to get you to bed," you say as you help your friend into her apartment.

"y/n, i love you~"

"hey, what about me?" her boyfriend pouts while opening the door to the bedroom. "i got her," he says and brings her into the room. you watch him bring her to the bed.

"is she okay?" you turn around and see woozi standing by the front door.

"she'll be fine," you reply. "hey, we're gonna go. see you guys soon," you say to your friend.

"yea, see you guys. get home safe," he says to you.

—

after bringing your friend back, you drive woozi to his apartment.

"this is it, right?" you ask, parked in front of his apartment building.

woozi smiles, "yea." he opens the door and gets out, but he doesn't close the door right away. "y/n,” he calls your name.

"hm?"

"it was really nice to see you again," he admits to you. "i'm really happy."

you smile at him, "i'm glad i got to see you again too, woozi."

"text me," he says before closing the door. you watch him wave and walk into his apartment building, making sure he went in safely.

before driving off, you take your phone and send him a text with a simple smiley face. a few seconds later, you get one back.