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poisonf0rest · 4 months ago

Text

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, guided masturbation, fingering, first time (kinda), pwp

word count: 9.3K what the fuck

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

You’re screwed. Fucked. Utterly damned.

Groaning into your desk, you slam your head down upon piles of patient records and old case files.

You’re only halfway done with your medical residency and somewhere along the way turned your lifelong passion for writing into a successful side gig. So successful in fact, that it was single-handedly providing you with enough money to get by and complete residency.

After anonymously posting online for a decade, you signed with a publisher three years ago, on the exact same day you matched with your first choice cardiothoracic residency program here at Akso Hospital.

Needless to say, you haven't felt that magnitude of happiness in years.

You doubt you ever will again.

In the midst of your wallowing, your phone lights up: Michaela. It’s a follow-up to her previous messages, all with the same damn request.

Michaela - Boss Man

checking in on my star, how’s that manuscript going?

talked to the director again to try and plead your case but she didn’t budge :(

she said w current book trends the fans will go crazy for a few explicit spicy scenes

pluuuus she believes in your writing enough to know you’ll make it big! come on, star, you know I’m here if you need any extra help

You - Little Star

Hey Micheala

You cringe for a moment at how formal you sound, but honestly, you’re too burnt out from writer’s block to match your editor’s energy and too tired from today’s shift to push back any further.

You - Little Star

No I get it, thanks for trying though

I’m almost done with the novel, it's just those scenes that are taking a little more time

And by a “little more time,” you mean you’ve tried writing and rewriting them over a dozen times just to cringe, delete, and scream into your keyboard. Over. And over again.

It’s not that you’re clueless, you’ve read your fair share of erotica for inspiration and pleasure equally. But actually writing them yourself? That was a whole different story. Pacing, banter, and even making the right word choices without sounding like a repetitive pervert or absolute lunatic were all so much harder to do than you previously gave authors credit for.

Not to mention, you haven’t actually experienced a lot first-hand.

Beyond a few situationships in high school and undergraduate flings between pre-med classes and internships absolutely kicking your ass, you’re probably half as sexually experienced as most adults your age. And you had absolutely no intention of re-entering the dating scene with residency, until now.

With Michaela breathing down your neck about how these explicit smut scenes were a marketing goldmine and the combined stress from your jobs, it seems like you’ve been fighting a losing battle. This time, however, your main income was on the line.

You groan as another ping lights up your phone, going to silence it when you realize it’s from the hospital Slack and not your editor.

residency-CS-alerts

Dr. Zayne: Second look needed for a CMR scan. Nonurgent.

Jumping to your feet, you sprint from the office wing to get to the MRI’s before another resident can take your spot. It’s not that your program lacked opportunities- far from it as you attend the top program– but rather that this particular opportunity was rare indeed.

Doctor Zayne. Akso Hospital's respected chief cardiac surgeon, who has made groundbreaking advances to the treatment of congenital heart abnormalities in neonates. At only twenty-seven he is the youngest recipient of the Starcatcher Award. His dedication to his craft is unparalleled, as he tirelessly devotes more time to surgeries than any other doctor you know, cementing his reputation as an unwavering force in the field.

He’s also impossibly tall, extremely well built for a man who seems to spend most of his time in the hospital, and has a face sculpted like a Roman deity in marble. And gods, his voice.

Safe to say, you admire him just a little.

You’ve bumped into him a handful of times during your first two years here, but the doctor was so engrossed in his work that the occurrence was rare enough. But a chance to perform with him? To consult alongside him on a cardiovascular case?

You began to fear for your own heart’s safety as you felt it skip in your throat.

Finally reaching the MRIs, you knock once before sliding the door to the control room open with a bow. And when you stand straight again, Dr. Zayne’s steel-set eyes only glance at you before he points to the readings displayed on the computer.

“Tell me what you see.”

Your mouth is still hanging open from what was going to be a very enthusiastic self-introduction, but you cut yourself off with a cough and stumble over to the monitor. Dr. Zayne’s eyes follow you with a precision that makes your hands tremble, and you bend over slightly to scan the patient’s readings.

You’re about ready to make a diagnosis when you realize you haven’t gotten much background on the patient.

“What’s the patient’s briefing?” You look down, flinching as you see Dr. Zayne already staring at you. “If I can hear it, sir?”

He nods once. “An adolescent female with complaints of shortness of breath and coughing. She had no specific medical history, but grew up in the countryside unable to visit a proper clinic for several years while this issue persisted.”

Countryside… that could mean this was an undiagnosed issue that festered.

Clearing your throat, you begin to point to the different scans. “Firstly, there’s clearly an enlarged cardiac silhouette.” Squinting, you point at two denser mounds in CMR scans. “Here and here. There are two large cysts along the lateral and inferior walls of the LV pushing and invading the myocardial walls.”

Gods, the cysts were huge. Even if surgery was performed on her now, would she survive?

Dr. Zayne’s low voice pulls you back into the control room. “Then what is your final diagnosis?”

“I–” you stutter, shaking your head. “I would recommend surgery immediately.”

“More detail than that, please.”

A sharp inhale and you scan the readings again. “Maybe a cannulation? The cysts might be causing an SVC compression, which would explain her shortness of breath.” You dare ask. “Will she survive?”

Dr. Zayne stands up this time. “You did well. She was my patient, and underwent surgery over a week ago.” He gently pats you on the shoulder, touch warm. “Our job as surgeons is to act decisively, to learn, and to try. Not to be heroes.”

You can’t manage to say anything back as Dr. Zayne leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

_______

Surprisingly, you’ve been seeing more and more of Dr. Zayne since that day.

And if that wasn’t enough, the doctor has also been actively acknowledging you, exchanging greetings and simple conversation when you pass in the halls, cafeteria, or shared cardiovascular wing of the hospital.

Not that you haven’t been putting in the effort either.

Dr. Zayne’s current apprentice is graduating from residency this year, and you have every intention of becoming their successor. Between picking up extra shifts, answering every pager call, and of course paying special attention in case Dr. Zayne specifically requests a second pair of hands, you’ve been climbing up the ranks amongst your peers.

Luckily, it seems those efforts have not been in vain.

You’ve been doing so well apparently, that Dr. Zayne wants to meet with you in the hospital’s cafe today. Interviews before officially announcing mentor-mentee pairs was not unusual, but the thought of being one-on-one with Dr. Zayne after your last case together still has your mind reeling.

Will he pull out old case files? Will he bring you to a patient and test you in real time? You have half a mind that he might pull out a custom-made test and timer. It seems on-brand enough to be a possibility.

Yet when you arrive, the cafe is completely empty, save for the staff and a familiar man in a white lab coat.

Dr. Zayne stands as soon as he sees you and beckons for you to sit, pulling the chair across from him out in the same movement. He clears his throat, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he watches you settle down. “How have you been, doctor?”

“Good! Good.” The words rush out from you and you flinch, forcing yourself to slow down. Was the cafe always this small? “Discharged a patient today, so all good news.” Holy striped cows, if you say the word good one more time you might lose your mind.

“Well,” Dr. Zayne nods, taking a sip of something that looks like a far-too-sweet cup of coffee practically drenched in whipped cream. “That’s certainly good to hear.”

You die a little inside.

“I’ll keep things rather brief since I’ve already made my mind up.”

Was this it? Did you ruin your chance at having Linkon’s top doctor as your mentor because of your damn mouth?

Dr. Zayne reaches inside his jacket, and you swear your heart is going to beat itself out of your throat. He pulls out a simple white envelope with your name scrawled across the front, the paper crisp as he slides it across the table.

His fingers linger on the edges before he speaks. "I wanted to formally offer you the position to shadow me as my apprentice."

"I accept!"

The words fly out before you can stop them and Dr. Zayne looks stunned for a moment before laughing, a smooth and deep sound you didn't expect from him. He looked good when he smiled. Softer, content.

The ghost of the smile stays, even when Zayne speaks again. "It's not a timed offer, you don't have to agree so quickly."

You flush down to your neck, looking down at the envelope. "Right. Only, it would be an honor to learn from you, sir. I really don’t know anyone in our field who wouldn’t accept it."

Zayne hums, but his brows furrow. “You don’t have to call me sir either. Doctor Zayne is fine while we are at the hospital. Zayne is more than acceptable elsewhere, we’re not that far apart in age and I don’t wish for this to be an overly formal relationship.”

You curse your heart for fluttering, reminding yourself that he only means this in a conductive, professional way.

After a beat of silence, Zayne looks at the clock and stands, taking his sugar-filled drink with him. You never pegged him to have such a massive sweet tooth.

"I have a consultation now, but I would like to talk to you more about your residency. We should set up weekly meetings outside of work, check your calendar, and organize it later.”

You nod and thank him as he walks away, leaving you alone to open the envelope. Inside is a simple handwritten note, signed and stamped with Dr. Zayne's official signature alongside Akso Hospital’s.

A reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream.

_______

It’s barely been a month since you’ve begun officially shadowing Zayne, yet you swear it feels as though a part of you has known him forever.

Aside from his virtually frozen demeanor and tendency to make snarky quips at your habit of running your mouth, he’s been nothing but a patient mentor. Brief, direct, unrelenting, but attentive to your work and growth.

If that were all, then everything would be perfect.

If that were all, then you would be sticking perfectly to your ten-year plan: graduating early, completing residency under the top doctor in the top program, and then overtaking him as the top cardiovascular surgeon with a breakthrough of your own.

But of course, the plot has to thicken.

Sure, the first few weeks have been strictly business, but since then, your conversations with Zayne—Dr. Zayne—have morphed into more casual, more playful meetings. Your weekly check-ins have moved from the hospital cafeteria to a cozy family-run cafe in town that Zayne introduced to you. And the way you’ve begun to think of him was the most damning part of it all.

But you don’t have the time nor capacity to deal with whatever this was becoming.

Not when your novel’s deadline was in three weeks, and you still had absolutely nothing to show for it. Without this new novel’s money, you wouldn’t be able to pay for rent or food or transport, and residency sure as hell wasn’t giving you enough to survive off of alone.

This past week, you’ve gone from stressed to a thundering cloud of misery. Snapping at interns, drinking dangerously over the FDA-recommended caffeine intake, and ignoring the maelstrom your face has become.

And of course, today happens to be your weekly check-in with Zayne.

Dragging yourself to your usual booth, you watch him order at the counter and bring his drink to the table alongside a signature pair of macaroons, a slice of chocolate cake, and an eclair. He sets it all down with a huff and sits, looking over at you with an iron-cold gaze. You can smell the incoming lecture.

"You're late."

You dip your head, but your patience is running on reserve, and your reply has more bite than you’d dare use otherwise. "I'm sorry, it looks like I’ve lost track of time."

"You're never late." Zayne doesn't sound any angrier at your attitude, but it still doesn't settle the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

"I've just been really stressed. You know," you wave your hand, "wrapping up residency."

"Is that so." Zayne's gaze is sharp as he fights to maintain eye contact. It's not a question. "I've noticed. You've been distracted and irritated recently, and I can't help but wonder why. Is it really the hospital? Am I demanding too much aside from your typical resident duties?”

You shake your head, and the guilt is back. "No, of course not."

"Then I have to assume it's something else, is it not?"

"It's..." How on earth are you supposed to explain that the reason why you're a mess is because your editor is pressuring you to write a smut scene that you have no interest in, let alone sufficient experience with? And to someone you admire, your mentor, Linkon’s top surgeon, and apparently now someone your heart is deciding to blackmail you with. "I'm sorry, Dr. Zayne. It's nothing work-related, it's not your problem to fix."

Zayne raises his eyebrow, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “That’s the first time you addressed me as doctor outside of hospital property in over a month. ”

You really, really, can’t do this right now, or else you might start spewing some things you’ll regret. “Really? That’s fascinating, sir.” You watch him scowl at the title you know he hates. “Still does not entitle you to my personal issues.”

“As your mentor, it becomes entitled to me when your personal issues begin affecting your performance.” He says.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your anger down. "It's really not something I can talk about here, nor to you. Can we just have a regular check-in?"

"We are."

“You know what?" You stand, chair falling back with a screech. “I think I need a rain check today, sir. You know. Stress.”

"You’re not leaving until you tell me what is bothering you."

You're about to grab your bag and walk away when you're suddenly reminded of how tall Zayne is when he stands. Practically towering over you, he leans across the table, grabbing you firm enough to prevent you from slipping away, yet never harsh enough to harm you. “Please, we’re making a scene.”

You sit. Zayne follows.

Seeing just how reactive you’re being, he softens, genuine concern in his tone as he reaches an arm out. “Is it a family issue? Are you alright?”

“No. Yes.” You inhale deeply through your nose, but your mind is still reeling at a mile a minute. “No, it’s not a family issue.”

“So if it’s not about the hospital and not family, then what could possibly be causing you this much stress.” Zayne’s eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick. “Don’t tell me this foolishness is over a boy.”

“No! God,” you want to push yourself off a building. Or him. “No, it’s this fucking–” You’re rambling. You’re rambling, losing control, and you’re going to blurt it out and regret it. “It’s this smut scene!”

You’ve really outdone yourself this time.

Zayne chokes on his drink and slams the cup down, coughing as liquid comes out his nose. You flounder in panic, trying to help but he holds a hand up and turns, still coughing into his arm. You can only manage to pull out a few napkins, handing them over in a pathetic bundle.

“A…” Zayne almost seems to buffer, clearing his throat before looking back at you. “An erotica scene?”

Your face is burning. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of it in waves, and you have to remind yourself that writing is your job. A respectable, decent-paying, well-appreciated job that you do for the sake of womankind everywhere.

“I write for extra income alongside residency, and recently my editor got it into her head that we’ll sell even more with some extra spice.” You scoff, “But it’s been months of looking at a blank doc. Now the deadline is approaching and I still have nothing to show for it.”

Zayne doesn't say anything for a moment, and you have to check if he's breathing, or if the shock has killed him. Finally, he shifts back in his seat, adjusting his tie.

"That sounds like a difficult position to be in, doctor."

You look up, and Zayne has his arms crossed. It's an expression you're familiar with, one that means he's actually thinking about what you've said, but the way he says "doctor" now feels strange, almost as if the term has no place here.

"It's fine, I'll figure it out." This is also why you didn't want to tell him, as if Zayne has any place worrying about this on your behalf. “Besides, I’m as much a writer as a doctor, this is my job after all. I have to figure it out.”

“Of course. I’d expect no less." Zayne nods a little to himself, slightly dazed, and you scramble to find a way to change the subject back into something even remotely work-appropriate.

"Anyway, I've been keeping up with my rounds, and I think I've been able to handle more cases on my own recently, too."

"You have."

Zayne is quiet for a beat too long and you frown, tapping the table.

"Are you alright? I know this is a lot, I shouldn't have burdened you with it."

When Zayne faces you again, you watch as his brows furrow. "But if this is such a pressing issue…” He clears his throat, looking at a spot directly above your head. “Then, what if I helped you?”

You swear your head is spinning, his words ringing over and over and over in your mind. The only thing remotely in focus was Zayne’s face, far too close for comfort now, even across the table. Oh gods, you’re having this conversation in public, too.

"What do you mean by help, exactly?"

"If you’re in need of experience," Zayne's voice is low, but he still manages to keep eye contact, the intensity of it making you smile nervously. "Then I could offer my assistance. Better coming from someone you know and trust, yes?"

There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind blanks, but apparently your smartass mouth hasn’t.

"Are you offering to be my fuck buddy? Sex consultant? My smut guide, if you will?"

A deadpan, “I would prefer the term sexual partner.”

Even the way Zayne says it makes it sound more like a business proposal than an actual proposition, and it throws you off guard. He leans back, trying to act nonchalant. "You did mention lack of inspiration was your main issue, correct?”

“Well, yes.” That, and your lack of any novel-worthy sexual experiences.

“And you have had—“ There it is again. Not quite embarrassment, and if you weren’t so tuned in to Zayne’s resting expression, you may not have noticed it, but there is a deeper furrow between his brows as his eyes evade yours, and the slightest tint of pink on the tips of his ears. “You have been with partners before, yes?”

The stoic, pragmatic, level-headed Doctor Zayne is embarrassed asking you whether or not you’ve had sex before.

You nearly laugh.

“Yes,” an amused giggle escapes you at the absurdity of this entire conversation. “I’ve been with partners,” you mimic, slightly mocking his word choice, “but it has been a while, and I haven’t really…”

Zayne moves to take another sip of coffee. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve never come. Orgasmed.”

And he chokes. Again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You jump from your seat to hand him yet another pile of napkins, but this time Zayne stops you halfway there, grabbing your wrist as his coughs subside.

Neither of you speaks as he drinks water and coughs once more, his grip still iron and far colder than you imagined it would feel against your bare skin.

“My apologies,” Zayne releases you immediately, going back to staring at his coffee as his hand flexes once. Twice. “Continue.”

You can only watch him in fascination, sitting back down in your chair. The entire time he avoided eye contact, and he was definitely blushing. You almost wanted to push further, to poke and tease and test his reactions, but you knew that would end with you losing your head. Or worse, you muse, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Ah, I mean, I’ve felt pleasure before. It’s not that my previous partners were unwilling to do stuff for me, I’ve just never gotten over that little plateau.” It’s not resentment that washes over you, and not quite embarrassment either. Just a little bit of dull apathy towards the subject. And yourself. “Biologically speaking of course I know it’s possible, but there are also plenty of women who simply don’t climax during sex. I’m probably just one of them.”

Zayne, who seems to have returned to his usual stoicism, frowns at that, mouth drawn taut as though he wanted to say something.

"And if we were to engage in sexual acts," He's so clinical, even as he says something that could send anyone else running. “Perhaps that is what you need to start writing again. It would make sense. To write a compelling,” he stumbles over the word, “erotica, you’d have to experience pleasure."

The gears in your mind turn, and slowly, it begins to make a twisted sort of sense. You'd have to feel it for yourself, to be able to describe the sensation, the passion, the tension with conviction. Perhaps it really would get you closer to finishing this damn book.

But then you remember who you're talking to. Doctor Zayne. Your coworker. Worse than that, your mentor and direct superior in your field, and someone you happen to admire very much. So then why would he…?

"What do you gain from this, Zayne?"

Zayne stiffens. “I’m a doctor, it’s my duty to help my patients.”

A sly smile cracks against your lips, and you prop your chin against your palm. “I didn’t realize I was your patient now, doctor?”

His eyes snap back to yours and he straightens, his demeanor slipping back to his typical formality. "You have a bright future in front of you. This is an investment in you, and I believe this will help us both. I will draw up a contract tomorrow for us to discuss, you can meet me in my office after your shift.”

“Rather formal,” you say, but Zayne doesn’t take the bait this time.

He simply takes another sip from his coffee, and you swear you catch him smiling behind the porcelain rim. “Then perhaps I could also get a signed copy of your next book?"

You scoff, waving him off as you slouch back in your chair. "Of course, I'll throw one in the mail the day it's out."

"It's a deal then.”

He’s about to push in his chair when you lunge from yours, grabbing his sleeve as his eyes widen slightly, looking down at where your hands meet. "Thank you,” a smile. ”Zayne."

His gaze softens and he smiles a bit, nodding. "Of course, doctor."

And with a wave, he's gone.

_______

You don’t know what you expected.

Zayne seemed like the type to take his girl out to dinner first, probably somewhere obscenely expensive. He’d show up with a single rose or another simple but romantic gift so seemingly contradictory to his outward appearance. Afterward, maybe he’d take her to a show or somewhere with fancy sweets, knowing his taste. Then, after all that, he’d invite her back to his apartment or allow her to whisk him away to her place.

You’d imagine it would go something like that. But then again, the terms of your relationship are quite different then the one he’d have with this imaginary woman. So when he texts you after your shift that Tuesday asking if you’re free tonight, you’re only moderately panicked.

To make matters worse, he’s at your house five minutes early.

Two knocks, and you scramble to open the door, Zayne nearly dwarfing the door frame as he lingers outside the hallway. His trenchcoat only adds to his natural tendency to command attention, and you feel more vulnerable than usual in your sleep clothes.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

Zayne adjusts his collar. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You tap your chin, pretending to mull it over in your mind, relishing in the slight nervousness your silence instills in Zayne. “It would be rather bothersome to fuck in the hallway, I suppose…”

Zayne shakes his head at the remark, but you can see amusement dancing in his eyes. With that, you step aside, and he ducks under the doorframe to slip inside. It’s as though something irreversible- something inevitable- shifts as you watch him cross the threshold, and it doesn't get better when you close the door and lock it behind him.

You'd say he makes himself at home, but his stance is still too stiff, too awkward, even as he’s hanging his coat and slipping out of his shoes. It almost feels domestic.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Zayne shakes his head, "Not this time."

He says it so casually, and yet the notion of a next time has you dizzy. Of course there’s a next time, you’ll need more than one night to get inspiration. It was only a natural assumption, you reason with yourself.

"You seem tense," he says, and then your back is against the wall.

Zayne leans down, hovering above you as his hand comes up to your waist. A tentative touch, and you give a small nod, feeling his arm relax, palm sliding further into the plush of your hips. He looks so good like this, in a work button-down with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and his lips parted. Gods, and he’s not even trying- there’s genuine concern written in the way he scans your body with a deep crease between his brows. You hope he doesn’t notice how you squeeze your thighs tighter.

"It's the deadline, is all," you say, trying to brush off the question.

"Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me. I’m supposed to be helping you and here I am making it worse.”

Zayne's voice is low and smooth. The cadence in his words, the slight drawl, is a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a shame it's so easy to hide your arousal when you're this nervous.

“Well,” You smile, and his gaze flickers down to your mouth. “I suppose I can forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal.”

His stare is heavy, and it feels like the room is closing in. But you understand the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t dare move first, not until you asked for it, not when you have yet to set a precedent. So you loop your arms around his neck, forcing Zayne closer as his forearm slams against the wall to hold himself up against you.

You nip at the lobe of his ear, smiling to yourself as he shivers with each warm exhale. Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your side while he lets you grind against him, guiding your movements as you groan against his neck.

But Zayne feels you rush through the movements, a messy sort of impatience less from desire and more from routine. As though you wanted this done. As though you wanted him gone.

You feel a familiar flutter against your core as Zayne’s knee comes up against your core, but when you move to grind against his thigh, the hand at your waist stops you.

“I want to do this properly. You deserve—” he cuts himself off. Starts over. “Where would you like to do this?”

You’re about to tell him that right here is fine, not wanting Zayne to feel as though you needed any more special attention, when you realize just how serious he is. “Bedroom," you say.

Zayne hums, and the rumble reverberates throughout his chest. He offers a hand, and you take it.

And with that, you lead him to your room.

Somewhere between the span of your hallway and bed, Zayne seems to have decided how tonight will go. Despite your desperate touches, teasing up his body and luring him closer, Zayne slows his own pace, leaving burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body. Despite your fumbling to strip off your shirt, Zayne grabs your wrist, forcing it behind your back as his other hand teases the exposed skin of your ribs in a way that has you shivering. Despite your hushed complaints for him to just hurry up Zayne merely smiles in amusement, refusing to give you anything more as he scolds you with a click of his tongue.

Zayne refuses to rush this. He wants to savor every moment, to etch the sight of you into his mind and commit it to memory, to relive it in this life and the next.

He continues walking forward, each one forcing you to take a step back until your knees hit your bed, buckling as his form looms over you.

“The largest mistake in any relationship- sexual or not- is lack of communication.” He loosens his tie, “So if we are to do this, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you like, what you don’t.”

As he speaks, Zayne continues undressing, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt before rolling up the cuffs so every glorious inch of his forearms is exposed. Your breath catches with each trailing vein, shadowed in the dim lighting up until they disappear under his sleeves.

Maybe you should write a Victorian-era piece next. Clearly, you had a thing for small swaths of exposed skin.

As if hearing your thoughts, Zayne undoes another button before his hands venture south. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles his expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. It drops to the floor, joining all the other articles of clothing as he takes a seat on the mattress, resting his hand on your bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where your sleep shorts have ridden up.

"Tell me what you like and don't like." Zayne repeats, eyes focused on yours, "And remember, you say no, and this stops."

Zayne moves painfully slow, his hands fluttering down your shoulders, breasts, hips, until he plants them behind you, caging you between his broad chest and the mattress. His hand slips under your shirt’s fabric once more, and you feel yourself tense.

You aren’t wearing anything fancy. After all, you were simply writing in bed, nearly falling off when you suddenly got Zayne’s text. Only a pair of shorts and a cami, but gods, when Zayne’s hands begin trailing up your stomach, dragging the thin fabric up with him, you really wished you put something sexier on.

He doesn't stop until his fingertips brush against the underwire of your bra, thick fingers slipping under the band as he practically tugs you toward him. "Can you take this off for me?"

"Don't know how to do it yourself?" You tease.

Before you even finish taunting him, Zayne's hand has already snuck around your back, undoing the clasp and forcing you onto your back. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Now, now, we'll be here all night if we start fighting." He chastises you, tone far too smug. Zayne tugs the undone bra up, his fingers tracing the red marks it left against your skin. You tremble under his touch. "Didn't realize how sensitive you are."

His tone is even, but you can see the slight curl at the corner of his lips.

"Your hands are cold," you say, voice wavering as Zayne begins taking your shirt off as well. You try not to fidget, knowing that the way your arms are held up only emphasizes the size difference, Zayne being able to completely lift your chest against him as the other binds your wrists. You're not tiny. But next to him? It barely mattered.

"I apologize." But it feels half hearted at best, especially with the way he’s staring at your bare chest, not even bothering to take your shirt all the way off. It almost feels more embarrassing like this, cotton bunched against your collarbones under his palms.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

The way he says it causes a rush of blood to your face. “I’m not some virgin that might break.” You grumble under your breath, but Zayne is as stupidly attentive as always and frowns.

“Do not mistake my care for pity.”

Something ugly aches in your chest when he looks at you like that.

Zayne’s hand comes up, large enough to encircle the entirety of your cheek as you’re enveloped in the chill of his touch. His body is nearly atop yours, each word breathed into your mouth. “Then, if you have no more snarky remarks, allow me to begin."

Zayne’s gaze drops to where he thumbs at your lips, leaning in as you watch his pupils dilate, flickering with something before he flinches away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.

His other hand cups the curve of your breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp, the sensation heightened by the feeling of his teeth against your collarbone, nipping marks into your skin.

It takes a moment for all his featherlight touches to register, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubs your chin. You try to ignore the way he avoids your lips, refusing to get too close.

All for the better, you remind yourself.

He kisses lower, down between the valley between your breasts, hot breath the only warning you get before his tongue meets your nipple while his fingers deliver a sharp flick to the other. The contrast of the heat from his mouth to the cold of his fingertips sends you reeling as you muffle your cries into your palm.

Zayne doesn’t like that. He forces your hand from your mouth, biting your nipple as if in vengeance as you moan, the sound broken and desperate as you claw at his forearm.

Satisfied, his tongue smooths over the bright pink bite mark and swollen bud, the unpredictable pressure fogging up your every thought before he retreats with a wet pop.

Finally, Zayne moves to fully remove your shirt, but pauses when you flinch.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I undressed as well?” Zayne begins to take off his own shirt, but you lunge for him, stopping his hands as your voice escapes in a whoosh.

“No.”

His collared shirt was utterly ruined, unbuttoned just enough so you could see his flushed chest when he bent over. And now when he sat up straight the bottom rose up just a bit, exposing a stretch of his lean torso, a peak of his abs, and a dark happy trail that dipped into his tailored pants. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it sent a shameful throbbing down your core.

“You can keep it like that, it’s hot.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but when he averts his eyes you swear you watch his lips curl into a smirk. It’s gone by the time he looks at you. Not that you have any time to dwell on it, not when Zayne closes the remaining space between you, guiding you against the pillows.

You try not to focus on how out of place he seems in your apartment, mere presence dwarfing everything else as he makes his way between you, forcing your knees apart.

Zayne leans back, his fingers trailing up your leg, edging up the fabric of your shorts up with his touch, but never daring to slip past the self-imposed barrier of the cotton. He coaxes your hips up, and you kick the shorts off in a clumsy movement, Zayne's eyes now focused between your thighs before you snap them shut as best you can around his waist.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– Doctor–”

“Relax. I can’t guide you if you don’t let me, now open.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Zayne’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You could call this off, he’s told you that much directly, and knowing Zayne if you did so everything would go right back to how it was before. A mentor and student. Coworkers. Strangers.

You force the tremors in your thighs to relax, knees dropping from Zayne’s hips to the sheets below as you move your left leg just enough to feel the inner band of your underwear stretch.

It’s a bearable amount of embarrassment and vulnerability, until you look up at Zayne again, and akin to a deer in headlights, you freeze. He watches with enough intensity for it to be clinical, a vicious sort of attentiveness that sees every twitch, every strain your body responds with, as if committing it all to memory. As if he were to devour you alive.

You think you’d let him.

Zayne reaches over, and his thick finger trails a line up your inner thigh, immediately followed by goosebumps, knuckles ghosting the inner seam of your panties.

Your body reacts before you do. Before you can even breathe, the air catches in your throat, and your legs squeeze together in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself.

Zayne pins them down immediately, gaze snapping up to you. You expect a reprimand. Maybe a warning or a punishment, and the anticipation makes your stomach twist.

Instead, his brows draw in, as if lost in thought. “You said you never came from touching yourself either?”

You can barely manage a nod.

“Hm. Then you weren’t doing it right.” He says, so bluntly that you can only blink at him. “Show me how you do it.”

Zayne sits back between your thighs, one hand still absent-mindedly caressing your knee, waiting expectantly.

And you feel the flush burn all the way up your ears and down your chest.

Oh, that was not what you expected him to say. You were prepared for him to touch you, or to guide you, but instead he asks for the complete opposite.

And, well, you could only ever try your best for him— ever the people pleaser.

It's humiliating how easily your fingers slip under the elastic band. Even more so when the pads of your fingers run down your folds, and you feel yourself clench at the mere contact, already slick and wanting. You move to tug your underwear off, but Zayne stops you, grabbing at your wrist.

"Wait," He's panting, eyes blown as he continues to stare at you, at the wet patch accumulating in the center of those damned panties. "Keep them on."

His tone is so serious a part of you wants to laugh. You're about to make a quip when he pulls your hand up, bringing your fingers to his lips and wrapping his tongue around them. The way he teases from the pad of your finger to your knuckle, sucking as he goes, has you lightheaded. Your hips stutter upwards, a pitiful sound escaping from your throat as you try to keep yourself together.

He doesn't stop. Not until your fingers are clean and your thighs have grown unbearably sticky, neglected and throbbing.

When he finally lets go, you're a gasping mess, and Zayne looks downright smug. "Now, you can continue."

The bastard.

You don't know how you manage to move, let alone bring your fingers to your entrance.

Pushing aside the cotton, your first touch is tentative, and you flush at how much easier it is with Zayne’s spit covering them. Your breath catches both from the initial stretch and the way Zayne leans in closer to see, even though the thin elastic prevents him from watching the way your cunt flutters around the new intrusion.

You shift, but your need has grown nearly uncomfortable, hips beginning to buck up as one finger quickly becomes too little, and you whine as you attempt to push in another, to push in a little deeper.

"Slower. You're going too fast."

You can't help the scowl, your tone sharper than intended. “How would you know?"

Zayne’s face is a cool mask, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "You did ask me for advice, did you not?" Then his voice takes on a sharper edge, demanding again. "Slow down, then you may continue."

As if you needed his permission to continue. But you do as he says, rocking your fingers in and out, pace painfully slow, mere friction sending jolts of heat throughout you.

Usually, this was the best part, the delicious and tortuous build-up that would ultimately lead to nothing. Not nearly long enough, your fingers hit just below your sweet spot, and you could feel tears of frustration prick against your eyes. Writhing, you tried to plunge further, choking out a moan again and again at the barest brushing against your sweet spot, mindlessly grinding your hips up to meet each cruel thrust of your fingers.

You cry when you finally hit that spot inside you, head falling against the pillows as you tense, about to move again when something stops your hand, ripping it away from your desperate chase.

“You–“ Zayne shakes his head, breath ragged as some combination of a frustrated exhale and moan rumbles through his chest, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You’re too impatient. Too rough.”

You try to swallow, try to hide how the sound of his moan and the rough cadence of his voice makes the muscles of your belly and thighs spasm, but Zayne doesn't miss a thing. He doesn't release your hand, not fully, but rather guides both of your digits to trace around your clit instead.

"Again," he says, “This time slower. How does it feel?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel his hand continue to guide yours, entire body jolting when he catches against the hood of your oversensitive clit, tapping as he lets you circle it on your own.

“Good. It feels really good.”

Zayne hums, but he already knows that. He feels it through the drenched bottoms of your panties, rubbing your poor swollen clit through them, watching as you gush again, the slick coating his palm and dripping down his wrist in sticky strands.

It takes everything within him not to withdraw his hand and lick it all. Or even better, take his mouth to you directly. Not yet. Not yet, he reminds himself. Next time.

You have to bite your lip as you feel Zayne’s hand take over your own, almost greedily pushing and pinching your clothed cunt, the fabric both a delicious friction and a damn barrier you wish was gone so you could finally feel his bare fingers on you, in you. It’s torture, every nerve on fire as Zayne continues to focus on your clit while your fingers return against your folds, teasing your entrance with a light touch before pressing in.

But it's still not enough. It's not what you need.

You look to Zayne for direction, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. "Deeper. Keep going."

The angle isn't quite right, but you do as he says, trying and failing to muffle your sounds as you fuck yourself on your fingers, desperately chasing the feeling building up once more.

“Again. Deeper.”

It hurts. Your wrist is beginning to ache, and you’re really not sure how much longer you can keep going, crying out again when Zayne forces his hand flat against your clothed core, shoving your own fingers deeper and causing the wet fabric to rub deliciously against your clit.

You don't even have time to react before he's pulling away, his own hand rubbing the wetness on his fingers together as he watches the strands break and drip down his hand.

His tone is so nonchalant despite the way he keeps his gaze trained between your legs. As if the sight of you, flushed and gasping, with your cunt pathetically leaking and yet still demanding more, wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

“Ask,” Zayne demands, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Ask for it.”

“Need your help, please, Zayne” you manage, voice airy and heart still racing from unintentionally edging yourself over and over again. “I want your fingers.”

It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Hands gentle enough to care for patients, steady enough to perform surgeries, cruel enough to tease you this mercilessly, and yet you can’t help but imagine what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

You’ve probably thought about his hands more times than you’d like to admit.

At the hospital, at the cafe, at night in your apartment. Every inch of his body seems to haunt you like a forgotten memory your body had already grown addicted to.

The moan that rumbles out of Zayne’s chest is low and addicting. He sits back for only a moment before your hips are dragged down the bed, a yelp leaving your lips from the sheer force.

Zayne practically knocks your leg over his shoulder, and when you arch off balance, you press against something that has you inhaling sharply through your nose. Fuck, Zayne’s hard.

He shudders violently at the contact, falling onto his forearms as you roll against him once more, watching his face twist from the painful pleasure you know all too well. You feel his control slipping, both in the way his fingers tighten at your hips and the throbbing heat you feel twitch against your thigh.

And just realizing how much you’ve affected him is enough to send your eyes rolling back into your skull with a violent tremor.

You attempt to grind up against him again when Zayne roughly pins you back down. You writhe helplessly, hips pinned to the mattress as Zayne curses, adjusting himself in his slacks with a rough squeeze. “No.” A command to both himself and you, “You asked for my fingers, so that’s what you will get.”

You’re about to open your mouth to make another demand, but Zayne is one step ahead of you yet again. “That’s all you’re getting.” As if to quell your anger, he begins to thumb at your clit again, moving to take off your last remaining piece of clothing. “Next time.”

A promise he has every intention to keep.

Ironically, Zayne is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your endeavors, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow. But you’ve been worked up far too long, and as soon as Zayne begins fucking you with two of his much thicker fingers, you already feel the familiar tension building.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Not really,” you manage through clenched teeth.

You feel Zayne pull away and thrust your hips up into nothingness, only making yourself more sensitive when he roughly thumbs at your clit. He slams your hips back down, a cruel pinch to the oversensitive nub forcing you to arch into him as your jaw falls slack.

“That was not a question.” Zayne is still hovering above you, watching as his fingers slip against your cunt, slick with your arousal. “Use your words.”

His voice takes a dark edge every time he commands you now, and you bite your lip to not whimper at the tremor his voice sends down your skin. It’s not fair, the effect something so simple has on you. But while his demand is still ringing in your ears, Zayne curls his fingers further upwards, rubbing directly against that sweet spot inside you with frustrating ease, and you sob.

"Please,” you can’t even remember to beg. Zayne nearly abuses the spot, curling into it over and over again until you’re certain you’re drooling all over the silk of your pillow, writhing. "Please, I'm– I need more, and, ah—“

Zayne hums. "More? You're going to have to be more specific if you actually want to orgasm."

You whine, shaking your head as his eyes narrow. He’s only halfway through scolding you when his finger smacks against your clit, the sharp twinge of pain enough to make you cry. "Don't be a child. Words. Tell me what's giving you pleasure so I can help you."

"It's," a huff of air leaves you and you can barely manage to form a coherent sentence, your mind fogging over completely as Zayne continues to talk. "Hah, your voice helps.”

“My voice?”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the sound of Zayne’s chuckle. A deep, cruel thing that you now think may be all you need to come as your eyes screwed shut. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I should just keep talking. Keep your eyes open.”

You obey, and Zayne simultaneously pulls your jaw towards him, forcing you face-to-face with him. “Look at me.”

You do. You do and really wish you hadn’t because the smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the freckles of light green you now see in his softened gray eyes might really be all you need to send yourself over the edge.

And, as if listening, Zayne forces his fingers deeper inside, the tips of his digits hitting the same spot that has your mind fogging over, vision blurring with a disorienting mix of hazy and dizzy. You can barely hold on, fingers twitching against the sheets as suddenly it becomes too much, your hands shooting up as you press desperately against Zayne’s chest.

“Wait–” You’re dizzy. The pressure is consuming you, and you’re losing control. “Please, Zayne.”

He stops immediately, pliant under your touch as he lets you push him away. Even so, his free hand comes up to meet yours, coaxing your fingers against his as he holds it up to his chest, letting you ground yourself with his heartbeat.

The rhythm is comforting.

Zayne isn’t speaking anymore, just looking, waiting for you to give him a sign. He doesn’t dare move, letting his fingers sit still, buried inside of you. You don't know if it's the dizziness lingering in your head or the fact that his fingers are insistently rubbing against a spot inside of you that sends sparks up your spine, but either way, you might be going insane.

“Keep your breathing steady, even when you’re close. Deep breaths.” In, out. In, out. Your chest rises as Zayne’s does, bare skin brushing his. “Good.”

Even as your vision clears, Zayne refuses to let go of your hand, this time pinning it beside your head as he begins to move his other hand too, thumb circling your clit as the others curl against your walls.

When you begin to shake again, his lips ghost by your neck, dangerously soft and hesitant as he kisses down from your jaw, following each whimper and moan you give to him with loyal intent, sucking gently at a spot near your jugular and collarbone.

"Ah, Zayne. I think–" your breathing hitches as Zayne presses another soft kiss against your skin.

"Are you okay?" The softness of his tone nearly breaks you, and you force yourself to ignore it. Focus on the sensations; focus on what you can use for the novel. Nothing more.

You nod.

"What else, darling? Are you close?"

Your breath hitches. The sudden pet name has you reeling, and you feel Zayne keep his steady rhythm, even through your trembling and whining, his thumb mercilessly circling against your clit in ways you swear never feel the same when you’ve done it.

"Call me that again," you cry, nearly begging.

"Come. Come for me, darling."

And you do.

Your vision blurs as you come around Zayne’s fingers, a silent scream catching in your throat. All you can manage is a broken moan as you arch into him, gripping his forearm and holding it in place. Your thighs quiver around his arm, and Zayne holds you still, coaxing you through it as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.

The sensation is overwhelming. You're not even sure how long it lasts, the only thing grounding you is the weight of Zayne's hand laced against your own.

Slowly, he begins to withdraw his fingers, kissing your knuckles softly.

"How are you feeling?"

The room is quiet, and it feels like all the sound has been sucked out of it. Your head is fuzzy and your whole body is tingling, and all you can focus on is Zayne's soft breathing.

Good, you want to tell him. More than that, your body is still shaking from pleasure and desire, and you can’t stop looking at Zayne’s lips or remembering how hot and needy he felt grinding against your thigh. You can’t stop thinking about him, so instead you say, “Fine.”

Zayne stiffens. “Good.”

He sits up, still scanning your face for something as you watch the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his chest and stomach, and once again you are overwhelmed by the desire to run your hands down his body, to feel his skin against yours. To see more of him.

“I’m going to get you water and a towel.” He says, not moving just yet. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head no. Zayne nods, leaning in as his hand goes to your jaw before he pauses halfway and steps out of bed, making his way to your bathroom.

You don’t really remember how much of the night goes by after that, a blur of Zayne attentively guiding you through proper aftercare and you throwing in a few quips here and there at his ceaseless worrying. Before long, he’s saying farewell, and you’re back at your computer screen, empty doc staring right back at you.

But the words never form. Not when your head is still spinning, replaying everything that happened tonight in vivid flashbacks as an overwhelming rush of mortification and desire runs down your spine.

You can’t help but feel that perhaps you just made an irreversible mistake.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace x reader #lnd zayne #lads zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne #poisonwrites

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digital-virendra-yadav · 2 years ago

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atinystraynstay · 8 months ago

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Off Limits - Jeong Yunho

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Synopsis: Going to college for you was very serious. Nothing could stand in the way which meant often rejecting social events and saying no to anything to risk. That was until you met Yunho, someone you would risk it all for.

Pairing: College!Jeong Yunho x fem. reader

Genre: mutual pining, strangers to friends with benefits - MINORS DNI

Contains: mentions of celibacy, mentions of alcohol consumption, nudity, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), dirty talk, slight begging, protected intercourse, characters losing their virginity, orgasm

Note: based on a request from @jonghoslvt ☆ no joke, I adore you and never thought you'd take up my offer. I really hope this doesn't disappoint because I literally fell in love with the idea the moment you hit my inbox

Word Count: 7.8k

"But y/n, it's not even a frat party," your best friend whined. "Yeah! We're too old for that anyways," your other friend chimed in.

You currently found yourself in a standoff. At first, you had situated yourself in your bed with your textbooks to have a quiet night in. Your friends, however, took it upon themselves to propose an alternative idea. One that you often rejected.

"Are you forgetting that we have midterms next week? I would like to start spring break stress-free."

Your entire life has been focused on going to college. If asked about your childhood, you would always recall how happy you were growing up. But you never overlooked the sacrifices your parents made for you. Going to college was never realistic or them, so they worked overtime I order to provide you with the opportunity to live a better life than they ever got a chance for. Their struggles were something you can never ignore, which made you want to work hard to make them proud.

And since getting to college, it was about doing well to be able to show them why their hard work was worth it. You also had a personal goal of being able to afford to repay them for everything.

To get to that point, that meant often saying no to social obligations so you could study. Your weekends often looked like you were crammed in the library. Or, if you needed human interaction, propping yourself at a coffee shop to mix in with the crowd.

Breaks were the opportunities to let loose and have a little bit of fun. Yet, your breaks often looked like doing work for internships. Now that senior year has arrived, you are also adding in time to scroll through LinkedIn and Indeed for potential job openings

"Y/n, I adore you, and what a little studious bookworm you are. However, it is senior year. We have less than 3 months to make stupid decisions before adult obligations. There is also the chance we might not be living even in the same state or country! Do you really want to live life only when we come to visit or you visit someone else?"

You never went to a frat party. You never had a random hookup. You always played things safe.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh as you gazed down at your lap where your textbook rested. She had a point. While you were very excited about being that true adult version of you, you weren't ready for the hard parts of it like no longer living with your best friends or really having little interaction.

"And I'll tell you what. We don't have to stay all night. If you get overwhelmed or are over it, we will come straight home and watch Love Is Blind."

You perked up at her compromise. When you looked up, hopeful eyes were staring back at you before you silently nodded. That was enough to send them into squeals and start to drag yourself out of bed.

What were you getting yourself into?

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

Little did you know, across campus, a similar debate was going on.

"Guys, I really don't like house parties like that," Yunho huffed. "And how do you know if you've ever been?" Mingi challenged him.

Yunho couldn't help but narrow his eyes on his best friend. He had a point, but damn, did he hate it when he was right. Out of the two them, Mingi was the more social one. Before a party was finalized, Mingi was already receiving texts about the details so word could spread like wildfire.

On the other hand, Yunho often opted for quiet nights in. He would spend nights either gaming with Seonghwa or drinking at home with a few friends. What was the point in going to a house party when they already had beer in their apartment?

There was also a part that loved hearing Mingi's retelling of what went down. Yunho simply didn't like parties, the situations that could arise from consuming too much alcohol, and the morning recovery.

"You owe me!" "For what?!"' "I mean," Mingi began. "I am your best friend. I'm sure you owe me something!"

Yunho rolled his eyes but couldn't fight the smirk curling onto his lips. It amused him greatly the antics Mingi always tried getting into, and how he basically became a whimpering puppy for attention.

"What will you do for me if I go?" Yunho challenged. "I will literally never ask you to come out again if you absolutely hate it. Or I will do all the chores in the house for the next month."

That caught Yunho's attention instantly. He liked to consider himself a very clean man, never knowing who might step into their humble abode. However, Yunho still liked to maintain a welcoming household and seemed like he had things together. First impressions mattered the most to him. And it was no secret Mingi often dirtied up any clean space, no matter how recently Yunho finished cleaning.

"Wait? Are you being serious?"

With Mingi cleaning, that meant that Yunho could just spend time the way he wanted to - playing video games and chilling with his friends. Yunho definitely was a person who liked being around people, but he didn't like situations that could get messy quickly. Hence why there was a slight aversion to going to parties where things could go 0 to 100 too quickly.

At home, Yunho was in control. He was the mood maker who kept a warm, welcoming environment. That meant one that was clean and safe for everyone. An oasis from the chaos of university.

"I'm dead serious, Yunho." "Deal!"

Little to Yunho know just how overwhelming the atmosphere would be. Even though Yunho certainly liked making memories with his friends, he was almost intimidated. All around him were drinks being passed left and right, not even knowing what was in the drink but it made his noise scrunch up as all he could smell was cheap perfume and alcohol. It practically burned his nostrils.

"Relax, Yunho," Wooyoung laughed. "You are about to give away that you've never had pussy before."

Yunho's head snapped towards his younger friend, a look of shock on his face. "Do you ever not think with your dick?"

"Will you ever sleep with someone? Come on. You're in college. Make a bad decision." "I'm fine with sticking to this one," Yunho sighed.

It wasn't that Yunho didn't want to have sex. However, he knew just how special being intimate with someone is. What mattered to him was waiting for the person he felt like he could be that vulnerable with. Just finding a random person and doing it sounds disgusting. Not how he wanted his first time go.

Nobody has caught his attention yet.

"Oh ease up, Yunho. Woo just is looking out for you," Mingi laughed. "But if you do find someone, bedrooms are open upstairs.

I think I'm going to be sick.

"Well, to be the bearer of good news," Jongho called out. "It seems like Yunho has a pair of eyes on him."

What was he talking about?

Slowly, Yunho looked over his shoulder whereas his friends seemed to wipe their heads around. Way to be subtle. There was this pattern that always occurred where girls seemed to have taken an interest in Yunho, but he never reciprocated. He was just content with the way things were in his life - no drama, no mess.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight behind him. There's no way.

Yunho has seen you around campus before. The two of you have never had a class together, seeing as your respective programs were in two different buildings. Yet, there were always ways you two crossed paths. You were heavily involved on campus or often in the library studying. Yunho did frequent the library, but if there was no immediate open spot available, he would leave. He always thought you were cute, but the opportunity never presented itself where he could make a move.

He didn't quite think that asking someone, a complete stranger, out on a date in the library when they were obviously busy was romantic.

To be honest, he never saw you as a party girl. You were often studying out of your mountain of textbooks or typing like your life depended on it on your laptop. He adored that side of you. When your hair was pulled back and your glasses framed your face, highlighting your big eyes.

Tonight, you opted for a different look. You ditched your sweats for a short black skirt that had a small slit on the right side. You wore a white shirt but that was mostly hidden underneath the leather jacket you wore. Your hair was downing loose curls. Your makeup also looked like it was light, but he was drawn to your cherry red lipstick.

I wonder if it also tastes like cherries.

Yet, tonight, you seemed like you had no agenda. Your eyes did glance in his direction, followed by whispers and giggles from your friends. To say his interest was peaked is an understatement.

You were someone who caught his attention. And his friends seemed to notice.

"Hey y/n," Mingi called out.

Yunho's head immediately turned towards Mingi who wore a smirk on his face. He wouldn't.

But it was too late. Mingi was already halfway across the room to greet you and your friends. And Yunho was hot on his trails.

"See you finally are breaking out of the library to join the rest of us," he commented.

You rolled your eyes before greeting him with a hug. Of course, Mingi knew you. He knew everyone. How did you two meet though? You weren't an ex-girlfriend or else you would have been over to the dorms. And you had a face that was impossible to forget. Maybe Mingi got tutoring from you?

"Don't hold your breath, Mingi. I was offered an out if I want to take it," you warned.

Your voice was just as angelic as Yunho imagined it. You often studied alone, unless you were shoved into a group project by your professors. Hearing how you speak made his heart flutter.

"Well maybe I can offer a reason to stay?"

You tilted your head in confusion. Mingi nodded over his shoulder which caused you to instinctively look over.

Everything else froze the moment your eyes met. It was like a scene from a romantic movie where the lights highlight the dream girl, music fades out. Nothing else matters at the moment besides you.

"Y/n, I want you to meet my best friend, Jeong Yunho. Yunho, be nice. This is y/n."

I was brought back to reality by Mingi gently patting me on the shoulder and giving me a slight shove. Luckily, I was quick on my feet to prevent myself from stumbling into this girl and making a fool out of myself. The wouldn't be a great first impression.

By your body language, Yunho could tell that you were out of your element. But so was he. Your eyes bounced around as you noticed your friends and his had left the two of you alone.

"Why don't we head out of here? Maybe go to the kitchen? Away from the crowds?"

Your eyes instantly lit up at his offered. The sight of you feeling relieved made Yunho felt proud, but also served as a motivating factor to ensure you always felt that content especially around him.

With a hand on your lower back, Yunho escorted you two out of the main part of the house. His eyes flickered all around to see where there were less people. However, people were playing drinking games in the kitchen. He glanced down at the cup in your hand to see you still had something to drink. The stairs, on the other hand, were vacant.

"Come on, let's go upstairs. I've been wanting to get to know you, y/n," he confessed.

Instantly, you felt your cheeks heat up. You nodded before following Yunho's lead. Your friend groups watched almost in astonishment at how quickly things progressed. Mingi was the proudest, as he played cupid after all.

As the two of you descended up the stairs, you could hear the bass of the music from below but could not quite make out the words. The loud conversations faded out to where you could just hear the footsteps of you and Yunho. You swore though you could feel your racing, and you were nervous Yunho could hear it too.

He flashed you a warm smile as he began trying the doorknob on the first door he saw.

"Occupied!" Someone shouted from within. The two of you felt yourself get hot in the face.

Quickly, he maneuvered the two of you to the bedroom across the hallway. Luckily, the door was slightly cracked and lights were off. An indicator that it was unoccupied. And to confirm, Yunho stepped in first by gently pushing the door. He let out a sigh of relief as there was no one.

"Perfect. Now I can actually get to know you."

He wanted to know me? The girl who is always studying?

He stepped out of the doorway, his back against the bedroom door to allow you inside. You thanked him with a soft smile before stepping into the room. You did notice he closed the door but also left it unlocked. It honestly made you feel a bit safer just by his gentle gaze and consideration.

Whenever you've seen Yunho walking around campus, you've always taken note of his soft aura. Maybe that's why it was so easy to lean into the potential friendship with him.

You found yourself walking into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your hands flattened out the skirt so it covered a bit more of your legs. Yunho joined you, keeping a bit of space but nothing too much. Just enough so you could speak one another but be respectful and mindful of your own personal space.

"I'm surprised to see you here tonight," Yunho commented, a smile still on his lips. "You just never seemed to be the party girl." "You know me already," you laughed. "I'm honestly not but my friends want to make lasting memories before graduation," you explained.

Yunho couldn't help but chuckle which caused you to raise an eyebrow. He quickly cleared his throat, a light hue coating his cheeks.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. It just seems that our friends are in the same mindset since that's why I got dragged out of the apartment tonight." "I guess it isn't so bad now that I'm here with you."

You swore that Yunho's cheeks got darker. You also noticed how his smile widened to the point his eyes became hidden. He was just too adorable.

"So mystery girl knows who I am," he chuckled again.

God, his laugh was so infectious. I could just sit hear and listen to it all day.

"And I'm surprised my campus crush knows even who I am." "Oh? I'm your campus crush?" He smirked.

Now it was your turn to blush a bit. Damn, caught red-handed.

"Well yeah. I've seen you all over with Mingi or when you are trying to study in the library. Guess you could say I've always been curious."

Yunho's ego soared. He didn't come here to get lucky, but he was. He felt as if he had one the lottery.

"There's something else I've been curious about," he admitted.

Your upper body had turned towards him. The moonlight shining from the window made your eyes sparkle. It was as if you had the whole universe in your eyes. Your head was tilted slightly, a habit Yunho was quickly learning about you and equally adored.

One hand remained at a respectful spot in the space between the two of you. Yet, his right hand reached across to cup your cheek. His thumb caressed your cheek affectionately as your eyes widened slightly. Yet, your body felt relaxed underneath his touch.

He never wanted to take things too far, but a little kiss never hurts, right?

"Is it okay if I kiss you, y/n?" He whispered.

Your name coming from his lips sent butterflies in your stomach. "Yes," you whispered back.

He offered another gentle smile before he leaned in to press his lips against yours. His lips felt soft and gentle as he didn't want to pressure you to kiss him back. But you would be a mad person if you didn't. You matched his tempo, allowing him to lead the kiss.

Tiny electric shocks were sent throughout your body. You couldn't help but allow your arms to wrap around his neck, which gave him the green light to move his hand off the bed to your knee. His warm hand caressed your exposed skin.

"I like the feeling of your hands on me," you murmured against his lips.

Fuck, Yunho, you're in trouble. Your statement made his brain all fuzzy. Yet, he didn't want to get too ahead of himself. He was almost positive you meant innocence in your statement.

His hand moved from your knee to your hip where he lifted you with ease. You gasped softly, pulling back from the kiss. You never expected him to be so strong! Your mouth was slightly open as you were positioned on his lap.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Yunho said. "Did I move too fast?"

You turned towards him and shock your head. Your heartbeat was felt throughout your whole body. If it was anyone else, you might have gone running out the door by how overwhelmingly intense the moment felt. With Yunho? All you wanted was to stay.

"No, this is perfect," you confessed. Your one hand stayed wrapped around his neck, your fingers running through your hair. "Is this okay? I mean, I've never done anything like this before. I don't just kiss cute boys who I barely now."

Yunho couldn't help but smile softly at your sentiment. You were too sweet. "Well, maybe we can become more than strangers?" His hand caressed your side affectionately, easing any nerves left in your body.

"I'd like that," you whispered.

You were about to go in to kiss Yunho again when the bedroom door busted open. You gasped as Yunho gently moved you off, shielding your body. The people who busted in just gasped before quickly closing the door behind them, muttering apologizes.

Way to kill the mood.

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

That was three weeks ago. Yunho and you kept in good contact, especially now that Mingi prided himself in bringing two of his favorite people together. Even though you and Yunho were as far from being a couple as anything else. If anything, you two were beginning to deepen your friendship.

Yunho now had a reliable person to study, with who would keep him accountable for actually getting work done. And you had someone who made life fell less lonely.

And it was a bonus that each study session ended with a makeout session at your apartment. It was almost a ritual between the two of you. At the end of the night, Yunho would make sure you had eaten before walking him. You would then offer to come in for some water or coffee, depending on what else he had going on in the evening. Which were ultimately excuses to go to your bedroom.

Never before had you felt so safe with someone. Yunho looked after you, which honestly blew you away considering how new the friendship was. Yet, for Yunho, taking care of you was a duty. Even if you weren't official, he always wanted to make sure you knew someone was looking out for you.

That was as evident as ever when you two were behind closed doors. Light kisses led to light touches. His hands often wondered to your lower back, maybe underneath your shirt to cup your bra-covered breasts. Your hands would fall on his chest, sometimes down his abs towards where his belt was. Kisses on your lips led to neck kisses then to hickies which your roommates teased you relentlessly about.

Nothing more though. You had told Yunho that you were always anxious when it came to sex. You didn't want to jeopardize everything you worked for. And Yunho always respected that, especially since he was waiting for the right person. He didn't want to regret something so meaningful. And you respected that too.

Yet, you couldn't ignore your own urges anymore. There was something powerful between the two of you. You just weren't sure how to tell Yunho how you were feeling without scaring him off.

The past three weeks have been the time of your life. He made you feel warm and fuzzy, as if you were the main character in a Nicholas Spark's novel. And Yunho felt like he was on Cloud 9 with you. He never wanted to lose that feeling.

Buzz buzz

You were currently in the kitchen of your college apartment, slicing up an apple and peanut butter. A favorite study time snack of yours. Your eyes warned over to see Yunho's name flash on your phone which instantly brought a smile on your face.

"Oh! Y/n must be talking to Yunho," your roommate teased.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the smile growing on your lips. Yeah, you were down bad for him.

"Hey pretty girl, what are you up to today?" "Not studying! I got everything done." "So you have time for me?"

Your smile grew wider at his text. You literally felt your heart flutter.

"Maybe.. is it worth it though?" "Oh darling, don't you worry. I'm going to make sure you feel on top of the world." "Where are we going?" "My place? 7pm?"

You glanced at the time at the top left corner of your phone. 5:41pm. Not much time to get ready.

"Anything I should bring over?" "Just yourself. It is all I need."

Lord have mercy.

Your snack was long forgotten as you ran up the stairs. The excitement about seeing Yunho, being alone with him drove you in ways academic achievement and goals accomplished never could.

You wear wearing a loose sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. Nothing too suggestive but also easy to remove. You never wanted to go in assuming any situation, but you couldn't help but be hopeful. Your roommates also noticed your change of perspective since Yunho came into your life. They liked seeing this side of you - the side where you were allowing yourself to enjoy life rather than focus on work and outcomes.

"Make sure you say hi to Yunho for us," your one roommate teased as you rushed to grab your wallet and keys. "Should we expect you tonight or tomorrow afternoon?"

Your cheeks were a bit red, not from embarrassment. There was not one ounce that was ashamed to be so scandalous with Yunho. Maybe it was because it was your little secret, the part of your that you were allowing to flourish for the first time, that was being exposed. While you weren't sure if you and Yunho would be anything more than friends, you were safe to say you were no longer strangers.

"I'll just text you guys when I'm heading home," you laughed, trying to ease your own nerves. Yet, you felt all the butterflies in your stomach which mad you jittery.

"Oh, no need. We have your location, y/n." "Creeps," you huffed. "Or just care about your well-being! But we also know Yunho will take care of that part."

I need to get out of here. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was 6:47pm. Yunho was just a 5 minute walk away from your apartment, so you were in no rush but any excuse to get to Yunho quickly.

"Hey, I'm heading over now :)" you texted him. "Can't wait to be with you."

You waved goodbye to your roommates who sounded off in encouraging cheers. You shook your head playfully before walking out the door to Yunho's apartment. With each step, your heartbeat is faster and louder. He had you wrapped around his finger and you didn't even know how to tell him.

"Hi pretty girl," Yunho said, answering the door. His height always left you breathless. You knew you were down bad when his height is something you adore. He was dressed in a grey sweatshirt with a yellow smiley face in the middle and black sweatpants.

Gently, he stepped out of the way to allow you to enter. You smiled appreciatively before walking in and slipped off your shoes. Mingi was in the kitchen, wiping down the countertop after dinner assumedly.

"Hey y/n. I'm about to head out!" He exchanged a look with Yunho, but you were too hyper-focused on Yunho's hand on your lower back. You could basically turn into Jell-o. "I'll see you around," he snickered.

"Bye Mingi," Yunho muttered. His demeanor softened when he turned towards you though, offering that gentle smile that makes you want to do anything he says. "Wanna go up to my room?"

You nodded before taking the lead. You've been all too familiar with the staircase that led up to Yunho's bedroom. Each time you walked in front of him, Yunho struggled. He surely had the best view in the world but wanted to do his absolute best to remain respectful.

Once you arrived in his room, you were a bit taken back. This wasn't the usual setup. You were much accustomed to the floor lamp being on, his laptop ready for a movie.

Tonight, the no lights were on. Instead, he had lit a few candles that were new additions to the top of his dresser. It created a glow in the room that was warm and welcoming. It also had a smell of vanilla and cashmere, two of your favorite scents. He was a good listener. Soft, sensual music was playing in the background from the speaker by his desk.

You stepped into the room but didn't go to the bed this time. You turned towards him, keeping a bit of distance but yearning to be close to him.

"What's all this for, Yunho?"

He loved the way his name sounded from your lips. It sent shivers down his spine. He smiled gently before taking a step closer, closing the door behind him. Once again, he didn't lock it right away. Yunho was the exception in a world of boys where he was a gentleman. He always offered you an out, always a way to leave if you so choose. Yunho never placed expectations on you. He followed your lead.

"Y/n," he began. One of his hands gently reached out for yours, fingers gently wrapping around your own but not quite holding it just yet. It was endearing. "You mean so much to me. I mean, I've always been mesmerized by you, but I never knew someone could have such a large impact until you came into my life. I've never wanted to open up to someone the way I open up to you."

Your eyes widened slightly, stepping even a bit closer to Yunho. Your mind was jumping to conclusions but you did everything to stay calm.

"There is just something special between us, angel," he whispered. His hand fully slipped into yours as the other gently moved to hold your hip, keeping you close. His touch was gentle yet firm, almost as if he was begging you to say but also allowing you to move if you desired. "You complete me in ways I never imagined. Both emotionally and mentally, and our physical connection is something I'd like to explore more."

Oh my god.

"I understand if maybe that's something you never wanted with me but-" "But just kiss me. Please."

His eyes now widened this time. You were biting your lip gently as you gazed up at him with your big doe eyes.

Come on, Yunho. Get it together.

No longer hesitating, he leaned in fully to press his lips against yours. His hand squeezed your hip affectionately. Unlike the other times he's kissed you, this was more passion. He had a certain level of assertiveness that made you melt. Your hands moved from holding his to resting on his chest and the other on his arm.

With ease, Yunho picked you up which caused you squeal. He pulled back from the kiss to look up at you. You noticed this time his gaze was a bit more seductive which made you feel all tingly.

"Oh darling, I'll get you squealing for another reason soon enough," he promised you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist. You knew he'd never let you fall, so your action was more to lure him in closer. His hands moved to hold your ass, giving a playful squeeze which indeed sent your squealing again. Even though the sensations were newer to you, it felt so good when it was Yunho touching you.

Gently, Yunho tossed you on his bed. Your sweatshirt moved a bit to expose your midriff. Your hair was sprawled out on his comforter. And with the glow from the candles, Yunho swore you looked angelic.

"You can say no at anytime, darling," he promised you. His voice was in a soft tone but firm. This was serious for him which made your heart swell.

"I trust you. This is new for me too, but I want to experience it with you."

At first, he remained standing at the foot of his bed. Just enough so he could slip his own sweatshirt over his head. You couldn't help but stare at his exposed chest. He was built so beautifully.

Yunho noticed which caused him to smirk. Not wanting to be apart from you any longer, his hands gently then moved to your exposed skin. "What do you crave first, darling? I want to make sure you're all wet for me."

His words caused your cheeks to warm up tremendously. Your brain was all fuzzy just coming to realize this was actually happening. You were about to have sex with Yunho, your campus crush. This felt just too good yet nothing extraordinary has happened yet.

"Could you eat me out? I've always wanted to know what it feels like," you confessed. "Your wish is my command, princess."

His hands moved from your hips to the waistband of your leggings. He glanced up at you once more to make sure you were comfortable and okay with proceeding. You couldn't help but giggle before running your hand through his hair comfortingly, giving him the nod he needed.

"So gorgeous, y/n, baby," he murmured. His lips kissed the exposed skin of your tummy before both of his hands began to move your legging dow your legs. "You look amazing in these leggings, but I'm so honored to be the one to take them off of you." His eyes then noticed the pink lace panties that you were wearing underneath. A tiny bow was in the front which made his mouth water.

You shivered as his hands gently began to tug off your panties. It was a bit chilly in the room for which Yunho smiled apologetically.

"I'll warm you up in no time, darling." "I have no doubt, baby. I know you always look out for me." "Always," Yunho vowed.

With your leggings and panties on the floor, Yunho crotched in front of you. His hands rested on your knees gently, thumbs caressing the outer part. He was a bit surprised how you opened them almost automatically for him, but he was overjoyed to know you wanted this just as much as him.

His cock twitched at the sight of how wet you already were, a slight glisten already noticeable. "My baby girl needs me, hmm?"

"I like when you speak to me like that," you confessed, letting out a shaky breath.

Yunho moved your one leg over his shoulder as the other rested on your thigh. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable. "What? You like knowing that I want you all to myself? That I want to be selfish?"

You were propped up on your elbows, gazing down at him. Your teeth were sunk into your lower lip in anticipation. All you could bring yourself was to nod in confirmation.

"Well, y/n, sweet girl. You are mine. You've been mine since the party, so don't doubt it again."

His tongue then licked a long strip along your pussy up to your clit. You let out a loud gasp, head tilting back. His hot breath hit your pussy causing you to shiver and spread your legs a bit wider, offering yourself completely to him. He hummed in satisfaction before letting the tip of his tongue circle your clit.

Your back arched slightly off his comforter. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself immerse fully into the pleasure.

He loved the taste of you. So sweet. His tongue ventured up and down your pussy before sticking into your tight hole. You let out a soft moan. It was music to his ears, knowing that he was capable of making you feel so good.

His cock was hardening by the sounds you were making. Twitching and began for attention. Soon though, he would get the relief he's always fantasized about.

You were his main priority though. He wanted this to be just as special, as meaningful for you as it was for him.

He pulled back which made your head snap down. Yunho couldn't help the small pout that formed on your lips. "Don't worry, darlin'. I'm not going anywhere." His lips began to press kisses into your thighs as his one hand left your knee to gently trace along your pussy.

"Is it okay if I finger you, angel? Just want to make sure you're stretched out for me. Don't want to hurt you."

His speech was a bit slurred, almost as if he was drunk off the taste of you.

"Please. I want to feel all of you, want to feel of this for the first time with you."

Yunho leaned down to kiss your thighs. He moved his kisses towards your clit. He could imagine the feeling might be a bit uncomfortable for you at first, so he wanted to help ease you a bit.

When his lips met your clit, he kissed it delicately before wrapping his lips around it. He began sucking on it which had you moaning sweetly. He couldn't help but smile before sliding one finger into you. His eyes looked up at you to see your mouth slightly open. Yet, your body remained relaxed on his bed.

He moved his finger in and out of your pussy slowly. He let out a groan at the feeling of how warm, how wet you were. You just felt so inviting it sent him into a frenzy. He craved more that he was struggling to hold himself back but he knew all good things come with time. His cock was straining against his pants painfully.

"I'm going to add another, sweetheart, okay?" He murmured against you. The vibration of his voice against your pussy caused you to whimper out in euphoria as you still nodded your head.

"Can I hold your hand, baby?" you begged softly.

Instantly, his free hand left your thigh to rest against the comforter for you to hold. He didn't need to be told twice. Whether it was for reassurance or to feel close to him, he would do anything for you.

Slowly, he slipped another finger into you. This time, at the feeling of how full you were, your body tensed a bit. Yet, Yunho kept his fingers still inside of you. He didn't want to rush in as he kept his gaze on you. Feeling your fingers slip into his hand, he squeezed your hand reassuringly. And this time, you squeezed back. "Keep going. Please."

His fingers moved slowly. He couldn't help but stifle the moan from his lips as he wanted to suck on your clit a bit harder, to make sure you were still feeling good. When you started moaning again, he began to curl his fingers gently into your g-spot. That made you moan louder than before, an encouragement for Yunho to proceed.

He then began to spread his two fingers apart, stretching you out properly. Your eyes widened, your breathing becoming shaky and shallow.

"Speak to me, baby girl. How does this feel?" "S-so good, baby." "Tell me what you need." "You. Please." "How do you want me? You've already got me. Right here, angel." "I want you to fuck me."

His fingers stilled inside of you as he pulled back from your clit. He looked up at you as he knew there was no going back. He knew he wanted to continue, but he just wanted to make sure you weren't too caught up in the moment. He didn't want you regret such a vulnerable moment with him.

"Are you positive?" He asked in a gentle voice. "I've never been more sure of anything."

Slowly, his fingers slipped out of your pussy. You whimpered at the lose of contact but quickly moaned when you saw his fingers enter his mouth. He sucked on them gently, humming against his digits. You've never witnessed something so attractive before. Your cheeks were flushed at the sight too.

"So delicious, angel. Thank you for letting me have a taste."

Now standing fully at the end of his bed, his hands moved to undo his belt and unzip his pants. Your eyes widened when you saw the tent in his pants. You couldn't believe he got so turned on by tasting and touching you.

Seeing the effect you had over him made you feel powerful.

Noticing you were staring, he winked at you. "You are the only one with this effect over me. Only one I ever want." His belt clinked against the floor as his pants soon joined, exposing his grey boxers. He was so hot. Does he even know that? You were going to move up to offer to jerk him off or suck him but he stopped you before your upper body could even leave his bed.

Did you do something wrong? You frowned a bit as your eyes quickly landed on his. Was he regretting going this far with you?

"Tonight is all about you, sweetheart." "But I want to make this special for you too," you frowned. "You just being here is enough to make this special. I promise."

You were a bit hesitant, wanting to be insistent on making him feel good. But with the look in his eyes the lustful gaze, you knew it was not a topic up for debate. You settled back onto his comforter as he moved to grab a condom from his bedside table.

He was a man prepared for any scenario. Whether it be one of his friends needing a condom or when a moment like this finally presented itself.

His boxers soon joined the floor. His cock instantly slapped against his abs. You noticed the veins running around the sides and the angry red tip, begging for attention. You made a mental note that you just had to suck Jeong Yunho off.

He grabbed the gold wrapper to tear it open. His right hand grabbed the base of his cock to hold it still as his left hand skillfully slipped the latex on. It just made his cock glisten, make it more appealing.

Finally, Yunho joined you on the bed. His knees rested in between your legs to keep you spread for him. His one hand rested by your head as the other cupped your cheek. You felt his forehead press against yours but not once did he look away from you.

"I mean it when I say we can stop at any point, angel. Just say the word." "Yunho, you're too sweet to me but I need you."

You needed him. God, his eyes nearly rolled at the words you spoke.

He pressed his lips to yours for a moment. Even the room felt hot and heavy, he wanted to remind you just how important you were to him. You kissed him back for a moment until you felt his tip against your pussy. He kept his gaze on you, wanting to make sure you were okay with what happened.

"You ready?" "Yeah," you breathed out.

As slow as ever, Yunho pushed his tip into you. You bit you lip as you kept your eyes trained on him. It felt familiar, just like when his fingers entered you. You nodded slowly before he began to push more of himself into your pussy. His head nearly rolling back at the feeling of how warm and tight you were around him. "Fuck," he breathed out.

The sound of you letting out another whimper caused him to snap back to reality. He frowned when he noticed the tears in your eyes.

"Oh angel," he whispered. He didn't dare move another inch. This wasn't about his pleasure, this was about you. "What's wrong?" "It's just a lot," you confessed. Salty tears began to leave your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. "Do you want me to stop?" "No, no," you begged. "I just need a moment."

Yunho nodded understandingly. He began to press soft kisses along your cheeks, your nose - anything to distract you from the pressure and temporary pain. He wanted to kiss you fully but he noticed you were breathing in deeply, trying to collect yourself and he didn't want to be inconsiderate.

"Take your time," he whispered. His hand moved to wipe your tears. "I go when you say go. I stop when you say stop." You took in another deep breath, really being able to feel how deep he was as your puss instinctively gripped his cock. He bit his lip to not moan, not wanting to do something that pressured you to say go.

However, in the few seconds of regulating your breathing, the pain began to feel like pleasure. It felt good. It was an odd feeling for sure, but one you wanted to continue with.

"Yunho?" you called out gently.

He pulled back so he could look into your eyes. His lips were curled up into that signature soft smile.

"Keep going. Please."

His eyes were trained on yours, almost as if he was looking for any hesitation. Yet, when he didn't see any, he nodded his head gently.

Before continuing to slip himself into you, he offered his hand for you to hold again. He really was a gentleman. Your fingers instantly slipped into his and you gave him a reassuring squeeze. That's all Yunho needed to continue slipping into your pussy.

Your breathing hitched again, but you remembered to breathe through it. And while it was a bit uncomfortable, it wasn't as bad as when you two started. You moaned when he eventually filled you completely.

"You okay, darling?"

He kept still but you could feel all of him inside of you. You felt so close, so vulnerable with him. It was overwhelming in the best sense.

"Never been better," you breathed out.

Satisfied, he began to retreat his hips before thrusting into you. Your head rolled back against his pillows and he rolled his head back at the feeling. "God damn," he breathed out. "You feel so good, angel. All for me."

His thrusts were slow at first, at an even pace. He was treating you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world, something that needed to be fiercely looked after. And while you might have enjoyed the sentiment, you just needed him.

"Baby, go faster, please." "Fuck, are you sure? If you say yes, I might not be able to hold myself back anymore." "Let loose, baby boy." That's all he needed to hear. His hand planted firmly on the space by your head, his other hand still holding yours. However, his thrusts became quicker, became deeper. It was as if something primal took over him.

Your moans were louder as you felt all of him entirely with each threat. He was so big, so thick. He filled you up just so heavenly, in ways you couldn't describe besides perfection.

"That's it," you whined out. "Right there, baby." "God, I could die a happy man this way."

You couldn't help but giggle as you moved your free hand to rest on his shoulder. Your fingernails dug slightly into his skin which seemed to send him pounding deeper into you.

The sound of wet skin slapping made him nearly delirious. He never imagined this would be happening especially not with you. Yunho truly won the jackpot. He watched as your eyes rolled back, your cheeks a light pink color. Your lips were slightly parted as you moaned without any control.

"You're so gorgeous, y/n."

Your walls began to tighten around him, a fire-like feeling taking over your stomach. His jaw was clenched, almost as if he was concentrating. You were a bit curious but began to notice the veins protruding out of his forearms from how hard he was thrusting.

You began to put the dots together.

"Are you close, baby?" "So fucking close," he huffed out. "Are you?"

His eyes were practically glued on you. All to make sure you felt on top of the world. He loved knowing that you two were sharing this experience together. The grip you had on his shoulder further encouraged him to give you everything he had.

No room to hesitate or overthink. "Yeah," you whimpered.

Sweat was beginning to coat his skin. You early drooled at the sight of how delicious he looked. How did you get so lucky?

"Let go, y/n, baby. I'm right there with you."

With one particularly hard thrust, you lost it. You felt like you were being sent into another dimension but the intensity of your orgasm. Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling as you truly believed you saw stars. Your legs shook slightly as Yunho groaned loudly, spurting his hot cum into the condom.

The heavy breathing from the two of you filled the room. The world outside of his bedroom seemed so far away as you felt so consumed by Jeong Yunho. You wouldn't want it any other way.

His cock started to soften inside of you but you two couldn’t bring yourselves to move. Your arms moved to wrap around him softly as he laid gently on you, keeping you close.

There was no other place you wanted to be. I guess sometimes you do need to take a risk and do something that might seem like it is off-limits.

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aj-thegreatest · 19 days ago

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Why Persephone and Minthe are (or could've been) Perfect Foils:

I’m starting this off with 3 things: 1) This’ll be less of an essay and more of a ramble, so apologies if this is messy! 2) I’m framing this as a “what if this was written in a non misogynistic way,” and less(?) based on canon. And 3) If an essay like this already exists…oops!

Ok. So we can all generally agree that Persephone and Minthe, as love rivals, function as foils for each other. Persephone is the sweet, young, and naive girl who doesn’t know what sex is. Minthe is the mature, sexy, and stone cold older woman who’s too sexually active.

They both villainize and hurt each other, ignoring the man who’s actually perpetuating their suffering. The story makes it seem like they’re completely opposed characters, with Persephone being the “better” one. And to an extent, that’s true.

But I think we could dive deeper! And away from Hades! Because he sucks!

If we compare Persephone and Minthe’s lives and how they view each other, you could make a strong case for them being foils. It’d honestly be brilliant if they reconciled in a meaningful way, BUT-

Let’s start with the basics: while Persephone grew up with an attentive mother, Minthe grew up largely ignored by hers. Persephone grew up around a supportive community, with most of her needs met. And while we only see a peek into Minthe’s childhood, it can be inferred those needs were not easily met. Minthe had to provide for herself, shown by her jobs before Underworld Corp.

Meanwhile, a lot of Persephone’s opportunities were “handed” to her. Artemis offers to let Persephone stay with her. She gets inducted into TGOEM without any trouble. Demeter most likely is paying for her schooling. She gets placed in Underworld Corp, despite having no experience (and out of her control. Hera what the hell). And gets paid for her internship, something she gets because of her relationship with Hades.

Minthe has continually worked for everything. Persephone hasn’t worked for any of the stuff she gets. But she wants to! Persephone so badly wants to be independent. She dreams of living on her own, dressing the way she wants, being in a relationship. And who is the first being she sees that represents all of it for her?

Minthe is the physical manifestation of everything Persephone wants to be. It’s also why she dresses like her in later seasons. And Minthe is clearly jealous of Persephone. Is it because she’s flirting with Hades? To some extent, yes. But Minthe also feels Persephone is better than her. She’s the sweet goddess who everyone loves, especially Hades’ trusted allies (Hera, Hecate, etc).

I think if they got to know each other, they’d be envious of what the other had. Minthe would love to have a mother like Demeter: someone who took care of her and gave her what she needed. She needs a support system and people to rely on. Not a toxic friend who prays on her downfall (Thetis what the hell).

Persephone wants a mother who won’t hover over her. Control of her life, freedom, and the ability to be her true self. Wear whatever she wants. She doesn’t want to be the kind, sweet girl all the time. She wants to have sex! After marriage apparently because uh…yeah.

A brief deviation: Even their aesthetics are contrasts. Persephone wears white and pink, while Minthe wears reds and blacks. Minthe’s clothes are revealing and conventionally sexy. Persephone’s are cute and conventionally girly.

Both Minthe and Persephone are stuck in roles that feel inescapable. Which are enforced by Hades, the narrative, and the fandom (at the time). Something something Madonna Whore Complex.

In an ideal story, where they equally like all the women, Minthe and Persephone would’ve reconciled. Come to some understanding of the other and grow as a result. But…that doesn’t happen.

Really, they just switch places. Minthe becomes accepted in the Mortal Realm. She gets all the support Persephone had. While Persephone gets all the glitz and glam Minthe supposedly had. It all works out!

…I mean, not really but-

Like Minthe barely gets mentioned at the very end. Persephone spends most of it stressed, hated by her citizens. All the things Minthe feared at the start!

But then she gets her happy ending. Isn’t this great? The character who wanted independence from her mother and everyone, ends up stuck in a marriage without truly finding herself. And with kids we, the audience, don’t know if she wanted?

All that matters is Hades wants kids. So Persephone needs to have them. Hades wants to break up with Minthe, so she gets planted and moves from his realm. Funny how everything works out for him, right?

This doesn’t really have an ending. All I can say is, I wish Minthe and Persephone had a chance to stand on their own. And to talk to each other without a man getting in the way…

…which is why you should read my fanfic, PomengranMints-

#anti lore olympus #anti lo #lore olympus critical #lo critical #quiet mumbles #I’m sorry for the plug but um…it is the reason I’m writing it so uh-

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nenelonomh · 1 month ago

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applying to schools (what to consider)

academic programs: ensure the schools offer strong programs in your areas of interest. there's no point getting into and attending a prestigious school if you're not interested in what you're studying.

location: think about whether you prefer an urban, suburban, or rural setting, and consider the climate and distance from home. distance from home is a big thing if you're still living at home or are not yet in university/college. i'm in tenth grade at the moment and attend a school that is around an hour and a half away from my home - but it's a great school and i enjoy the schooling!

when applying to universities outside of your state/country, research the surrounding areas so that you understand what you're getting yourself into by applying.

size: decide if you want a large university with many resources or a smaller college with a close-knit community. additionally, consider whether you'd like to learn in a fast-paced and busy city or in a more laid-back environment.

cost and financial aid: evaluate tuition costs and the availability of scholarships, grants, and financial aid. if you have the ability to apply for a scholarship/grant, do not waste the opportunity!

campus culture: visit campuses if possible or attend virtual tours to get a feel for the student life and community. this can help you understand whether or not the environment is right for you.

admissions requirements: check the average gpa, test scores, and other requirements to ensure you meet the criteria. - and then bloody work for it! make sure that you are suitable for your dream school. there is no point in researching these things if you will not work to improve them.

extracurricular opportunities: look for clubs, sports, and other activities that interest you, or that you currently participate in. sharing an extracurricular activity with a university/college may give you a talking point for your interview/admissions essay.

career services: consider the support available for internships, job placements, and career counseling.

reputation and rankings: while not the only factor, the school’s reputation and rankings can provide insight into its strengths. check the times higher education site to look at the strengths and weaknesses of your preferred college.

personal preferences: think about what matters most to you, such as diversity, study abroad programs, or specific facilities.

i hope this was helpful! ❤️nene

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misshoneyimhome · 7 months ago

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you’re interning with the maple leafs athletic training department after graduating university in the health field. you’re new to the city & don’t know anyone. ur quiet and only engage with players when spoken too. it’s obvious ur intelligent and very career driven. you have an independent vibe. it’s clear ur not impressed or starstruck by players, but not in a rude way its just u aren’t interested in hockey as a sport only the health aspect as it relates to ur career, so ur vibe gives off very much *professional only here to get paid*😂….anyway willy thought you were stunning initially,but he was caught off guard since ur not his usual type and don’t have the same physical or aesthetic look as any other gf/vibe in the league. ur appearance is very feminine but u dress streetwear tomboy. ur slim but with an hourglass build athletic legs /big butt. u have big long curly hair that u let flow wild and don’t wear makeup but ur skin glows and thick dark eyelashes /rosey lips are striking. its clear willy is not the only one that finds u intriguing bc he’s noticed few players act “different” when u come around -and he can tell they’re crushing on you. they’re harmlessly flirtatious with u but ur oblivious. he knows someone will ask u out soon. how do you think willy reacts? does he make a move? does he feel jealous? he hasn’t even had a chance to introduce himself, yet he’s seen other players find an excuse to interact with u. he knew he was interested but didn’t expect to have to act so soon. does chill willy feel like he has competition or nah? can you write something to add or finish the plot or just take this concept and create ur own magic 😅 i have the vision but definitely not the skill or outlet lmao

Absolutely, babe! So, this was more than just something and I definitely enjoyed it 🤍 You provided me with so much inspiration, and I hope I've managed to convey your vision at least to some extent 😉

Perhaps there's room for a sequel, but I also believe it stands strong on its own - either way, my wish is for you to enjoy it 🤗

Warnings; none, it's pure fluff 🌺 maybe some language, but nothing out of the ordinary;

Word count; 5K

Song inspiration; "Lovestoned/ I Think She Knows" by Justin Timberlake

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost

➼｡ﾟ

She’s got me Lovestoned I William Nylander

“She looks like a model Except she's got a little more ass Don't even bother Unless you've got that thing she likes I hope she's going home with me tonight”

Your heart raced with excitement as you followed your manager through the busy corridors of the Maple Leafs' training facility. The sound of skates scraping against the ice and the reverberation of pucks hitting the boards filled the atmosphere, adding to the tangible buzz of the surroundings.

Freshly graduated from university with a degree in the healthcare field, you had long imagined this moment. Securing an internship with the athletic training department of one of the most esteemed sports teams in the league was a dream come true – an opportunity to apply your expertise and knowledge in a practical environment.

As you strolled, you couldn't help but admire the cutting-edge facilities surrounding you. From the fully equipped gym to the medical treatment rooms, every aspect was crafted to ensure the players received optimal care and resources.

And your manager, sensing your admiration, offered you a warm smile. "Welcome to the team miss y/l/n," they said, their tone brimming with pride. "We're delighted to have you join us."

You reciprocated the smile, thankful for the chance and eager to demonstrate your abilities. This was your moment to establish yourself in the realm of sports medicine, to glean knowledge from the experts and contribute to the team's triumphs.

And as you continued to explore the facility, a surge of excitement pulsed through you. This marked merely the beginning of your journey with the Maple Leafs, and you were resolute in seizing every opportunity that lay ahead.

As you settled into your role as an intern within both the Medical and Performance teams, your reserved and composed demeanour became apparent to those around you. You'd always been one to let your actions do the talking, and this remained unchanged in your new environment.

Focused and resolute, you approached each task with unwavering commitment; whether it involved aiding in rehabilitation exercises or conducting pre-season screenings, you handled each duty with precision and diligence.

While some might have mistaken your quiet nature for aloofness, those who took the time to understand you soon discovered there was more beneath the surface. You were intelligent, determined, and fiercely independent – a formidable presence in your own right.

Unlike many others in your position, you weren't swayed by the glamour of professional hockey. While you respected the sport and admired the players' athleticism, your focus lay solely on the health and well-being aspect, aligning with your career aspirations.

To you, the players were not celebrities to be idolised but individuals to be cared for – athletes whose welfare relied on your expertise. And you simply approached your responsibilities with professionalism and purpose, recognising the significance of your role in the team's success.

Yet, although you kept to yourself, speaking only, when necessary, your influence permeated the facility. Your dedication to excellence and the players' wellbeing garnered the respect and admiration of your colleagues. And as you delved deeper into your work, you found a profound sense of satisfaction, knowing you were making a meaningful impact on the athletes' lives and careers.

As the first two weeks of your internship with the team flew by faster than you’d expected, you quickly became fully engrossed in the dynamic world of professional hockey. The days were a whirlwind of absorbing new information, making acquaintances with staff and players, and engaging in hands-on tasks that put your skills and knowledge to the test.

With the start of the regular hockey season on the horizon, the gravity of the job began to dawn on you. However, far from feeling daunted, you embraced the challenge with enthusiasm and resolve. This was the culmination of your training, the result of your hard work, and you were prepared to demonstrate your worth.

With each passing day, your confidence in your abilities grew, and you found your rhythm within the team. Yet, while your focus remained on your duties, you gradually began to forge connections with those around you, as the staff and players greeted you with open arms, fostering a sense of camaraderie that made it easy to acclimate to your new surroundings. Your initial intention to maintain a professional distance slowly faded, and you somehow found yourself drawn into the team's social dynamics.

As time went on, laughter and friendly banter became commonplace during the long hours spent with your colleagues, and before you knew it, you were joining in with the playful teasing.

"Come on, Lou," you chuckled. "Who's the trickiest player?" you quipped.

"I can’t say..." Louis Rojas, the Head Strength and Conditioning Coach, chuckled in response. "But there are certainly a few who need a gentle nudge when it comes to the rehabilitation aspect of training..." he winked. "And I won't name names, but it seems like the longer they've been on the team, the more inflated their ego becomes."

It was all good-natured banter, naturally. From your perspective, each player had their own unique traits, but you understood why – this was the results of their lifelong dream, pursued with sacrifices of social life and late nights for early morning training sessions and weekend games.

And despite the jests, you felt like you were part of a close-knit family among your peers.

Whether it was the late nights after a defeat or the shared jubilation following a hard-fought victory, every experience drew you nearer to your team. And when a player sustained an injury, regardless of how minor, you felt the weight of responsibility, knowing you played a vital role in the team's support structure.

Even the players, initially unfamiliar with your reserved nature, began to open up to you as they became more acquainted. Despite any unintentional distance, they valued your commitment and professionalism, gradually extending their trust and respect.

And as you navigated through the highs and lows of the hockey beginning of the season alongside your newfound comrades, you couldn't help but sense a feeling of belonging – a realisation that, despite any initial hesitations, you were precisely where you were meant to be.

“She shuts the room down The way she walks and causes a fuss The baddest in town She's flawless like some uncut ice I hope she's going home with me tonight”

As the months went by, more players gradually began to get to know your personality a bit better, noticing the subtle sparks you unintentionally ignited. And one player, in particular, found himself increasingly drawn to you.

William Nylander hadn't anticipated this turn of events, being entirely focused on his career and having his best season yet. However, as the young Swedish forward observed you carrying out your duties with quiet resolve, he couldn't ignore the growing sense of curiosity that stirred within him. Unlike the typical women he encountered in the hockey world, you possessed a unique charm and allure that captured his attention from the outset.

Your appearance defied convention, blending elements of femininity with a distinctive streetwear tomboy aesthetic. Your slender yet athletic figure, accentuated by your hourglass figure, toned legs, and shapely posterior, intrigued him in a way he hadn't expected.

Your long, untamed curls flowed down your back, framing your face in a halo of natural beauty. And though you opted for minimal makeup, your natural radiance shone through, with thick, dark eyelashes framing your captivating eyes and rosy lips that seemed to beckon him. Yet, it wasn't solely your physical attributes that intrigued him – it was your confident and graceful demeanour, your unapologetic embrace of your individuality.

To William, you represented a refreshing departure from the predictable stereotypes usually found in the hockey world. He found himself drawn to your authenticity, your refusal to conform to societal norms. And as he observed you navigate the challenges of your role with quiet determination, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was far more to you than met the eye.

Yet, amidst his desirable interest, he couldn't help but think of how you might respond to his actions and thoughts. Would you reciprocate his attention, or would you maintain your professional composure, unaware of the impact you had on those around you?

Only time held the answer, but one thing was clear—William was determined to find out. And one day, he resolved to take action and initiate a conversation.

"Hey there, I'm Willy," he introduced himself, flashing his trademark smirk as he encountered you in the physio room shortly after a session where the performance team had discussed nutritious foods and home recipe ideas.

And as you tidied up the materials from the presentation, a soft chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm aware," you replied with a gentle smile.

"You are?" he inquired, a small hint of surprise in his tone.

"Well, of course," you chuckled once more, a mischievous glimmer in your eye as you neatly arranged the papers. "It's part of my job - I'm familiar with all of you, including your current physical condition and medical histories."

William couldn't contain his amusement at your response, his smirk broadening as he let out a soft chuckle. It wasn't often that someone managed to catch him off guard, but there was something about your effortless confidence that intrigued him.

"Ah, so you've been doing your homework on me, eh?" he teased, leaning casually against the nearby equipment rack with a playful glint in his eye.

"You could say that," you retorted with a grin, a touch of mischief flickering in your gaze. "But don't worry, your secrets are safe with me."

William smiled, a sense of warmth enveloping him at your relaxed banter. "Well, in that case, I hope it's all just good stuff," he quipped, flashing you a charming smile, his eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

"Oh, absolutely," you replied, feigning innocence. "Only the finest gossip about your impeccable physique and stellar health habits."

William laughed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Well, I'm relieved to hear I've made such an impression," he joked, his smirk widening as he leaned in a little closer, a newfound sense of connection sparking between you.

And as the conversation flowed, the playful banter between you and William felt effortless, each exchange infused with light-hearted humour and genuine warmth. Despite starting off as acquaintances, it was evident that this spontaneous encounter held the promise of something more, leaving a sense of anticipation lingering in the air like a whisper of exciting possibilities.

As the first few months progressed, William couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in dynamics whenever you were present. He observed how other players' demeanours changed, becoming more animated and flirtatious when you entered the room. And despite your apparent obliviousness to their advances, William couldn't shake the twinge of jealousy gnawing at him.

As it was, your responsibilities extended beyond mere observation and monitoring of the players' physical and mental well-being; at times, you were also required to engage with them physically. Whether it involved carrying out a soft massage to their legs or backs, aiding with stretches, or similar activities with the purpose of facilitating their recovery, ensuring the were swiftly back on their feet was part of your role.

And truth be told, when a young, attractive woman like yourself interacted closely with young men, some of whom were not in committed relationships, their minds often wandered. And consequently, comments occasionally slipped out, their mouths moving faster than their rational thoughts.

"You know, you can press harder, I can handle it."

"We could continue this session later, when it's more private."

"Your touch is amazing – it's really doing wonders... anything else you're good at?"

To you, these remarks seemed harmless, playful, and merely part of the camaraderie. You were accustomed to the tone, unaffected by it, and accepted it as part of the team dynamic, which was likely why the management allowed you to work in such close proximity to the players.

However, for William, these comments carried a weightier significance.

For some time now, William had been trying to forge a closer connection with you, seizing any opportunity to get to know you better amidst the limited time available. Yet, despite his efforts, you simply remained a staff member while he was a hockey player under your care. And he wasn't the only one deserving of your attention. Your professional interest extended to all the players, regardless of their role on the team, and it appeared that some others were making rather direct attempts at flirting.

A part of him had hoped for more time to cultivate a deeper bond with you before making a move. However, with each passing day, he felt the pressure mounting as he observed other players finding excuses to engage with you.

Despite his typically relaxed demeanour, the young Swede found himself torn between maintaining his composure and the urge to stake his claim before someone else did. It was an unfamiliar sensation; one he hadn't felt before. Usually, it would be the women vying for his attention. But you were different. You exuded nothing but a sense of calm, confidence, and independence that simply captivated him.

And as he deliberated his options, William realised that he needed to take action, to seize the moment before it slipped away.

"And now I walk around without a care She's got me hooked It just ain't fair, but I... I'm love stoned and I could swear That she knows"

Fortunately for William, an opportunity presented itself one evening, and he was determined not to let it slip by. It was a typical Wednesday training session, with a match scheduled for the following day, and during the ice time, he inadvertently made a small movement, aggravating his existing back injury.

While not severe, the coaching staff still insisted on him being checked before the upcoming game. And luckily, you were still at the facilities, having just finished up a report when he entered the medical treatment room.

"Hey y/n," he greeted softly, walking with a slight crook in his step, the pain from his lower back evident.

"Hey William, what's up?" you asked, noticing his discomfort. "Is everything okay?" you inquired, concern evident in your voice.

"Just call me Willy," he smiled. "But um... yeah, I sort of did something... I mean... Kniesy tackled me, and now I can feel it in my back..." he explained with a light chuckle.

"Well, how about you undress a bit, and then we can take a closer look at it?" you suggested with a sweet smile, to which he simply nodded.

"Usually, I take the girls out before they ask me to strip," he cheekily remarked as he began to undress before you.

Raising a brow, you flashed him a grin and a questioning look. "Do you really?"

This was the type of banter that most of the players appreciated about you. You weren't afraid to push boundaries and test their comfort zones.

"Maybe not," William admitted with a chuckle as he stood in front of you, only the physio table separating you, in nothing but his short shorts before you directed him to lie face down.

"Well, at least you admit it," you replied softly, surprising yourself by engaging in a more personal conversation than usual. "Most guys just act like they couldn't care less."

William was slightly taken aback by your candidness. While you'd shared conversations where you got to know each other better, you hadn't delved into deeper opinions before.

"Why wouldn't I care?" William smiled as he shifted his head to the side, meeting your gaze as you stood beside the table. "I mean, she's still a person, right?"

"I don't know, I'm just saying what most guys do," you replied.

"Well, maybe I'm not like most guys," William retorted, his wink adding to his cheekiness.

His comment took you by surprise, causing you to pause for a moment. Though you hadn't exactly considered any of the players as close friends or thought about them in a romantic way, there was something about this Swede that suddenly had you reconsidering.

Was he flirting with you?

No, you dismissed the thought. You were definitely not his type, or any of the players for that matter. After all, you were just there to help maintain their health so they could perform at their best.

Yet, as you thought about it, you couldn't deny that most of the players were indeed attractive. And given that you'd seen most of them in various stages of undress, you knew what they looked like from head to toe.

And you probably couldn't deny the allure of the players. Each had their own charm – some were sweet and kind, while others were more playful and cheekier. Yet, none of them displayed any meanness or cruelty. Even Reaves, who often projected a rough and tough exterior, revealed a tender side when speaking about his family. In fact, most of the players with families exhibited a similar dichotomy. Despite their tough demeanour on the ice, they were remarkably different behind the scenes.

Then there were the younger players, some single, some in relationships, all equally playful and lacking a certain level of maturity. However, you found their antics amusing and entertaining. Perhaps only Woll, the sweetheart of the team, was less inclined towards playful banter, but lively, nonetheless.

And despite your bit of familiarity with these players on a personal level by now, they remained nothing more than the team you were tasked with caring for and supporting as needed.

So, pushing aside any lingering thoughts, you focused your attention on the player's bare back, beginning to apply pressure to his tender muscles to locate the sore spot.

"How's this?" you inquired in your professional tone.

"It's good, but maybe you need to go a bit lower... that's where the pain is worst," William responded, the cheekiness in his voice fading as he sensed your seriousness.

And as you continued to massage his back, applying pressure to different muscle groups before focusing on his lower back, a few minutes passed.

"Here?" you asked, indicating the area.

William nodded lightly, then hesitated, feeling a twinge of awkwardness as he tried to pinpoint the exact location of his discomfort.

"Uh, yes, but..." he cleared his throat. "Maybe even lower..."

You sensed his slight nervousness, understanding what he was hinting at. Yet, you remained professional, knowing exactly how to address his injury and provide appropriate care.

"Willy, are you referring to your sciatic area?" you asked.

"What's that?" he chuckled.

"Well, it's one of the largest nerves in the body, extending from your lower back down each leg," you explained, smiling even though he couldn't see it.

"Oh, so, uh..." he trailed off, unsure how to ask, and you couldn't help but chuckle lightly, maintaining your professional demeanour.

��It means I'll have to massage your glute - as in your bum. It's one of the largest muscles where the nerve runs behind, but it seems like yours is cramping a little, pressing onto the nerve, which causes the pain."

William understood your explanation, and a smirk crossed his face as he imagined your perspective on his ass at that moment.

"Well, I suppose there's nothing else to do but for you to go ahead," he chuckled lightly.

Sensing his slightly cheeky demeanour once again, you aimed to bring the situation back to a professional tone.

"Willy, it's nothing sensual. And believe me, it's probably a lot more painful than pleasant," you reassured him.

"I think I can handle it," he replied with a cocky smile.

"We'll see about that."

And with his understanding, you went ahead and placed your elbow onto his cheek and started to circle it in order to loosen up the cramp muscle.

“Shit!” William exclaimed as he suddenly felt the pain course through his body.

One thing in particular that you’d become known for amongst the players, was that you were rather strong compared to your size. And you didn’t hold back when you knew that their injuries required force.

“Told you it wasn’t pleasant.” You grinned softly, as you continued to massage his cheek.

And as more minutes went by, William’s deep grunts only grew more incoherent and out of breath. He was nothing but sore, yet as you released your arm from his body, he felt a newfound release washing over him. As if your massage had healing powers, the pain slowly faded into nothing, and he didn’t feel the twinge in his lower back any longer.

“Fuck…” he let out a deep sigh as he caught his breath.

“Need a minute, Nylander?” you mocked playfully and flashed him a grin as your eyes met with his.

“Maybe…” he softly admitted, still a little numb from the intense feeling you had caused him.

“That’s good, that means it’s working.”

You turned around to remove your latex gloves, and as your turned back, William slowly rose and turned to his side to face you, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him. Despite the discomfort of the massage, he recognised its necessity and appreciated your expertise.

"Thanks, y/n," he said sincerely, meeting your gaze as you turned back to face him.

"You're welcome, Willy," you replied with a warm smile, appreciating his gratitude.

A moment of silence followed as you both remained still, and the tension of the massage easing away. Then, suddenly, William's expression softened, and he cleared his throat, as if preparing to speak.

"Listen, y/n, I... uh... I just wanted to ask..." he trailed off, his cheeks colouring slightly.

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he was trying to express. "Yes?" you prompted gently.

But before William could continue, the door to the physio room swung open, and one of the team trainers entered, interrupting the moment.

"Hey, William, everything okay? I heard you were having some trouble with your back," Dean inquired, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine now, thanks to y/n," William replied, shooting you a grateful look.

Dean nodded, then turned to you with a smile. "Thanks for taking care of him, y/n. We appreciate it."

You nodded in acknowledgment, though you couldn't hide the slight disappointment you felt at the interruption, before he swiftly left the room again. However, William's reassuring smile lifted your spirits, sparking a sense of excitement within you. Perhaps there was more to his earlier words than you had initially thought.

And as William watched you, a surge of determination coursed through him. This was his moment, his opportunity to finally express what had been on his mind for so long. So, with a deep breath, he pushed himself up to sit, his gaze unwavering as he met yours. The lingering soreness in his back served as a reminder of your expertise and the connection they shared.

"So, this is it?" he asked, his voice soft yet filled with anticipation, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his confident facade.

"Well, for now," you replied with a smile. "But we'll need to keep an eye on you to ensure it doesn't happen again like that. Cramps like these often come back." You found yourself unintentionally delving into the details of the injury, your passion for health and well-being shining through. "And, um... it's good to have someone who understands the injury to provide follow-up care," you concluded, realising you had been speaking more than intended. "Sorry, I'm rambling," you added with a sincere smile.

But William simply chuckled softly, finding your passion endearing as you spoke about the injury. He couldn't tear his gaze away from you, captivated by both your expertise and your beauty.

"Anyway, we should probably get back," you suggested softly, your friendly smile causing a flutter in William's heart.

But he didn't want this moment to end, not yet. Summoning his usual confidence, William spoke before he could second-guess himself. "Y/n, do you want to go out with me?" he asked, the words tumbling out faster than he could skate.

You didn't quite catch his words over the echoing noise of the hallways. "Pardon?" you asked, turning to face him, curiosity flickering in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, William tried again. "I mean, since you've already massaged my ass... I was just thinking... maybe you want to go out with me... sometime?"

His question caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. Frozen in your position, you struggled to process the unexpected turn of events.

“Willy…” you started, unsure of how to respond. Could you go out with him, a player for the team you worked for? Had you overlooked any contractual restrictions regarding such situations?

Truth be told, you hadn't paid much attention to those details before, as they didn't seem relevant at the time. Yet here you were, faced with an unexpected situation.

As you hesitated, William sensed your uncertainty, a twinge of fear for rejection creeping into his mind. Had he overstepped the boundaries? Perhaps he had misread the signals or been too presumptuous. Chiding himself internally, he realised that charming you and engaging in physical contact were not enough to win your affections. You were different, and he needed to find a way to impress you.

"I mean," he interjected, attempting to ease the tension he had created. "I just know that, uhm, some of the other guys were, you know, thinking about asking you the same... so," he sighed, "Just thought I'd try and beat them to it," he added with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your confusion deepened at his explanation, feeling overwhelmed by the revelation. "Oh... wait, what?" you exclaimed, your mind racing at the thought of other players potentially having similar intentions.

You were baffled. Did the players talk about you when you weren’t there?

"You didn't know?" William looked at you, equally surprised, as his teammates hadn’t exactly been subtle in their flirting.

"Well, do I look like someone who knew?" you quipped, attempting to flash a crooked smile, causing William to simply let out a small laugh.

“Come on, they’ve all been flirting with you!” he chuckled.

“They have?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Well, now you know.”

You needed a moment to process it all. As you contemplated how to navigate this unexpected revelation, feeling unable to simply ignore it and return to your usual routine, you gazed at the Swede before you.

“But... why?”

Again, William laughed. “What do you mean why? Come on, y/n – you’re good-looking, funny, smart, and most of all, you don’t seem desperate or starstruck whenever you're around us,” he explained.

“Why would I be that?” you simply asked.

“Well, a lot of girls are, I mean, we’re hockey players,” William grinned confidently.

“Oh wow, please work on that self-confidence of yours,” you rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms. “Seriously, I don’t get why women would just throw themselves at your feet… you’re just… humans.”

“Well, they do,” William laughed again, his confident smirk still in place. “But I guess that’s just what we all like about you... that you don’t...”

“Hmm, I suppose I don’t,” you attempted a smile, still uncertain how to react to it all.

There was another moment of silence as the two of you simply stood before each other, your thoughts still swirling. However, as William hadn’t received a clear response, he let out a soft chuckle and decided to press on.

“So, do you?”

“Huh?” you blinked a few times, slowly returning to reality.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he chuckled once more. “Just for a coffee or something?”

He seemed genuinely serious about this, didn’t he? You thought. As you gazed into his deep ocean blue eyes, you couldn’t ignore the unexpected attraction you suddenly felt towards him. It might have been there for a while, but amidst your own musings, you hadn’t paid it much attention.

“Well, wouldn’t it be inappropriate?” you asked softly, still maintaining your professional demeanour despite the stirrings of emotion within you. But William simply shrugged in response.

“I don’t know… I mean, I guess in a way…” he let out a small sigh. “I just didn’t want to miss the chance, you know, in case you did want to…”

Once again, there was a lingering moment in the air. You couldn’t deny the temptation, given that you were, in fact, single, and had been missing a man’s touch ever since you’d focused so much on your internship. But a part of you felt like it would be wrong.

In a way, you worked for William. You couldn’t go out with him. What if it didn’t go well, and he’d hurt you or vice versa? Then it would just be awkward seeing each other every day. Or what if it went too well, but the management wouldn’t approve of it, and both of you would end up being hurt?

Your thoughts raced at a high speed, causing you to lightly gasp for air. Yet, your train of thoughts was interrupted by the door swinging open again and this time Lou entered.

“Oh hey,” he smiled. “You guys all done in here?”

“Yeah sorry, we just chatted,” William explained casually, as you remained frozen in position. “I better go.”

And as he left the room and Lou started to talk to you, you suddenly felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. Watching William leave with your indirect rejection of his proposal suddenly caused you to feel a sense of unease, perhaps making you realise that there was something more to it all.

Then as you realised you hadn’t heard a single word of what Lou had said, you excused yourself and hurriedly followed the Swedish player.

“Hey, Willy,” you called after him, causing him to halt and turn around. Trying to maintain your composure, you met him halfway and flashed him a sweet smile. “I suppose coffee wouldn’t be too bad,” you spoke softly, earning a smile from the taller player.

“Well then, I guess I’ll buy you a cup whenever there’s time,” he chuckled lightly, feeling a sense of relief.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you said with a soft smile, then turned around and forced yourself to refocus on work.

And as you walked away, William couldn’t help but bite his lip as he thought proudly about being the first to ask you out and your positive response. Finally, he could acknowledge all the emotions he’d been feeling for a while, and perhaps, just perhaps, you felt the same for him.

#my asks #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year ago

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Femme Fatale Guide: Top Career Tips To Set Yourself Up For Success

Figure out where your skills and passions align. Then determine the lifestyle/work culture you thrive in and what sacrifices you're willing to make in your chosen career path (for some, it's always traveling/talking to people 24/7, working late hours, unpredictable/unconventional hours, potentially lower pay/less predictable income, etc.). It truly depends on your top values, your personality, and your goals/priorities in life.

First focus on getting incredibly talented at your craft. Find a mentor(s) who will push you with their feedback/suggestions. Take classes/skills courses/read books & articles to gain more applicable knowledge/hard skills. Join clubs, apply to internships, volunteer, and request informational interviews in your desired field.

Make your skills marketable. Create a professional resume and/or neat portfolio/collection of work samples. Discover and articulate your USP (that should essentially serve as the backbone of your elevator pitch). Frame your skills through a customer/business-centric lens. How does your experience/skillset solve their problems and help a company/client achieve their goals?

Build a network for yourself. Don't be shy to reach out to companies/individuals who inspire you. Speak with your secondary school teachers and professors for connections. Create peer-to-peer networks, too, so you can grow together. Be a fearless networker and connector. Help others, do favors, and make the person glad they met/hired you. Make it your objective to be memorable through your work ethic/providing high-quality work products and showing up with a motivated & overall positive attitude allows people to like and trust you with their time, clients, money, etc.

Master the art of a killer email/cold pitch. Especially in today's world, learning how to sell yourself through intriguing emails/LinkedIn messages is the key to unlocking potential success. One client or opportunity can create momentum that will be useful years down the line, too.

When in doubt, follow up – on an email, pitch, job opportunity, connection, etc.

Be ruthless and relentless with your research. For new contacts, connections, opportunities, and information to support your pitches/job interviews/networking conversations, new technologies, and trends within your field. Read everything credible you can get your hands on. Display working knowledge and practical applications of these concepts and how they can benefit the person in front of you/their business.

Create systems. For how you structure emails/pitches, conduct research, different types of workflows/ work template structures for different types of projects, time-blocking, client funnels, etc.

Get comfortable with rejection. Use it as a primer for self-reflection and refining your craft/processes or help you pivot your approach to help you achieve your goals. Never take business decisions on behalf of a company personally (and vice versa).

Give yourself breaks, but don't give up. Tapping out for good is the only surefire way to fail at an endeavor. Be flexible in your path, but zeroed in on your goal(s). Learn when to quit or pivot, and when it's time to coast or seek growth.

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hotchfiles · 9 months ago

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ 7 minutes in heaven hell ❞ ─ a kiss with a fist blurb ; NSFW!

pairing: lawschool!aaron hotchner x lawschool!reader. summary: getting a law degree is a pain, especially if you end up sharing the same classes with someone as competitive as you. or: academic rivals to lovers get heated up on a game of 7 minutes in heaven. content warnings: foul language. alcohol consumption. weed consumption. very steamy make out in a dark locked small room. this is an AU (i was lazy to make it year appropriate, so it's set today). i also have no clue how law school works in the usa i only have my own law degree to go from. relationship status on this blurb: academic rivals on the same friend group. word count: 1.5k

One spot. You read the notice by the door and feel your insides burn, your eyes search for something and it's easy to find it, he's glancing back not far from you, the same passion, the same burn crossing his face.

The best internship had opened one spot. You could have the chance to work under the best professor on campus. Hotchner was thinking the same thing as you, you knew it: There was no way you would let him take your spot. You two weren't competing with the rest of the second years, you were competing with each other.

"I saw the notice first, don't fucking dare." His threatening tone comes between gritted teeth and it makes you laugh as you enter the classroom.

"Hotch darling, I'm not even going to pretend to listen to that." Your reply comes in teasing as it always did, your eyes glued to your phone as you typed in your information in the website provided on the notice.

Your little feud began during the first year, very early on as you two competed to get professors' attention when questions were asked, each trying to come up with a response faster. But it was solidified when you scored slightly higher than him on your criminal law test–his path of choice after graduating. Of course the problem wasn’t really the fact you scored higher, but it was how you decided to smear it on his face every time the opportunity came to you.

The thing about constantly fighting for the top that not many people talk about is how isolating it can be, that was probably why the top 7 of your classes ended up flocking together, the bunch of you were always the ones at the library, always the first ones to get to class and the last to leave, it got to a point that talking to each other and being friends was the natural course of action, even if you all knew there was no limits when it came to sabotage if necessary, no offense taken.

You didn’t mind it, you didn’t see them as competitors, the only one in the group who had the same drive and the same talent as you was Aaron Hotchner, he was the enemy. Your only real rival.

And at this moment your rival was right in front of you, sitting in a circle on the floor of two of your friends’ apartment, cheap beer in hand and stupid smile across his face. His cheeks are red from how much he’s drunk already and it annoys you how sweet he looks like this when you know he can be an absolute asshole when he feels like it. And he always feels like it when it comes to you.

“Guess all of you already signed up for the selection, yeah?” One of the girls comments, coming back to the circle with chips and a joint to pass around. Every single one of you hums. “Joseph’s dad works with her, don’t think any of us have a chance.”

“Joseph? Who’s that?” Aaron is annoyed already, why even ask students to sign up if this type of connection was always the winner? at least with you the fight was clean, it was fair, just two nerds pulling all nighters to get good grades.

“McSleepy.” The same girl answers, the living room gets loud in complaints and groans, there were too many students so nicknames were the way to remember, Joseph McSleepy was always sleeping during classes because he didn’t care enough. He had the money, the parents and the connections.

“Oh fuck off, that’s really… Just–fuck off.” You take the joint from someone’s hand and hog it for a while, taking more than a drag of it. “And what happened to not talking about school when we’re here?”

“Real, let’s play something and forget about our upcoming failure.” One of the boys tells the group while stealing the joint from your hand and you go back to cheap beer, waiting for the group to decide what to do with your evening.

Again the whole room gets loud, some think karaoke is a good idea, others just want to get to some bar. And then some idiot suggests 7 minutes in heaven.

“Fun, so we’re all teenagers now.” Hotchner speaks your mind before you can, not an unusual thing to happen, but it was always awful to notice how similar you two could be. His tone is dry as his humor usually is, but it doesn’t stop the others from placing a bottle in the middle of the circle.

You could leave, as could he, but the alcohol, the joint and the sad truth that your friends would be making your life hell for not being a good sport kept your asses glued to the floor and your eyes on the bottle. The moment it began spinning around the realization that you could be trapped in a closet with Aaron spun your brain around, preparing yourself to get up and leave before it could happen.

If only luck was on your side.

As if the object could read your mind, it stopped pointing to you and back to Hotch, a loud cheer came from your friends as he shook his head, trying to argue to spin it again, they wouldn’t let that happen if it were anyone else even, but being the two of you just made it more fun to everyone involved.

For one, the two of you were the most academically gifted and hardworking, so they enjoyed making you squirm, the no offense taken rule made it okay for them to gang up on you two at times. But more than that, the bickering was annoying to them, especially when they were trying to study, so for them it was like a bit of a punishment you and Aaron deserved.

You gulped down the rest of your beer in a mouthful and before you could even try to fight it you were pushed to the smallest and darkest closet you’ve ever seen, let alone been in. It was warm and you could feel his breath down on you along with his imposing presence.

“So this is it? We just stay here for 7 minutes?” You’re not sure why he’s whispering but you are about to agree with him, but something comes to mind and maybe it’s the beer but you get to thinking that if McSleepy was the only competition you could maybe convince your professor you were a better pick than someone for their name only. But you needed to get Hotch out of the way, he needed to give it up.

You're both already close enough, but you pull him by his shirt either way, tip toeing to get to his ear. “We could have some fun too–” You place one knee on his crotch making him groan, “If–And only if, you give up trying for the internship.”

His scoff to your proposition throws you off slightly, maybe it was your mistake to think it would be easier, he’s a man, it shouldn’t be too hard to get what you wanted with the right offer, right? “Sweetcheeks, you’re gorgeous, don’t get me wrong. Just not enough to make me quit anything.”

Your cheeks redden with anger from the rejection and you’re glad it’s dark so he won’t see it. You won’t insist on it, that would be too humiliating, but your gears shift and it’s like a lightbulb turns on in your brain: Make him suffer. Get him begging.

Instead of replying to his little insult, you move your lips to his neck, keeping your knee exactly in the same spot as it was originally, slightly putting more pressure on him as your lips work on leaving wet kisses on his neck.

Aaron can sense what you’re doing but he prides on bring a self-controlled man, not usually the type to let anything cloud his judgment–especially not you. But this is a different situation than normal, it’s a game, a game where he could simply take what you’re willingly giving and forget about it later. He didn’t promise you anything, after all.

Again, he groans by your ear, very much enjoying your touches, his hands gripping by the sides of your hips under your shirt, as one of yours begin palming his already stiff cock over his jeans, your mouth never touches his even though he tries and each of his attempts to slide his hands higher to your breasts are met with obvious rejection, your hands pulling them back down.

“C’monnnn… I know you’re torturing me but fuck.” His whiny voice through the complain makes you grin, especially when he once more shifts your face to him with his hand, again trying to connect your lips to his and failing as the door unlocked showing the 7 minutes had passed. You peek down to his bulge and laugh because even though you’re definitely wet, he’s the one who’s gonna go straight to the bathroom to either calm down or jerk off.

“Think you might need some time alone, Hotch darling, see you back at the living room.”

#lari writes sometimes #i gotta create the masterlist too gosh #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario #lawschool!hotch #hotch smut #aaron hotchner smut

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gardens-light · 3 months ago

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The Intern

With the alliance between the Autobot's and the U.S government straining by the day, clearly something needed to be done to restore faith and trust- despite the classified operations of N.E.S.T successfully defeating the Decepticons over two years ago. Therefore, Major Lennox and his commanding officers created TTF- Transformers Talent Forge. An internship offered to only the most skilled and promising personnel within the U.S Defence Force , providing an opportunity of a lifetime to work side-by-side with N.E.S.T and the Autobots...

Content: Mild Coarse Language. Events takes place in 'Transformers- Revenge of the Fallen.' Autobot/Ratchet x F/Human reader. Reader Insert.

Intern Series- Part 2 Part 3

Word Count- 3,500K

N.E.S.T- Diego Garcia. 8:30am

"Come on, Private! Keep up!"

"Ye-Yes, sir." Snapping out of your daydream gaze, running after your lieutenant.

Pulling the strap of your military duffle bag a little more over your shoulder. Trying not to stare at the sights and sounds that surrounded you in the hangar, as you followed Lieutenant Smith's footsteps. Roughed up concrete lined the floors, only the unpredictable pattern of tyre marks 'decorated' what once was a smooth surface.

Various military personnel roaming around tables and various stations filled with all sorts of gizmos, gadgets and computer systems lined either side of the hangar. Creating an almost 'catwalk' like feel for the concrete flooring which ran through the middle.

"Alright, so this is where we communicate with the JCS. And this area serves as the Autobots' hangar."

Your curious gaze wandered over the various vehicles which was casually parked on the left side of the hangar.

"The living quarters are to your right. Third door down. But once introduced to our Major, you'll be debriefed further and provided a map- this place is like a maze. I don't know what it's like where you're from Private, but here. Every day's different. So learn quick and learn fast." Lieutenant Smith slowly halted, facing you with a smile. "But don't think you'll be going through this alone. You're among family now-"

"Excuse me!" a commanding tone filled the hangar, drawing your attention to the scaffolding-like structure which stood in the centre of the military space. Lining up perfectly with the concrete 'catwalk.'

"And just like any other family household, we occasionally have our fair share of rodents." Lieutenant Smith whispered into your ear, causing a smile to tease the corner of your lips.

Complete awe flashed across your features, eyes widen as your gaze soaked in the sight before you.

H-Holy shit... that's Optimus Prime!

"With this so-called AllSpark now destroyed, why hasn't the enemy left the planet like you thought they would?" Director Galloway questioned the Autobot. His voice holding a firm tone, as he adjusted his glasses once coming to the landing of the scaffolding-like structure. Which brought him and other military personnel more to Optimus' height.

"Forgive the interruption, General." Galloway's scowl expression faced the monitor before him. Seeming not to care that he was talking directly to the Pentagon, "but after all the damage in Shanghai, the President is... hard-pressed to say the job's getting done. Now... under the classified Alien/Autobot Cooperation Act, you agreed to share your intel with us, but not your advancements in weaponry.-"

"We've witnessed your human capacity for war." Optimus' smooth yet authudicating tone rumbled throughout the hangar, his words almost holding a sharp edge. "It would absolutely bring more harm than good-"

"But who are you to judge what's best for us?-"

"With all due respect, we've been fighting side by side in the field for two years!" A small chuckle came to you, as Major Lennox's familiar tone came to your ears.

"We've shed blood, sweat and precious metal together!" Lieutenant Smith called out.

"Soldier! You're paid to shoot. Not talk."

Lieutenant Smith rolled his eyes at Galloway's snarky comment. His unamused expression turning to you as he whispered, "don't tempt me."

"And the... newest members of your team. I understand they arrived here after you sent a message into space, an open invitation! Come to Earth! Vetted by no one at the White House!-"

"Let me stop you right there, Mr. Galloway. It was vetted right here." A voice from the Pentagon crackled through the monitor. "And in my experience, the judgment of both Major Lennox and his team, has always... been above reproach-"

"Well... be that as it may, General. It is the position of the President when our national security is at stake... no one... is above reproach." Galloway turned his attention back onto Prime. "Now... what do we know so far? We know that the enemy leader, classified NBE One, aka, Megatron. Is rusting in peace at the bottom of the Laurentian Abyssal, surrounded by SOSUS detection nets and a full-time submarine surveillance."

"We also know that the only remaining piece of your alien AllSpark is locked in an electromagnetic vault. Here on one of the most secure naval bases in the world! And since no one can seem to tell me what the enemy is now after, well.. there's only clear conclusion!... You! The Autobots!" Galloway's glare narrowed. "They're here to hunt you!"

You begun to slowly shift your weight from one foot to the other. The smile fading upon your lips as the atmosphere within the hangar begun to grow tense.

"What's there to hunt for on Earth besides that? 'The Fallen shall rise again'?... It sounds to me like something's coming. So... let me ask, if we... ultimately conclude that our national security is best served by denying you further asylum on our planet. Will you leave... peacefully?"

All eyes turned on Optimus. The tension grew thicker. You could almost hear everyone hold their breaths as all hung onto his answer.

"Freedom is your right. If you make that request, we will honor it. But... Before your President decides, please ask him this... What if we leave and you're wrong?"

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. Why do I have a feeling that I've came at a bad time?...

Optimus straightened his posture as Lennox ran a hand through his short, brunette hair. "That's a good question-"

"Major! The intern is here!" Lieutenant Smith shouted from the ground. A small smirk teasing his lips, knowing his voice briefly deafened Mr Galloway while he awkwardly climbed the steps down.

"Here... let me take your things." You looked at the lieutenant, holding out his hand. Simply gesturing towards the scaffolding stairs with a slight nod. "You'll be fine."

Taking a couple of deep breaths before handing over your duffle bag, your heart slightly picking up pace as you climbed the stairs. Flashing the soldiers a weak smile, as their curious gazes turned away from their monitors and onto you.

"So, is it every day that the government comes round to bite your asses?" your cocky tone slightly eased the tension in the air. Greeting Lennox with a salute as his soft gaze fell onto you, a relieved smile teasing his lips.

"At ease, Private. No need to be so formal... nah, they don't come by often. But when they do, it's just my ass that gets bitten." A small chuckle left Lennox as he embraced you with a warm, tight hug. "Ah Valkyrie... it's been so long. How you've been? Keeping out of trouble?"

"You know me, Lennox." You looked up at him with a warm smile, slowly breaking away from his embrace. "Trouble just seems to follow wherever I go. Speaking of which... things gotta be bad for you to pull some strings to get my name picked."

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips, lowering his voice to just above a whisper as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "You have no idea." Guiding you a little closer to railings, Lennox cleared his throat and gestured to the Autobot. "Allow me to introduce you to the leader of the Autobots, Optimus Prime. Prime... this is Private Y/N, aka 'Valkyrie.' She's the intern I've personally chosen for Ratchet."

Swallowing your nerves, your heart fluttered a little as Prime's stern gaze softened. A welcoming smile spreading across his face plates as his blue optics settled upon you.

"A-A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure is all mine." His smooth, calm tone melted your nerves. Causing a sweet smile to tug at your lips, "I've heard a great deal of good things about you from Major Lennox. He said you're quite an experienced medic, and had been... trained specifically for field duty, correct?"

"Correct. I've been serving the U.S military for three years. My experience varies on and off the field."

Optimus nodded in approval, a glimmer of hope flickered within his optics. "Regarding your earlier observation, I won't lie that things have been... difficult here. My medical officer, Ratchet has been... having issues with the interns assigned to him." Exhaustion crept into his words, rubbing his temples. "He's... not exactly impressed with them, and it's gotten your superiors... annoyed to say the least."

Lennox gave you a weak smile, "and... I figured, if anyone could work with Ratchet, despite his... rough edges, it's you. You're one of the best damn medics I've ever fought alongside with! And you know I've seen my fair share of skilled personnel during my career."

Your curious gaze flickered between the two, " so basically... you picked me because the Autobot keeps kicking out his inexperienced interns... how long have they lasted?"

Optimus and Lennox hesitated for moment, giving each other nervous glances before the major finally spoke up. "The longest was a week... the shortest was two hours."

"What?-"

"He's just... very strict with his demands. But you out of anyone would understand how a unit are highly dependent on the medical expertise of their medic!" Lennox gave your shoulder a comforting pat, "you've got what it takes, you've been out there! And to be fair it's not just him. The previous interns were... problematic too- but! I have full faith in you!-"

"Behind Ratchet's gruff exterior and sarcastic tone, lies a soft spark and a bot who genuinely cares for his team." Optimus assured, "you just... need to chip away at his concrete walls. Are you... familiar with Cybertronian biology? Or at least came up close to our kind?"

"Unfortunately... no. But that's why I'm here, to learn and become apart of this team." A small smirk teased the corners of your lips. "But as for getting 'up close' to your kind... does shooting a Decepticon in the face count?"

Optimus coughed out a chuckle, the air almost getting stuck within his vocal processor while Lennox tried to hide his smirk.

"Well... I suppose I should introduce you to Ratchet." Lennox spoke, finally clearing his throat and composing himself.

Optimus simply nodded, giving the pair of you a warm smile as Lennox gently guided you away from the railings and back towards the stairs of the scaffolding.

---

Approaching the neighboring hangar, which was surprisingly on the smaller side than the previous. Lennox paused before opening the medbay doors, giving you a slight glance over his shoulder. "You... might wanna wait out here for a minute. Ratchet... hates surprises."

"He's that bad, huh?" crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

"No. No, it's just..." a heavy sigh left Lennox. "The... 'higher ups' are constantly breathing down my neck and second guessing our whole operation- not just N.E.S.T, but the internship too. Surely you heard Galloways bullshit."

"I did... but I won't add further stress by poking and prodding you for information about what's going on. I'm sure I'll figure it out."

Lennox gave you a weak, appreciative smile before entering the medbay, leaving you outside as you subtlety peeked your head around the corner of the large door frame.

"What have you done this time, Ironhide?" the major attempted to keep his casual tone, as his footsteps echoed upon the tire-marked concrete flooring.

"Blasted Decepticon punk got a lucky shot at me!" Ironhide snarled as he man-handled the large cannon that refused to retract back into his forearm. An annoyed expression flashing across Ironhide's face plate while sitting at Ratchet's peds, a small huff escaping him as the medic pushed his servo away.

"That's what you get for being reckless during the mission." Lennox took a deep breath before turning his attention onto the Autobot medic. "Ratchet... I have someone important that I'd like you to meet."

The yellow and red Autobots' annoyed glare briefly flickered towards Lennox, before turning back to Ironhide's arm. "And who, exactly, do I need to meet right now?"

Lennox hesitated for a moment. "Your... new intern..."

Ratchet immedictly paused, his glare narrowing onto the major. "What?! You know I-" a heavy sigh escaped the medic as he stopped himself from arguing. Closing his optics tightly while pinching the bridge of his nose, "... who is it?"

"Private Y/N but she mainly goes by the nickname, 'Valkyrie.' She's a personal friend of mine- we fought alongside together back in my old unit during her first two years of service. You'll like her."

For the love of Primus, please tell me that this some sort of joke. Ratchet's servo ran down his face plate, Lennox's unfaltering expression caused the Autobot to let out a frustrated sigh. Great... another intern to get in my way. Just what I need! "... bring her in then."

Lennox briefly glanced at you over his shoulder, his hand giving a small gesture behind his back.

Taking a deep breath and composing yourself for a moment, before entering the medbay. Greeting both Autobot's with a professional smile, saluting once you reached Lennox's side. "Pleasure to meet you, Medical Officer Ratchet, sir. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Ratchet's skeptic expression slowly melted away, as his optics soaked in your appearance. Your polite yet professional tone made his shoulders relax, your body language and how your military uniform framed your toned and confident physic, grapsed Ratchet's attention. The suttle scars upon your skin was Lennox's proof that you were indeed experienced within the field.

She's certainly not giving me a awkward smile, or hiding behind Lennox. Perhaps... she's not gonna be as bad as the others.

"Likewise... Valkyrie... Welcome."

A low purr emerged from Ironhide's engine, as his optics roamed over your relaxed frame. His voice just above a whisper, "oh... she is a babe- ah!"

Annoyance flashed across Ratchet's optics, his gaze narrowed onto Ironhide as he whacked the weapons' specialist upside upon his helm. The medic's free servo clutched onto Ironhide's forearm tighter than necessary, causing the gun-metal coloured Autobot to wince in pain.

"Anyway..." attempting to ignore your confused expression, Ratchet's attention returned to Ironhide's arm. Picking up one of his tools from a nearby table, and adjusting a bolt within his comrade's inner circuits, "I assume Lennox has debriefed you..."

"Only that I'll be working alongside you. Learning and understanding what it's going to take to patch up you Autobots."

I suppose that's a good starting point. "You're going to be helping me in the medbay, yes. Though for your first day, today I'll just get you to learn basic Cybertronian anatomy. And depending on how the day goes, I might get you to watch how I treat the common injuries we get." Ratchet's optics briefly flickered at you, "and I mean, just watching. Don't try anything unless I say so. I've... had some rather eager interns in the past that didn't know how to stay put."

You gave the Autobot a firm nod, "understood. I know how annoying it can be, when someone's trying to stick their nose into your work."

A small, suttle sigh of relief escaped Lennox as he witnessed Ratchet's expression becoming more... neutral. A genuine smile teased the corners of the medic's lips, his optics softening. Fucking finally...

"Well... I'll leave you two, to it." Lennox whispered, patting you on the back. And giving Ratchet a 'I-told-you-so' smile, before leaving the medbay.

"I believe Lieutenant Smith placed your belongings on a desk over there." Ratchet gestured towards a stainless steel desk, it's 'human size' looked almost like dollhouse furniture, compared to the hologram monitors and workspaces that was more to Ratchet's height. Your duffle bag almost drowned under the piles of folders and paperwork, "apologies for the mess. But... feel free to settle in. Once I'm done with Ironhide, we'll start your training."

You briefly gave him a sweet smile, before approaching the desk which was somewhat tucked neatly away in the corner close to you. Ratchet continued fixing and adjusting the stuck cog within Ironhide's forearm, the gun-metal Autobot wincing as his cannon finally retracted.

"Hm... Perhaps your interns should of been femmes from the start- ah!-"

Ratchet's glare bore into his comrade's optics, a low snarl rumbling in the back his vocal processor. As the medic's grip upon Ironhide's forearm tightened, scratching his paint, "shut. It!"

The weapon's specialist pulled his limb away, but his teasing smirk never leaving his lips. His flirtatious gaze lingering on you for a brief moment before turning away, and finally leaving the medbay.

A heavy sigh left Ratchet as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking a moment to compose himself before looking at you, only to raise an optic ridge. Annoyance should of bubbled within his chassis, as his gaze watched you organize the mess upon the human-sized desk. Taking a brief glance into the files, before you placed them in their respected piles.

Instead, curiosity peaked his interest as you seemed become distracted by a particular folder within your hands. Ratchet's spark subtly pulsed a little quicker, as his optics soaked in your focused expression. It was as though he seemed to... admire your interest...

"That folder you have there... might be classified."

"Oh!" quickly snapping the folder shut, surprise slightly flickering across your features as your wide eyes witnessed the medic kneel towards you. The realization of the size difference between you becoming more obvious than before, "sorry. I was... just curious... about Megatron."

"I... understand your curiosity. But those papers relating to Megatron are restricted for a reason." His firm tone matched his body language, holding out a servo towards you.

Only for a mixture of appreciation and surprise flicker within his optics, when your soft gaze looked up at him. A sweet apologetic smile spreading across your lips, as you held out the folder towards him. The object looking comedicly out of place within the palm of his servo. She... didn't argue or protest? Just... accepted the restricted access...

"He seemed like one tough son-of-a-bitch."

A small hint of concern eased into you, as Ratchet's servo curled into a tight fist.

"You... could say that." Ratchet's tone slowly changed back to his gruff demeanor, but his words held a sharp edge. "He was one cruel and sadistic bastard. He and the Decepticons would stoop down to any level! Even if that level is tearing out the still beating spark of their foe!"

Sympathy and concern softened your features. The hidden memories reckoning within his words, tugged upon your heart strings.

"I've... had my fair share of encounters with him. Almost came close to... deactivation more than once because of him."

A small moment of hesitation stole your voice before you could squeak out your question. "De...activation...?"

A heavy sigh escaped Ratchet, as his optics briefly looked away from you. It's probably best if she hears it from me, than the others. "In 'our' terms... it basically means death. I've... came very close to it by Megatron's hands."

Ratchet's spark fluttered as you placed a hand over his closed digits. Your gentle touch sending warmth throughout his frame, causing his shoulders to relax. A stuttle heat slowly spread across his faceplate, as his processors burned your sweet, comforting smile deep into his memory core. Why... does she make me feel... so-

"Badass ice-cream truck coming through!-"

"Excuse me. Excuse me!-"

A small yelp of surprise escaped you, as two playful voices suddenly disturbed the air as a 1930's Chevrolet truck came into view. The pink and white paint almost completely faded away, only to be overtaken by dirt and rust.

The back of your legs pushed up against the stainless steel desk, as you leaned backwards. Confusion washed away your previous expression, as the voice's came from the singular vehicle. Ratchet closed his optics as annoyce begun to bubble back up within him.

"That... would be Skids and Mudflap..." the medic sighed.

Your confused yet curious gaze followed the 1930's ice-cream truck roam around the other side of the medbay hangar, leaving new tire-marks upon the concrete flooring as it circled two Mini Coopers. The red and green colours shining like new, polished metal compared to the truck.

"Hold up-"

"Those are nice. Yeah baby, it's upgrade time-"

"Yeah, sir yeah! Look here, it's my booty call right here!"

You looked at Ratchet with a puzzled expression. Giving the medic a silent question as he rubbed his temples, do they... even know what a 'booty call' is...?

The sound of turning cogs, whirling gears and shifting positions filled the air, making your eyes widen as the truck separated into two small Autobots. Possibly coming to Ratchet's waist if they stood next to his 20ft frame.

"Time to get my sexy on with the green-"

"Green? No, the green's mine! I call green!-"

You quickly reached for Ratchet's servo, your touch barely covering the tip of his digit, as the medic remained knelt beside you like a protective giant. A small gasp escaped your lips as Skids tackled Mudflap to the ground, causing violent vibrations to echo throughout the hangar and beneath your feet. You winced at the sound of metal clashing against metal, as the twins fists collided. Another vibration echoed through floor, like a ripple through water, as Skids grabbed his brother into a headlock, flipping the younger Autobot over his frame and forcing Mudflap onto his back.

"I got the green!-"

"That hurts man!-"

"It's supposed to hurt. It's an ass-kicking!"

Another heavy sigh escaped Ratchet as he tried to compose himself, still rubbing his temples while his free servo still welcomed your soft touch. For Primus sake...

#x reader #gardens light #fanfiction #fanfic writing #bayverse x reader #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #bayverse transformers #autobots x reader #x y/n #autobot ratchet x reader #ratchet x reader #bayverse ratchet #autobot ratchet

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crisiscutie · 3 months ago

Note

Yooo been ages, miss you boo! 👀 that you're asking for requests to help with writers blocks. Lets see...

How about if Vincent actually fell for that adorable intern who worked with lucrecia instead? Considering lucrecia revived him out of guilt when he confronted hojo, maybe he as chaos instinctively looked for the darling afterward?

Make it as yandere slash monstrous however much you like it! Or tame. Or drama filled if lucrecia gets jealous, hojo meddling with Vincent's crush, or whatever.

Hey there bae! Thank you so much for this interesting request! Let's just say there are some pretty interesting implications if you spy some hints 👀...

Content Warning: Nothing really beside drama and angst. Pregnant Darling.

Pairing: 🕵️Turk Vincent Valentine/Intern Darling👩‍🔬

Vincent's hand gently glided down your aching body, providing support as he stood you up. Yes, you expected your first pregnancy to be difficult, but that doesn't mean you couldn't complain. The frequent morning sickness, swollen feet, and a back that felt like it was full of tiny painful knots made almost every moment hell for you. That's ignoring the strange, lucid dreams you had since it started. Were those dreams a normal part of pregnancy, or were they a result of the "treatments" you've been involved in? There was no way for you to know, as you had never experienced pregnancy before and had no one trustworthy to guide you. And it would stay like that until you're out of Nibelheim with Vincent tonight.

Although he wanted to give you time to rest and relax, he knew it wasn't feasible. This plan had been in the works for a while, but the worsening of your condition forced both you two to act now. Neither of you could let Hojo and Lucrecia continue their twisted experiments on you. Lucrecia had you doing busy work as her intern until she and Hojo offered you the opportunity to carry their child, in exchange for the better life you'd get after they're born. And like the feckless grunt you were, you took it, and it easily became the worst decision you ever made in your life.

"I'm fine, Vincent," you said and moved away from his grasp. You picked up a small bag and hastily walked down the hallway. Just as you were about to reach the entrance, he caught up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Darling. We need to talk."

"We don't have much-"

"No, you need to listen to me," you pleaded, turning around to meet his pained, red eyes. Your own eyes were on the verge of tears. "You didn't ask for this. You had no idea they were going to subject you and their child to experiments."

"That's the point! I should've fucking known! Two lunatics somehow needing a surrogate should've been suspicious from the start! And I didn't even want to do it. But I let them talk me into it. All because I wanted the money for us to settle down..."

"And we can still do that now. We'd give their child a normal life away from this. Together." he whispered. That very last word of his broke you down. You're not sure you're ready to be a parent. You're just barely getting started with adulthood, but this mess happened. A part of you knew you should've stayed a paper pusher in this shitty science department. Despite this internship from hell, there was one silver lining, Vincent himself.

Ever since you were assigned to work under Lucrecia, he has always been there for you. He was not just a shield to protect you from harm; he was your soulmate. The only bond you had within the cold, dark halls of this mansion. She wanted you to stay away from, but you couldn't care less. He was simply the best you could ever ask for.

"There might be guards outside, waiting for us..." you said.

He moved in closer, resting his forehead against yours. "We'll make it through," he assured, before giving you a deep and passionate kiss. It caught you off guard, but this reassurance was exactly what you needed. Your frown transformed into a small smile.

"I'll hold you to that," you said, squeezing his hand. He chuckled in response. Resting your other hand on your belly, you both continued to walk together. You knew there would be people waiting on the other side of that door, but you were ready to face them down with Vincent at your side.

I had to cut a bit out but I definitely wanna continue this if y'all liked it?

#vincent valentine x reader #vincent valentine #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy x reader #x reader #reader insert #pregnant reader #character x reader #afab reader #ff7 fanfic #ff7 #final fantasy vii #tw: pregnancy

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arvensimp · 5 months ago

Text

your father should know, pt. 4

Arven leaves you with something more than either of you bargained for when he goes off to Kalos for an internship, and through a series of miscommunications and heartbreak, he returns a few years later to learn that he actually has a child.

arven x fem!reader, nsfw content (in pt. 1), pregnancy (pts. 1, 2, & 2.5), angst, and stupid miscommunications

[part 1][part 2][part 2.5][part 3]

I'M HERE AGAIN THANKS FOR THE WAIT. SORRY ABOUT BEING THE WAY I AM LMAO please enjoy the next installment. it's not beta'd i'm out here livin like larry

[Group Chat: Team Star? More Like, Time To Go To HR AmIRight???]

WalkWalkFashionBaby: hey @ ParadoxChamp is this your man?

WalkWalkFashionBaby: [sent a photo]

[Image description: A man with wavy, longish ash blond and light brown hair, accompanied by a Mabosstiff, walking down the streets of Mesagoza. His hands are in his pockets, and he seems to be smiling.]

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: ?????????

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: !!!!!!!?!

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: yo wtf

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: first of all that deadbeat isnt her man ortega

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: second

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: yea uh

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: @ paradoxchamp did you know he was back in town???????

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: third @ giacomo4pm momo if you don't change our nicknames in this chat back to normal I will absolutely dox you (again) and then change them back myself

Giacomo4pm: Can do, will do.

Giacomo4pm: Also, yo, damn, what's he doing back? I thought he fled the country or whatever.

Rika: so the sperm donor's here. Just came up the hill asking for you. Want me to send him packing?

Rika: yeah u do

Rika: well... I do.

Rika: also unrelated, holy sHIT, man's genes are strong. It's like I'm looking into a time machine for Basil's future.

Rika: except, you know. Basil will be way cooler and more handsome with your genes mixed in.

Rika: ❤️

Rika: plus no shitty facial hair.

Rika: or better facial hair.

Rika: anyway, I'm gonna eviscerate him.

Rika: love you. ❤️

You had been in Area Zero, gathering information on moth pokemon for Jacq when the director called, his usually placid voice laced with an edge of steel.

"Basil's father just stopped by." He says without preamble.

Your heart sinks, and you nearly lose your grip on Raidon, only barely managing to stay upright and drag the pokemon to a halt.

"His what?" You splutter, changing the phone to your other ear, as if you hadn't heard correctly.

"His father." The director repeats. "I know we have not...explicitly discussed Basil's paternity, but, well," He tsks lightly. "He showed up to speak to me."

Your head is filled with tarountula webbing. You feel your hearing go fuzzy, but somehow your hands direct Raidon up and toward the closest lab station. Out, out, out. Back to the school. Back to Basil, back to--

"I'm on my way to the entrance to Area Zero now." Clavell continues when you don't reply after a few moments. "I'll meet you there with Basil."

"What did he want?" You finally ask as you enter the station.

"I didn't give him the opportunity to chitchat."

You hum. "One second, Sir." You step into the transport pad.

A moment later, and Clavell is right in front of you, Basil tucked safely in his stroller, looking just as he did when you dropped him off this morning, save for his hair looking a little...off. You disregard it.

"Thank you so much." You sigh, hanging up the phone as Clavell gives you a sad sort of smile.

"Anything for you two." He says.

You kneel and try to fluff up your son's hair, but it has dried all crunchy from whatever happened during the day. He's getting a bath later, so you don't fret over it and just smile warmly to him, trying not to let your panic show.

"Ready to go home, sweet thing?" You ask him.

Basil nods, reaching with little hands for yours in his hair. "Mhmm!" He nods. "Ahso, Mama! I saw a big buddy! A big, BIG buddy!"

Clavell clears his throat and provides some context. "Mabosstiff said hello."

You look up to the director, knowing exactly which Mabosstiff he must mean. "Oh? Mabosstiff! That's...that's so great!" If your register is maybe just a touch too high, your smile too tight, it's only to maintain face in front of the boy to whom you turn back. "Were you kind? Remember how we always wanna be nice to new pokemon, yeah?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh! He gived me a kisses! A lotsa kisses!"

So that's the crunch in his hair.

Oh, Mabosstiff...

"That's my sweet boy." You sigh, ruffling the mess before standing again to face the director.

"Thanks again. I'm gonna..." Another long exhale. "I'm gonna get us home."

Clavell nods. "You know how to reach me if you need something. And... Well, if you want me to intercede on your behalf, I'm happy to have words." He says stoically. "At times I felt I was the closest thing..." He gestures with his head outward toward the school. "He had to a parent in his life... I..." It's his turn to sigh. "I don't understand what happened there. How he could do what his own parents did to him? I'm sorry. If it's any consolation."

Your heart squeezes, and you distract yourself from the feeling by digging your nails into the soft foam of the handles of Basil's stroller. "Don't be. He made his choice, y'know?" You try to smile, but it's shaky. "He deserves to have the life he wants."

"He deserves a kick in the pants." Clavell responds. "Not that I'm an advocate for corporal punishment..." He adjusts his glasses in that grandfatherly way.

You laugh.

"Well, if he sticks around long enough, maybe you'll get a chance."

You hope he doesn't stick around.

Or...do you?

Do you even want to see him?

Either way, you don't want to linger on it in the lab.

"I'm gonna take this little one home."

Clavell nods. "Until later."

And then you're calling a cab to get back to your place, and Clavell is on his way back to the office.

While you're in the cab, you check your messages and sigh. Seems like Ortega caught a glimpse of Arven, and Rika is...fucking with him in some way or another.

You ignore your old classmates and opt to just text Rika.

Me: Got Basil from Clavell and we're on our way home rn/

Me: Love you too ofc 💖💖

A minute or so later, your phone buzzes. Rika again.

Rika: he's gone now

Rika: I put the fear of arceus in him if i do say so myself

You roll your eyes, smiling wryly. By now the cab is slowly descending to the space just outside your home, so you pocket the device and maneuver Basil in his stroller out of the cramped space and into the house.

Once he's unbuckled from his seat, he's bouncing around and grabbing at the attached bag, the one containing Buddy's pokeball, asking in broken syllables if they can play.

It isn't a huge deal to let the pup out of the ball to play, so you hand it over to Basil, reminding him how to behave with his friend. At the same time, you also release Skeledirge to keep a watchful eye over the pair for a moment.

In the weeks since the Raisins Incident, as you've called it, you've come to the realization that your team can be of some assistance to you when you need a moment to yourself, when you're overwhelmed. Obviously Skeledirge isn't a parent. Neither is Raidon or Tinkaton or Screamtail or anyone else, but Skeledirge is smart enough to keep them safe for the precious seconds you need to breathe.

So you let the three alone in the living room and retire to your bedroom for a moment to collapse on the bed and gather your thoughts. You only need a few seconds. Just a few seconds of Mama time...just a few.

There's a sound at your open door as Basil toddles in, two pokemon in tow.

"Mama... Hungy?" He asks, clenching his shirt in tiny balled fists.

"Oh, sweetness..." You sigh, leaning down to pick him up and seat him securely on your lap. "You're hungry?" You press your face into his head, expecting its usual downy softness and the comfort of your child's scent, only to be met with that uncomfortable crunch of dried Mabosstiff slobber. Out of Basil's line of sight, your nose crinkles. "Let's see what we've got in the kitchen, yeah?"

"Toast? Toast 'n jellies?" He asks hopefully.

"I think we could do that, my littlest..." You respond with a smile, hefting your boy onto your hip as you trudge into the kitchen.

Of course, it would be just your luck that you're entirely out of oran jelly, the only jelly that Basil will eat right now. Thank you, developing taste buds and picky eating...

Maybe he won't notice if you try to give him pinap jelly instead this once?

You prepare his plate, the toast lovingly cut into four triangles, and you give him his sippy cup as well, but Basil only stares down unhappily at the food.

"Jellies?" He asks, his tiny button nose wrinkling.

"Yeah, Baby, I made you toast and jelly." Your heart clenches, anxiety rising, but you try to keep your voice chipper.

"Nuh-uh!" He insists, pushing the plate away.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We don't have the usual jelly. Do you wanna try this instead?"

Your son looks at you with wide eyes, rapidly filling with tears. His lower lip wobbles, and his brow furrows angrily. Times like these it's almost crazy how much he looks like...

No, focus!

"It's good, I promise. Wanna see? Mama will have some." You take a bite of one of the triangles and make a show of smiling. "Mmm! So yummy! It's really tasty!"

"No!" Basils yells in response, his tiny tears now falling. Hangry isn't a good look on the little guy.

"Ahhh, we gotta get you something to eat, huh, bud."

"Jellies!" He blubbers, only barely understandable through his tantrum. Buddy the Maschiff jumps up, placing his front paws on Basil's feet, trying to get at the food, and Basil complies, shoving it down to the pup.

You sigh. "Alright."

Buddy re-enters his ball, still chewing the bread, and you take Basil from his high chair, depositing him in his stroller.

"We'll go to the market and get your good jelly, okay? Super duper fast, then we'll come home and have a feast."

Basil is still crying, but the promise of his good jelly seems to placate him somewhat.

It'll be fine anyway. The market is only a short walk from your apartment building, and you'll only be out for a few minutes.

The journey there is easy. Basil's stroller is one of those fancy transforming models that's great for all kinds of terrain while also being pretty light. It helps that the market is all outdoors, too. Less helpful is the fact that the stalls are fairly narrowly placed beside one another. At least it feels that way with all the people around, but it isn't overly cumbersome to navigate.

"Jellies!" Basil starts to whine as you approach the stall that he's come to learn has his favorite snack. He starts making grabby hands towards the jars along the table, and you attempt to quietly stop him.

"Yup! They've got your jelly here. Once I pay, you can hold the jar, if you like. Sound good?"

"I pick, I pick!" Basil insists, arching his tiny body as best he can away from the stroller's restraining buckle.

"Hey now," You press a soft but firm hand against him, guiding him back to his seat. "I'll let you pick, but you have to be polite. Say please and thank you to the salesperson, kay?"

Your son huffs, squirming a bit more before collapsing against the seat. "I be good. I good." He grumbles, and you're finally able to unbuckle him and take him up in your arms.

"Okay now. Can you ask for what you want?" You give the salesperson a thankful smile as you speak to Basil. They seem willing to be patient with your little one.

"Jellies!!!" He cries gleefully.

"Jellies, what, bud?"

"Jellies, pease!!!"

"There you go... We're gonna get some oran berry jelly." You tell the salesperson, already reaching into your bag with the hand that isn't carrying Basil. "Remember, these are glass, so you gotta hold it gently."

Basil carefully (or as carefully as a nearly-two year old can) chooses a bright blue jar, holding it in both of his hands.

Gently, so as not to jostle Basil enough that he drops his prize, you rearrange him on your hip, freeing an arm to reach into your bag, so you can pay the shop keeper.

That's when you hear it. Not particularly loud compared to the hum of the crowd, but clear as day anyway.

The sound of your name being called gives you pause. You look around. It's not uncommon for you to be recognized, but you're already on edge. Hopefully it's just a fan or something?

–

You heard him. From the way you stopped and looked around, hiking the kid up just a bit higher on your hip as you distractedly tried to find the source of his voice, it was obvious.

It isn't an overly crowded market, but there are definitely enough people milling around that quick travel isn't really feasible from where he stands, particularly if he wants to get closer.

He calls your name again, louder this time. Before it had almost been breathless, filled with surprise, hurt, delight, just a tumultuous storm of emotions tearing through his stomach at the sight of you, the sight of his little carbon copy in your arms. Now he's really trying to get your attention.

You pinpoint him, and Arven waves, his bulky form helping to differentiate him from the rest of the crowd.

He... He can't read your face. You look like a deerling caught in Flash. He watches as you quickly shuffle, taking your boy (his boy?) away. Are... Are you for real fleeing from him? He calls your name again, trying to move closer to your retreating form, but it's no use. He makes it to the stall where you were before. He's positive of it because you left the stroller behind, and judging by the yelling from the salesperson, you made off with some product without paying. It's a no-brainer for him to lay down the cash needed, assuaging the anger of the clerk. Arven also grabs the stroller, giving a nervous laugh about how forgetful you must be before he starts trekking with it in the direction that you fled.

Except. He quickly realizes that's not really gonna get him anywhere. He has no idea where you live. Yeah, he knows where you used to live, almost 3 years ago, but that was basically a shoebox, a place to store your supplies while out and about as a champ. No way you're there still. Not with a kid. Right?

He eventually takes a seat on a bench close to the market, keeping the stroller next to him. You've gotta come back for it soon, right? Even then though, he has no idea how long it might take you to come back.

Once again, Arven desperately wishes you hadn't blocked him way back when. He pulls out his phone, hoping to shoot you a text, on the off-chance that maybe you unblocked him at some point maybe?

Me: Hi, Buddy!

is all he types before seeing the tell-tale red messaging, showing that the number is indeed still blocked. Ugh.

Fuck, maybe...maybe he could use a pay phone or something? Just to tell you where your stroller is. But are there even any pay phones anymore?

As it turns out, they do still exist! There's one just on the edge of the market, so Arven makes his way over, pulling out his phone to copy your number once he's in the booth.

Except.

That's not a Paldean area code he sees. It's Kalosian. Yes, it's your name as the contact, and it's your final, nasty message to him there in the texts, but....it's not your number. There's not even a call history that goes back that far for him to try and grab the number that he just can't seem to remember entirely. He used to have it memorized, once upon a time, the two of you having been the other's emergency contact for so long, so he knows he's not crazy. That number...

He realizes on a second glance that the number is affiliated with Bon Applintit. It's got the same starting numbers after the area code.

What the hell happened to--

"Arven!!!!" The cry of his name startles him out of the thought, but he tucks it away for later. There's something very, very off going on, beyond the kid and everything. Which also??? Kinda absolutely bonkers. He's not gonna lie to himself. He also can't think too hard about it.

"Arven!" Nemona pulls him from that dizzying train of thought, as well as the phone booth. "I've been sent to just, uh...grab this from you..." She tells him, awkwardly trying to work her way around him to grab at the stroller's handlebars. "Ya know... Mama and Basil need it and all." She laughs a bit uncomfortably, continuing her attempt to pry the pram from him.

"Basil?" He says out loud, the name punching him harder than any Hitmonchan. His fists clench tighter around the bars.

Nemona slaps a hand over her mouth, allowing Arven to angle the stroller away from her. "Were you not supposed to know? Ah, gosh darn it!"

"I mean--!" He starts defensively. "I guess?! I never knew about...about any of this!" He gesticulates wildly. "When was anyone gonna tell me about Basil, huh? What the hell, Nemona!?"

She gives him a strange look, her lips pursed and brows quirked. "You... You really had no idea?" She crosses her arms, studying Arven's expression. "Hold on."

Nemona takes out her phone and starts texting. Arven does his absolute best to be patient, but with every passing second he's growing more agitated.

"Okay, listen! Someone has GOT to tell me what's going on!" He eventually bursts. "Who IS this kid? Why does she have him? Why does... I mean, why does the kid look like me? Everyone's been treating me like shit since I got here, and none of it makes any goddamn sense! If anyone cares to hear MY side of the story, she blocked ME! And to my knowledge it was just over a few missed calls! I thought she was just overreacting! I had no idea about any of this!" His anger over it all, over getting shunned by his friends years ago, over Clavell’s insults, comparing him to his father, it all bubbles over, and he’s letting it out on Nemona.

She hushes him with a sound and a not-so-placating finger, not bothering to even look up as she texts with a single thumb. "Hold on, hold on, hold on..." The patronizing nature of it all pulls a huff from Arven, whose grip on the handles of the strollers is so strong his knuckles go white.

His friend locks the screen and looks back to him. Her gaze is steady and serious, in stark contrast to her typical jovial self.

"Okay. I believe you, amigo. You say you've got no idea what's going on? I'm sorry to hear that. I really, really wish I could just tell you everything. Or at least, what I think is everything? But this isn't really my place. Not my mankey, not my circus. I'm just the mankey's fun tia, y'know?" She tries to lighten the mood a bit, but it absolutely falls short. "But. For real, this isn't the kind of chisme I enjoy. Not when it involves any of you. I'm talking to her now." Nemona shakes the phone in her hand. "I'm gonna see if she's willing to hear you out."

"Hear me out? She was the one--"

"That isn't how anyone here knows the story, Arven. At least what she's been able to bring herself to tell of it. I don't think any of us can claim to know all the details, but do you think she'd lie to make you look bad? Really?"

That seems to give Arven pause. At least long enough for Nemona to check the latest message from you. She smiles.

"She's on her way to the Treasure Eatery and will meet with you there. Be sure to bring the stroller."

Arven makes it to the restaurant before you. It isn't really surprising, given your detour to the league building to drop Basil off with Nemona for a bit. He ought to thank his lucky stars for Nemona pleading his case to you, saying he seemed to be genuinely confused and distraught over the situation. Otherwise you wouldn't have bothered. This is...exhausting to think about. Facing him. Trying to figure out what he wants. Why he came.

You won't lie, your initial thoughts as you rushed home with Basil tucked tightly in your arms, shielding him from his father, were rather dark. Was Arven here to try and take him? Did he think he could use your baby as some kind of prop in his social media videos? People go crazy for dads after all.

But, no. If you're honest with yourself (like Nemona urged you to be) that's not the man you knew. You couldn't imagine him becoming someone like that either, especially if he didn't want to be a dad in the first place... Beyond that, if you think rationally for a moment, there isn't a court in the world that would order your toddler son to another country without you.

No, this...this will be safe. It will be scary. To see him again. But. There's no need to think there's danger. It will just be kind of scary. And you can deal with scary, if only for a few minutes.

"Hey." Your voice sounds drained as you drop your bag on your side of the booth and follow behind it to sit. You want to look at him. Look him in the eye and ask him what his deal is, but you just can't summon that brand of bravery.

"Hey." His tone isn't really discernable; you can't guess what he's thinking. "I, uh...ordered your usual drink. Or...What you used to order? If that's cool?"

Sure enough, there on the tabletop is your go-to drink from the Treasure Eatery, a ring of condensation already formed at the base of the glass, dampening the flimsy cardboard of the disposable coaster.

"Oh." It surprises you, that small bit of thoughtfulness. "Thanks." You take the glass in both hands and sip, letting the frosty cold of it ground you before you finally look up to see him.

He's... He's so much like Basil, it makes a lump form in the back of your throat. The nose, the eyebrows, the bow of his lips. You've seen them all every day for almost two years now in the face of your little boy; things you noticed and adored, now mimicked before you. Beyond that, he's still Arven. Time hasn't changed him too terribly much. For an adult, it hasn't been too long, so it's not like he's suddenly grey and withered before you or something. The biggest difference is how he pulls his hair back into a low ponytail, the patchy stubble around his cheeks and chin. He's either growing it out to try something new or just hasn't bothered with a razor for a while.

"Hey." You finally say. Truth be told, if not for your drink, your throat would've gone dry just seeing him again.

"So..." He starts, leading.

"So...you're back."

"Uh. Yeah. The plan was to spend the weekend clearing out my old storage....and...head back to Lumiose..."

"'The plan was?'" You ask.

"W-Well, I mean... I. I don't think I can just go back now, can I?"

You tense. Why did that feel like an attack? "I don't see why not. You didn't seem to think it was important to, you know, come back before now. What makes you think you have to stay?" Your tone comes off colder, more callous, than your aching heart would otherwise reveal, and it does its job, egging Arven onto frustration.

"I saw Clavell with Basil." He starts, pausing when he notices your flinch at the name. "Then I saw him with you. And... I mean..."

"Oh, so you saw him and now suddenly you care?" You ask, venom dripping more than you'd care to admit.

"What are you saying?!" He grates, volume only as loud as public decorum would allow in the bustling restaurant. "You... You have to be kidding, right? Of course I care! There's... There's a whole kid! Right? Where did he come from, huh? Cuz, like... Those don't just appear! And he's yours, right? He's gotta be! Like, obviously I see my...resemblance, but I see you in him, too!" That surprises you. No one ever found your features in Basil anymore, save for your mom, who made an off-handed comment once or twice about your eye shape or something.

Arven takes your silence as reason to continue "I mean... I've seen my photos from a young age... I..." His anger fizzles out into confusion as he goes on. "I don't want to make assumptions about...about us or what we were? But...looking at that kid, it's gotta be, right? That it was me? That I'm..." He can't say it out loud. "But why? Why didn't you say something? Why did you hide something like that? Cuz, like... I mean...even...even if he were someone else's... I mean, why wouldn't you have said something?"

"Hide it?!" The accusation shocks you into a response. "I never hid anything! I tried telling you for ages, back when you actually picked up the damn phone! You forced me into having to text you about my son! Then you blocked me! I have the receipts, Arven. I don't know what kind of delusion you've got going on in that head of yours, but I never hid my boy from you until I was given reason to! Why would I go out of my way to force a child upon a man who couldn't acknowledge him? Why wouldn't I keep my son safe from someone who didn't have the decency to be there for him? For me?"

Your tone has risen to a point where a few of the surrounding tables have hushed to listen in, and Arven can tell that prying eyes and ears are now on you both. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, an attempt to steady himself, keep from getting more heated in public.

"Bud." He begins, the old nickname hitting you like a sucker punch. "I never knew. I don't know what happened there, but I promise. I promise on Mabosstiff's life that I had no clue about any of this. I think there had to have been some kinda mix up..." You watch as cogs turn in his head. "I think... I'm thinking maybe something happened with my phone." He says, pulling the device from his pocket. "Like... Lemme just try and make this clear from my end. Okay? I got this text from you..." He starts, tapping the screen. "It was kinda mean, and when I tried to respond, I was blocked." He holds up the conversation for you to read.

>Hey! Sorry we keep missing each other lately! I hope things are okay? Are you staying warm? It's getting kinda cold here.

>can we not do this?

>Not do what?

>"This" i'm getting real fuckin tired of you bailing on me all the time now that your some hot shot kalosian celebrity guy

>Whoa. Where is this even coming from??

>you kno exactly where its coming from, arven. Youve been super shitty to me since you left paldea and it really hurts my feelings.

>I'm sorry? I've been busy here. It's been a lot getting used to a whole new place and a whole new language. I thought you understood that. I really am sorry though.

>y'know what? I dont really care at this point. Ive had enough waiting around for you to call me or text me back. there are guys here who can do better by me

>[One Missed Call]

>Are you being serious right now? You can't be. This is a joke?

>[One Missed Call]

>[The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected and is no longer in service.]

Your face pales and stomach sinks as you read it. "Arven, I--"

"I just noticed earlier when I tried calling you about the stroller. That isn't even your number. It's Kalosian. It's... I think it's affiliated with my company? I can't be sure yet, but..." He locks the screen and puts his phone down. "I know now that you never sent those messages, and that somehow I lost everything related to your contact. So...whatever you might've sent...it isn't here. I couldn't have seen it."

With a nearly shaking hand, you grab his phone and open it back up, still remembering his old passcode (Mabosstiff's Pokedex number). "Hold on..." You absolutely sent a message. Whether it was deleted or not... You check his blocked numbers, knowing that on your end, you've been blocked since back when you first told him about the pregnancy. "Yup..." You show him the screen. There among several spam numbers was your own. "You blocked me."

Arven opens his mouth to argue. "Or, I guess," You continue before he has a chance to interrupt. "I was blocked... somehow? I still... I don't see how this could have happened..." You set the phone down and fish out your own from your bag. "Here." It only takes a moment to pull up your old conversations. "You can read for yourself what I tried to tell you."

>Hey! I know this isn't ideal, and I really would have rather said it in person or over a face call or even just a regular call, but I think you need to know, and I'm having a really hard time verbalizing it to you. I'm sorry to do it this way, but it's better to say it now than not at all, right?

>I'm pregnant, and it's yours.

>I'm so, so, SO sorry! I promise I didn't mean for it to happen like this, and I'm not trying to like…baby trap you or something. I swear! You're my best friend in the whole world, and I'm so happy that you can go and live your dream in Kalos right now. But I just feel like you should know? Like you should have a say in what happens here? I'd love to talk to you. Do...do you want to do this? Because....well if you're willing I'd want to try this. With you. But I also know that you're living your dream right now, and I don't want to get in the way of that! I want you to be able to really embrace this new journey you're taking and learn and grow and do wonderful things! But I just wanted you to know, you know? Please don't hate me. Just give me a call when you have a minute, and we can figure this out. Okay?

. Then after several months, you’d sent a picture. Just a simple selfie of you, looking exhausted beyond belief, hair tamped down to your head with sweat, but still smiling. In your arms is a tiny bundle with a little purple hat, face looking squished and wrinkly and perfect. Arven knows exactly what he’s looking at before he’s read your final message.

>He's here. I don't know if you care, necessarily? But... I love him so much, and I don't understand how you couldn't, so I thought I should share.

You watch as Arven tears up, holding your phone like a tiny, precious creature. "I never knew. I... I swear I didn't." He swallows. "My...my team... They all have access to my phone. Something must've... Someone, I guess..." He shudders then looks to you, resolute. "I'll figure it out. But." Arven looks at your hand on the table then flexes his own, curling and uncurling it from a fist. "I... I wanted to know. I should've known. I'm so sorry this happened..."

"Me too..." The anger and fear and sadness you had churning in your gut this whole time slowly begins to still. You don't know how to feel exactly about the misunderstanding, but you know Arven. You know he isn't lying to you, and to hear him apologize for all of this... It's like a weight off of your soul.

Arven pauses, gathering himself then stares you in the eye. "I was supposed to leave tomorrow, head back. Fuck that. I need to be here. I need to see him.”

It's another punch to the gut, and on instinct, you respond. "No."

#arven fanfic #arven x reader #arvensimp kidfic #arven x female reader #arven x pregnant!reader #pregnancy//#i think those were all the tags people wanted me to put this under so it could be black listed. please let me know if anyone needs others!

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world-of-wales · 12 days ago

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NEWS -

NEW EARTHSHOT PROGRAMMES!

As the 2024 Earthshot Week kicks off in Cape Town today, the Earthshot Prize has announced a series of programmes designed to inspire and engage the next generation of climate innovators.

Global Network of Accelerators

The new global network, with 17 initial members, will foster collaboration between accelerators, incubators and other organisations around the world as they support early-stage start-ups to tackle the most pressing environmental challenges facing the world, and to speed their solutions to scale.

The network will expand over time to provide even greater support to eco-innovators and their solutions.

Climate Youth Leadership Programme

The Prize has brought together 120 young people from across Africa and Asia to launch the first Earthshot Week Climate Youth Leadership Programme. This cohort, all passionate about driving transformative change in climate action and sustainability, will develop vital skills in authentic leadership, storytelling, and networking over four impactful days.

The attendees will participate in a series of immersive masterclasses, programmes, and experiences, including with Finalists and Earthshot Prize alumni, & there will also be opportunities to potentially secure internships, jobs, and important connections to potential mentors, business partners, and investors throughout the week.

Project Slingshot

In an ongoing collaboration with the National Geographic Society, The Earthshot Prize will connect with young people ages 13-18 with a youth program which aims to foster and support a new generation of leaders committed to addressing environmental challenges.

During Earthshot Week, this will be brought to life through an interactive workshop with 100 local high school youth, led by National Geographic in collaboration with The Earthshot Prize and Brand South Africa.

#news #Earthshot24 #earthshot prize #earthshot #prince of wales #the prince of wales #prince william #william prince of wales #Earthshot South Africa

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persefolli · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐀𝐠𝐞-𝐆𝐚𝐩(𝐮𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝), 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @xylianasblog, @scarasbaefy, @sukunasbigtiddiewifey, @the-mourning-moon

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Nanami clenched his jaw and kept his hand tangled in your hair as you bobbed up and down his length. This is the third time today he's convinced you to give him stress relief during work hours. He knew it was fucked up. Taking advantage of a girl who escaped the countryside for an opportunity to work in the city full-time. But you were just so malleable.

It started off small, like, little comments about your clothing: “Your skirt is too long.”

Then he started coercing you into staying late:“Have you considered working overtime?”

Once he spent enough time with you he began offering you rides to the hotel the internship provided you with. But he wouldn’t ask you for gas money, or a morning coffee.

“Pull up your skirt.”

You pawed nervously at your short office skirt. His eyes weren’t on you, but your short red-painted nails that resided on your fingers, which resided on your thighs. Your bottom lip was between your teeth, but you hesitantly began to pull up your skirt.

Stupidly, you didn't wear shorts under. And a garter would be far too scandalous.

Nanami tilted his head at your striped panties, ones that clearly weren’t meant to be seen. That didn't matter though. What he focused on was the slightly wet patch that stained the crotch part of your panties. He looked back up at you and nodded. “Pretty.”

You began to feel conscious and began wearing your more fancy panties. On Mondays you wore red, Tuesdays yellow, Wednesday pink, Thursday White, Friday Black. Nanami loved Wednesdays. He loved pink on women, which is why he called you into his office every Wednesday night.

Tonight was a Wednesday.

You closed your eyes and continued sucking Nanami off, fueled by his grunts and the pressure of his finger pads pressing into your skull. He began worming his hips in his chair, and you knew he was close. “Swallow.” He commanded. You did as told, and pulled away from him with glossy eyes. You didn’t know if he would go further tonight. Usually on Thursdays he spread you on his desk to pull aside your damp white panties and eat you out, then on Fridays he would fuck you.

But tonight he had different plans.

“Your internship is coming to an end, this is your last week right?”

Your face dropped. You still haven't gotten an offer to work for him full-time, and thinking of the time you two spent together coming to an end was sad. Nanami noticed the look on your face and traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Don’t pout sweetheart. You know I wouldn’t get rid of you that easily if it were up to me.” He said, bluffing.

“I worked so hard-”

“I know baby, I know you did.”

You took a deep breath and stood, smoothing out your blouse and skirt.

“I’m not finished with you.” Nanami said. He stood from his office chair, towering you. “Lay on the couch.”

You walked over to the couch and Nanami was right on your heels. He watched as you laid down, a single leg hanging off the edge of the couch. He grabbed at your ankles and you shifted, allowing him to run his hands up and grab the hem of your skirt.

He worked off your skirt and panties in one go, feeling a bit antsy tonight. He let out a breath once he saw your pink lace bra peeking from the holes in your blouse. The one he bought for you. Nanami caught on to your panty color pattern after taking you back to your hotel for two weeks straight. He knew you were doing it on purpose, so he began sending underwear sets to your hotel room for you to wear. They were comfy, so you could wear them all day at work. He wanted no time wasted when he called you to his office at night.

Once he got your skirt off he popped the buttons off your blouse and groped at your breast, causing you to moan. You watched him grow hard again, springing free from the limp state it was in after he climaxed for the first time that night.

“Turn around.” He said.

You got on your hands and knees, facing the skyline of Tokyo while he got a view of your ass.

This was Nanami’s favorite position because he had the most control. He also knew you liked the city, so looking over the skyline while being fucked was a win for you. He undid his pants and took them off completely this time, not wanting to be restrained by the limits of his trousers.

He pumped his length a few times before prodding at your entrance. You let out a whine of anticipation, and leaned your head down into the arm of the couch as he pushed into you. Nanami let out a low groan and kept his hands on your hips as he found his rhythm and fucked into you. He bit his lip at the tightness of your pussy, sucking him in and refusing to let him go. With one hand he took off his glasses, which began to fog up from his own heavy breathing.

“That's right.” He let go of your hips. “Just like I taught you…fuck me back.”

You braced yourself and began bouncing against him, controlling your movements and moaning like a hot mess. Nanami threw his head back and closed his eyes as you did all the work. He watched the jiggle of your ass with narrowed and strained eyes. He instinctively gripped the flesh of your ass. His.

Nanami knew he had so much control over you. He made you be extra picky about what you wore, which perfume you chose, what panties you wore, what you ate, what you drank, even how you laughed.

He was slowly consuming every aspect of your life, and you didn't mind that. You needed someone to guide you. Someone to look forward to seeing every day. If you had the attention of Nanami, a rich businessman, then you would do anything to keep it.

Nanami let out a loud strangled grunt, feeling his cock pulse and his release approaching. You slowed your pace, digging your hands into the arms of the couch and moving along his dick, teasingly slow. Nanami took a hold of your hips and kept your pace steady, letting out pathetic whimpers as he began to release into you. You didn't climax, but you knew Nanami would swing around for that later, leaving you wanting more. He knew you would come back later that night, because you couldn't go long without his touch.

“Check your mail tomorrow morning.”

He said before putting back on his pants and sitting back down at his desk.

#nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jjk kento #jjk #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x reader smut #kento nanami x reader #kinktober #persefolliwrites #persefolli

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surftrips · 1 year ago

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COOL FOR THE SUMMER

OBX WRITING WEEK DAY 1 — AU W/ JJ MAYBANK

word count: 1502

summary: in which JJ and Y/N are working together as camp counselors for the summer, cut off from the rest of the world for eight weeks straight.

a/n: this was super fun to write, i'd love to write more blurbs for them because i think a summer camp setting is so cute haha. welcome to day 1 of obx writing week, make sure to support all the other authors under the tag! :)

“Ughhhh,” Y/N groaned. She was in desperate need of a job for the summer. None of the internships she applied to had gotten back to her, so she was left to scour the internet for entry-level positions, when finally she stumbled upon something promising,

Hiring camp counselors! $16/hour, room and board included. Provide high-quality educational and recreational opportunities and enjoyable experiences for camp participants. No experience needed. CPR-certification preferred.

She had spent a summer in her junior year of high school as a lifeguard, but she wasn’t the biggest fan of the outdoors. And from what she could tell, this position would require her to be outside a lot. But what choice did she have? It was either this, or be unemployed and broke for four months. She sighed and uploaded her resume without much thought.

Exactly one week later, she received a call from an unfamiliar number in North Carolina. She almost didn’t pick it up, but she quickly realized the camp position was located on the Outer Banks.

“Hello? Is this Y/N Y/L/N?” a faraway voice asked.

“Yes, this is her.”

“Hey, Y/N! This is Lucas, I’m calling from Camp Cedar Brook. We saw your application for the counselor position and would love to offer you the position! Are you still interested?”

“Oh, of course! Thank you!” she said.

“Great! We’ll email you the onboarding details this week, but welcome to the team! It’s going to be a great summer!” Lucas said excitedly.

Y/N hung up the phone, a little less excited now that the reality of working at a summer camp was setting in. Being in charge of little kids. Having limited phone access. Cut off from the rest of the world. Working outdoors in the scorching Carolina sun. Just eight weeks of this, she sighed.

“Need some help with that?” a blonde boy asked her as she tried to gracefully carry her two suitcases up the creaky wooden steps to her cabin.

“No, thanks,” she was quick to dismiss him. The last thing she needed was a knight in shining armor, or rather, a muscle tee and cargo shorts.

“Hey, challenge by choice right?”

“What?”

“Challenge by choice,” he repeated. “Something the counselors here say to the kids. Are you new?”

“Yeah, is it that obvious?”

“Well, considering you’re trying to lug up two suitcases at once into the wrong cabin, yeah, it kind of is.”

Y/N quickly glanced up at the sign above the door. Shit, it was the wrong cabin. Not off to a great start.

“Can I help you now?” the boy asked.

She gave in, “Yeah, sure, fine.”

“I’m JJ, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, that’s a pretty name.”

“Okay, JJ, can you please just help me carry this to the right cabin?”

After settling down in the right cabin and unpacking, Y/N finally had a chance to catch her breath. She pulled out the itinerary for the next day and audibly groaned. The day was packed with activities: ziplining, archery, climbing wall, and hiking. But it wasn’t all the outdoor happenings that caused her to groan, it was the fact that the returning counselors were being paired with up a new one as their “mentee.” And luck behold it, she had gotten JJ.

She crashed down onto her bed, mentally preparing herself to deal with him tomorrow.

When she woke, it wasn’t to the sound of her usual alarm, but the jarring blow of an airhorn which had to have been right outside her window.

Y/N pulled herself out of bed, tousled hair and all, to see who had interrupted her precious sleep. Pulling the thin curtains aside, she saw nothing but the glaring sun before her eyes adjusted to the blonde boy on her front steps.

“How are you literally everywhere all the time?” she said, opening her door.

“Good morning, gorgeous!” JJ turned around, “Oh, we’ll work on that last part.”

Offended, Y/N quickly adjusted her hair.

“I’m just kidding!” he said. “But to answer your initial question, that’s literally in my job description.”

“To be super annoying and ignore my personal space?”

“Princess, it’s a summer camp. There is no such thing as that here.”

“Okay, don’t call me that. And second, why are you up so early? I thought we weren’t supposed to meet until 11 am.”

“It’s 10 am,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, and?”

“Won’t it take you like an hour to get ready?”

He was right. She must’ve slept through her original 9 am alarm or put it on snooze while half-awake. She was going to be late if she didn’t start getting ready right now.

Without saying anything, she slammed the door shut and proceeded to put herself together. JJ smirked on the other side of the door, knowing that he had won this round.

The first activity of the day was archery, something Y/N happened to be terrible at. Her Hunger Games obsession in middle school was unfortunately not enough for her to enroll in archery lessons.

“Okay, so what you’re gonna want to do is line yourself up with the target,” JJ was explaining.

“Got it, now what?”

“Alright, now place your feet shoulder-width apart. Keep your back straight.”

Y/N was losing confidence in herself. “I look ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t. Come on, now point your bow down and put the arrow in the string.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, perfect! Now use three fingers to lightly hold the arrow away from the string. Then you’re gonna point toward the target again.”

Y/N was getting more nervous. What if she missed terribly and hit someone? She had already embarrassed herself several times in front of the boy and didn’t need another reason to be made fun of.

“Pull the string back, aim, and release,” JJ said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Quickly, she did just that. And she hit it.

Granted, not the center of the target, but at least she was on the board.

“There you go! Not bad for your first try!” JJ put his hand up for a high five, which Y/N gave into. “Let’s practice that a few more times then you can teach the kids.”

“Teach the kids?”

“Yeah, did you forget you’re a counselor?”

“No, I just thought I would get more time to learn, that’s all.”

“Listen, if you want private lessons I’ll be happy to provide that for you, but for now, this is all the practice you’re gonna get.”

Y/N groaned at his comment, lightly pushing him away. She felt her hand lingering on his chest for a moment, and his heartbeat picking up.

“Ahem,” JJ cleared his throat, pulling them both out of their heads.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, let’s just get back to work.”

Y/N and JJ spent the remainder of the hour lining up shots and practicing. She was getting significantly better, considering she had barely even picked up a bow and arrow prior to this. JJ hit the center nearly every time, but Y/N was slowly proving to be a match for him.

By the time the kids showed up, Y/N was able to guide them on her own and most of her campers were able to hit the target, or get very close. They even split themselves into two teams and made it a competition to see who would get the most points. JJ won, but it was a really close game.

Later that night, Y/N found herself sitting by the campfire next to JJ, who had visibly mellowed out since the morning. His high energy was too much for her at 10 am, but she could get used to this calm JJ.

“So, how was your first day?” he asked, nudging her shoulder with his own.

“Honestly, Maybank. Not that bad.”

“Maybank? Oh, we’re on a last name basis now, Y/L/N?”

“I guess we are, I think it’s more professional, don’t you?” she smiled.

“Who said I want to keep this relationship professional?”

“Who said anything about a relationship?”

“I don’t know, your hand on my chest earlier didn’t mean anything?”

Y/N blushed, not expecting him to bring it up again so soon.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked when she didn’t respond.

She went to push him away again, but for fear that they would end up in the same situation as this morning, she held back. Instead, she said, “It’s not as bad here as I thought it would be.”

“Of course not, I’m here.”

“Ughh, how many more weeks of this?”

“Just 55 more days, princess.”

She allowed him to lean into her side as they sat and watched the flames sparking in front of them. This was going to be a long summer.

#obxweek23 #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine #obx #outer banks #obx x reader #obx imagine #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank x you

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ragzonacamrencruise · 6 months ago

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Azutara #49

oooooh prompt 49 is boss/intern au

this is going to be fun 😈

***

Katara bites her lip in anticipation. "Should I be scared?"

"Oh, definitely." Sokka nods his head without taking his eyes of the screen. "Your knees should be giving way underneath you right now, trust me."

Katara gulps. She looks all around in nervousness. It's a huge bull-pen. Eight in the morning and the whole area is already bustling, telephones ringing insistently, loud chatter providing a strange ambience, exchanges of good morning and news about their weekends.

Everyone's pristine and crisp here at Agni Incorp., and Katara already feels overwhelmed. She has no idea how her brother does it sometimes, being the Head of Engineering at the most prestigious and posh company like this one. She's just managed to land an internship opportunity here, due to her brother's heavy recommendation, and it's just her first day! Because the company had been looking for young and brilliant minds to do their work, she'd been instantly selected by someone called Zhu Li.

She tries not to worry too much. But Sokka's recent updates on who'll be leading them for the next 6 months had already made her gut bottom out.

Azula Agni.

People knew very little about her. Mostly because she always worked in the shadows of their company, Sokka had told her. There's a reason the main hall, Which Ozai Agni runs, is somewhere below them in an easily accessible, busy floor, rather than high up at the top floor, which Azula was allocated to.

It also did not help when Sokka told her about the time Azula had made an employee literally pee his pants the very first day she arrived here at the Strategic Management Department. Sokka had been complaining the whole time about what an engineer is doing 'strategically managing', but then he'd also said that he's never worked more in his entire life. Azula's been taking over things here. She's brought forth humongous changes that always boost up the sidelines.

There's a reason they call her the Shadow Director of the entire company in just two months.

Sokka's eyes lift up to Katara from where he's stitting at his desk, a lowly shift from what he was accustomed to in Ozai's floor. "Don't worry. You're a smart girl. You'll fit in just fine. Also, make sure not to talk back. She hates that."

Okay, now Katara's pretty sure that Azula isn't that haughty. Sure she's a little intimidating from what she's been hearing from not just Sokka, but literally everyone present at the bull-pen, talking about how they need to get something right cuz if Azula finds even a single mistake, she's gonna burn the whole place to the ground.

But how bad can it be, right?

Right?

Wrong.

All heads suddenly turn to the elevator when it dings sharply at 8 on the nose. Silence falls heavily inside the great hall and Katara's heart rate increases tenfold. The elevator door opens and it first reveals a short woman with Harry Potter spectacles on her button nose, her hair in a bun and her body clad in official dark green, business suit. She has short bangs that frame her forehead and she walks out in crisp strides.

And then, Katara's heart really does stop.

Behind her, is one of the most beautiful girls she's ever laid her eyes on, if not the most beautiful girl in the world. Her skin is pale, compared to Katara's darker complexion, and her hair is also in a bun, but two strands of hair loose from the bun frame her face perfectly in the most mind-numbingly gorgeous way possible. Katara tries not to drool. But it's hard not to.

She steps out of the elevator, her posture as straight as a rod. Unlike the first woman, she takes slow, deliberate steps into the bull-pen, sliding in, right into the middle of the whole hall. She pauses.

From this angle, Katara can see that the girl is quite young. In fact, Katara's sure she's not older than herself. She's clad in a simple but quite a fine suit Katara's ever seen. It's a black shirt with a deep red blazer thrown over her delicate torso, completing the look with a black pant and a red tie.

The girl turns her head in deadly precision, sweeping the room with her eyes, looking at every single person present. If it's not for the occasional telephone ringing somewhere in the corner, you could've droped a feather and it would've made noise, Katara's pretty sure.

Everybody is on alert and that immediately puts Katara on edge, her body stiff as a post. The girl's head is turning, slowly, and for some strange reason, Katara feels like she's going to pass out, from all the anticipation and the stress that this whole situation brings her.

When the girl's head turns completely to her right, the first thing Katara notices is that her eyes are striking golden. A rare gold mixed with brown that she hasn't seen on anyone ever.

And she almost does pass out when those eyes suddenly fall directly on her.

She lets out a silent whimper, not really sure why she's having a physical reaction to the girl just looking at her. But it's not just any look. It's the kinda look that could melt stone if you point at it long enough. Katara feels her face heat up under the scrutinizing gaze, completely giving herself over to the girl's stare.

Then it's gone. The eyes are completely gone and they move on to Sokka standing next to her and then to the next person whoever that is, and Katara's breath returns back to her lungs.

She feels her head spin for a second, but she holds her composture. And suddenly, there's a snap of fingers in front of her face. She looks up and almost jumps out of her skin when she finds the girl looking directly at her, again.

But this time, she gestures with a finger to follow her into her office, and then, like a whirlwind, she's gone. Completely out of sight.

Katara remains frozen in place, her brain in a frenzy, not really sure what just happened. Chatter and indistinct noise returns back to the bull-pen and Katara feels the world come crashing down.

She feels a sharp nudge to her ribs. This time, she does jump out of her skin. "Wha-?"

"What are you standing here for?!" Sokka whisper-yells in her ear. "Azula just called you into her office!"

Katara blinks. "Wait- That's Azula?!"

"No, it was the queen of Ba Sing Se." Sokka gives her a look. "OF COURSE IT WAS AZULA! And if you aren't in her office in about 10 seconds, she's gonna burn the whole place down. Go! Go! Go!"

He pushes Katara heavily towards her office door at the end of the bull-pen. She stumbles across, trying to find the strength to face the golden-eyed girl again. For all the accounts she's heard, she didn't expect Azula Agni to be as pretty as that. In fact, to be honest, Katara was imagining Ursala the sea witch the whole time.

When she nears the door, she notices a big, secluded booth, where the lady with the Harry Potter spectacles is seated, her eyes lazer focused on the computer screen in front of her, looking like she's going over a dozen different things at once. And it hasn't even been like 5 minutes since she got here.

Feeling Katara's presence loom over her, she talks without looking up from her work. "Tell her I asked you to be here and she'll leave you alone." She states, her voice almost sounding like a robot.

Katara frowns, not really sure what that means, she doesn't really stick around for clarifications, seeing that the woman is already back to her work, not that she ever looked up.

Katara sucks in a deep breath before she raises her hand to knock but the woman's robotic voice beside her halts her. "Don't bother. She hates when people knock."

Katara's hand falls limply to her side. Okay, so this Azula seems to hate a lot of things. It's almost as if the things she hates are literally everything that makes a human, well, human.

She hesitantly opens the door, her body strangely building up confidence that she really needs right now as she steps through into the room.

It's huge. Everything is huge. The first thing she notices is the giant floor to ceiling glass window that has this incredible view over Republic City, as if it's some kind of a palace that governs over the whole of the city. The second thing she notices is the deep red couch placed right beside the window, and how fucking comfortable it looks. And only then does her eyes fall on the desk that is placed far inside the rectangle room, and the most comfortable swivelling chair she's seen, occupied by a tiny figure clad in red and black.

Katara looks at her nervously for a second, before walking inside, her confidence fading with each step. When she gets closer, Azula's face becomes clearer and well-defined and Katara has to physically stop herself from ogling.

A few seconds pass and Katara doesn't know what to do with herself, standing there awkwardly, staring at the girl. Then suddenly, the golden eyes fall on her and Katara has to stop herself from falling down on the ground with the sheer force of the glance.

"Who are you? Why are you here." The girl demands after a second, leaning back in her chair.

Katara blinks. "You called me here-"

"I was talking about your general presence in this building." each word is ice-cold, hitting like bullets inside Katara's brain. "Are you a spy?"

"Spy?"

"To the Cabbage Corp."

"No. Of course, not." Katara's well aware of the rivalry between the Cabbage Corp., and Agni Incorporation. She'd even briefly considered applying for a job in the Cabbage Corp., before her brother pestered her to come work here.

Azula doesn't answer. Instead, she just narrows her eyes, and Katara knows that she's looking for an explanation. So she provides her with one instantly. "I'm the new intern here." Azula's eyes narrow to slits, and Katara continues, noticing it. "Today's my first day."

Azula still doesn't answer, her face now sporting a full-on scowl. Katara immediately panics, not really knowing what she should be saying here. She squeezes her brain in a hurry, and then suddenly, she remembers.

"I was selected by her." Katara jerks her thumb in the general direction of the robotic lady sitting outside Azula's office.

That seems to do it. Azula's eyebrows immediately raise up slightly. "Zhu Li selected you?"

Katara nods slowly, finally putting a face to the name Zhu Li.

"An intern for what?" Azula asks her sharply.

Katara gulps. "I was told I needed to be assesed for at least a week before getting assigned for a catagory of work that I would go to."

Golden eyes scrutinize her for a long minute silently, making her feel suddenly naked. She looks all around the office room awkwardly, not really strong enough to meet those sharp, calculating eyes anymore.

"You will shadow Zhu Li for not one but two weeks. Learn what and why of the things we do here. When I get a report from Zhu Li at the end of the two weeks, I'll decide whether to keep you or kill you."

Wait- Kill her?!

Katara's eyes widen comically.

"Dismissed." Azula waves her hand non-chalantly, and Katara feels her feet getting a life of their own, following the order Azula Agni's hand gave them.

When she comes out the door, Zhu Li's voice sounds beside her. "How long?"

Katara turns to her, her eyes still not back to normal from the shock. "Two weeks. I'm supposed to shadow you for two weeks before she apparantly keeps me or kills me."

And only then Zhu Li looks up from her hectic typing on the computer, giving her a smirk. "Then you better start right away."

...

It feels like a whole year was cramped into one week, cuz that's how long the week was for Katara. Her neck hurts, her feet hurt, her back hurts and even her butt hurts!

She now understands why this was such a big deal. Why when she got here, all heads were either buried in their work or drowning in copius amounts of diluted cactus juice, cuz this shit is hectic.

She was looking forward to her weekend like she was crazy. She'd followed Zhu Li around like a puppy, taking notes of her notes, keeping track of Azula's schedule that Zhu Li had provided her with, and typing through endless amounts of transcripts of meetings after meetings Azula seemed to attend.

It's Friday afternoon and Katara can't wait to hit the bed in the lovely apartment she shares with Sokka.

She'd had a couple of run ins with Azula, her golden eyes poring into her soul every time she looked at her. And if Katara has learned anything in the past week, it was that Azula was ruthless.

She always wears red and black, and always holds her poise. Every time Azula walks into the bull-pen at sharp 8 o clock, she scans the room completely before heading into her office without fail. Katara's never once seen her lose her composture, sharp and to the point all the freaking time.

Katara still hasn't had the privilege of attending Azula's meetings. But she can imagine what it's like, just by reading through the transcripts. Every word she types as Azula's is pure golden, akin to her eyes. They hold such brevity and clarity that Katara can't help but be fascinated by the girl.

Every time she walks into a room, she holds this kind of regality, as if she was born to rule over them all, and Katara shudders thinking of the way Azula's eyes seems to peruse her, leaving her breathless and unnerved with just a singe glance.

The intern shakes her head, to pull herself away from day-dreaming. She's almost done with typing out the transcript for the meeting Azula attended to in the morning. And another meeting seems to be going on now. If she's done typing that out too, she's free to go and enjoy her weekend. So, her fingers fly on the keyboard as fast as they could possibly go.

She suddenly pauses, her eyes drawing attention to one line from Azula in the meeting minutes laid out on her desk :

"Perfection is always one step better than what you thought was perfect."

Katara blinks, flabbergasted. That is one of the most thoughtful things she's ever heard someone say. Or in this case, seen. And Azula's said it in a room full of the board of directors. The amount of power she holds just stuns Katara. The way she demands respect from every one that meets her is mind-blowing really.

It takes a long moment for Katara to move on from that line, as she wills herself to start typing again. She gradually forgets what's happening all around her, as she drowns herself in her work, making progress at record speed.

She's almost done with the work when she hears her name.

"Katara." Zhu Li is looking directly at her, standing before Katara's desk with a phone pressed against her ear. When Katara looks up snapping her eyes away from the monitor, Zhu Li gestures with her eyes and a tilt of her head to follow her.

Katara immediately springs into action, grabbing her notepad and pen, to rush behind Zhu Li. If she's supposed to be Zhu Li's shadow, she's gonna be just that.

Zhu Li makes her way to the other side of the bull-pen, where the meeting room is. Katara's heart starts beating faster when Zhu Li leads her straight to the meeting room, opening the door.

Katara's stomach flips in excitement. She's never been to the meetings and she's eager to see one where Azula's at the top of her game. Zhu Li steps inside through the door, and Katara follows right behind her.

". . . preserving the quality but also the cost. Design B is fuel efficient as well." Azula's saying, standing at the head of the table. When Zhu Li walks in, Azula's eyes snap to her. "Anything important, Zhu Li?"

Her tone is dangerous, and Katara's been here long enough to read it as, "This better be important or i'm gonna fire you for interrupting my meeting."

"Are you sure you wanna hear it here?" Zhu Li asks, looking around the meeting table, filled with board members and Katara guesses, the top order people of the company.

Azula narrows her eyes, seeming to contemplate it. But then she nods once, giving Zhu Li a green light.

Zhu Li hangs up her phone, the one that was pressed against her ear before saying, "Our shipment's been stolen."

Katara's eyes widen.

So does Azula's. "What?" She snaps.

All eyes in the room swivel to Zhu Li.

"I got the news just now." Zhu Li says, her usually robotic voice now tinted with a dash of worry. "An entire shipment's been stolen."

Shocked whispers begin to erupt from all around the table.

"Which shipment?" Azula asks, her brows furrowing together.

"The one with the parts for our new airship design." Zhu Li is quick to answer.

Azula breathes out a quiet curse. "Okay. I'll look into it."

One of the board members pushes his chair back and stands up. "You'll look into it?! Really?! That's all you have to say?!"

Azula braces her palms on the table in front of her and leans forward, hanging her head.

"Yeah." Another member quips. "We've just lost our latest technology. And all you have to offer is looking into it?!?!"

Another voice speaks up. "Having our valuable shipments stolen isn't exactly very strategic of you, is it? And my sources have reason to believe that this has been happening for months now. Maybe it's time for you to step down and let Mr. Zuko take care of things here, Miss Azula. Shouldn't you be taking action already? Looking into it isn't really going to help, now is it-?"

Azula snaps her head up and the asshole that was talking shuts his mouth in a hurry.

The whole room falls silent when they notice the look Azula's giving the guy. A chill runs up Katara's spine, and she permanently decides that she definitely does not want to be at the receiving end of that piercing glare.

"Loosing composture in a time like this isn't going to help either." Azula's voice is even and cold. "So, unless you have a trick up your insolent little sleeves, I'd like to see you all presenting your design idea on another day. The meeting's adjourned."

Everybody shoots out of their seats in a hurry, wanting to get the hell away from Azula's raising wrath before they get caught in the middle of it.

"Your father will be hearing about this when he returns back from Ba Sing Se, Miss Azula." The asshole says before walking out of the room.

Azula just stares at his retreating figure, her face surprisingly even.

"Zhu Li." Azula says.

"Yes, Miss Agni?" Zhu Li perks up.

"My office. Now."

...

The door to Azula's office automatically shuts close the second Katara walks into it. Azula's already pacing back and forth in front of her desk as Zhu Li walks up to her.

"It's the Cabbage Corp., I'm sure of it." The secretary says.

Azula stops on her tracks, mid-pace. "Of course it is. Who else would it-" Then her eyes suddenly fall on Katara and she stops talking.

Zhu Li seems to follow her line of sight. "Oh, don't worry. Katara's fine. We need all hands on deck if we're gonna handle this."

"And you think she's capable of it?" Azula points a lazy finger at Katara.

"More than." Zhu Li says and Katara feels a rush of affection towards the woman.

Azula nods once before taking in a deep breath. "Zhu Li . . ."

"Yes?"

Azula stares at her for a second long, before her sculpted full lips curve up in a smirk. "They swallowed the bait and the whole damn hook!"

Zhu Li's usually neutral face morphs into a genuinely surprised one. "Wait- WHAT?!"

Azula lets out a loud guffaw suddenly, throwing her head back and clutching onto her chest tightly.

Zhu Li looks at her like she's gone completely crazy. "Azula?!"

"Hmm?" Azula hums, before losing it and staring to laugh again.

"What is going on?!" Zhu Li panics, and Katara can't help but silently watch the whole debacle. "What bait?!"

Azula wipes at the corner of her eyes. "Oh god, this is perfect!"

Zhu Li blinks at her. "Should I be worried?!"

"No." Azula says before humming in mirth again, letting out a small chuckle.

Azula walks over to her swivel chair and plops down heavily. Zhu Li and Katara take the queue, confused out of their minds, and sit down on the chairs opposite to Azula's across the desk.

"Okay." Azula clears her throat. Then she looks at both Zhu Li and Katara in the eye with mirth dancing in her normally striking cold eyes. "What I'm about to say, must not leave this room untill and unless I give you explicit permission to do so."

Zhu Li nods and Katara does the same, already not believing her luck.

"Especially you, new girl." Azula's eyes fall on Katara. "If I find out you're a leak, it'll be years before the cops shovel out your bones."

Katara gulps, her eyes widening.

"Will you just tell us already?" Zhu Li impatiently asks.

Azula rolls her eyes. "Fine. The whole shipment? That was my bait. And the Cabbage Corp., gobbled it up hook and meat."

Zhu Li gives her a look. "So you're saying, you purposefully left a shipment unattended for the Cabbage heads to take it?"

"Yes." Azula leans back in the chair and crosses her legs, fingers clasping in front, her elbows resting on the arm-rest.

"Why would you do that?!" Zhu Li sounds annoyed. "You know they've been swiping our stuff for months right?"

"Yes. And that's exactly why I was forced to come up with this."

Zhu Li raises her brow. "You have a catch." It's not really a question but a statement.

"Of course I do." Azula leans forward, waving her hand. "I'm not an idiot."

Zhu Li holds her silence for a second before speaking. "Cameras?"

"The size of a pea." Azula smirks. "It can even fit in a pen." She says before tapping one one of the many pens kept in a cup on her desk.

"And if they found it out?"

"Oh, I'm counting on it. It'll be really nice to see the look on their faces if they discover it, don't you think?" Azula types something quickly in her keyboard and then a second later she turns the whole monitor of her computer towards us. "This is going to be my soap opera from now on. Zhu Li, make sure to get some fire flakes, yes?"

Zhu Li's too busy looking at the screen. There are at least 12 camera footage that Katara notices is definitely live, trained on a bunch of people gathered around a huge warehouse, playing Pai Sho. Near them are huge containers with the Agni Incorp., emblem on them. Clearly, they're unaware of the little eyes that are watching their every move. What's even interesting is that the emblem of Cabbage Corp, is blatantly visible behind their Pai Sho table.

Katara almost face-palms at their stupidity. Thank god Sokka insisted her on joining Agni Incorp., huh?

"Are they really this dumb?" Zhu Li's face screws up in disgust. "Good work, Miss Azula." She stands up. "I'll make some calls to Long Feng, arranging a meet up."

"Make sure you stay quiet about this." Azula warns. "I wanna see that scum's face personally when he realises what's coming for him."

Zhu Li gives Azula a smile before clip-clopping her way out of the office.

Katara should've left with her. She should be helping Zhu Li set up the meeting. Yet, the wheels in her head are turning and she stays rooted to her chair, mind racing a hundred miles per second.

A snap in front of her face, jolts her awake from the spiral she just fell into. She looks up to find Azula's fingers in front of her face, looking at her with a slight tint of annoyance.

"I said, 'dismissed'. And I believe that's your cue to exit my office immediately." Azula is saying, but Katara's not interested.

Katara's brilliant blue eyes snap to Azula. "What will your meeting with Long Feng be about?"

Azula stares at her. "Do not take advantage of your position, new girl. These are matters that do not require your concern."

Katara's face hardens. "I've typed enough transcripts of your meetings in the past week to know more about your management than any other person on this whole floor." She states. But then she tilts her head slightly to the side. "Well, except Zhu Li, of course, but that's Zhu Li."

Azula leans forward in her chair and places her forearms on the desk, clasping her fingers.

Katara mentally cheers herself for speaking up and continues, hearing no response from Azula. "If I were a spy, I'd be halfway to Ba Sing Se by now, selling all your information. But I didn't. So, tell me. What are you going to discuss with the Cabbage Corp's first director?"

Azula scans her face for a long moment. So long that Katara almost ups and leaves from the sheer weight of her gaze. It's piercing and calculative, making Katara squirm in her seat, feeling oddly heated and flustered.

Azula speaks finally, much to Katara's relief. "I was thinking of giving him the scare of his life. But I haven't really gotten around to the details yet."

Katara's face lights up.

This is it. This is the perfect opportunity laying itself in front of her and Katara reaches out and grasps it so freaking tightly, you'd think she's crazy.

"They've been giving you hell for the past few months, right? What if I tell you, that we can take their obvious stupidity and use it to bleed them dry?"

Azula's brows lift up ever so slightly. She stares at Katara a second longer before yielding. "What are you suggesting?"

The smirk that takes up Katara's face could've summoned a fleet of dark spirits. "The perfect scam." She sneers, her mind already racing, making out the details.

...

The clip-clop of Azula's heels probably alerted them or something, Katara isn't sure, but the moment they enter an empty warehouse for the meeting with Long Feng, the little group huddled together right at the middle of the room turn to look at them.

"Ah!" A guy, almost in his 50's, with long hair plaited behind him and adorned in an extremely exquisite kimono, tilts his chin up, turning to Azula and Azula alone. "Miss Azula. We were expecting you for a while now."

"No, you were not." Azula's quick to reply.

The meeting was set up for 4 o clock Saturday afternoon and Katara was pretty sure they were walking in right on the nose of it, given the obsession Azula had for being perfectly on time. No, scratch that. Being perfect all the time, Katara thinks.

Zhu Li had told her that Azula had specifically asked for the 'new girl' for the meeting, and Katara couldn't help but feel euphoric. Every time she's even thinking of her boss, she gets all dizzy and alert at the same time, it's annoying really.

Now, walking behind, just shy of Azula's steps, she's sure they look like professional demons, here to destroy Cabbages, not with swords, but with pens and words.

A smile almost takes up Katara's face at the thought, but she schools her features. No, professionals are supposed to hold a neutral expression, practiced and poised. She glances slightly over to Azula, the perfect example and straightens her back on instinct.

When they near the small group of elite officials, Azula halts abruptly, in a calculated step that only she can master, and Katara almost stumbles behind her, before regaining her composture just as quickly.

A young guy suddenly appears in front of us, carrying a huge video-camera on his shoulder.

Azula rolls her eyes. "Seriously, Mr. Feng? The camera crew again?"

"If we're going to make a deal, I need all the precautions, Miss Azula." The guy with the long plaites looks smug. Katara realises him as the First director of the Cabbage Corp. "I'm surprised you didn't arrange for the same." He cocks his head and gives a smirk that's supposed to indicate his silent victory or something.

Even Katara knows it's a pathetic attempt. And a poorer execution. She can't even begin to think how Cabbage Corp., even achieved this level of power in the market.

"Oh, I like to keep things simple." Azula says before tapping the suit pocket on her chest, which holds a rather unique pen.

Katara's eyes widen when she realises what's inside that pen.

Hot diggity dog! Azula's amazing!

Long Feng's smirk falters as he catches on too. But then he manages to boost his composture back. "Shall we begin?"

...

"Your resources just took a massive hit, according to my sources." Long Feng crosses his legs. "You're at the brink of collapse, if you don't recompense yourself fast. Why would I want to deal with you?"

Azula doesn't answer. She stares at him without a single expression on her face. Katara squirms in her seat. They've sat down for like, what, ten minutes? And this guy already thinks he owns Azula. It's pathetic because Katara knows what's gonna hit him. And the second-hand embarrassment that she's feeling for him right now is unbearable.

Long Feng, seeing that Azula isn't going to answer him any time soon, continues. "Since I have a particular interest in watching other companies shine and provide me with a better competition, I'd like to offer you financial aid. To recover from your loss. What do you say?"

Azula smiles. "I think you're very generous. But I had something else in mind."

Long Feng narrows his eyes. "Oh?"

Azula looks all around the warehouse, non-chalantly, before letting out a short breath. "A merger."

Her words hang in the air. Katara's face can't help itself but break out into a slight smirk. The whole thing was her idea and she's never been prouder for coming up with anything than when she came up with this. But Azula's making it 10 times better.

Long Feng looks at Azula for a long moment. Then he bursts out laughing. He laughs so hard that he almost falls out of his chair.

"Y- You're serious?!" He asks inbetween peels of laughter, before guffawing out loud again.

Azula looks at him with a smile on her chiseled face. She holds her hand out, and Katara immediately gets her cue. The blue-eyed girl carefully fishes out the laptop from the bag she's holding and opens it.

Live footage of the hidden cameras placed in Azula's stolen shipments, starts to play and Katara instantly places the laptop on her boss's extended arm.

Azula doesn't even look at it, when she turns it around towards Long Feng.

And, oh boy. Katara's pretty sure she would watch how the colour and mirth drains from Long Feng's face, over and over again for the rest of her life after she gets hold of Azula's pen camera footage. It's just so damn satisfying when his laughter slowly turns to chuckles and finally stops abruptly as he makes sense of what's being shown to him.

"I believe we have an excellent deal in our hands. It's a shame about your generous offer though, Mr. Feng. I might not accept it, considering my busy schedule of managing two companies simultaneously from now on. I'll even be kind enough to let you work in the inner circle of the board after the merger, if you're willing."

Long Feng's eyes almost fall out of his head in shocked rage. He grits his teeth to the point where it makes a racket and echoes along the large warehouse.

"My secretary will meet you in a week's time, with the necessary documents regarding our merger. Be sure to bring your camera crew too! They're most welcome! Good day, Mr. Feng."

Azula stands up and turns on her heels, walking crisply away from the chaos she just caused. Katara follows right behind, not exactly sure why she's so fucking turned on at the moment.

...

[Three months later]

Katara's desk is filled with notes and diagrams and draft proposals of anything and everything Azula's been engaging with. It's late. Friday night, 10 PM to be precise. Katara leans back in her chair with a sigh of relief, looking up and all around, having completed her work just moments ago, observing and absorbing how strange it is to see the bull-pen so empty.

She's beat and would do anything to have a nice, long, warm shower and a comfortable snuggle only her bed gives.

She packs her things up from the mess of her desk, tidying up a bit so that she won't have to worry about it first thing on Monday.

Then she hears it

And because it is so quiet, she hears it clearly. The soft clicking of keys on a keyboard. Her sharp ears pick out the sound immediately and she decides to follow it, trying to figure out where it's coming from.

She wanders around the empty desks for a few seconds before halting abruptly in front of Azula's office. The sound seems to be coming from there.

She hasn't gone home yet?

Katara frowns. Maybe she got too caught up in her work to realise that Azula hasn't gone home yet.

Pumping herself with some much needed assurance, she slowly opens the door to Azula's office. She knows the girl hates knocking.

Katara peeps inside the room tentatively. Her eyes fall on her boss, typing feverishly on her computer, brows furrowed in concentration. And Katara, knowing that it's too late to be doing heavy work like what Azula seems to be doing right now, decides to go interrupt.

She steps inside the room quietly. Her boss doesn't seem to notice. But when Katara starts walking towards the desk, closing more distance, Azula's eyes snap up to hers suddenly, without turning away from her computer. Katara stops dead on her tracks, panic griping her heart, faster than a race horse. She stares at her boss, not really sure about what she's doing with herself, praying to all spirits silently that she isn't overstepping any boundaries.

Azula considers Katara for a moment, her fingers halting for a second, before she snaps her golden eyes away to the screen again to continue typing. The blue-eyed girl's heart begins to beat faster.

She's not encroaching any boundaries?!

Katara takes a tentative step forward. And when she meets no resistence, she walks freely, closer to Azula's desk. Her boss, seemingly, is absorbed in her work. And Katara doesn't like it. It's Friday night for spirits sake! And she's the boss! She doesn't have to work this hard!

Katara reaches the desk and walks around it to the side where Azula's seated. It's a large desk, and it gives Katara ample space to lean her butt against the edge of it and stand facing Azula with her arms crossed over her chest.

She watches her boss type so fast, she's sure they keys are just minutes away from flying off the keyboard. It's silent between them. Katara knows that her boss is blatantly ignoring her, so she just waits in order to get her attention.

A moment later, Azula finishes up in a flourish, ending her furious typing, and shuts her computer down, before she turns in her chair to face Katara.

"Why aren't you home yet?"

"Haven't you gone home?"

They both speak at the same time. Katara purses her lips, and looks down at her feet, trying to hide her fast forming blush.

"And not to mention," Azula gets up from her chair, unbuttoning her sleeves, "You've walked in here without permission. I could fire you right here."

Katara looks up in a hurry. "No, you won't."

"Oh, yeah?" Her boss begins to roll up her sleeves. Katara gulps, tracing her eyes over Azula's hands. "What makes you so sure?"

The intern averts her eyes away to her boss' face. "I'm too valuable."

Azula gives her half a shrug. "Meh. You're tolerable."

Katara smiles in reply, teasing and taunting. She takes a moment before asking. "You know, you're the boss right?"

Azula finishes rolling up her sleeves before meeting Katara's eyes in an answer. So Katara continues. "You can go home whenever you please. Why haven't you gone already?"

Azula stares at her silently, reaching her hand up to the back of her head and pulling the band that holds her hair together in a bun. The volume of her hair comes crashing down to her shoulders and her back, and Katara can't help but not take her eyes away from the girl.

Katara knew she was attracted to her boss, months ago. But this . . . this is too much. This is like watching the always poised and alert exterior of Azula that she's spent half an year to build, come crashing down; and Katara's the glad witness of the mind-blowing event, all in slow-motion that her brain seems to put her in.

Her boss steps forward a little, getting a better view of Katara leaning against her desk. Golden brown eyes hold the intern in a daunting stare, before Azula looks away. "I had to draft a proposal."

"This late? You could've asked any of us in the bull-pen to do it for you."

"I don't trust them enough to do this." Azula moves a bit forward. She reaches for the red tie around her lithe neck and gets it loose with a few rough tugs. Then her delicate fingers wrap around her collar button and she unfastens it in the blink of an eye.

Katara's brain freezes over, her eyes trained on the sharp collarbone peeking out from under her boss' collar. "Y- You don't?"

Azula shrugs. "Trust is for fools. Fear is the only reliable way."

Katara gulps as she snaps her gaze to Azula's striking ones trained on her intensely. "What about Z- Zhu Li?"

"Ah, Zhu Li . . ." Azula takes another step forward. "She doesn't fear me. And that's the only reason why I respect her enough to remember her name. The others could be eaten by spirits for all I care." She waves her hand dismissively.

"What about me? I don't fear you."

Azula steps closer, almost a foot away from Katara. "You sure about that?"

"Y- Yes."

Azula just smirks in reply.

Then something clicks in Katara's brain. "Wait- Is that why you keep calling me 'new girl'?! You don't even know my name!"

Her boss moves closer again, and this time, Katara can differentiate the various shades of brown sprinkled in those golden eyes from how close she's standing. "Your achievements shall make me remember you. Not your worthless name. So, tell me, new girl. What have you achieved in order for you to make an impression on me and urge me to remember your name?"

Katara presses herself against the desk behind her like her life depends on it. "I- I um . . . I gave you the idea for the merger deal with the Cabbage Corp!!"

Azula leans forward and places her palms on her desk, on either side of Katara, trapping her. Katara's heart rate increases tenfold. She almost whimpers at the intoxicating smell her boss seems to posess.

"And that's supposed to have impressed me?" Azula raises one chisled brow, silently mocking Katara with just her eyes.

Okay, now Katara's definitely sure that this isn't something that's supposed to be happening between a boss and her intern. But does she care? Oh, spirits no! She finds herself slipping into a daze, her mind filled only with Azula's scent and her goddamn eyes.

"I- I . . ."

"You're gonna have to do lot more than that." Katara feels fingers as soft as silk place themselves on her thigh. They find the gap between her suit-skirt and her burning skin and slides inside effortlessly like butter. Katara shudders at the touch.

"W- What are you doing?" The intern's voice is unstable, riddled heavily with something thick; something raw.

Azula stares at her, slowly moving her hand higher up inside Katara's skirt. "Waiting for you to tell me to stop."

Katara closes her eyes, overwhelmed with a rush of new feelings she knows she shouldn't be having for her boss. She feels hot breath hit her face just and inch away.

"Do you want me to stop?" Azula whispers against her lips, taunting her; teasing her in a way that drives Katara crazy.

And Katara makes a decision. "No." She breathes. "Don't stop."

A smirk takes up her boss' face immediately before she crashes her lips against Katara with such force that pushes Katara flush against the desk, the edge digging into her butt. She pushes back with equal fervour, clasping her fingers tightly around Azula's loose tie and pulling her forward with it.

But Azula's having none of it.

She pushes Katara's skirt up, massaging the intern's thigh with her hand as she spreads the girl's legs apart. She wastes no time, moving forward to come and stand in between her legs, giving Katara a delicious friction to rub herself against.

Their mouths dance against each other, fighting in the most intimate way possible to gain control. Azula's hand that is not presently engaged with Katara's thigh, comes up to untuck the intern's blue blouse from her skirt, dipping her hand inside to caress the soft skin there.

Katara jumps on cloud nine. Her hungry desire for her boss ever since she laid her eyes on the girl, hits her with full force as her hand find Azula's shirt to crumple under her fingers. She lets out a needy breath when Azula leaves her lips to dip her head down to place a hot, wet, open mouth on Katara's neck, sucking the supple skin there in a way that makes Katara pretty sure it's gonna leave a mark.

It's wrong. Katara knows it's absolutely wrong. But it feels so damn right and so damn good that she silences all the other nonsensical thoughts riddling her brain and pulls the dark, raw, unadulterated hunger she feels for her boss to the forefront, throwing away all reason. She doesn't know when exactly she became this shameless animal, wanting, no- needing to be satisfied by Azula, and only Azula, but she doesn't seem to care.

Especially not when Azula's caressing hand unbuttons her skirt and sneaks its merry way down to pure, wet, heat. Katara feels herself pounding in time with her heart, gushing wetness all over Azula's now bold and teasing fingers. She arches her back, aching for her boss' touch, and gasping out loud when Azula finally, finally puts pressure exactly fucking where she needs it.

Katara's hand flies out to grip the desk and accidentally hits the pen stand and it comes crashing down with a loud BANG!

Katara jolts awake.

She sits up straight in her chair, blinking rapidly, her eyes adjusting to the sudden hit of light. She looks all around, shocked to find that she's at her desk in the bull-pen. She must've fallen asleep on her desk or something.

Heat flushes into Katara's face as her brain catches up with what she was dreaming. She looks toward Azula's office, and most definitely, there's not a single soul there; lights out and door locked.

Her body's still buzzing, completely on edge, still not over the mind-numbingly vivid dream she just had.

God dang it!

Now she's never going to be able to look at her boss in the eyes again. She packs her stuff up and heads home in a hurry. She's taking the coldest freaking shower known to mankind when she reaches home, for sure.

...

"The proposal's been approved." Azula's sharp voice rings around the meeting hall. "I want the draft for the first design by this Thursday. Any delay on your part and I will not hesitate to terminate you from my office. Understood?"

There are terrified nods all around the hall.

"Good." Azula narrows her eyes. "Dismissed."

Zhu Li, beside Katara, gets up to go have a seat near Azula, to run over the details regarding the discussions in the meeting, just as everyone hurriedly scurries out of the hall. Katara follows her mindlessly. Even after 3 months, Katara still shadows Zhu Li around, learning as much as can from the secretary.

The intern thought that if she spent the whole of the weekend having slumber parties with her friends, it just might take her mind off of the dream she had last Friday.

But, nope.

She tried all the trick in her book, but nothing seems to be working. Sitting here in the meeting hall, along with Zhu Li and Azula alone, she can't help but let her eyes wander to her boss' tie, noticing the way it stands crisp and how it came so beautifully undone under Azula's sculpted fingers in her dream. She can't help but imagine what witnessing the real thing would be like. It also does not help when Azula picks up a pen and starts twirling it inbetween her fingers.

Katara sucks in a sharp breath and pulls her eyes away reluctantly to her notepad.

"Katara?"

She hears her name and looks up instantly to find Azula's sharp eyes looking directly at her.

"Zhu Li's gone already. I said dismissed two minutes ago."

Katara looks around the hall, confused, and feels her cheek heat up at the realisation. She and Azula are the only ones in the hall. But then she frowns. "Wait-" Her eyes snap back to her boss. "You know my name?!"

Three months under Azula's leadership, and not once has Katara heard Azula call her by her name. And the same three months of experience tells Katara that the look Azula's giving her is the one she wears when she's confused.

"What do you mean?" The golden eyed girl asks.

"I- I thought you always called me 'new girl' cuz you didn't know my name!"

Azula arches her brow. "I always call you 'new girl' because you are a new girl."

Katara frowns. "Then . . . I'm not a new girl anymore?"

Azula snorts. "You've not been new since your mom pushed you out of her."

The intern scowls at her boss. "Not funny. My mom died when I was 5."

Azula stares at her employee for a second longer before shrugging slightly. "Sorry."

Katara perks up. Sorry? The great Azula, shadow director of Agni Incorp., is capable of uttering that word?!

Seeing that Katara's confused, Azula explains without prompt. "Look, you've improved the status of the company since you arrived here, so much so that I could kiss you with how pleased I am. So, it's importat that I don't treat you as just another employee although they're important too, but as a colleague."

Katara gulps. "Y- You could kiss me?!"

Azula raises her eyebrows. "Figure of speech." She says but there's amusement in her eyes. "Were you really about to say 'no' to Azula Agni kissing you?"

Katara's eyes blow wide. "What?! No! That's not what I was-" She notices Azula's expression. "You're playing me, aren't you?"

The corner of Azula's lips curve up into a smirk, her eyes twinkling. "You should've seen your face."

"I know, I know." Katara rolls her eyes. "Very funny."

Their shared moment hangs in the air softly, bathing Katara with an unnatural elation. She finds Azula staring at her with the twinkle never leaving her eyes. Her stomach flips involuntarily. She sobers up, playing with a strand of her own hair in sudden nervousness.

"Zhu Li's planning on resigning." Azula states and Katara looks up with shock at the sudden news. "I tried to keep her in, but it really is no use. She needs to work on her career and she can't do that wiping my ass for the rest of her life."

"When?" - Is the only thing Katara can ask.

"In three months." Azula looks down at the table. "She says she'll train you for another month and then issue me her notice."

Katara frowns. "Me?"

Azula's gaze finds Katara's confused ones. "Yeah, you. You're gonna be Zhu Li's replacement."

The intern's heart pounds against her ribs. Being Azula's secretary means being close to her at all times, arriving at her beck and call and . . . Katara really isn't sure if she's cut out for the job with the kind of dreams that she's been having.

"You . . . don't want to be?" Azula frowns slightly.

Katara decides to be honest. At least about one thing. "I don't think I'm cut out for the job is all."

Azula's frown deepens. "I just told you how I could kiss you because of how good you're at this job. Just . . . think about it and make sure to let me know before Zhu Li hands in her notice."

Katara knows that her decision is already going to be a 'yes'. But she nods to Azula's suggestion anyways, as if to mull it over.

"Dismissed."

Katara walks out of the meeting hall, with a light heart.

***

i've been writing this fic for THREE days. that's how long this is 😭🖐🏻

i hope i satisfied your prompt, anon!! if anyone wants a part 2 for this... all u need to do is ask me 👀 it's that simple.

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