#C Interview Questions and Answers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whoevenisjavier · 1 month ago

Text

sugar coated, lies unfolded

pairing: CEO harry castillo x exec. assistant f! reader

summary: you try to stay away, to do the right thing, but somehow, you end up back in your boss’ bed... well, your boss and his wife’s bed.

part 1 here

tags/warning: +18, mdni. harry castillo is 48 and married. reader is 25 and has a boyfriend. age gap. cheating. f!reader. partners dissing. oral sex (f! receiving). unprotected piv. anal fingering. she does stuff to him while his wife is on the phone i’m sorry.

w/c: 10k

Someone is talking about the ripple effects of the Forbes cover on New York’s business scene, explaining how the new feature on Harry Castillo will influence decisions made by investors and agents, especially now that Castillo & Co. is expanding operations in Asia.

“It’s an unbelievable feat to be on the cover of Forbes twice in just twenty months,” the public relations manager is saying.

You jot down the word unbelievable on your iPad before the rest of the sentence drowns in flashbacks from the night before, flooding your brain like quicksand made of memories, tastes, and touches.

You shift in your chair, wishing you were anywhere but a conference room at eight-thirty in the morning, and your gaze, though fixed on your tablet screen, starts to blur around the edges.

Between your legs is tender, deliciously sore in all the right ways after being claimed by the thick length of Harry until almost two in the morning, when he finally dropped you off at home.

You didn’t even make it to the bed in his Lenox Hill apartment. You had sex on the white oak floor in the living room, on top of a blanket, desperate, and everything on you is sensitive today.

You slept with your boss. You actually slept with your boss.

God. Harry has such a filthy mouth.

Someone calls your name.

“Do you think he’d want that?”

Your eyes meet those of Harry’s personal PR manager, who has one brow raised. You like her. She’s sharp and direct and doesn’t have time to waste, a trait that’s written all over the look she’s giving you now.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” you admit. “What was the question?”

An impatient sigh.

“I asked if you think Harry would want to talk about his career journey.”

“No,” you say immediately. “He covered that in the last interview, and he’ll kill someone if he has to answer the same questions again.”

The intern to your left scrambles to erase something from her own iPad.

When you leave the meeting, it’s settled that Harry’s next interview will be with Forbes, set to be edited and published on a rush schedule. Now you need to inform him, schedule the interview, send ten thousand emails.

You press the elevator button and wait. When the doors finally open on your floor—Media, Marketing, and Advertising—there are three people inside, and your boss is one of them.

Your first instinct is to stay put, but one of the men is holding the door open for you, and Harry is looking at you with an unreadable expression. Everyone knows the two of you get along well, so you can’t exactly not step in.

“Good morning,” you say as you enter, greeted politely by the other two men. You stop beside Harry, both of you facing forward, side by side. “Good morning, Harry.”

“Morning.”

His tone is polite and to the point, as it always is when other people are around.

The doors close. The elevator screen shows stops on the fifth and seventh floors before heading to the fifteenth, where Harry’s office is. Background music resumes while you focus on breathing mechanically, because even that feels too tense right now.

Is he thinking about how he practically begged to come inside you twice?

The elevator stops. One of the men steps out, exchanging good mornings.

At some point last night, he brought up your boyfriend while he was still inside you, and you wanted to kill him for it, because your body was torn between being turned on by the wrongness of it all and feeling sorry for your partner, who was probably asleep at that hour, completely unaware of how his name was being dragged through the situation. But then the irrational possessiveness bug bit Harry and he made you admit your boyfriend didn’t fuck you nearly as well.

The elevator stops again. The last person exits, leaving just you and Harry in the confined space. The music starts up again.

Harry speaks first.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks quietly, still looking ahead.

“What do…” you start to say, then remember how, toward the end of the night, you told him you were so sensitive between your legs, something Harry then soothed with his own tongue. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“You complained.”

“I made an observation,” you clarify. “Because it’s true. You and my boyfriend are different. And with you, it was hours.”

He says nothing.

“We said we wouldn’t talk about this at work,” you remind him. “Last night didn’t happen.”

The doors open on your floor, and Harry, without addressing your last comment, holds them open for you to exit first. You both begin walking to your respective places — your desk, his office — and you slip back into your executive assistant persona. The one who doesn’t know what his sweaty skin smells like, how his kiss tastes, or the sound of that deep groan when whispered into your ear.

“I need to talk to you about the Forbes interview,” you call after him. “Can we schedule a meeting at three?”

“Yes. Put it on the calendar, please,” he says without slowing down or looking back.

He enters his office and shuts the door behind him, which means: do not disturb.

So you don’t.

You and Harry are good actors. That you gotta admit.

For the next three weeks, nothing happens. He’s your boss, you’re his assistant, and that’s the only dynamic that exists between you. The world keeps spinning. And you don’t get fired, which was a very real possibility in the mental report you filed the morning after that night.

You start arriving earlier so you don’t have to stay late, which means you don’t have to be alone with him. Harry stops sending cryptic messages about his meetings. He also stops emerging from his office when you walk in wearing the red dress he once said he loved.

Three weeks later, on a Friday at four p.m., Harry steps out of his office and walks over to your desk.

You look up from the Excel spreadsheet where you’re logging his personal expenses and ask politely,

“Can I help you, Harry?”

“Are you going to the cocktail party?”

He’s talking about the Castillo & Co. event tomorrow night, celebrating the release of the Forbes issue featuring his new interview.

“Yes, of course. Do you need something?”

“I need you to come with me to the tailor and take the suit to my apartment. I’ve got something at six, won’t have time to go back to my house.”

“Okay. Now?”

“Now.”

You nod, like the good assistant you are, and save the file before shutting down your computer.

In silence, you both head down to the parking garage and slide into the back seat of Harry’s car. His driver is already behind the wheel. Harry immediately crosses one leg over the other, foot bouncing, and pulls out his phone. You turn toward the window as the car leaves the underground lot.

This is the first time you two are in a car together after that night, that had felt so different.

Harry had dismissed the driver, so he was the one behind the wheel. The silence back then was heavy with anticipation, tension, and the electric certainty that something was going to happen. When he stopped at a red light, he leaned across the console to kiss you and slid a hand under your skirt, pressing against you through your underwear in a way that made you feel completely, undeniably his.

You squeeze your thighs together and close your eyes, steadying your breath.

The moment shatters with the sound of your phone. You glance down and see “baby” on the screen — your boyfriend. You’d asked him to call to plan dinner.

Shit. Perfect timing.

“Hey, babe,” you say softly. In your peripheral vision, you catch Harry’s foot stilling. Your boyfriend is cheerful, loud enough that Harry can probably hear every word. He asks if you’re still at the office. “No, I’m heading to the tailor with Harry, then I’ll go straight to your place. Is that okay?”

He says it is. Says he bought a special bottle of wine because the pink label reminded him of you—your favorite color—and the ache in your chest tightens.

“You’re so sweet to me,” you say, and maybe it’s just in your head, but your voice sounds too guilty. He tells you that you deserve it. You don’t know what to say, so you ask, “Do you want me to pick anything up for dinner?”

He says no. Says he just wants one thing from you. You lower your voice.

“What do you want?”

The car is dead silent. Your phone volume is up too high when he says, “I want you on the kitchen counter, wearing nothing but your panties, while I cook.” That’s your assignment, he adds.

You let out an awkward little laugh, praying Harry didn’t catch it.

“Deal,” you say. “See you tonight.”

When you hang up, Harry isn’t on his phone anymore. He’s just staring out the window, unreadable.

You arrive at the tailor and the driver opens your door. Harry joins you on the sidewalk and, for the first time in nearly a month, places a guiding hand at the base of your back as you walk inside. He used to do that all the time, but apparently that kind of touch was banned after what happened between you.

The receptionist greets you and leads you to one of the private fitting rooms. Three of the walls are mirrors and two velvet couches sit in the corner. There’s a tray with water and candied orange peels, and, In the center of it all, is the raised circular platform where Harry usually stands during fittings.

She shows him the suit, neatly arranged on two hangers, and tells him to try it on. Then she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

You head straight for one of the couches, which makes Harry’s hand fall away from your back.

“Want me to wait outside?” you ask, out of habit, as you sit down. You’ve done this a dozen times.

“Nothing you haven’t seen,” he says, pulling off his shoes.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Off comes the blazer, placed on the rack. Then the watch and the cufflinks are dropped into the tray. Then come the buttons—first the sleeves, then the collar, all the way down…

You clear your throat and open your phone, responding to emails, not looking at him.

“So your boyfriend cooks for you,” Harry says casually.

And just like that, you know he heard everything.

Half his chest is exposed. He’s not even looking at you as he untucks his shirt and slides it off, standing shirtless in front of you, wearing only slacks.

“Yeah, he likes to cook.”

“Is it a special occasion?”

“Does it have to be?” you counter, eyes glued to your screen.

“Just asking.”

He unbuttons his pants, and you lock your gaze on your phone.

“Anniversary,” you finally say, which makes you realize that you’ll need new lingerie for tonight.

“What if he proposes again? Will you say yes?”

“Harry,” you say firmly, lifting your gaze now that he’s put on the dress pants. “That’s none of your business. You pay me to manage your life, but that doesn’t mean you get to know everything about mine.”

“I love how passive-aggressive you get when I bring up your relationship. You hate it.”

“I don’t hate my boyfriend.”

“I didn’t say you hate your boyfriend. I said you hate your relationship.”

He starts buttoning the newly fitted shirt, and his tone is so maddeningly casual you feel heat rising in your chest.

“You just want me to hate my relationship so you can feel a little better,” you say, holding your fingers up, barely apart, “just this much better, about the fact that you hate yours too.”

“I don’t need to feel better about it. I know the truth. If we didn’t hate our relationships, we wouldn’t have had sex.”

“We agreed not to talk about it.”

“Oh, that again. Has it helped? Not talking about it has made you think about it any less?”

You lock your phone and set it aside. Adjust yourself on the couch and look directly at him. Your voice stays quiet, but sharp.

“Of course not, but what do you want me to do? I’m in a relationship, you’re married, we have lives, and I need my job. And even if I do think about that night, I can’t do anything about it. So yeah, it’s better to pretend.”

“So you do think about it.”

“If that’s what strokes your ego, then fine, yes. I think about it. There hasn’t been a single damn day since that night that I haven’t remembered it. It haunts me.”

Harry finishes buttoning his shirt, tucks it in, then slips on the blazer. The suit fits like a glove. Every seam perfect, every line flattering.

“I told you I had morals,” Harry says quietly after a beat. “But I put them aside for you. And now, here I am, with none, asking you to keep going.”

Your heart stumbles.

“Keep going what?”

“What started that night in my office. I’m not going to ask you to break up with your boyfriend, and I won’t promise I’ll divorce my wife. I can sign a five-year job security agreement if that’s what it takes to make you feel safe. But I want you.”

“This won’t work.”

“Do you want it?”

What a stupid question. You nearly die a little every day from how much you want him.

But your answer never comes, because the tailor opens the door and walks in, greeting Harry cheerfully.

And now you can’t stop thinking

You think about it as you head to Harry’s apartment to drop off his suit, ignoring the pair of gold hoops on the entryway table that make it painfully obvious he’s a married man. You think about it later, when you go to your boyfriend’s place and undress for him. And even later, in the shower, when you notice the mark he left near your breast while you were having sex.

This has absolutely no chance of ending well, and you’ve never been the kind of person who lets irrational impulses get in the way of your career. But for the first time… you’re tempted.

And the worst part? You can’t tell anyone. Maybe your therapist, but she’ll just say again how unhealthy this dynamic is, and you don’t want to hear that. And you don’t trust her that much with this kind of secret.

You think about it as you get ready for Harry’s cocktail party, aching to see him and hoping for permission to touch him.

Your boyfriend approaches, eyes wide when he sees you in the strapless red gown, and lets out a whistle.

“Are you sure I’m even allowed to be seen with you tonight?” he teases, wrapping his arms around you from behind and kissing your neck. “You look gorgeous. Stunning dress.”

“Harry gave it to me. Well, he gave me the money and his personal shopper bought it,” you say, because there’s no way you could afford a Schiaparelli, and your boyfriend is used to hearing about the things Harry buys you whenever there’s an event.

All so you look presentable as Harry Castillo’s executive assistant, of course.

“Of course he did,” your boyfriend says, rolling his eyes. “Ready?”

When you arrive at Castillo & Co.’s event hall, hand in hand with your boyfriend, you realize that, no, you’re not ready. The decor is tasteful and elegant in shades of fawn, black, and ice white and everyone is in black-tie. At the back of the room, a digital display showcases the Forbes cover. Harry looks amazing in the photo, completely fitting for the role he holds, but the headline reads: From Concrete to the Top of the World.

He must’ve hated that.

“Do we have fancy whiskey?” your boyfriend asks as you start to cross the room. “And shrimp cocktail?”

The questions are rhetorical. Before you can answer, he plants a loud kiss on your lips and heads off toward the food tables. You watch him walk away, wishing he stayed with you, but then a waiter offers you a glass of champagne and you accept. You walk toward the edge of the room, and sip while scanning the space.

People are gathered in polished little clusters, all impeccably dressed and beaming. But there’s a larger group crowded around one person, and the reason is Harry, who’s speaking with ease and commanding the social scene with effortless charm, looking absolutely delicious in a tux.

Your view is partially blocked when his wife appears beside him, placing a hand on his forearm, looking radiant in a white off-shoulder draped gown. Without stopping his sentence or glancing her way, Harry slips an arm around her waist.

She seems to glow under his touch. You understand the feeling, despite the hundred-pound weight settling in your stomach.

How ridiculous, to feel jealous of the wife. You are the wrong one, not her. And how twisted is it that, beneath the jealousy, there’s a flicker of satisfaction because Harry wants you, not just her?

Harry laughs at something one of the men says. He scans the room briefly, and that’s when he sees you. Your stomach twists, and nearly melts, when his eyes sweep over you from head to toe, so subtly that no one else would notice.

Smoothly, he turns back to the conversation, as if his attention had never strayed.

Your own attention is pulled back by your boyfriend returning.

“There’s so much food,” he says, his excitement making you laugh. He laughs too, but insists, “Seriously. It’s insane. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head, and he grabs your hand, guiding you toward the buffet tables. There are a million options, and you let yourself get distracted by them so you don’t start looking for Harry, which doesn’t work, because ten minutes later, he’s the one who finds you.

His wife is with him.

“Darling,” she says, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “That dress is stunning. It’s Schiaparelli, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you reply, and she keeps looking at you like she’s waiting for an explanation. You add, “A loan from Harry, so I wouldn’t embarrass him.”

“It’s not a loan. It’s yours,” Harry says, leaning in to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. His smell, what the fuck. He extends a hand to your boyfriend. “So you’re the boyfriend.”

“So you’re the boss,” your boyfriend jokes as they shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Castillo.”

“Likewise,” Harry says, though the tone is anything but warm. Then to you: “My PR rep asked for a few photos of us. Can you do that now?”

“Sure,” you reply, accepting his offered arm.

Harry kisses his wife lightly and says he’ll be right back. You do the same with your boyfriend. Together, you walk toward the PR team, and once you’re far enough from the crowd, Harry speaks, eyes still forward.

“Have you thought about it?”

“Do I have a deadline?”

“So you’re considering it.”

That shuts you up. Yes, you are considering it.

“If we were to do this,” you murmur to Harry, smiling politely at one of his business partners entering your field of vision, who’s always courteous to you, “I’d want that job security agreement.”

“I’ll call my lawyer right now and have him draft the contract.”

The conversation pauses as you reach Harry’s publicist—a tall man who always wears eccentric suits, whether because of the patterns or the bold colors. Tonight, he’s in blood-red with round glasses and greets you with a giant smile.

“Stunning,” he says, kissing both of your cheeks. “What an honor for Harry to be seen with such a beautiful woman.”

You shoot him a look.

“Besides Mrs. Castillo, of course!” he adds quickly, and you decide not to check your boss’s face. “Shall we?”

You and Harry pose in front of a wide LED panel bearing the Castillo Construction & Co. logo. He places a hand on your waist without a hint of a smile, and you fall into your executive posture: back straight, polite, demure smile.

Photos are taken with instructions from both the photographer and the publicist. When it’s over, but before you and Harry can step apart, he leans in, under the guise of a polite hug, and whispers in your ear:

“She’s traveling for work tonight. If the answer is yes, you know where I live.”

Then he disappears into the sea of people who can’t wait to be near him.

By sheer luck, you don’t see Harry again during the next two hours you remain at the cocktail party. Your boyfriend indulges in the expensive whiskey, and you sip two more glasses of champagne, but there’s an anticipation humming beneath everything you do, like something is lurking.

Like the night won’t end at your home, in your bed, with your boyfriend.

You leave around nine, and you practically have to guide your boyfriend into the Uber waiting at the curb. He’s nearly unconscious on the ride back to his apartment, just awake enough to walk on his own. You help him inside, stay with him while he showers, and then watch over him as he collapses into bed.

A glass of water and two aspirins on the nightstand. A kiss on the forehead. And then he’s snoring, totally out.

You close the door gently behind you and, leaning your back against it, pick up your phone.

You open your chat with Harry. The last message is a simple “ok” you sent after he asked to reschedule a meeting.

There’s no telling how long you stand there, staring at the screen and imagining a thousand different scenarios, but when you finally type something, it’s:

“Let the front desk know I’m cleared to come up.”

Because even though your name is on the list of people with access to his apartment, the building has strict policies about non-residents after 8 p.m.

Harry replies ten minutes later:

“Done.”

The doorman, an older gentleman who’s always polite, greets you as always: with a gentle tone, a compliment (this time about your dress), and a polite question about whether Harry’s being a decent boss. But you catch the slight wrinkle between his brows, the subtle confusion in his smile. It says: What the hell are you doing here at this hour?

You see the same look from the security guards, and from the person at the front desk. But you lift your chin, square your shoulders, and pretend your reason for being here is purely professional.

You build a whole story in your mind as you walk across the marble lobby, your heels clicking with each step, just to make it easier to face. Harry needs a report for Monday morning, and he’s paying you overtime for it, but the source documents are physical, and he can’t scan them.

He took them home because he planned to work on them tonight, but the cocktail party took over his evening.

You step into the elevator and enter the code for Harry’s apartment.

And he remembered the report at the event, of course he did, because the partner he’s meeting on Monday mentioned looking forward to the negotiations. So you, ever the good employee, offered to stop by and grab the documents.

The elevator doors close, taking you toward the penthouse duplex, and you shut your eyes, erasing the fake narrative.

Now, it’s just you and your conscience.

There’s no report. No meeting. No overtime. Now it’s just Harry and you, both willingly choosing to do this and hurt your partners in exchange for nothing more than physical satisfaction.

The doors open into the private foyer of the penthouse, warmly lit and lined with framed art. Harry is standing in the doorway of the apartment, barefoot, blazer gone, bowtie undone and hanging loose at his collar.

You take one step forward, leaving the elevator.

“How was the rest of the party?” you ask, trying to sound casual through your nerves.

“Good. They liked the feature.”

You stop a few feet away, feeling his eyes on you. You twist your clutch in your hands.

“We left early because she had to catch the flight,” Harry adds, answering the question you hadn’t asked. “Want to come in? I think I still have some champagne.”

You nod, agreeing, and step inside as Harry closes the door behind you. The long hallway leading into the living room, all decorated in earth tones and golden light, greets you like a witness.

“There are some things I’m assuming based on the fact that you’re here,” Harry says behind you. You turn to face him. “But obviously, I need you to say it.”

“I don’t know if I can say it out loud.”

He watches you for a beat, reading your face.

“Morals?”

“It’s called having a heart.”

He smiles, and it’s far too sensual for the subject at hand.

“Speaking of hearts… what excuse did you give your boyfriend?”

He walks past you, heading down the hallway, and you follow. The two of you move into the living room, and you settle onto the couch, watching as Harry disappears for a few seconds and reemerges with an unopened bottle of Bollinger and two flutes in his hands. He sits beside you, and within moments, the bottle is open and champagne is flowing into both glasses.

You slip off your heels. Harry tosses his bow tie onto the coffee table. And only after you’ve taken your first sip of champagne do you finally answer.

“I didn’t need an excuse. He was asleep,” you say, referring to your boyfriend. “I think he had a lot of whiskey.”

“That’s a shame. He could’ve spent the night with you, but he chose to drink,” Harry replies, settling in beside you as he clicks his tongue. “Rookie mistake.”

“You think it’s exciting to sleep with me because it only happened once and it’s forbidden. After three years, he doesn’t think like that anymore.”

“There isn’t a universe where I don’t find having you in my bed exciting.”

That makes you blink slowly at him, then at the ring on his finger, while the champagne tastes suddenly bitter on your tongue.

He notices where your eyes have landed.

“Does it bother you?” he asks, gesturing to the ring.

You don’t even need to think, which probably bumps you up twenty points on the I’m-A-Terrible-Person scale.

“No,” you say, because it’s true. “Did you feel guilty?”

“Tonight?” you nod, and he draws in a long breath. He seems to test a million possible words before landing on: “No. I didn’t. I was angry at your boyfriend, and then I felt like an asshole for that.”

When you don’t respond, Harry throws the question back at you.

“Did you?”

You take another sip of champagne, gaze fixed on the massive TV mounted across from the sofa.

“I wish I had. It would be easier to deal with all this if I felt guilty.”

Harry reaches over and takes a lock of your hair that had fallen over your chest, twirling it around his finger before brushing it over your shoulder. He does the same with the others, gently moving each strand behind you, letting it fall down your back.

Before anything else, he places his glass on the coffee table beside the bottle and settles into the cushions.

“Come here.”

The way he pulls you brings your body into his, with your back partially resting against his chest and your legs tucked beneath you.

“I usually have answers for everything,” Harry says. “But for this? I don’t.”

You tilt your head just enough to hear the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your ear, and you intertwine your fingers with his. His arm rests over your right shoulder.

“It’s okay… I don’t need comfort. I’m here because I want to be.”

Harry makes a low sound, like agreement, and presses his hand flat against your chest. He can probably feel the same quick heartbeat under his palm.

He changes the subject because that’s the smarter choice.

“You look beautiful in that dress,” he says near your ear, his voice more intimate now, more private. You close your eyes and savor the sound like it’s dessert. “Everyone was looking at you and envying your boyfriend.”

His hand drifts lower, cupping your breast over the smooth silk of your gown, his touch feather-light. Your skin prickles.

“But I’m the one they should envy, right?” Harry keeps whispering. The dress has a slit that’s just wide enough for him to slip his hand underneath and cup your breast. “I was trying to think of a way to make that obvious.”

“That you’re cheating on your wife with me?”

His soft thumb finds your hardened nipple, and a wave of heat rolls between your legs as he circles it.

“That I got what all those wide-eyed bastards wanted.”

“You’re awfully possessive for someone who’s the other man.”

He laughs, and you feel it more than you hear it, the vibration under your cheek against his chest. You smile, and the smile stays as Harry reaches for the small zipper on the side of your dress and slowly, slowly pulls it down.

The fabric loosens with each inch the zipper drops, and you’re the one who slides the top of the dress down to your waist, exposing your breasts. His hands cover them one at a time, squeezing gently, and you push them toward his palms.

Soon, it’s his mouth on your neck, lips parted over your sensitive skin. You have to tighten your grip around the champagne flute just to keep from dropping it as Harry kisses and bites your neck, his beard scraping and tickling in a way that leaves your whole body weak.

“Turn around and kiss me,” he says, taking the glass from your hand and placing it on the coffee table.

When he leans back into the couch again, you kneel on the seat beside him, just like that first night in his office, and meet his mouth. Harry holds your face with both hands but lets you set the pace, following your movements. And you devour it, because you’ve thought about this too much. His kiss, his taste, the way he leads without ever needing to be rough.

Your mouths part wider, undoing all the restraint that’s built up over the last three weeks. Harry slides one hand down to finish unzipping the dress completely and pushes it off your hips, leaving you in nothing but panties.

You’ve barely thrown the dress to the floor before his hand is already inside your underwear, and your knees weaken. He finds the slickness there and mutters a curse under his breath before sitting up straighter to get a better angle as he rubs slow circles over your clit.

The blood is pounding so hard in your ears that you barely register the phone ringing.

Both of you freeze, breaths and hearts racing. You meet Harry’s gaze, seeking some sort of shelter in it, and he looks back at you, lips red, before glancing toward the coffee table.

Before he can move, you kiss him again. Screw the phone. Harry immediately sinks back into the kiss, and the middle finger still inside your panties traces slowly from your clit down to your dripping entrance. It doesn’t take long before he slips it inside, and you swing a leg over his lap, settling into him.

The phone stops ringing.

Harry moves slowly, probably remembering how sensitive you were last time. He takes his time with just one finger, working you open, making you wetter. Your clit is practically throbbing, and he starts to speak—

—but the words are swallowed up by the phone ring again.

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry mutters, clearly annoyed, pulling his hand from your panties and gripping your waist. With you still in his lap, he leans forward and grabs the phone. You feel his whole body tense beneath you when he sees the screen.

“What is it?” you ask.

“My wife,” he says.

You want to be a bitch and tell him not to answer, to hang up, but you can’t. Even though you know he might actually listen if you said it.

“Answer. It could be important.”

Harry squeezes your waist as you try to move off his lap.

“Stay,” he says, and clears his throat before answering. “Hi, darling. Everything okay?”

“Hey, babe. Why didn’t you pick up the first time?”

You can hear her voice clearly because she’s speaking loudly and because of how close the two of you are, but you stay quiet and still, as if moving might somehow make her see you.

The lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly.

“Sorry. I was on a video call with some investors in Japan. I didn’t see the phone ring.”

You keep your eyes on his as your hand reaches the button on his pants. You undo it silently, then ease the zipper down.

Harry doesn’t stop you.

“I’m at the airport,” his wife is saying. “I upgraded to business class, but for some reason they need you to authorize the purchase on your bank app.”

“That’s strange. They’ve never needed confirmation before.”

With the zipper all the way down, you slide your hand into his underwear and pull out his hard cock. Your mouth practically waters.

“I said the same thing!” she laughs. “I think I’m just going to cancel and try using my own card… Not the joint account.”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but it’s exactly when you lick your hand and wrap it around him. His jaw tightens and his eyes flutter shut. He pulls the phone away from his face to suck in a sharp breath.

“Harry?”

“I can authorize it from here,” he says into the phone, eyes glancing down to follow the motion of your hand. “Up to you.”

“Hmm… no worries, I’ll just use mine.” A pause. “My flight boards in thirty minutes and you know what I can’t stop thinking about?”

“What?”

You remove your hand from his cock only to quietly slip out of your panties. His gaze drops, devouring the space between your legs, and you sit back down on his thigh, not caring in the slightest if you leave a wet mark on his pants.

She says,

“The way you fingered me in the car after the party.”

Your hands freeze. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, and he gives you a small, crooked smile before replying to his wife,

“You liked that?”

“Mhm. Too bad I couldn’t make you come, too.”

You narrow your eyes and squirm with jealousy. You tighten your grip and focus on the swollen tip. Harry tries to stop you, but you challenge him and keep going, watching his expression break. You want her to hear.

“I didn’t need to,” he manages to say. “That was for you.”

Harry moves the phone away completely, whispering a curse just as her voice returns on the other end.

“But I miss sleeping with you.” Her tone is overly sweet, but there’s a hint of real sadness buried beneath it.

The smile that threatens to curl your lips is cruel and selfish, and you don’t dig too deep into what it means. Probably something about how you’re about to have what she wants. Which is awfully childish, you know that.

But part of you feels for her. That’s what you think as you lift yourself onto your knees, placing one over Harry’s thigh to get the angle right, and guide his erection to the slick heat between your legs.

You’d feel that way, too, if you were married to a man like Harry and he didn’t want you.

Harry leans his head back on the couch, avoiding your eyes. He stares at the ceiling, the knuckles of the hand holding the phone pale and strained.

“Sorry. A lot on my mind,” he says, just as you sink down on him.

His chest tightens in a heavy breath. His free hand clutches your hip, his thighs tense beneath you, a vein in his neck practically pulsing. He’s a vision of self-restraint, and you revel in it, grinding down onto him and biting your lip hard enough to nearly break skin just to keep quiet.

“I get it,” she says. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Darling, I need—”

“Promise me we’ll try harder.”

You lean forward as he stretches you, kissing the side of his damp neck while your fingers work on the buttons of his shirt, your tongue tracing the line of that vein. He shudders.

“I promise,” Harry says, his nails digging into your waist as you begin to rock in his lap, moaning against his skin. “I… I really need to go. Have to finish some documents. But text me when you land, okay?”

You don’t even register their goodbye. All you know is that Harry practically throws his phone onto the coffee table.

“Brat,” he mutters against your mouth as he pulls your hair, tugging off his shirt in one fluid motion. “Can’t believe the phone didn’t pick up the sound of this wet pussy.”

“Lucky you,” you say. “So Harry Castillo isn’t fucking his wife? What a shame.”

He tightens his grip around you and stands, pulling a gasp from your mouth as he slips out of you.

“You’re too old to be lifting like that,” you say, even as your thighs wrap around his hips. “Your physical therapist’s gonna be rich.”

“And you still want this old man?”

You nod, and Harry gives a smug little smile. Men are so easy to please.

He carries you through the hallway into the master bedroom. Your wide-eyed gaze meets his a moment before he sets you down on the enormous, messy bed. One glance to the side and you see the open door of his wife’s closet, purses and heels in view, just before Harry flips you onto your stomach and raises your hips.

You brace on your elbows, spine arching.

Two pillows rest at the head of the bed. One nightstand holds a book, a pair of glasses, and a man’s watch. The other has hand cream, a gold bracelet, a bottle of vitamins, and a pink hair clip.

It’s literally the most intimate part of a couple’s life, and this bedroom embodies that, exactly why you used to think, and agree, it was a line not to be crossed. But not for Harry, apparently, who climbs onto the bed behind you and slides into you again.

Your head drops forward, blocking your vision, fingers clutching the sheets as he sinks in fully.

Harry leans over your back, his fingers finding your pulsing clit, stroking in slow circles that make your whole body melt.

“Harry—”

“Come on my cock and I’ll fuck you.”

You writhe beneath him as his fingers move faster, smaller, tighter circles. You roll your hips forward and back in short, needy thrusts, just enough friction to push you toward the edge.

Your mouth dries, eyes squeezing shut as the tension coils in your belly. When Harry switches to horizontal strokes, rubbing directly across your clit, you come so hard it borders on painful, then dissolves into something warm and all-consuming, like being lowered into a hot bath.

“Just like that,” he whispers against your moans, slowing his movements so you can ride out every last wave. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

You nod, even though your ears are still buzzing. You nearly miss the weight of his body when he pulls back, but then one hand presses between your shoulder blades and the other grabs your hip, and he starts to thrust.

It’s almost too much. You’re still sensitive, your clit sparking with each slap of his balls, but it’s so good. You hear his grunts, low and rough, and you spread your knees wider, gripping the sheets. Your eyes land on his wife’s nightstand at the same moment Harry says,

“This what you wanted? Climbing on top of me while I was on the phone? Almost making me lose it?”

You nod. Harry pulls your left leg, then your right, laying you flat. He lies on top of you, keeping your legs tight between his, and thrusts again.

“Say it out loud.”

He kisses your neck, brushing your hair away. Your skin tingles.

“For a second, I wanted her to hear,” you admit, grateful you’re not facing him.

Harry breathes against your temple.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted her to know that what she wants…” You can’t finish before he speeds up, and you have to grit your teeth. With your legs squeezed together, every thrust hits deeper. “You’re giving it to me. And you’re so, so hard for me…”

There. You said it. This time, you break the rule about not talking about the others. And you can’t regret it, not when Harry wraps a hand around your throat, bites your shoulder, and fucks you, the slap of skin clashing with the wet sounds of his cock inside you, again and again, until he growls a curse.

He pulls out and flips you onto your back. Harry climbs over you, stroking himself, eyes roving over your body—your breasts, the space between your thighs. You touch yourself too, unable not to, watching his face tighten as he gets close.

And when he comes, it’s on your belly, whispering your name as the hot ropes of cum cover your skin.

“Open your legs,” he says, voice hoarse and skin sweaty. You fold your knees and spread your thighs. “You’re already close again… Look how you’re throbbing.”

This time it’s the tip of his cock that presses against your swollen clit, massaging it, smearing his cum across your skin as he strokes. His softening head glides over you in slow, steady movements. With his free hand, Harry uses his fingers to open you wider, and when he finds the exact spot again, he presses.

Your next orgasm isn’t as explosive as the first, but just as overwhelming. When it hits, you can’t take anymore. You clamp your legs shut and push his hand away.

He gets it. He lies down beside you, pulls you into his arms, and holds you while you catch your breath.

As your senses return, you notice the only light in the room is coming from the open closet. The bedroom is softly decorated, the sheets far too luxurious to have been chosen by a man, even one like Harry Castillo.

“Why did we have sex in here?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“You must have ten guest rooms in this penthouse. Why this one?”

He stays silent, stroking your back.

“Because doing something wrong turns you on?” you ask, turning to look at him. Harry meets your eyes, saying nothing, and his hand goes still on your ribs. “I get it. I think I got wetter when I realized where you brought me.”

Before he can reply, you ask,

“Will you think of me when you’re here with her?”

“I already do,” he says. “The difference is now I’ll have memories. Not just imagination.”

You lean in to kiss him, and Harry welcomes it.

Even so, the two of you sleep in the guest bedroom, because you don’t want to use her pillow or wrap yourself in the same sheets she does.

Harry takes you to the end of the hallway, into a room that seems like it’s never been used, even though the sheets smell like fabric softener.

The bed is bigger than yours, and after a quick shower, the two of you tangle up together, naked, beneath the covers. It’s the first time you’re actually about to fall asleep with him, and he behaves exactly as you expected: he wraps himself around you, throws a leg over yours, and presses you tightly to his body. You’re surrounded by Harry—in your skin, in your sweat, in the sheets, in the house, in the scent that wraps around you.

And just like that, sleep comes easy.

Maybe it’s the unfamiliar space, or the furnace that is Harry’s body, or the emotional chaos, but you wake up in the middle of the night.

He’s completely asleep, his legs trapping yours, and you try to fall back asleep for a few more minutes, but it doesn’t work. Slowly, you untangle yourself from his body and tiptoe out of the room to get your phone, which you’d left in your bag on the coffee table.

You sit on the couch to check for any unread messages, but the moment makes you feel exposed. The champagne bottle and flutes still sitting there give you a headache. You lower the brightness on your phone and go back to the guest room.

Harry hasn’t moved.

There’s a small loveseat by the window, and you curl up there, turning your phone screen back on. The first unread message is from your boyfriend, sent about an hour ago. He’s thanking you for taking care of him. Says you should’ve stayed at his place so he could wake you up with breakfast.

You deserve it for looking after me, he writes and you let out a humorless laugh, because you definitely don’t deserve anything.

There’s a message from your mom, a photo of her, and a few from your friends who saw your picture with Harry on Forbes’s Instagram. You click the link, and it takes you to the post.

Harry Castillo, CEO of Castillo Construction & Co., and his executive assistant, is the caption.

You both look good. You make a striking image.

Harry’s sleepy voice pulls your attention back.

“Can’t sleep?”

He’s rubbing his eyes, propped up on one elbow to look at you.

“Think it’s just the unfamiliar bed. I can’t fall back asleep.”

“That really all it is?”

You chew on your bottom lip, hugging your knees and resting your chin on them after leaving your phone aside. Even though you’re completely naked, you don’t feel uncomfortable around Harry, which is saying something.

“What now?” you ask instead, feeling sorry for him, seeing as he just woke up and is being struck with this emotional turbulence. “Are we something?”

“That was the proposal.”

“We’re gonna have to get really good at lying. You know that, right? At some point, ‘I need to stay late at the office’ won’t cut it anymore.” A headache pulses at your temples. You laugh. “This is crazy.”

“What is?”

“When I started working at the office, I was obsessed with you. I practically drooled when you walked by, watched all your interviews, melted whenever you talked to me. And then you got married, so I made it a point to find someone, or anyone, to date, just to get you out of my system.”

Harry looks at you in a way you don’t like.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “I’m not some virgin girl doing this because I’m in love. You fuck me well, and I like it. That’s all.”

Harry gets out of bed and grabs a pillow. He walks over to you and, without a word, places it on the floor in front of the chair. Then he kneels, and you fall silent at the sight of Harry Castillo on his knees before you, his hair tousled from sleep.

He lifts your left ankle, holding your leg halfway out to kiss from your ankle to your knee, taking his time. The moonlight from outside casts a soft glow over his profile.

You watch, heart pounding.

“I remember your first day at work,” Harry murmurs, sleep-rough voice breaking the silence as he parts his lips to kiss the inside of your thigh. Your stomach twists with nerves and anticipation. “You were wearing a white dress. Your hair was tied up. And you widened your eyes at everyone who came near, like a damn deer.”

Your own eyes are probably wide now as he rests your right leg on his shoulder, stretching your left again to repeat the same trail of kisses. You grip the edge of the seat.

He remembers what you wore your first day, four years ago.

“You came into my office,” he continues, and lifts your left leg to join the other on his shoulders, his face now nestled between your thighs as he places open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “Asked if I needed help with anything specific, and when I told you to sit beside me so I could show you how to open my encrypted report, you tripped over the edge of the rug. In that exact moment, I wanted you.”

He says the last words right before he opens his mouth over your pussy, the heat of his breath making you arch into the chair and clutch his hair.

He looks up at you, mouth still busy, and God… if you could capture a single moment in a photo, it would be this.

You slide your legs off his shoulders just to grab his face and pull him up so you can kiss him. Harry kisses back eagerly, and there’s nothing tender about the way he licks into your mouth. There’s nothing tender about the way he breaks the kiss either just to place your legs back over his shoulders and bury his face between them again. One hand presses down on your lower belly to keep you in place as his mouth seals around your clit and starts to suck.

You hold his face with both hands, pressing him harder against you, watching him, watching the way his cock hardens just from tasting you.

“So good,” you whisper, your fingers on his jaw. “You have no idea how good it feels to have Harry Castillo on his knees for me.”

He doesn’t pull away, but you swear, if he could, he’d be smiling.

What he does instead is lower his mouth until his tongue is inside you. Your eyes flutter closed. Moans echo in the room, along with the wet sounds of his mouth, and you lose yourself in all of it, until his thumb slides inside you. But just as quickly, it leaves, and instead, glides down.

You open your eyes with a jolt just in time to see Harry sucking your clit while his thumb starts circling your other entrance.

It’s different. Strange. Not unpleasant.

“You’ve done this before?” he asks, likely meaning anal.

You shake your head.

“Well, look at that,” Harry says, overly pleased, rubbing in slow circles. “So, in a way, you’re still a virgin. Can I?”

There are very few things you wouldn’t give Harry if he asked.

“Just the finger. Just one. Slowly.”

“Always, baby.”

And he goes slowly.

He waits until you’re melting under his tongue, licking his thumb before returning it to your tight rim and gently pushing in the tip. It doesn’t hurt—not with just the tip—but it’s unlike anything you’ve done, something you never even tried with your boyfriend, even though he asked.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” Harry whispers. “Breathe. Let me in.”

You don’t know how much time passes before your breathing calms and something in you releases. You feel safer.

Harry plunges his tongue into your pussy and brings his other thumb to your clit, and you’re surrounded by him in every possible way when, slowly, he slips his lubricated thumb into your ass, pulling a deep moan from your chest. The build-up of sensitivity throughout the night, paired with the newness of it all, crashes into you, and you come in his mouth, pulsing around his fingers in both places.

He doesn’t stop, even when you try to push him away and close your legs. Harry keeps sucking your clit harder, and you shake beneath him, overstimulated. He brings you to the edge again with his mouth and hands, and just as you’re about to fall, he stops and tells you to ride him.

You do, on the floor of the guest room. Apparently, you two have a thing for sex on the floor, because it’s rawer, messier, heavier with tension. You kiss the whole time, grabbing at whatever part of him you can reach, and the two of you come together.

Harry, inside you.

You, wrapped around him.

Hardly a word between you.

The next morning, Harry drives you home in his car, without a driver.

You’re wearing one of his T-shirts over your dress, your hair still wet and your face free of makeup, and you probably look ridiculous. A charitable act from the CEO of CCC.

The good news is that the street is empty. It’s still nine a.m. on a Sunday, so there are fewer witnesses to your disastrous state. A few brave souls pass by in running clothes, others look like they rolled out of bed five seconds ago, forced outside by the physiological needs of the small dogs following on their leashes.

Harry parks in front of your building and turns off the engine.

“Too cliché if I thank you for the night?” he asks, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m not going to thank you for the orgasms, because yes, I think that’s cliché, but” you raise your index finger, watching the smug smile take over his face. “solid performance for a senior citizen. Forbes would love to know about the five orgasms.”

“Six,” he corrects, ignoring the comment about the ‘senior citizen.’ “Two this morning. One in bed and one in the shower.”

Oh, right.

“Six,” you agree. “High performance, Mr. Castillo.”

“Glad you approve,” he says. “I suppose I can’t kiss you here.”

You shake your head.

“Not here.” You exchange one last look, entirely charged. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you.” Harry says, and you force yourself to open the passenger door. You place one foot out of the car, but before you can get out, Harry places his palm on the back of your neck and makes you look at him.

“Thank you for tonight and for accepting my proposal.”

You turn just enough to place a kiss on Harry’s wrist and get out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

When you turn toward your building’s entrance, you find another gaze on you.

That gaze runs over you from head to toe, taking in the clothes from the night before, the wet hair, the bare face, and then shifts to Harry’s Mercedes.

A freezing terror takes hold of your entire body, paralyzing you where you stand.

And then your boyfriend’s cold eyes meet yours.

#harry castillo #harry castillo x reader #harry castillo imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #god if karma really exists i’m fucked #mine

2K notes · View notes

inkandapex · 12 days ago

Text

fan favourites

Summary : Fans compiled clips of their favourite moments between Lando and Aston Martin driver!reader.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: swearing

Speculation continues to swirl around McLaren’s Lando Norris and you, Aston Martin’s young star, with many fans convinced there's more than just friendship between the two of you. Though neither you, nor Lando had confirmed anything, and no solid evidence had surfaced—your playful interactions and unmistakable chemistry have only added fuel to the fire.

these moments do not help your case.

The water bottle

It was post-race at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Lando, Max and you, sat slumped on the nearest sofa, drained after securing P1, P2, and P3 respectively. The heat still clung to the air, even off-track, and your race suit stuck uncomfortably to your skin. The podium made it all worth it—but right now, all you wanted was a cold drink and a second to breathe.

You reached for the bottle water baside you lazily, hand sluggish and aching, half-listening to Lando as he answered a journalist's question about race strategy. The exhaustion weighed on your limbs, making the simplest takst of uncapping the bottle feel like such a challenge.

“The team knew what was needed to stay ahead of Max and—ugh, sorry. Here, let me.”

Without skipping a beat, he set down his mic, reached over, and easily twisted the cap open before handing the bottle back to you. You blinked in surprise, lips parting, but all that came out was a quiet, breathless “Thanks” as you took a sip.

Max let out a snort of laughter beside you. “Sorry, let’s pause the whole interview for this sweet little moment,” he teased, shaking his head.

Lando just rolled his eyes and grabbed his mic again, continuing as if nothing had happened. But judging by the grins from the journalists, and the certainty that the clip would be everywhere within the hour—it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

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Champagne problems

Lando is known for his champagne celebrations on the podium. Sure, it looks glorious, basking in victory, champagne flying through the air—but no one ever talks about the reality: it burns your eyes, floods your nose, and leaves your skin and hair sticky.

You stood tall on the top step, your first-ever win still sinking in. The crowd roared as your national anthem played, and you could feel your heartbeat thundering in your chest, pride swelling with every note. On either side of you stood Lando and Lewis, but it was Lando’s cheeky grin that caught your attention just as the anthem reached its peak.

The second it ended, chaos began.

Corks popped. Champagne exploded. And Lando, of course, immediately slammed his bottle down and aimed it straight at you.

You barely had a second to react. The cold spray hit from both sides, soaking you instantly as you struggled to open your own bottle. It poured down your face, into your suit, burning your eyes and blurring your vision. Lando’s laugh, loud, carefree, unmistakable, rang out over the madness.

You blinked rapidly, trying to wipe your face, unable to see a thing. Your expression probably said it all: somewhere between shocked and helplessly amused.

Then, through the chaos, you felt his hands on your face, gentle and steady. Lando’s fireproof sleeves brushed against your skin as he carefully wiped away the champagne from around your eyes, his thumbs moving with a softness that contrasted sharply with the wildness around you.

“You good?” he asked, laughing quietly, his grin now more sincere than mischievous.

You nodded, finally able to meet his gaze again, still catching your breath. “I swear, I’m never letting you near me with champagne again.”

Lando’s smile widened as he gave you a pat on the back. “I had to make it memorable!”

And God, he really had.

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Dinner with the Sainz Family

This video clip sent your's and Lando's shippers into a full-on spiral. After the Mexico Grand Prix, where Carlos Sainz and Lando secured an electrifying 1-2 finish, the pair were spotted celebrating with Carlos’ friends and family over dinner. A few lighthearted posts even made their way onto social media.

But what really caught fans’ attention was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it detail in one of the photos. In the background, seated next to Lando, was someone who sharp-eyed fans quickly identified, you. Wearing the same distinctive sweater you were seen in earlier that day when leaving the paddock, and the unmistakable bracelets you frequently wore throughout the season.

There was no official mention or tag, but that didn’t stop the speculation. For many fans, it was another subtle breadcrumb confirming what they’d suspected all along. The internet lit up with theories, edits, and speculation, convinced that yet another quiet public appearance had just taken place this time, tucked into a cozy moment with the Sainz family.

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daniel.jpg

Lando and you have made several unexpected appearances on Daniel Ricciardo’s iconic JPG Instagram account. While it wasn’t unusual for the three of you to be seen together, given the tight-knit friendship between Daniel, Lando, and yourself—fans didn’t hesitate to dive deep into the posts, convinced they were subtle clues feeding the long-standing theory that there’s more between you and Lando than just friendship.

One photo showed the three of you in a mirror selfie inside an elevator. Daniel, played photographer, camera in hand, while you and Lando stood casually beside him. At first glance, it looked like a typical group pic, until fans zoomed in. Slung over Lando’s shoulder was your bag, resting there like it belonged, as if it had found its place without either of you thinking twice about it.

Another upload showed a moment at a karting track. You were standing beside your kart, preparing to head out, when fans noticed the figure next to you. Though his helmet covered most of his face, there was no mistaking it, Lando. He stood close, hands carefully adjusting your helmet strap, focused and steady. The gesture was small, but intimate, and the natural ease between you didn’t go unnoticed.

Within hours, the comment sections were flooded with theories and heart-eyed emojis. To the internet, these weren’t just photos, they were proof.

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Driver's Parade

The truck moved at a crawl, weaving past grandstands packed with fans shouting your names and waving flags like their lives depended on it. You kept your sunglasses on, smile practiced, waving just enough to look friendly, nothing more, nothing less.

Lando stood beside you, doing the exact same thing. Waving, smiling, keeping the conversation low between the two of you. Like you weren’t both trying not to laugh at the stupid inside joke he’d just whispered about a guy holding a "Marry Me, Lando" sign.

He’d helped you into the truck earlier, hand out like a reflex, fingers brushing yours a second longer than necessary. No one caught that. At least, you thought so.

And then came the moment. You were both waving, smiling, still laughing at something only you two found funny, when Lando’s hand casually dropped to the small of your back as the truck began to make a turn at a corner. Barely there. Light. Familiar.

Too familiar.

It lingered for just a second before he suddenly realized. His hand flew back like he’d touched something hot, and he looked ahead like nothing happened. But you could see the panic flash across his face for a split second.

You didn’t say anything, just smirked.

Unfortunately for both of you, Charles did notice, and so did your fans. From the truck behind, he leaned over dramatically and yelled, “Oooohhh! I saw that, penalty for Norris”

Lando groaned under his breath. You tried, and failed, not to laugh, biting your lip as your shoulders shook.

“Smooth,” you teased him, still smiling to the crowd.

“Tiny slip up, just a friendly hand” he whispered, eyes still forward like a guilty schoolboy.

He glanced over his shoulder, then muttered with a grin, “If this ends up on a fan cam—”

You bumped his shoulder playfully. “Please. They’ve already made ten TikToks about us just from this truck ride alone.”

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Rain

The rain had been relentless, hammering down onto the track, forcing a red flag that left drivers scattered around the paddock like bored students on a rainy field trip. Some retreated to their garages, napping, listening to music to stay focused, while others found creative ways to pass the time. A few were even caught playing football with balled-up tire warmers.

You, Lando, and Carlos had ended up in a quiet corner of the paddock, chatting while waiting out the weather. The broadcast cameras, desperate for content, eventually found their way to your little trio, panning slowly toward the three of you laughing at something Carlos had said.

Then the focus shifted—subtly, but noticeably—to just you and Lando.

Lando stood close, holding an umbrella tilted almost entirely your way, rain spattering off the edges while he stayed mostly outside the shelter himself. His hoodie was already damp, but he didn’t seem to care. You nudged him at one point, trying to shift it so he wasn’t fully out in the wet, but he just gave you a boyish grin and said something that made you laugh.

That’s when the Max Fewtrell, Lando's good friend, side eyes his running twitch stream, knowing full well the moment the camera just caught would send fans into a full blown spiral.

Max paused. Blinked. And then, slowly, looked straight into the camera with the most dramatic, expression he could manage.

“Right,” he said, eyes wide, the corners of his mouth twitching with a grin. “So it’s that kind of weather delay, huh?”

The chat exploded within seconds, fans already reading into the umbrella, the body language, the fact that Lando didn’t seem remotely interested in moving.

Max leaned in, voice dropping and thick with teasing. “Alright chat, calm down—cut our boy some slack and give him a fighting chance.”

Back on screen, Lando caught the camera out of the corner of his eye, shifted the umbrella just enough… and casually rested a hand on your back, if only for a moment.

Carlos caught it. You caught the smirk.

Max definitely caught it.

“Look at these two—already causing more buzz than the race itself.”

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Secret Santa

To this day, fans swear the annual driver Christmas gift exchange was the clearest sign that something more was going on between you and Lando Norris.

It was already suspicious enough that, out of all the names in the bucket, you and Lando somehow ended up picking each other. But what truly sent the internet into a frenzy were the gifts—thoughtful, personal, impossibly specific. The kind of presents only two people who knew each other too well would give.

Lando was mid-unwrapping, his usual excited grin slipping into a confused frown as he rotated the box in his hands, trying to make sense of it.

“Oh, sh—” His eyes widened. “—Sorry, cut that out,” he added quickly, glancing toward the crew with a sheepish grin.

Inside the box: a 1:1 LEGO replica of Lando’s first-ever karting helmet. Every detail was there—from the exact color scheme to the little decals only a handful of people would remember. Attached to the side of the box was a small envelope. He opened it and read aloud:

“From someone who knows how much this still means to you.”

Lando went quiet. Just for a second. The camera zoomed in slightly, catching the subtle shift in his expression.

“Who do you think your Secret Santa was?” someone asked off-camera.

“Oh, I know exactly who it was,” Lando said, chuckling softly. “Still kinda freaky how she managed to pull this off—I’m guessing my mum or dad helped her out.”

“Did they do a good job?”

“It’s perfect,” he said, smiling as he gently patted the box. “I love it. Definitely looking forward to building it and putting it on display.”

“And do you think the person you got will like their gift?”

Lando laughed under his breath. “I mean… I got her. And she’s already beaten me in the gift department—but yeah, I really hope she does.”

The video then cut to you, sitting just outside Aston Martin’s hospitality unit, carefully unwrapping a paper bag handed to you just before filming began.

“Who do you think your Secret Santa is?”

You glanced up, laughing as you peeled away the last bit of tissue paper. “Charles, maybe? He’s been asking me about my hobbies recently—like, weirdly specific questions.”

Your eyes dropped to the contents of the bag: a vintage film camera and a leather-bound journal. Your race number and initials were engraved on the cover in gold. You flipped it open slowly, revealing a message on the inside page:

For every moment you want to remember, and the ones you think you’ll forget.

You let out a breath, covering your mouth with your hand. “No way. This is so—” You shook your head, smiling. “This is so nice. You guys… best Secret Santa season ever, I think.”

Then you paused, adding with a laugh, “No offense to Alex—he got me that spa voucher last year and it was amazing.”

“Any idea who your Secret Santa was?”

You smiled, chuckling as you hugged the journal to your chest. “Yeah, I do.”

“Still think it was Charles?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was just genuinely curious about my hobbies,” you laugh.

“Any other guesses?”

You shake your head with a grin. “Nope. I know exactly who it was—and I really hope he liked what I got him, too.”

2K notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 18 days ago

Text

UNDONE I.

A/N: i've started like 3 wips these past weeks but finally finished one! so here is some boss!harry for you, let me know if you want more of it, bc i feel like i could def add to this story!

WORD COUNT: 8.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry is obsessed with Y/N. The only problem is that he is her boss, so he keeps this obsession to himself. But everything changes after one drunken night.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry has a love-hate relationship with the glass-walled meeting rooms in the office. Aesthetically they are bringing that well-known, usual vibe of every corporate office, nothing new, nothing unusual. Often, he is irritated that people tend to peek inside as they walk past towards the coffee machine or the restroom. He knows it’s second nature, they don’t necessarily try to intrude, but it tends to frustrate him when he is in the middle of a meeting and a random guy is just staring him down from outside. He tried to get the glass covered, but HR declined, they said something about transparency that just pissed Harry off even more, then he just gave up.

But lately, there’s been an advantage of those see-through dividers, because if people from outside can see in, that means Harry can see everything and everyone outside.

Like right now, as he is sitting by the oval table, laptop in front of him while the lawyers are talking about all the legal documents that are needed for their next deal, it’s an important step and Harry is usually great at focusing on what matters, but today his attention is somewhere else.

Outside of the meeting room, right by Y/N’s desk.

She is the latest addition in the department, a talented analyst who joined a little over three months ago. Harry knows she is great, because he was there at her interview. He is usually not one to attend interviews, but the hiring manager got sick and they needed someone from management to be there as well and Harry had a spare hour he wanted to use to get a little ahead on that tender he’d been working on, but that got thrown right out the window.

It was the last thing he wanted to do, listen to some random analyst who probably never even saw a DWH system, they always think they are qualified to deal with anything, but then they see just how much data they need to work with and then freak out. Harry was convinced it would happen that time too, but he was wrong.

Y/N walked in there, seemingly nervous, fidgeting with the hem of her cardigan, looking like a frightened little rabbit, so innocent, so sweet, something surprising happened.

Harry was in awe.

He found himself being drawn towards her, interested in how she’d perform at the interview. He kept a straight face as the recruiter beside him asked her some basic questions and then he took over for the professional part.

He gave her his hardest questions, things even seniors might not know, he quizzed her about topics that are way too specific to work around and… she excelled. She couldn’t answer every question, but she worked up a logic she would use to at least try to tackle the matter and Harry knew she would succeed if she had the right materials.

She blew his mind away. Once she left, he turned to the recruiter and said:

“I want her. Get her to start next week.”

And she did. Next monday, she was holding her onboarding package, eyes bright as she got seated at her desk, ready to start working.

Now she is sitting at the same spot, wearing her blue light glasses, her eyebrows slightly furrowed behind them as she is working on something on her computer. She is wearing a long sundress today with a yellow cardigan to cover her shoulders. Harry has noted her colorful outfits every morning when she strolled into the office, brightening the otherwise dull atmosphere. It’s a whole floor full of developers, analysts and other IT professionals, they are not known for their exquisite fashion taste, but Y/N is different. Her wardrobe is full of colors and pieces others wouldn’t consider as business casual, but somehow she always makes it work.

She is the kind of person that has a nice word for everyone, she often brings coffee to Linda, whose desk is across from hers and they usually have lunch together, Harry has noted. She is always happy to help others, she is great at seeing problems differently and quick to come up with solutions. She is definitely a favorite among her colleagues.

Unlike Harry.

Not that he wants to be liked, he is head of IT, he needs to lead, keep everything under control and make hard decisions. He is not stupid, Harry knows most people in the department fear him, he is not known for being friendly and chatty. He usually has so much work he doesn’t have time left to get a coffee with anyone, not that he would have anyone to invite. He is the gruff boss who is always busy and people try not to cross paths with.

He doesn’t mind it. He likes to be focused on his work and most people don’t realize how hard it is to be the one to decide about budget cuts, downsizing and restructuring, because they don’t see what goes down behind these decisions, they just want to blame someone and that’s usually him. They don’t want to be friends with the big boss who fired their work bestie, even if it was a known fact they never did their job.

It was never an issue for him how his employees saw him. Until her.

Someone stops by Y/N’s desk and he watches her face light up as she gives them her attention. He can’t hear what she is saying, but when she laughs, it rings in his ears. He loves hearing her laugh.

“So what do you think?” one of the lawyers asks him and he snaps back, realizing he has no idea what they were talking about in the last five minutes. He quickly looks down at his notes so far, but there’s no use.

“Uh, I’ll leave it to you. I have to go now, do you think you can have everything set by the end of next week? We need it for the next sprint.”

“Sure,” the guy nods, his name is something with a J, but Harry can’t remember what it is.

He is relieved that he could dodge admitting he has no idea what was talked about, shutting his laptop he murmurs a thank you for the group and he is the first one to walk out of the room, heading towards his office.

Y/N is not at her desk when he walks past and he looks for her, hoping he is not too obvious, but he sees no trace of her. Is she having coffee with that guy who walked up to her desk? Are they planning something outside of work? Does he want to date her?

Harry’s thoughts are racing as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the general buzz of the open office outside. With a sigh, he sits down in his chair, places his laptop onto the desk, but leaves it unopened for a bit as he rubs his face with his hands.

He always has control. He plans and keeps himself to his plan, he gathers data, analyses and then makes a new plan. Easy as it is. This is why he likes his job, IT is usually exact, the problem might be deeply hidden, but it’s always exact, he just needs to find the data.

But he’s been feeling chaotic lately. He is disoriented, can’t focus at meetings and finds himself thinking about her when he is supposed to be working. He just can’t help it.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, then rolls his head, his neck cracks and he lets out a groan before opening his laptop and trying his best to get back to working. The code opens in front of him and he focuses on the lines he’s been trying to rewrite, but right when he is about to start typing, there’s a knock on his door. For a second, he feels irritated that he was interrupted again, but then he looks past the screen and sees her.

Harry nods and Y/N walks through the glass door, holding her laptop to her chest, smiling shyly. Harry likes to think that this smile is for him only, that he is the reason to bring it to her lips, though he doubts he has such an effect on her. But still, it’s a nice thought.

“Hey,” he greets her as she crosses the room and sits across from him.

“Hi. Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“I finished those tables you asked for yesterday, but I wanted to run a few things with you.”

“You… finished?” he asks as Y/N unfolds her laptop, nodding.

“Yeah.” She places the laptop onto his desk and he leans closer, focusing on the screen as Y/N explains what she found unclear, but Harry is still stunned when she is done talking.

“Is it… Is it bad? Not what you thought of?” she asks, seeing his face.

“No, it’s… Y/N, you did this all by yourself?”

“Yes?” Her answer sounds unsure and panic settles in her visibly. “I-I’m sorry if it’s–”

“Y/N, this is brilliant.”

She is taken aback by his compliment, it wasn’t the first time, but it feels like a gift every time for her.

“It is?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t doubt you could do it, but I didn’t think it would turn out this great and you also finished so fast, I thought it would take you the entire week at least.”

“Well… I did stay in a little longer last night,” she admits with a soft chuckle and it tugs on his chest right away. He looks at her over the desk, their eyes meet and for a second, warmth spreads through his veins as he fights the urge to reach out and touch her.

Clearing his throat he leans back in his chair.

“Send it over, I’ll leave comments on those sections and then you can start the migration.”

“Thank you,” she nods, taking her laptop and heading to the door.

“And well done, Y/N,” he calls after her. She just nods and smiles at him before walking out.

Harry watches her return to her desk, takes some deep breaths and forces himself to return to the code on his own computer.

***

Linda wiggles her eyebrows at Y/N once she is sat at her desk.

“Did you two eye-fuck again?” she asks and Y/N gapes at her, quickly looking around to see if anyone heard her, but luckily, everyone is too busy.

“Linda! That’s–We don’t do that.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, twirling her pen around between her fingers.

“We just went over the tables. He said I did a good job.” She shrugs, but Linda doesn’t miss how the corners of her mouth curl up, though she tries to hide it.

“You do realize you’re the only one in this whole department he has ever complimented, right?”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Zach go the best reaction from him last spring, when he spent two weeks refactoring a fucked up code, Harry said it was acceptable. That’s all. The fact that he said you did a good job is just another proof that he is into you.”

“Would you stop talking about the head of IT being into me?” Y/N hisses. “Come on, let’s get a coffee before you start screaming it.”

They go down a floor where the coffee station has better options and once they both have a mug full of coffee, they settle by a high table in the common area.

“I have a confession to make,” Y/N admits, but avoids looking her in the eyes. “Okay, go for it.”

“I’m meeting Archer today.”

“Y/N! Not your fucking ex! Why?!” Linda gasps. “Do you really hate yourself that much?”

“I don’t hate myself,” she gives her a look, before returning her gaze to her mug. “He texted me the other day.”

“And you texted him back?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Boo! You should have blocked his number a long time ago!”

Y/N has thought about that. A lot. Her asshole ex has come back a couple of times since they broke up about a year ago, they shared one or two nights, but it always ended with him disappearing and leaving her shattered. His comebacks slowed down the process of getting over him a lot and though she feels like she is finally okay, she couldn’t just ignore his text.

“That’s not like me,” she shrugs, ignoring the thought that she knows Linda is right.

“Hun, what do you think will happen today that hasn’t happened before?”

The question stings, right in her chest, because she knows it’s true. Her logical side knows Archer won’t just magically apologize for the way he treated her, even though it’s the only thing she wants from him at this point. To admit that he was in the wrong.

“We’ll talk. That’s it.”

“Please don’t sleep with him,” Linda sighs desperately. “He doesn’t deserve your time.”

“I won’t,” she says, though she is not entirely certain it’s the truth.

“Uh-huh, okay.” Linda checks the time on her phone. “I gotta go, I have a meeting in ten.”

“I’m coming too, I have a lot to do.”

Grabbing their mugs they head out of the common area, back to the upper floor.

***

Harry didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He is the last person to be interested in anyone’s private life in the office.

But when he heard Y/N’s voice as he was about to walk into the room, he stopped and hid behind the wall, listening to a conversation that was truly not meant for his ears.

Hearing the two women talk about Y/N’s ex has ignited something new in him, especially when it became clear that he has hurt her in the past. Harry is not one to become violent, he channels all his tendencies in the gym while boxing, but from what he heard of the guy, he would have gladly punched him in the face. A few times.

Maybe more than a few.

The short conversation tickled his curiosity about what happened, but when he heard that they were about to leave, he quickly walked away so they didn’t see him.

Now as he is back by his desk he can’t focus on the code in front of him at all, his thoughts are only about this mysterious ex Y/N is apparently meeting today. At one point, he even considers giving her some extra work to keep her in late and preferably miss the meeting, but that would be too petty even for him. Instead, he spends the next hour pretending to work while he just keeps fantasizing about different scenarios of what happened between Y/N and the guy.

Slowly, the office starts to empty out as the end of the day nears. Desks get abandoned, lights are turned off and Harry is still there, since he barely got anything done that day.

He sees when Y/N packs up her stuff and leaves and his jaw almost breaks as he holds himself still and just watches her walk out.

“I’m fucking insane,” he mumbles under his breath, willing himself to do some work now that he can’t get distracted by Y/N every time she leaves her desk.

It’s all new to him. This obsession he’s been feeling since the moment he saw Y/N at the interview. An invisible string has been pulling him towards her and it’s unlike anything he has felt with his exes before.

He wasn’t obsessed. He didn’t think of them all the time. He didn’t lose focus when he was seeing someone. But with Y/N, he is losing his precious control and it’s almost scary.

He finally manages to lock in for some work and time flies by. Next time he looks up from his screen the whole office is empty, only his desk lamp giving light and the green haze of the exit signs. It’s past nine and he can hear the cleaner vacuuming somewhere on the floor, so with a tired smile he shuts his computer off, gathers his things and heads out.

He moved less than a year ago and the place he bought is within walking distance of the office. He knows it might have been a stupid idea to get a place just because it’s close to his working place, he probably won’t work there his whole life, but he doesn’t see himself switching for a long time, so it’s convenient.

With his backpack hanging off one shoulder he steps out into the warm evening, the afternoon rush is over, now the nearby bars and restaurants are full of workers desperately needing to let some steam off before heading home.

There’s a small park he walks through before reaching his street and it has always been dear to him, a nice change in the scenery of concrete and glass in the middle of the city. There’s even a small pond along the path that takes him across the park with benches and a handful of ducks are usually circling in the water peacefully.

Older people from around like to come here and sit or take a short walk and they are the only people Harry likes to watch. He admires their slow pace, no rush, just enjoying what they have, a state he dreams of reaching too.

Tonight, as he passes by the pond his eyes spot a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches. He stops in his tracks, questioning if his sight is right, because the person sitting there with her head hanging low looks just like Y/N. As he slowly approaches he notices the soft shaking of her shoulders.

She’s crying.

***

Y/N has been sitting on that bench for… God knows how long. Could have been minutes, could have been hours. She was planning to cry her eyes out at once, then move on by the time she gets home, but apparently, she needs more time to get herself over than she estimated. This spot seemed like a great one, it’s far enough from the lights so people don’t notice she is crying, but she definitely did not expect to be noticed by her boss.

“Y/N?”

Harry’s voice makes her jump and as her head snaps up, she finds herself staring up at the person she least expected to see. His eyebrows are furrowed, concern is written all over his face as he stands a few feet away from the bench, as if he can’t tell if it’s a good idea for him to get closer.

“Oh, hi!” She quickly forces a smile on her face, but she knows she is fooling no one. She wipes her tear-soaked cheeks with the back of her hand and prays her mascara is not smudged all around her eyes in panda style. “What–What are you doing here?”

“I live nearby, I’m on my way home. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… I was just taking a walk and now I’m… not.”

Her brain does not function. She knows what she said didn’t make any sense, but she can’t think of something else to say. She is way too busy thinking about how Harry is standing right there just after her ex made her wait for him for an hour before texting her he is not coming and when she called him to confront, a woman answered his phone.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to draw the conclusions: Archer was only trying to hook up with her tonight, but apparently found someone else and ditched her. A classic move from an asshole like him, but that doesn’t make her feel less like shit. Mostly because she should have known better and not believe he would do anything other than hurting her.

Harry just stands there for a few moments and Y/N is expecting him to walk away and pretend like he didn’t even see her, but he surprises her when he walks over to the bench and sits beside her.

“Do you want to… talk about what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she answers right away, but when she looks at him, it’s obvious he doesn’t believe her. With a sigh, she turns her gaze back towards the pond. She is hesitating between keeping it all to herself or just dumping it on Harry and then deal with the consequences later, but right when she is about to make up her mind, he speaks up.

“Is this about… your ex-boyfriend?”

She turns to him with wide eyes.

“How do you…”

A guilty look takes over his face before he shrugs.

“I heard you talking about him earlier. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“I shouldn’t talk so freely with Linda in the office,” she chuckles, shaking her head. They sit in silence, when Harry peeks at her she seems deep in her thoughts and he is desperate to get her to talk, but doesn’t want to push her too much.

As a last resort, he says:

“Do you want to have a drink?”

***

The tequila is burning her throat, she can’t help the frown as she bites into the lemon. When she looks at Harry, she is not even surprised he has the same, unbothered look on his face he had after the previous two shots.

“Uh, how are you taking it so well?” she coughs and then takes a sip from her beer. They were lucky enough to find a table at a bar nearby and she was quick to accept that maybe getting drunk is what she needs right now, even if the alarms are still going off somewhere in the back of her mind, because doing it with Harry might not be her brightest idea.

“I guess I still have some left of my college years,” he shrugs and she starts laughing.

“Don’t tell me you were a party animal in college,” she snorts. The three shots and half a beer has definitely set her tongue free and took away her sense of embarrassment after saying everything that’s on her mind. She will surely regret it in the morning, but right now she couldn’t care less.

Harry likes this version of her. She is always bubbly and talkative, but in his presence he often senses her nervousness. Now there’s no trace of that and he is sinking in every moment of it.

“What do you think I was like in college?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, the words slurring a bit on her tongue. “Like a… hot nerd?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her and she realizes only then that she just called him hot.

“I-I mean… I don’t–What I meant is–”

“I was a nerd,” he says, saving her from her rambling. “I was in the robotics club, spent a lot of time in the library, trying to hack their system so I didn’t have to return some books I wanted to keep.”

She can’t help, but laugh as Harry is smiling at the memory as well.

“Did you succeed?”

“What do you think?”

“For sure.”

“Correct,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “But I went to parties. I had this friend group from highschool, some of them were friends with the popular kids so we were always invited.”

“I can’t picture you with a red solo cup, filled with cheap booze.”

“But it happened,” he chuckles. “Luckily, photos have been deleted from social media.”

“Did you wipe the internet?” she asks, leaning closer as if she was asking him about a secret.

“No, but I did message those who had the photos posted when I was getting higher in my career.”

“Clever,” she nods and grabbing her beer, she takes a few swigs. Then her smile fades. “Maybe I should tell you what happened, right?”

“Only if you want to.”

Sighing she leans back, pursing her lips as she squints her eyes, looking back at him. She can’t think straight. Her thoughts are jumping, one moment she is thinking about Archer, the next all her attention is on how plump his lips look when they are wet from the beer, or the way his top two buttons of his shirt have come undone and she is seeing fucking tattoos, along his collarbones.

She wants to kiss them.

“I was stupid enough to think that I matter to him and he wouldn’t… hurt me. But he did. That’s it, lesson learned.”

She would love to look unbothered, like it doesn’t affect her, but she can’t. Her throat is closing up and when Harry calls out her name softly, she looks up at him with tears in her eyes and wobbling lips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying, I know. I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize,” Harry shakes his head, but it’s like she didn’t even hear him.

“I know it’s stupid, but I just thought it might be different this time, that he might apologize and I can finally… I don’t know.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s not. You’re allowed to hope, to want to be treated the right way.”

“But I should have learned my lesson before!”

“You could have, but it’s okay. You will now. You’re smart, smarter than you think. You’ll get over it, doesn’t matter how long it takes, you will get there. I know it.”

“How?” she asks in a whisper, unable to break the eye-contact.

“I don’t know how you’ll do it, but–”

“No,” she shakes her head. “How do you know it?”

He slowly runs his tongue over his lips, thinking his words through before speaking them.

“I just do. Do you believe me?”

Without hesitation she nods.

“I do.”

***

“If someone said one day I would be waiting for an Uber with my boss, drunk out of my ass at two am, I would have laughed them in the face.”

Y/N is holding onto a lamp post with one hand, twirling around it like a little kid as Harry stands by the curb, one hand in his pocket, the other one holding his phone, tracking the Uber that’s supposed to pick Y/N up and take her home. He is watching her with a tiny smile, it’s great to see her so carefree after her breakdown earlier.

“Which part is so unbelievable?”

She stops and steps closer to him. She can’t stand still, keeps shifting her weight between her feet and Harry is on alert in case she loses her balance.

“All of it,” she grins up at him, blinking lazily. “Except the drunk out of my ass. That happens sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Ooh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Am I in trouble?”

“Because you get drunk sometimes? You’re an adult, you can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but… you’re my boss,” she giggles, then starts swaying as if she could hear some music. “It’s not professional to get drunk.”

“Not when you’re working. But you’re not at work right now.”

“Nope,” she shakes her head, popping the ‘p’ sound. “I’m on the street, with Harry Styles, after drinking with Harry Styles! And now I’m gonna go home in an Uber that Harry Styles ordered for me!”

“Are you enjoying saying my name?” he chuckles, glancing at his phone again, The car is five minutes away. He is already dreading the moment it arrives, because that means the night ends. But he knows she has to get home and sleep it off.

“I do,” she sings. “It has a nice ring to it. It’s a cool name for a cool guy.”

“Oh, so I’m cool?” He knows he shouldn’t take advantage of her drunken state and keep her talking, but he just can’t get himself to stop.

“Yeah. You’re cool and smart and scary sometimes and mysterious, but not tonight,” she giggles as she keeps swaying around, while Harry can’t take his eyes off her, not when she is talking about him. “People at the office are scared of you, but I think you’re great.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You’re amazing, I always look forward to seeing you. Sometimes I…” She giggles at whatever she is thinking about, completely oblivious at how intently Harry is listening to her. “Sometimes I ask you about things I know just so we can talk.” She shakes her head with a chuckle, but it’s enough for her to lose balance.

She gasps when she starts falling, but he is quick to grab her by her arms, yanking her towards him to keep her from smashing against the concrete. She is not laughing anymore, especially when she realizes that her chest is pressed against his, hands still holding her arms firmly. And his eyes are piercing into her gaze in a way that takes her breath away.

“I love when you come asking questions,” he admits. “That’s usually my favorite part of the day.”

Her eyes widen at his words and when his gaze shifts down to her lips, they part as she gasps for air. Her chest presses even more against his as she fills her lungs and she feels even more dizzy now than before.

“I want to kiss you.”

The words blurt out of her before she could think them through, unaware of the effect they have on Harry. His gaze darkens and it moves down at her lips again. But before he could say or do anything, the Uber pulls up beside them.

Harry lets go of her, then opens the door.

“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”

She blinks at him a few times as he just stands there, waiting for her to get inside. She is confused. Drunk and tired and the longer she stays there the more awkward she feels, so she finally gets into the car, then Harry shuts the door and the car starts moving.

Y/N turns around and sees him still standing there, hands in his pockets, his head hanging low. Then she slides down in the seat, closes her eyes and then replays those couple of moments when she was pressed up against him over and over again until the car stops at her apartment building.

***

Sunday evening Y/N contemplates calling in sick. Preferably with something that keeps her away from the office… forever.

Once she woke in the afternoon of Saturday, sobered up, with a killer headache, memories from last night came crashing down on her and the embarrassment took over instantly. She spent the rest of the weekend in agony, cursing herself out for being so stupid.

Did she really tell her boss she wanted to kiss him?

Yes, she in fact did. After getting drunk with him, crying about her ex and telling him all kinds of stuff she never planned on admitting to him. Like that she finds him cool and smart and sometimes scary.

But the kissing part is obviously the worst.

No matter how badly she dreads Monday morning, time doesn’t stop or slows down, the week starts and she has to go to work and face the consequences of her actions.

Maybe Harry won’t be there. But he is always there.

Maybe she can hide all day and avoid him… until the rest of her life or until she finds a new job. Very unlikely, but whatever.

Her palms are sweating as she swipes her card at the gates and heads up to her floor. She’s getting paranoid, thinking that everyone in the elevator knows what happened on Friday, even though no one even bats an eye in her direction.

Luckily, as she logs into her computer at her desk, work swamps her and provides enough distraction to stop her from throwing up when she sees Harry for the first time.

It seems like he is having a busy day too, he is in and out of meetings for the most part of the noon, she only sees him passing by or sitting in his office with his AirPods in, a sign that he is in an online meeting. But even when he is free for a short time, Y/N makes sure she avoids facing him. She even considers moving to another floor’s common room with her laptop for the day if it means she can survive without running into him and God forbid, talking to him.

But then comes an email.

It’s a bit after lunch time when it pops up in her inbox and her stomach drops to the floor right away when she sees it’s from Harry. Then another wave of anxiety washes over her when she reads it.

FROM: Harry Styles

Come to my office at your earliest convenience. -H

“Oh shit,” she mumbles under her breath and it catches Linda’s ears across from her, who gives her a questioning look. “Nothing.” She just shakes her head, grabs her laptop and then heads to Harry’s office with shaking knees.

Is this the part where he tells her behavior was unacceptable? Did he maybe report her to HR for what she said?

She knocks on the door with a sweaty hand, Harry looks up from his screen with a blank face and nods at her to go inside.

“Hey. I got your email.” She sounds like a frightened little girl as she closes the door behind her and stills, hugging her laptop to her chest.

“Thanks for coming right away.”

Harry pushes his chair back lazily, stands and rounds the desk before leaning against it leisurely, his eyes glued to Y/N who is still standing by the door, too scared to go further. He doesn’t like the distance.

“Come, sit,” he nods towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Obediently, she walks over and takes a seat, blinking up at him with wide eyes while he looks unbothered and almost… bored. He squints his eyes at her, tilting his head to the side a bit before finally speaking up.

“Is there a specific reason why you’re avoiding me all day?”

Her lips part at his question and her first instinct is to deny.

“I-I’m not–”

“Y/N, you are. Normally, you would have already asked me at least two questions, but instead you walk out of the office every time I step out of mine. You are avoiding me.”

She shuts her mouth, trying to come up with something to say that could save her, but nothing comes to her mind.

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze drops to the floor, his stare is too intense for her. “I’m so ashamed about… everything I said on Friday, I didn’t know how to face you. I said all that… inappropriate stuff you definitely shouldn’t have heard. like… ever. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N,” he softly says, but her gaze remains on her shoes. “Y/N, look at me, please.”

Finally, she dares to move her eyes back to meet his and then he continues… in the most surprising way.

“What I’m about to say, it’s going to be fully unrelated to work. Can you treat it as something outside of this setting?” Y/N nods. “Use your words, I need to hear you say it. Do you understand that this conversation is outside of work?”

“I understand,” she answers weakly, her mouth running dry.

“Good.” He nods and then continues. “Do not feel sorry for anything you said. I’m glad I know all of that. The only downside of it is that now I need every ounce of self-control not to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you forget your own name.”

This time her mouth hangs open. For a moment she is not entirely convinced she hasn’t just imagined it all. That it wasn’t just her sick mind playing tricks on her. But then he speaks again.

“Did you hear what I said? That I want to fuck you into oblivion on this desk?”

“Yes,” she breathes out, trembling.

“Good. Now I want you to go back to your desk and think it through whether you want that too or not. If you decide that you feel the same way, stay late and come back here when everyone is gone. Understood?”

“Yes.”

She feels dizzy, but not the same kind she felt on Friday, this is entirely different. Turning around she walks out of the room, but she’s on auto pilot as she returns to her desk. She leans back in her chair and slowly looks around.

No one in the room knows what just happened. Everyone is just minding their own business while Y/N is on the verge of fainting.

“You alright?” Linda peeks out from behind her screen with a concerned look on her face. “What did he want?”

If only she knew! Y/N thinks. She is dying to share, to take the whole conversation apart and analyze every bit, but she can’t. Instead, she forces a smile to her face.

“Just checked in with me about the migration.”

Linda examines her suspiciously for a second, but then her phone rings and she returns to her work while Y/N opens her laptop as well, but as she stares at the document in front of her she was working on before Harry’s email, she can’t even make out a word.

Instead, she is busy thinking about what happens when the office empties out.

***

Harry was dragged into some urgent issue sometime in the afternoon and it gave him enough work to take his attention away from prying outside, impatiently waiting for everyone to leave while making sure Y/N is still there.

He answers one call after the other while emails keep popping into his inbox and he loses track of Y/N. When he finally drags his gaze away from the screen he looks up and finds the whole floor empty. All of it.

Meaning that Y/N left as well. Groaning he stands from his desk and walks over to the window, staring out into the night that has slowly creeped up on him. He truly thought she would stay. That she felt the same desire and thirst as him and she wants to explore whatever it could be, but maybe he read it all wrong.

How will this affect their work? He should have thought of that before telling her he wants to fuck her on his desk. Who even does that? He is supposed to be her boss, her mentor, this was so incredibly inappropriate, he is thinking about reporting himself to HR and–

There’s a knock on his door.

Turning around he freezes when he sees Y/N standing there with doe-like eyes and with just one look she is already making his pulse jump. He nods, barely noticeably, but she sees it and lets herself inside, closing the door behind her even though it’s truly just the two of them now.

“Hey,” she sheepishly says, stopping exactly where she did earlier when he wrote her that email. This time however, Harry is the one to cross the room and then stop just inches away from her. She wonders if he could hear the wild hammering of her heart in her chest, the dizziness is back and she hides her hands behind her back so he doesn’t notice them shaking.

“Did you think about what I said?”

Harry talks slowly and clearly and she couldn’t tell just moments ago he was freaking out too. But now that she’s there, every racing thought is gone from his mind, all he is thinking about is… her.

“Yes.”

“And what’s your conclusion?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” There’s a tiny bit of sassiness in her tone, just enough to start a fire in him.

She catches the way one corner of his lips curls up as he takes another small step towards her, his hands come up to cup her jaw on either side and he gently tilts her head back, angling it perfectly. Then slowly, he leans closer until his lips are almost touching hers, but then stops. As if he is giving one last chance for her to change her mind, but she is still there, waiting for him to finally break down the wall between them and he gives in.

He lets his hunger take over instantly. There’s no testing the waters, feeling each other up, he kisses her in a demanding, needy way that takes her breath away at first, but she is quick to react the same way.

Her hands move to his shirt, grabbing the fabric at his stomach while his hands are still holding onto her face, but then they slide down her sides, settle on the back of her thighs and she knows exactly what he wants her to do. So without breaking them apart, she jumps up, he catches her with ease as she wraps her legs around his waist and he blindly carries her to the small sofa by the wall.

He sinks into the cushion and she straddles him, giving her a bit of advantage in height this way, so now he is the one to crane his neck while she is leaning down to meet him.

It’s a mess, lip biting, tongues crashing, soft moans and grunts, his palms wander over his thighs and ass and then he sneakily peels her soft pink shirt out of her tight jeans so his hands can slip under the fabric and feel her heated skin.

She is desperate to feel more, to ease the aching throbbing between her legs, so when she starts rolling her hips and grinding against his rapidly growing bulge, he can’t help the moan that slips out of his mouth, right into hers.

His head drops to the back of the sofa and she takes the chance to kiss her way down the column of his neck. After dozens of fantasies doing the same thing during meetings, now she is finally tasting his skin, gently nibbling on a spot that has his hands grab onto her ass, pushing her even more into him.

When their lips meet again her fingers dance down his chest, feeling up his abdomen through his shirt and then settle on his belt, she starts undoing it, but he is quick to stop her, which breaks her out of her trance., scared that she did something wrong.

Reading her from just one look, Harry shakes his head softly.

“I know I said I want to bend you over my desk, but I don’t want the first time I’m inside you to be here. So we are gonna do it differently for now.”

As he speaks, his fingers work the buttons of her shirt, one after the other until the white, lacy bra is revealed underneath.

“Is it fucking Christmas?” he breathes out, hooking a finger into one of the cups and tugging it down so your breast spills out of it. An airy chuckle slips out of her, but it quickly turns into a gasp when he sucks her pebbled nipple into his mouth, even gently biting and tugging on it. Her fingers comb through his hair, his fingertips massaging his scalp as her grinding continues.

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” he murmurs against her chest, one hand freeing her other breast from the bra as well, so he can pay equal attention to them both. “You’re gonna grind that needy cunt of yours against me until you come, just so you can see what it is like when you’re not even undressed and imagine what will happen once I get to unwrap you.” He smacks her ass gently, a moan slipping out through her parted lips. “And I’m gonna leave marks all over tits and suck your nipples until they are so tender you can barely touch them, so when you go home and see yourself in the mirror, you’ll remember every moment of what’s happening right now.”

His hands grab her hips and make her roll them harder, his erection and the seam of her jeans rubbing into her soaking wet cunt. She eagerly takes the pace he dictated, desperate to chase her release that’s building in the pit of her stomach rapidly.

“Do you like that? Do you like my plan?” he asks, his lips brushing against her nipple, teasing her with his touch just enough to make her whine and ache for more.

“Yes,” he nods eagerly, hands clasping the back of his head to pull him closer to her chest and feel his lips on her heated skin again and he complies happily.

“Then let me feel how badly you want to come.”

If someone told Y/N in the morning, that tonight she would be dry humping her boss like a horny teenager, she would have checked that person into a mental hospital. Yet here she is, grinding against Harry’s massive bulge, shamelessly rubbing her cunt against his erection while his mouth is full of her breast.

He has already left a few marks on her and she knows she’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next 2 weeks, but she couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she cries out when she finds just the right angle where the seam of her jeans and the tip of his restrained cock rub her clit perfectly, sending sparks through her nerves.

“Go on, want to see you come undone.” He bites the side of her left breast and she hisses, but it feels so good, so fucking great she moans loudly, her head falling back at the sensation.

“Harry, I–Ah!”

His hands grab her ass and he pulls her in, making her fall forward, her chest pressing up against his as she buries her face into his neck, fastening her movements as her orgasm is nearing.

“Come on, Y/N. Let me see you come undone.”

“Wanna feel you inside,” she whines, but keeps moving.

“I know and you will. Just not now.”

She whines again in a disapproving manner, but doesn’t stop and Harry’s hips start moving as well. He encourages her a few more times, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine and right when she thinks she can’t take it anymore, the bubble pops.

She gasps and moans, her movements get dragged out and Harry forces her to look him in the eyes as she rides out her joy. She loses track of time, can’t tell if it lasts for seconds or hours. But when it’s over she collapses into his arms.

“You did so good. So fucking good,” he murmurs into her ear, kissing the side of her face wherever he can reach. When she finally catches her breath she sits up straight and looking down she sees that he’s still hard underneath her.

Instantly, she reaches down, ready to take him out and take care of him, but he stops her again.

“Not now.”

“But you… didn’t–”

“I know,” he smiles softly. “But if we go further now, I won’t be able to stop and I told you, I want the first time I’m inside you in a different setting.”

She understands and it’s flattering knowing he wouldn’t be able to control himself if they continued, but it feels unbalanced now that only she came.

“Are you sure?” she asks, hands flattening on his stomach.

Smiling, he nods. “Very sure.”

She thinks to herself for a bit and reaching up Harry brushes a lock of hair behind her ear as a smile stretches slowly across her face.

“What is it?”

“So… this means there will be a next time?”

The playful glint in her eyes amuses him. She is sitting on his lap, her chest still exposed, lips swollen from his kisses while his erection is still straining against his pants and she asks if there will be a next time.

“Oh yeah. I will watch you come undone over and over again in every possible way. If you let me.”

She bites into her bottom lip, sheepishly blinking down at him, but her answer surprises him for a moment.

“I’m not letting you.” His face falls and his heart drops into his stomach, but she is quick to continue: “I’m begging you.”

“Oh baby, for that, now I’m adding spanking to when I’m bending you over my desk and fuck you.”

Her smile only grows wider.

“Please, Boss!”

PART II.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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inthelittlewood · 2 months ago

Text

Questions about Eyes And Ears AU

I had somebody ask for a brief interview regarding my storytelling for their university project and thought I'd lend a hand.

I thought those of you that follow the story might like the insight too, so here ya go:

When you first introduced the Listeners in Evo SMP, did you have a broader narrative or concept in mind, or were they more of an atmospheric element at that point?

The honest answer is that I didn't want to write too much about somebody else's character(s), that being Grian's Watchers. If I could write the conflict from the side of the Listeners then we could continue the narrative with a pre-designed opposing force but have them be relatively mute for the most part. Partly to build anticipation of when they might act or retaliate but it also worked for behind the scenes purposes too. If the series hadn't slowed/stopped as suddenly as it did, I definitely would have poked Grian to pick his brain about what story elements fit his original imagining of the Watchers. So it was mostly narrative reasoning but they also served a mechanical behind the scenes purpose of transporting us to a new area which was necessary due to bugs we'd encountered with world gen etc.

What inspired you to flesh out the Eyes and Ears AU more in recent years? Was that mostly a personal creative decision, or was it influenced by fan interest?

Honestly I hadn't premeditated too much their reintroduction into anything that I was working on. Sure I'd seen a little chattering here and there about the Watchers but I honestly just wanted to write an individual story beat (albeit a tropey one) of c!Martyn snapping and turning on Ren but that never came to fruition due to Scar taking us out. The plan was always to backstab Ren then say a cool line like "Red Winter is over, Red Spring has begun" or something else punny. Seeing the fevered reaction of the audience though gave me some confidence that I could try my hand at some layered or entirely post-production storytelling, so heading into Last Life I was all guns blazing.

The Eyes and Ears AU is quite open-ended — do you intentionally approach it with the idea of leaving narrative space for fan interpretation?

It really is right? Yes, it's a very mindful decision to leave it open-ended but not so much for the audience's benefit or interpretations, but to give myself creative freedom to take the story wherever I'd like to. Committing to too many power scale, multiverse or narrative shackles early can really strangle stories I've noticed (from reading comics and manga) meaning back pedalling or aggressive retcons are required to explore certain paths, which is rarely a good experience for the reader. I do enjoy their versatility and capability to be applied to any Minecraft or adjacent story too. Some might call it too broad, I call it malleable.

How do you feel about fans expanding the lore through headcanons and theories? Have any fan interpretations stood out or surprised you?

I think it's brilliant! People inundate my inbox on Tumblr seeking permission to write stories or create characters / AUs but I've literally no authority on that. I suppose it might be a different conversation if they were profiting off of those works, but 99% of people simply want to write for fun which I highly encourage!! I'll be honest that I haven't read a great deal of AUs or headcanons, my exposure to them is mostly via chat messages during lore talk streams or questions that come through regarding the Eyes And Ears AU. As a general rule I try to avoid reading too much of other people's works on the topic because I worry I'll accidentally regurgitate it in some way then stumble into plagiarism, you know? It's why I focus more on digesting stories outside the fandom whether it's manga, Sanderson books, reading old Japanese folk tales and the like. I can source inspiration from those on how to weave narrative and execute plot twists without having to glance in my front yard.

Has fan content (art, theories, animatics, etc.) ever influenced how you think about or approach the AU?

Oh for sure they have. It's literally why after every season we'll do a sit down stream and talk about the lore in detail. Figure out the puzzle and potential trip wires of plot points from the episodes and how we can neatly pack them into the pre-existing story. A lot of people wouldn't do that as they'd be precious about their work and believe their opinion is th only correct one, but I looooove soundboarding with the audience on it. I also take that mindset in game and sometimes think about the scenery of an impactful moment whenever I'm able to control / design it. I'll have little quips or quotes cooked in my mind for how I'd ideally deliver a blow or plot twist, buuuuut given the nature of the Life series you very rarely get to execute things how you'd like haha! I definitely wouldn't have done as many of the poems had their not been such a positive reaction to those. I often see individual lines or entire passages make their way into art pieces as typography or highlighted in animatics which is really gratifying. It's why I also put such an emphasis and priority on audio production in my editing. If I can craft something that feels atmospheric, driving and punctuating with music, staggering vocals or sound effects then the auditory portion is already done, they can focus solely on the visual aspect of things. I try and be as cinematic / TV like as my skillset allows for that reason.

You’ve mentioned trying not to fully canonise the AU, but still referencing it consistently — how do you balance telling your own story effectively, while trying not to involve other creators, particularly on the Life Series, when a lot of your time is spent in a group?

The easiest way to do this, is to not do it. For the most part the only storytelling done with the AU is done in post-production. I never name drop the Watchers or Listeners in world (believe me, I was as surprised as all of you when I saw that Secret Keeper statue in Secret Life!!) and in recent seasons they haven't even reared their head as an influence whatsoever. They're on holiday, they deserve it. But when they do whisper in my ear, they're motivated decisions that I would likely make as a player/character anyway because the win objective is always the thing I'm striving towards. I can just pepper angst around it to make things seem more manipulated rather than selfish ha. I think that's why the open ended nature of the Watchers has served me well because as much as they have a singular motive which is to feed on negative emotions, that can be achieved in so many ways ranging from bloodlust to deception, heartbreak to panic. It's versatile for storytelling. It can be in your face, or a slow burn.

What do the Watchers and Listeners represent to you, symbolically or narratively? Do they serve a specific function in the stories you tell?

The Watchers used to represent the audience when Grian first introduced them, but after departing EVO I've definitely breathed more of an egotistical and sinister air into them. They're very much a unique entity / faction now, they in some ways represent gluttony, selfishness and neglect in achieving their goals. The Listeners on the other hand, are a lot of the opposite traits, but I'm still wanting to explore how being the hard end of most conflicts can be dangerous. I want to explore that at some point, whether it be with infighting or failures. They shouldn't be seen as simply bad/good, they're just, different. It shouldn't be too hard navigating that nuance but I want it to reflect elements and motives that we find in our own lives.

#inthelittlewood #eyesandears #trafficblr

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earthisnice · 4 months ago

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The Secretary's Surprise

Male reader x Kep1er Xiaoting

this is my first time writing so I don't proofread, my bad. Anyways, enjoy

you wake up early today because you must interview some new intern later, even though you are the owner, sometimes you interview them to know who will be your employee. you get up from your bed and make a coffee in the kitchen and go the balcony enjoy the coffee and the view from your apartment. today's weather is so nice, you can see the view clearer than other day while slurping your hot coffee slowly not realizing you are late actually. you take your phone and send message Kim, your HRD to start interview first because you will come late. After sending a message to him, you take a shower and get ready to go.

on your way to the office, you stroll and enjoy the view and fresh air but suddenly someone crashes into you from behind and makes you fall on your face. you try to sit down and face up to see who crashed on you. She is beautiful you thought then she screamed when she looked at you

"It's blood !!" and she rushed to you gave a tissue and apologized to you.

"sorry i crashes into you because i was in a hurry to the office for a job interview" she said while bowed to me many times.

"it's okay, careful next time. okay?" you replied and then helped her tidy up her belongings that fell after she bumped into you earlier.

"where will you have a job interview?" you asked her.

"it's DP company" she said.

you hide your shock while helped tidying her fallen belonging because she will do the job interview at your company and not telling her that you are the owner.

"ah it's a big company, right? why do you want to work there… sorry who is your name?" you asked

"i'm xiaoting" she replied.

"ah i see, xiaoting. it's beautiful name. so why you want to work at DP company?" you asked her once again.

"it's my dream to work there since my college life, i study hard so i can reach my dream there" she said reminiscing her dream then the reality slapped her that she already late to the job interview

"i go first and i'm sorry once again crashes you" she continued and bowed to you for one last time.

finally you arrive at your office and you got bombarded by question from your employees because a tissue plugged in your nose

"Y/N, why are your nose bleeding?!?" they asked.

"ahhh it's nothing, i got tripped and fall down" you replied

"Which room is the place for job interviews?" you continued

"it's on the third floor, for accounting team's room" they replied

"ah okay, thanks" you replied again then go to the third floor and stepped into the room when xiaoting interviewed, her eyes widen and confused why are you there in the same room.

"Oh, Xiaoting is being interviewed now? Just accept her to work here, no need for interview further" you said ordering Kim.

"do you know her boss?" he asked

"yes, i met her when i collided with her earlier" you replied

then Kim explained who you are to her, that you are the owner of the company.

"ah.. 1 more question xiaoting, which department do you applied again?" you asked her.

"i applied for accounting department and secretary.." she answered

"okay good, be my secretary then. you can work now, can you?" you cut her.

"yes i can, sir" she answered.

"okay let's go then" you command her to follow you

"you can continue the interview for accounting department" you said to Kim and he nodded.

you walked out from the interview room and lead xiaoting to her office room

"Y/N, i'm sorry that i don't noticed you earlier and sorry for made your nose bleeding too", she said while bowed again.

"heyyy.. it's nothing don't blamed yourself like that, and i can see your passion for the work and have a great attitude too. if not, you already leaving me there bleeding" i laughed changing the subject.

"by the way, how old are you now, Xiaoting?" you asked her,

"i'm 25 now, sir" she replied.

"heyy.. the different not that much, i'm 29. you can drop the honorifics, because we met casually" you said.

"here.. you can work here, this is your office room. you know what secretary do, right?" you showed her office room and give her a deskjob then she nodded.

"if there is anything you don't understand, you can come to my room to ask, okay" you continued as she nodded again.

day to weeks you work tandem with her, she is excellent with what her doing. you never expected found someone with talent to be your secretary like her. today is like another day you work with her while she mention your next schedule.

"okay, thanks for the info, ting" you said.

you go out for the meeting with your client and she stay at the office because you command her. you done meeting with lient before lunch then heading back to your office. after you arrived at office, you are not heading to your office room but her office room. you opened the door and it made her jolted in surprise

"oh, sorry to surprise you hehe" you giggled.

"want to lunch together?" you asked her and she nodded.

"how is the job? do you like it? does it meet your expectations when you dream of working in my company?" you bombarded her with questions.

"can you asked one by one?" she said chuckled.

"oh my bad hehe" you chuckle replied her.

"the job is best for me, it absolutely meet my expectation i dreamed of" she answered,

"it's relieving , i put you in the right job" you replied.

"by the way, tonight you will no have any schedule, sir" she said.

"okay thank you for the info, you can go home early too. hey, remember to drop honorifics when meet me?" you said, she nodded smile.

the night has come when you packing to go home early but something make you to work overtime because of your client request, you sighed of it. then, someone knocking your room

"come in" you answered the knock.

"oh it's you ting. what's up?" you asked her.

"hmm.. didn't I say that you don't have any schedule tonight?" she asked.

"well, client's request so i have to wrap it up. something happened?" you asked while focus on your laptop as you heard the door locked in.

you turned you face to the doorway and see xiaoting,

"hmm? why you locked the door?" you frown questioning.

xiaoting not answering but walk into your way slowly and stand behind your chair, her hands landed your shoulders massaging it,

"you've worked hard, Y/N, your muscle is so tensed" she whispered

you can feel her hot breath on your ears. you turn your chair around to face her,

"wh-what are you doing, ting?" you asked while she start stripping in front of you.

her small pert breast with pink nipples and shaved pussy, make you gulped with the sight and can feel you cock start hardening,

"i can make you relax.. oppa" she said, this is the first time she called you oppa.

then she kneel down and caressing your thigh and trail her hands to your cock through the pants. her hands worked unbuckled your belt and unzipped it to pull it down, your cock sprang free hit her chin. she smiled and her eyes widen awe by your size

"it's so big" she murmured.

then she place her hands on my cock and stroke it up and down,

"ah.." you moaned.

she is not wasting time leaned in and kiss your tip to taste your precum, her mouth gaped slightly and take you cock into her mouth while her tongue licked the underside.

"oh my.. your mouth.." your words are cut off as you moaned and caressing her hair and bring her head to go deeper take your cock.

you hold her head till your tip can feel her back throat, you can see the tears flowing from the corner of her eyes. then you pull you hands off of her head and she start backing off gasped some air, you can see a string saliva connected from her lips to your cock.

"woah.. woahh.. didn't expected my secretary can help relax too" you said as you caress her cheek,

then you command her to blow your cock again. you can feel your orgasm building but you don't want explode in her mouth, you want your cock deep inside her pussy, you thought.

you stand her up to her feet and bend her over to your desk

"stay like this, ting" you command her

you kneel down and leaned in closer bring your tongue to her pussy, you lick her pussy from behind while your hands caressing her asscheeks. she moaned by your action and her juices start dripping to your mouth.

"hmm.. someone must be so horny here, huh?" you teased her,

"ahh.. oppa, don't stop. i'm so close" she said moaning.

you continued your lick but your finger slid inside her pussy now. you slid another finger to her pussy, scissoring and stretch it wide, you pump in and out of her pussy and touch her sweet spot while your tongue worked on her clit, she cry out and a few moment later she squirting hard on your hand and face.

"wow, you came so much" you watch with awe while you lap your chin,

"i'm sorry oppa, i make a mess in your office" she apologized.

"it's okay ting, i want to make you squirt more and make this room our playground" you smirked while you kiss her bare back trail up to her shoulders.

you aligned your cock to her pussy and penetrate her slowly from behind

"ahh ting, you're so tight" you groaned.

"ahh oppa…" she cry out while you thrust deeper,

and finally your cock successfully entered inside her pussy, you stay still so she can adjust your size and feel your cock inside and also in the meantime you can feel her walls pulsating massaging your cock

"can i start?" you asked her permission and she nodded.

then you start thrust in and out slowly so she can feel the sensation.

"faster oppa.. fuck me faster !!" she moaned begged me to go faster and i complied it.

your hands gripped her hips as you thrust into her faster as you watched her ass jiggle rhythmically with your thrust, you can't help but slap her ass, she moaned louder and her walls clench my cock tighter.

"are you close ting? i can feel your grip me tighter" you said, "yes.. oppa.. i'm cumming!!" she cry out, squirt on your cock coating it with her juices. you're not slowed down, you still thrust in and out fast through her orgasm that make her squirt once more.

you flip her body and lay her back to your desk,

"wrapped your legs to my waist ting" you command her and she complied it,

then you pull her arms and put it around to your neck. you penetrate her once again and carry her make she yelp. your hands grip her ass and moves her hips up and down like a fleshlight, she cry out again, you hold her hips still while your moves up and down now thrusting faster and harder into her pussy. with some thrust she squirt again, and her walls clench tighter like milking your cock.

"i'm close, ting" you whispered on her ears and bring her down to her kneel, stroke your cock.

"open your mouth, ting" you command her and explode inside her mouth and some on her face and hair.

"swallow it if you want. it's okay to spit it out" you hands her a tissue but she swallow it instead.

"your cum taste sweet and salty, oppa" she said as wiping her face and hair with the tissue you gave her ,

"lick cleaned me up ting" you command her as you bring your cock in front of her lips again, she complied lick your cock clean.

"you are amazing, ting. you are my best secretary" you kiss her forehead and caress her hair.

#kep1er #xiaoting #smut #kep1er smut

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eirone-and-cheese · 7 months ago

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I wonder what he meant by Geta feeling like "he probably isn't deserving of this power." It's the word "deserve" that gives me pause.

"he can't stomach [having this much power/ responsibility]." <-and here's another piece that I found intriguing.

"Power. What do these, what did these characters cling to... Well I think obviously, they're so young to have this kind of inconceivable level of influence and responsibility. And Geta, especially, I think is very aware of the fragility of the-- of the power that he has. And his need to kind of bolster himself through intimidation and fear, means that it's very very difficult to trust anyone. And I think ultimately, he just doesn't trust himself.

The trappings of power are really felt by these two men--these two boys, I should say--and the lack of- the lack of integrity around power, understanding that power is a responsibility. And, it corrupts! And I think that Geta is very aware of the fact that he probably isn't deserving of this power--who is? But he certainly can't stomach it."

(yes, I had to transcribe the whole thing just so I could analyze it, apparently my listening comprehension has disintegrated 😭)

Joe talking to Sensacine about Geta's sense of power

#fascinating #sometimes he gives the most inciteful answers to interview questions #and I have to go back and listen to it again b/c I always miss something in the initial watch #jq #joseph quinn

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aliceoseman · 6 months ago

Note

s3 dealt with some more mature themes than s1&2 did, did you struggle with that in any way or did it feel like a natural development for the characters? especially since heartstopper has been praised specifically for being a "wholesome" show basically from the start, did you find it in any way daunting to write (more) sex and alcohol into the show?

(Upon reading this back, I have only talked about sex, not alcohol, very sorry!! Also this gets really off topic but this was the only question I received about sex in the show and I have a lot to say that I just didn't get asked about at all in any promo interviews, so... Here I shall word vomit!!)

Short answer: Yes, I struggled, but not with the writing of the story - just with the general discourse about sex/no sex in Heartstopper, since the beginning of the show.

Long answer:

It wasn't something I struggled with when writing the comic. I always knew that Heartstopper would get to that point - that it would grow up alongside the characters - but the general cultural view of the show as 'wholesome' vs. the criticism of it for being 'puritanical' and 'sexless' has definitely made me feel quite anxious about how these maturer elements would be interpreted by people in the show.

I never saw Heartstopper as 'wholesome' when I started creating the comic. The first chapter of the comic leads to a scene featuring assault, and the story deals heavily with mental health and bullying. The comic has swearing throughout. Whether the story was 'wholesome' was simply not a topic of discourse before the TV show released - I knew it was uplifting and optimistic, of course, but only in the same way that most YA romance stories are. So the public declaration of the Heartstopper show as 'wholesome' - as its defining characteristic and unique selling point - did take me by surprise. I'd had to remove the swearing from the story, but aside from that, I couldn't really understand what was different with the show compared to the comic, and why this was its defining feature. And then of course some of the conversation shifted to the fact that in S1 and S2, there's no sex.

This too confused me. I always felt the sexual attraction between N&C was obvious from the start, and sex itself was introduced into the story at the time I felt was right for the characters, with no real thought as to whether the audience would agree with me. People hardly ever pointed out the lack of sex in the comic - it's very, very normal for YA fiction romances to not feature sex, and in fact, it's actually pretty common for teen movies and shows to not feature sex, certainly when they skew towards younger teens as Heartstopper did in S1 and S2. But for some reason, when the Heartstopper show came around, people really, really noticed the lack of sex, and I was very surprised by that reaction. I wonder if it was because people weren't accustomed to that in queer TV, or if it was because people liked N&C so much as a couple and desperately wanted to see them take that step, or just because people felt it was broadly unrealistic for a teen couple to wait a little while before feeling ready to have sex. Perhaps it was all. But whatever it was, it caused some... outcry!

(I could go into arguments as to whether it is morally correct or generally realistic for N&C to wait before having sex in the story, but ultimately I think people's opinion on that varies heavily depending on their worldview and personal experience, and there's no right answer - people can like it or not like it and that's completely fine, not every tv show is for everyone - but the one thing I would say is that I think it shows young readers/viewers that it's OKAY to not be ready, and how to have that conversation with your partner, and I think that's a really, really good and helpful thing for young people)

Fortunately for those who were distressed by the lack of sex in the show, and for me who was anxious about all of that criticism, I'd been planning for the story to reach that stage pretty soon anyway. It honestly made me relieved that it was going to be introduced, if only to reassure people that I wasn't pretending sex doesn't exist or that I, as an asexual, was spreading some sort of anti-sex agenda (seemed to be a common refrain among those who find it particularly annoying that I'm ace). But mainly - I'd always known this would be a really important step in N&C's journey, and I wanted to do it justice, and I felt I had done so in the comic, but with the TV show came all of those opinions and discourse, so I was much more nervous about it and spent a lot of time during the writing process trying to figure out how people would feel about it. An impossible task, and before S3 released, I had no idea what the reaction would be.

In the end it was pretty anti-climactic - it got hyped up a bit too much in the early promo for S3, and then the general consensus was that the sex in the show was shown with a very light touch, and some people thought that was a good thing and others did not. And people still call the show sexless and puritanical, so it didn't really solve that issue. (I'm just not sure what those people really expected to happen - obviously they are not going to suddenly start fucking on screen in a show that's been previously marketed for the 12-16 age bracket, guys, let's use our brains here) Personally, I'm really proud of how that element of the story turned out. I think the scenes are really beautiful and feel totally right for the tone of the story, and have let the show mature without suddenly becoming an entirely different show.

This has been a long answer but I think what I'm trying to say is this: the 'mature' vs 'wholesome' scale of Heartstopper is something that has never been a topic of discourse for the comic. But it has been front and centre for the show, and certainly is something that has caught me off guard and caused me some anxiety, because I do see the criticism and it does hurt, and at times feels incredibly personal. But at the end of the day, I'm just telling a story, and the things that happen will happen at the time I feel is right for the characters. I just want to tell the story that I've set out to tell, and I intend to keep doing so until it is done.

If we get a S4, and indeed now that I am working on Vol 6, I am thinking much less about how the audience might react to the sex in the story, and am simply just writing/drawing what feels emotionally and dramatically right for the story and characters. And that feels much more creatively freeing!

#heartstopper s3 q&a

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purinfelix · 8 months ago

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FELLOW FRANCO LOVERS RISE!!

Ok I’m not good at making requests but I think it would be cute if one of the interviewers wears an Argentina jersey and Franco is blushing and yapping in the media pen (and then he posts about it a million times like his handshake w Lewis)

good journalism ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ - franco colapinto

a/n: YES FRANCO LOVERS JOIN MEE i honestly love writing fics for this flirty little shit pls send more requests like this one eee it was so cute w/c: 922

It's all for the sake of good journalism.

At least, that's what you kept telling yourself - and all the other interviewers who were questioning why you were sporting an Argentina kit to a race that was being held in Singapore. Watching, buried in a hoard of other photographers and journalists, the race drew to a close and suddenly the crowd around you sprung into action. As drivers started trickling in, with tired expressions - some happy, others not, you resigned yourself to waiting. It was pretty clear you were only here for one.

He spots you as soon as he enters the media area, even though you're concealed by about a dozen other people. You watch as his eyes light up at the sight of the familiar blue and white fabric and he beelines towards you, ignoring the sound of others calling his name.

"Hello," he says, breathlessly with a beaming smile - you chalk the flush in his cheeks up to having just finished a race.

"Hi!" you spring immediately into interview mode, listing off question after question about the race. He answers them all as earnestly as he can, and the entire time you're watching him with an awe-struck look. The clamour and sound of camera flashes around you are drowned out as the two of you talk, and before you realise it you've forgotten you're conducting an interview and not just having a conversation.

"Well that's all the questions I had prepared, good job out there today, you did amazing!" you say, fully aware that you're gushing at this point but you're relieved when he offers you an earnest smile.

"Nice shirt," he points out, and you realise suddenly how keen he is to keep talking. You laugh, a little shy at being so openly acknowledged.

"I knew you'd like it!"

"Who's on the back?" he asks curiously and you turn around to show him, "Ah, Lionel of course, a woman after my own heart." You chuckle softly as he places a hand over his chest. There's a beat of silence when you honestly think he's about to leave but then he leans in a little closer.

"Blue looks good on you, maybe a Williams shirt next time?" He says it so casually it takes you a while to take in what he's saying - and to realise how boldly he's flirting with you.

"Ah," you let out, though it's more of a gasp than words, "I'll have to talk to your merch department about that."

"I'll be waiting," he beams, giving you a sly little nod before disappearing back into his garage. It's only once he's gone do you realise how sore your cheeks are from smiling non-stop. Letting out a shaky breath, slightly overwhelmed by how well that interaction went, you turn around to snake your way back through the crowd. You try to avoid eye contact with anyone but the other camerapeople only smile at you knowingly, and you can only hope some of them got good enough photos for you to remember this moment by.

It's only once you get back to your hotel room and open up your phone do you realise just how many pictures had been taken of the two of you - and how many of them were far better than 'good enough'. In one the two of you are deep in conversation, your brows furrowed in a frankly un-flattering way, him as perfect as ever. In another, you're both laughing, about what you're not entirely sure, but just looking at the photo makes your heart flutter. Your favourite by far though, is one where you're looking down at your notebook trying desperately to remember the questions you had wanted to ask him. There's a childish pout at your lips that you cringe at - but what makes it your favourite is the look on Franco's face as he watches you, cheeks flushed as his lips curl subtly at the corners.

You don't seem to be alone in this opinion either - at least, that's what you've deduced from the half a dozen times Franco has posted it. Clicking through his stories, you're taken aback by the fact that he posted more about your interaction than him scoring points - the photo of the two of you even becomes the cover of his post dedicated to the weekend. Looking at the post you're not even bothered by the hundreds and hundreds of comments speculating what's going on between you two. Instead, your attention is captured by the caption he's added to it - "A race weekend to remember, for more reasons than one."

It's a little corny, and you let out a soft chuckle as you scroll through the rest of his page shamelessly, though you're sure not to like any of his posts for fear of letting on too much. The two of you spoke once, and if you're being completely honest you're a little embarrassed to still be thinking about him at this moment.

Just as you're about to set your phone down though, it chimes with. a notification that makes your eyes widen - a follow request from none other than the man of the hour. The rational part of you begins questioning how he managed to find your profile or the professional concerns of a journalist and driver following each other. These concerns however do little to slow you down as you race to hit accept because at that moment the only thing you can think about is one thing - that he's thinking of you too.

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #jet writes ★#purinfelix #jet answers ✧

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vioqueenofmushrooms · 2 months ago

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AWESOME SEX-ED

Ok it has just occurred to me that probably not everyone knows about my favorite sex-ed resource, Scarleteen! They have loads of great articles with information about sex, birth control, etc. They also have ways for you to ask questions that you want answered!

They have articles on everything from having sex as a disabled person, a fat person, and/or an intersex person to how to get FREE birth control as a minor(!!!) asexuality 101 and so much more!!

This is an awesome resource and my go-to when I want to know something about sex, I highly recommend it for anyone with questions/curiosities about sex, and while it's largely teen focused, there will be something here that's helpful for just about anyone!

When I started writing this post I was just going to include a couple articles... but I found so many I like so here are a bunch that may be helpful under the cut (Disclaimer: I have not read all of them because there are so many, nor am I in every group of people they're about, for example I'm not intersex or disabled, so I can't speak to the accuracy of all of them, but I've generally found Scarleteen to be pretty reliable.)

The articles I've included are mostly less typical stuff and things I think are super important but not talked about enough, if you're looking for more basic sex-ed just going to their website will get you started.

Tagging a couple accounts on here who do sex-ed stuff incase they want to reblog (No pressure though <3) @certifiedsexed @batmanisagatewaydrug

ALSO APPARENTLY SCARLETEEN IS ON TUMBLR??? @hellyeahscarleteen amazing.

Anatomy

Quickies: Sexual Anatomy | Scarleteen

With Pleasure: A View of Whole Sexual Anatomy for Every Body | Scarleteen

Intersex stuff

(Inter)sex and Relationships | Scarleteen (A series of articles by an intersex person)

Supporting Your Intersex Child Through Puberty | Scarleteen

Trans stuff

Supports for Trans Youth and Their Families (and a few words for everybody else) | Scarleteen

It's a Trap: How to Spot Anti-Trans Resources | Scarleteen

Self-Care Amidst a Deluge of Anti-Trans Legislation | Scarleteen

Transmasculine Flow: Let's Talk Periods | Scarleteen

Welcome to Trans Summer School! | Scarleteen (At the top there's a drop down that says "This piece is part of Trans Summer School" which shows you all of the articles)

The Lowdown on Low-Dose Testosterone | Scarleteen

Finding Our Own Voices: Renée Yoxon and Gender-Affirming Vocal Therapy | Scarleteen

Some Books and Balms for Nonbinary Folks | Scarleteen

Fatness

Fat Bodies: Learning to Care for Your Rolls and Folds | Scarleteen

The Confidence of Fat Sexuality: An interview with sex educator Elle Chase | Scarleteen

Disability stuff

Disabled Sex: Sex for Two (or More) | Scarleteen

Wheelchair, Bound? Kink and Disability | Scarleteen

Consent Is Sexy: Sexual Autonomy and Disability | Scarleteen

We Need to Talk About Sex and ADHD | Scarleteen

Body Talk: Listening To and Learning From Your Chronic Pain | Scarleteen

A Disabled Persons Guide to Talking with Your Partner(s) About Sex | Scarleteen

Sex and Parent Caregivers | Scarleteen

Disabled Sex Yes! | Scarleteen

I really want to have sex, but I don't know how, and I'm queer, chronically ill and isolated. | Scarleteen

Birth control

Getting Birth Control May Be Easier Than You Think! | Scarleteen (Aka how to get FREE BIRTH CONTROL as a MINOR. Not just for the USA but also Australia, Canada, India, New Zealand, South Africa, and the UK)

How to Manage Pain with IUD Insertions | Scarleteen (Not even just about pain, super in-depth helpful guide)

Other

F*c&!ng First Aid: A Quick Guide to Common Sex Injuries | Scarleteen

From OW! to WOW! Demystifying Painful Intercourse | Scarleteen

Sex after rape. Where do I begin? | Scarleteen

Becoming Out: a totally non-exhaustive, step by step guide to coming out | Scarleteen

Your PMDD Primer: A Necessary Guide to an Under Researched Disorder | Scarleteen

Crisis Pregnancy Centers: Harm, Not Help | Scarleteen

Just the Basics, Ace: An Asexuality Primer | Scarleteen

#vio posts #sex education #sex ed #asexual #transgender #trans #birth control #intersex #fat liberation #disability #disabilities #queer #lgbtq #resources

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81pastrys · 2 months ago

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Saudi Comfort

Summary— Lila subconsciously knows how Lando is hard on himself and leaches on him after the Q3 DNF

Warnings— upset Lila ; Lando’s crash ; Lando upset ; mentions of Lila having a tantrum

A/N— more coming out soon promise 🤞

Dad Lando List

Request— I fear we need a Lila Saudi Arabia quali Lando comfort fic - 🌙 @bucket-hat-lando

Lila watched with intent, daddy is on track— she needs to focus and watch. It was Q3, he was almost done and then they could get treats and he would talk racing with the other people around.

That all changed when he slightly tapped a wall and caught a curb wrong, skidding across a wall. Lila flinched and clung to Jon. “No! Daddy!!” She whined to Jon. He looked to the pit wall for confirmation that Lando was responding and he was.

“He’s okay Lila, just a little hiccup.” He nodded. Lila’s bottom lip quivered, making Jon frown. Jon had heard Lando’s self doubt on the radio and snapped his head around to the tv, now broadcasting the replays.

He shielded Lila from rewatching the crash, knowing it would upset her further. Minutes pass by and Lando ends up back in the garage, weaving his way through all the mechanics. They all wanted his attention, but he only wanted one person at this very moment: Lila.

She immediately reached her arms out for him and he took her in his embrace, hugging her tightly as she laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. He knew she saw what happened and was glad it was minor.

Anything can happen on track, knowing Lila would see it caused him more stress than anything. He was grateful nothing horrible happened to him. Jon talked with Lando as the little girl clung to him, also glad he was okay.

He set her down and she followed him around, a tight grip on his finger as he talked with engineers and mechanics before medias. When he did do media, she stayed by his side. She noticed his tension and hugged his leg during an interview.

He smiled and the interviewer shot him a confused look. He was being hard on himself and hated that he might rub off on Lila. “Good luck tomorrow.” Lando nodded and moved on.

Some of the other rookies who got out in Q1 or Q2 were around and noticed Lila. Lando was doing another interview and Gabriel made eye contact with her. She giggled at his silly faces and Lando looked down and then towards her line of sight.

“She’s too cute.” Gabriel said, patting Lando’s shoulder before walking off. The interviewer looked over the barrier and caught a glimpse of Lila.

“You’ve got company with you!” She said. Lando smiled and picked Lila up. “Hello!” Lila shied into Lando’s chest and he fixed her shirt.

“Yeah, I just overshot how close I was and the car just did its own thing.” He shook his head, answering the question.

He finally finished the medias and got to relax in his driver room, or so he thought. He set Lila down after closing the door and she whined. He looked to her and her bottom lip was poking out. He tilted his head and crouched to her level.

“What’s the matter sweetheart?” He asked. He could see tears brimming her eyes and he took her in his arms again. He sat on the couch and leaned back, Lila comfortably on top of his chest. “Did I scare you?” She nodded her head.

“Car is hurt too.” She whined. He didn’t hear her and asked her to repeat what she said. “Your car is hurt too daddy.” She said louder this time.

“Oh sweetheart, the mechanics can put it back together.” He said, moving a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to hurt the car.” She sighed into his chest as he lightly rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She curled tighter and he continued tracing lazing shapes on her back. “It’s okay, daddy, you’re not hurt.” She mumbled. He kissed her head. He wanted to overthink the crash, but Lila needed to be assured that he was okay and that the car wasn’t hurt.

“Uncle Osc got second, did you get to congratulate him?” He asked. She shook her head no and he smiled. “Do you want to? He’s right next door.” She shook her head no again and he nodded.

“I want to stay with you daddy.” She said. “You told me crashes hurt and I don’t want you to be hurt.” She sniffled. He internally awed, but realized he did tell her crashes can hurt.

“I did say that, but some crashes don’t hurt as much- like mine.” He reassured her. “Or uncle Osc’s in Australia.” He reminded her. She clung to Oscar that day, wanting nothing but for him not to be sad.

She whined again and he put his arms around her. “You don’t hurt, daddy?” She asked, raising her head to look at him.

“No, I don’t hurt Lila.” He confirmed. He smiled at her. “Daddy is tired and frustrated though.” He admitted. She didn’t know what he even said but he felt like in a sense, she did know.

“Will a hug fix you?” She asked, hugs usually ‘fixed’ her when she felt a way she couldn’t describe. Lando always asked her the same question when she was overwhelmed, or throwing a fit.

“A hug might help, I won’t know until I get one.” He fake pouted to her and she wrapped her arms around him again. He gasped and she giggled. “Oh my goodness! That hug fixed me right up Lila, thank you!” He said feigning enthusiasm for her.

She curled back into his chest and ended up asleep. He brought her back to the main garage and Jon let Lando speak his frustrations out. The mechanics dealt with the car, telling Lando how to avoid the issue he had.

When he left the track and put Lila in her car seat, she stirred. “Shh, go back to sleep.” He cooed, running his knuckles over her cheek soothingly. “We’re going to the hotel now.” She listened and fell back asleep.

Yes this was a recent request, but timing would be hella off if I added it to the queue

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @justaf1girl @kallanfiona @chertik-007vvv

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theundercoversquid · 17 days ago

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"Warfare" Cast Wars, With a Special Guest

Pairing: Will Poulter x Reader

Summary: Safely sitting behind the camera for Cast Wars, you answer the questions yourself

Warnings:

Masterlist

A/N: Here is a link to the video

You loved getting to go to work with Will, getting to see him in his element.

Be it getting to go to set with him, watching him take on a new persona. Or be it interviews where you got to see him be his normal, charming self. You loved all of it, because most of all, you loved being around him.

But all this means you are no stranger to Will's Warfare castmates. Used to the chaos that seems to follow them everywhere, which is why you were quite happy to be sitting safely tucked away far behind the reaches of the camera, watching the chaos that is sure to unfold.

Somehow, a spare whiteboard and pen had ended up on your lap. And when the first question was asked, you found yourself uncapping the pen, thinking for a moment before scribbling down your answer.

As you recapped the pen, the media girl sitting next to you leaned over. Looking at what you had scribbled before doing a double-take. Nudging the girl beside her as she snapped a photo of your board.

You looked at her. Sheepish. Worried you had done something you weren't meant to. Going to rub it off. But she gets there before you. Waving her hands to tell you not to. So instead, you smile softly at her.

When the next question about fan thirst edits came up, the girl beside you nudges you. Looking at your board. Silently questioning whose name you are going to put down. You think about it for a moment. Looking at her as she looks at Will and back at you. Wiggling her eyebrows. But you laugh silently. Wavering for a moment before writing down another name entirely.

She nods appreciatively at your answer, taking a picture as the boys continue to argue about whether it is Will or Charles Melton. But eventually they settle on your boyfriend's name.

Only to be proven wrong as you laugh. Listening to your boyfriend's cheer. You had been right.

The next question is about Heartstoppers, and this one definitely gives you pause for a moment. Thinking about it as you listen to Will defend that he has watched it, which is true. The two of you had watched it together when it had first come out. But your memory was ropey as you tried to think. Eventually settling on a throwaway guess. The media girl, having watched you pause and think, still takes a picture of your board.

You look up to see the boys still arguing. But it comes to an end with Michael holding the board up.

"It's gay crises," Kit tells them, causing you to sigh to yourself as you rub it out. You probably should have guessed, but alas.

You settled back in your seat, pen out as you wait for Will to read from the card in his hand.

"Crashing back to reality." Will starts with a heavy sigh. "Will is the face of a popular meme. What is it?"

Already, your pen is running across the whiteboard as you write down your answer.

'You guys are getting paid.' You write down. Followed by 'not Sid' next to a big cross. This time, you hold it up for the media girl to take a photo of. You honestly felt sorry for Will for the second one.

When Joseph holds up their whiteboard, you can't help but shake your head, that one was not fair to Will, and you knew how much it annoys him.

"Incorrect." The producer calls. Causing the boys on one side to groan as you silently cheer.

"Luckily, the internet has been cruel to me multiple times." Will states. His eyes find yours as you give him a soft smile. You wanted to wrap him up in a hug. But alas, you can't. But your smile seems to do enough, as the boys carry on chatting around the two of you, he returns your smile with his own. The internet was a cruel place, but he had you.

"Noah Centineo's in To All the Boys I've Loved Before." Kit starts to read, causing you and Will to break eye contact as you both turn to focus on the question. "What was Peter's flirty move in front of everyone in the cafeteria?"

You pause thinking for a beat before you write it down, 'hand in back pocket'. You write. Nudging the girl next to you, who seems completely unsurprised by how long it took you compared to the boys, who clearly have no clue what on earth they are on about. She takes a snap. Laughing silently as you turn back to the chaos in front of you.

When the producer announces the correct answer, the boys are up in arms. All questioning what on earth it meant as Will turns to you. Many a question in his eyes.

"In whose Pocket?" Joseph shouts.

"In which pocket?" Kit questions.

Only for the producer to clarify it for them.

"Sorry?! puts his hand where?" Will calls. Looking back at you. Horrified.

"That's fucking assault" Kit calls.

As the boys melt into more chaos, Charles reaches out, putting his hand in D’Pharaoh's pocket. Loudly proclaiming "I'm flirting" As he does so.

Causing Will's attention snapped to the two as he works out where Charles had a pocket for him to put his own hand. In the end, he slips it into Charles's blazer pocket.

Before he then positions himself with his back pocket facing directly at the camera.

"Put your hand in my pocket," Will instructs as both Kit and Charles shove their hands into your boyfriend's back pocket. All of them dissolving into giggles as they do so.

You aren't much better as you sit leaning back on your chair in stitches as you try not to make a noise.

"Oh Shit!" Kit calls. "Calvin Klein's." And with that, Kit's eyes find yours, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you dissolve into even more silent laughter.

But the set is in utter chaos.

Eventually, the Buzzfeed team get it back under control and the boys back seated in their original chairs.

"What is Cosmos' full name?" Will reads out.

This gives you pause; you genuinely have no idea what it is. You know you have probably been told it at some point, but you can't seem to think what it is. You write down Cosmo Jarvis with some questions before and after, but you genuinely can't remember. Holding it up to the media girl with a shrug. Nevertheless, she still takes a photo of it.

When Cosmo announces his full name, you can't help but pause. There was no way you were guessing that as you erased your answer.

Then, with that, Kit is reading out the next question. "What is the name of the band Joseph's Stranger Things character is in?"

You pause, another one you had watched, but you cannot quite remember. Hellfire. You write with a little question mark next to it. Looking up at the boys as you watch Kit throw a tantrum at Joseph, claiming that he was the target market. Which causes your shoulders to shake with silent laughter. Not watching as another photo is taken of your board.

When Joseph announces the answer, it does not ring any bells for you. So you rub your board off with a shrug.

"Who from the cast played Shrek in a musical theatre production?" Will reads off, already laughing.

With your own laughter, you point at Michael. Getting as far as MG. Before the answer is announced. But that is enough for the media girl as she takes a photo of your board.

You watch as a printout of a photo gets passed to Will before he holds it up. Half looking at the camera, half looking at you.

"Run, children, run." Will instructs. "Run for your lives."

As Michael does his impression, Will's eyes find yours. For a moment, simply asking if you are okay, and when you nod, his attention returns to Michael. Laughing along with the others.

'Who's known to do a 'Pennywise eyes' impression?" Kit reads off, and with a shiver, you start writing his name.

The media girl takes a picture of you just before Kit does his impression. But when he does, you look away. Using the board to shield your face.

You keep it there till you hear Will start to read. "At what age did D’Pharaoh earn his black belt?"

You pause for a moment, listening as Will questions D’Pharaoh on that. But you know you know the answer as you think for a moment, and that's when it hits you. Quickly, you scribble the number down before triumphantly turning to the media girl, just at the same time Joseph does.

With a smile, the media girl takes a picture, and you look back at the boys to see Will looking at you with an inquisitive look. Clearly wondering what you are up to and if you are okay. But you are okay, you're having so much fun. So you send him a beaming smile, and that seems to be enough for him as he smiles back. Turning back to the question, Kit is preparing to read.

Kit starts to read the next question as you rub off your old answer. "Which fictional characters can Charles do incredible impressions of?" Kit reads, which causes you to snort. Incredible was a stretch. Will seems to have exactly the same idea as you, loudly calling into question the use of the word 'incredible'. As he finishes doing so, he looks back at you with a wink. Causing you to blush as you look down at the empty whiteboard and the answer you need to write down.

You pause thinking about it for a moment as the boys continue to argue, and then you write down your final answer, 'Golmn and stitch'. Under which you then write 'incredible??'

You turn your board to the media girl (whose name you really need to learn when this is over) for her to take a photo if it's just as the boys finish answering the question themselves, turning it around.

When Charles sees the board, he indignantly corrects that the answer is, in fact, Stitch. Causing you to write down a tick next to one of your guesses as he coughs. Preparing to do the impression as you drop your head into your hands with a sigh.

He starts doing it, too much ridicule from his castmates. But Charles is determined. Warming up and doing it for them. Even if as he does, it just gets him teased more.

You can see here as the boys get more rowdy, before getting themselves back under control, ready for the next question.

"Which celebrity does Cosmo often get mistaken for?" Will reads out.

"Tom Hardy." Joseph and Kit rush to answer before you have even managed to uncap your pen. So for that one, you shrug, sitting back.

Cosmo, bless his heart, looks utterly done as the boys dissolve into laughter. Which only grows louder as Kit reads off what Joseph had written on their board. "Tom Fukeface Hardy", which has the boys dissolving into even more laughter.

When they again get themselves under control, Kit starts to read the next question. "Name three people, including at least one of your castmates who will be appearing in Avengers Doomsday", Kit reads.

"I can tell you someone who isn't", Will immediately pipes up. putting his hand up.

"Justice for Warlock," Joseph calls out.

"Please tag that Justice for Warlock." Will agrees. "That would be great."

Laughing, you note down your own names in a neat little list. 'Florence Pugh, Vanessa Kirby and Joseph Quinn' With #JusticeforWarlock underneath. A little heart was drawn next to it.

The media girl next to you nudges you as she takes a photo of it. Getting a smile from you in return.

The boys on one side start to high-five and cheer. However, the boys on the other side start complaining. Loudly about what you are not quite sure.

"What was D’Pharaoh's first-ever professional acting job?" Will reads out.

You pause for a moment. Hesitant before you start to write down 'reservation dogs' on your whiteboard. Holding it out to the girl with a shrug. Something in your gut told you that you were wrong, but it felt like the only right answer.

As the girl next to you takes a picture, the producer calls time. Causing Joseph, Charles and Kit to complain. Loudly. Again.

Will sighs loudly, "Just like hashtag justice for Warlock if you just wanna put it in the comments." Will sighs. Shrugging. But then he makes eye contact with you. A soft smile growing on his face.

"Reservation Dogs." Kit finally calls out, holding up their board.

"No." D’Pharaoh shakes his head. "I started acting when I was 15, I landed Reservation Dogs when I was 19." He explains. "My first ever project was on a small show, a small family channel show called The Holly Hobbie, I had like two lines."

With a solemn nod of your head, you rub out your answer. Ready for the next question.

"Can I just show you what Comso just drew?" Michael Interrupts. Turning the board around, "Darth Vader, and it just says Daddy."

With a sigh you drop your head into your hands. They were all children.

Will looks down at the deck of cards in his hands.

"That was my last question." He tells the rest.

"That was my last question." Kit agrees as everyone turns to the producer, intrigued to know what the score was.

"Papas got 4 points, but Mamas got 3.5." The producer calls out.

"Tiebreaker!" Charles calls out.

"If we win this point, then we win." Kit proclaims before turning to the producer. "Right?"

"American sports are weird. I don't know." Will proclaims, turning to you, but you just shrug in return.

"In what movie can Will's character be found incessantly vaping in the background?" The producer questions.

The media girl immediately turns to you with an expectant look as you uncap your pen. "Midsummer", you immediately write down then underith it you write Florence Pugh's name alongside a little heart.

The media girl with a laugh takes a picture of your board as you turn back to the boys in front of you. Both Will and D’Pharaoh have their hands in front of their mouth so as not to accidentally give anything away.

As you all watch the train wreack, if the other boys as they loudly proclaim, is in not Midsummer. Instead, going for Death of a Unicorn. Or rather Death of a Fuckface Unocron as Kit seems to want to call it to chastisting from Joseph.

"Incorrect!" Michael calls out. "It's Midsummer." Which immediately gets him a high five from Will as the other team loudly complains.

As the boys stand up. Will pulled his entire team into a hug as they celebrated the victory. Chanting Cosmos' name.

When Kit launches into his complaint about time, you laugh with a fond smile on your face. Whipping your board as you lean it against the leg of the chair you have been sitting in. Stretching your arms above your head. zoning out of whichever argument the boys are having now.

"Technically, though, neither of you won," the media girl next to you calls. Causing all of the boys' and your head to snap to her. "Will's girlfriend beat all of you. Separately and combined."

"What?" Joseph Quinn shouts. Leaning so far forward, it looks like he might topple off his chair.

On the other hand, Will is looking at you with a proud smile on his face as the other boys continue to clamour. Questioning how you had beaten them.

"That's my girl." Will beams.

"What?" Kit calls, leaning forward. "But how?"

"She got 9 points." The media girl explains. "And another half point if we include Sid. She beat the Papas, getting 5 points for their round and beat the Mamas, getting 4 in theirs."

You, on the other hand, are blushing bright red. You had just been having some fun with the whiteboard and hadn't been expecting the attention that it would bring to you.

"I mean, I knew she was smarter than us." D’Pharaoh shrugs.

"But how?" Michael questions.

"If you do the outro, then you can ask her." The producer tells them, causing Charles and Joseph to turn to Michael.

With a sigh. Michael starts to do it, or rather tries to do it. Struggling. But eventually, he makes his way through it. Which isn't helped by Joseph sticking his fingers in Kit's ear. Causing the boy to nearly fall out of his chair. But the moment that the director calls, Will is out of his chair, making a beeline for you. The other boys following not too far behind.

As you see Will making his way to you, you stand up. Opening your arms to him as he wraps his arms around you. Pulling you into him.

The boys crowded around you. Questioning how you beat them, but you just wave them off with a smile. Feeling the heat on your cheeks as you bury your face into Will's side. Letting him fend off the boys for you.

The media girl who you had been sitting next to announces she has the photos of your answer, which immediately gets the boys' attention as they crowd around her. Looking at your answers.

But Will remains next to you. An arm slung around your waist as he looks down at you.

"Did you have fun?" He asks softly, his head dipped down to you.

"I did." You smile with a nod, looking up at him. The two of you only looking away when the boys loudly clamour about one of your answers.

"Do you think we can slip away without them noticing?" Will asks softly. "Make a run for it, just you and me?"

"Let's." You grin. "If you go get your mic sorted out, I'll start the car," you bargain.

"Deal." Will grins. Pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he disappears into the back.

As you turn to the door, you make contact with the media girl who still has the boys crowded around her phone as they teasingly argue about one of the things you have written down.

She waves at you before gently making a motion to tell you to run while you still can. You mouth a thank you to her before making a bid for freedom.

Getting out of the car, you start it. With Will joining you a few minutes later, and with that, the two of you pull out of the parking lot, heading back home.

Unbeknownst to you both, a change has been made to the video. The media girls' intrusion and the boy's reaction to finding out you have both them are kept. But after the outro, the screen cuts to black, and where it would usually show another episode, you could watch it instead, it instead has the question that had been asked at the bottom. Starting off with 'Who from the cast had a rat tail as a child?' At the top of the screen was the final score. Papas - 4 Mamas - 3.5. But this time, an extra column had been added. 'Wills GF'. Starting at 0. But when a picture of your board is shown, the score clicks up by one.

Making its way through all of your answers. Including the bonus round. Showing how you completely put the boys to shame.

But at that moment, that wasn't what mattered to Will and you. What mattered was getting out and getting to spend some time one-on-one.

A/N: I was so tempted to add an end bit with comments people may have left on the video but wasn't sure if it would fit. So let me know if you would like me to add that!

#will poulter #will poulter x reader #Will Poulter Imagine #fanfiction #x reader #one shot #will poulter one shot #will poulter fanfic #warfare #buzzfeed celeb

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annlyticalarchive · 4 days ago

Text

CHAPTER NINE: The Date, the Dog, and the Domain

”You will be different, sometimes you’ll feel like an outcast, but you’ll never be alone”

Mark Grayson X Kryptonian/Clark Kent! Reader

Prologue|Chapter Eight|Chapter Nine (Here)| Chapter Ten

w/c: 5.6k

a/n: two rewrites done and still not incredibly happy with it, but it’s mainly just the two goobers so I’m content with it

“Superwoman!”

You loved Lois. You really did. She was one of your best friends.

But if you heard—

“Lois Lane, I’d like to interview you for the Daily Planet!” And speak of the devil, and she’ll appear.

You pushed through the crowd that had gathered around you in the park, phones out and filming you and the grounded plane behind you.

“I’m sorry, no comment,” you said with your most polite smile, beginning to hover just out of reach.

“Wait—” Lois started, but you were already gone.

By the fifth time it happened that morning, you were starting to feel genuinely sorry for her.

Well right up until she snapped a cuff on your wrist and then the other on hers.

“I’m getting—” She had to pause, doubled over with one hand on her knees, breathless. “—an interview.”

“Miss Lane…” you sighed, looking at the ridiculous pair of handcuffs connecting you. With your strength, you could break them easily. But you knew that even you couldn’t run from Lois when she wanted something. So, you might as well just give her the exclusive.

“Alright,” you muttered, resigned. You gently scooped her up and took off, heading straight for the rooftop of the Daily Planet.

You touched down lightly, setting Lois on her feet as she fumbled to pull out her recorder with her one free hand, her dominant one now locked to yours.

“Lois Lane, reporter for the Daily Planet,” she said, still catching her breath. “And I have some questions for you.”

“That much is clear.” You folded your arms as best as you could with a reporter attached to one of them. “You’ve been trying to catch me for days.”

“Hah, well—” Lois gave a breathless chuckle, shaking her head before composing herself. “Superwoman, would you be willing to answer a few questions for the people?”

“The people deserve truth and transparency,” you said, nodding. Her face lit up, and guilt twisted in your chest. It didn’t feel great, keeping your secret from her.

“Okay,” she said eagerly. “Who are you?”

“You’ve named me Superwoman. I’ve been told it suits me.” You smiled.

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d get your identity that easy,” she muttered, shifting gears. “Where are you from?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Space?” you said, then clarified with a shrug, “But I was raised on Earth.”

She blinked. “Okay… so, alien.”

“Technically,” you nodded. “But Earth is my home.”

She nodded thoughtfully and moved on. “What can you do?”

“I’m not entirely sure of the full extent yet,” you said with a shrug. “I’m still figuring it out. Strength, flight, speed, durability, that sort of thing.”

She glanced at your still-linked wrists, recorder still running. “Are you a member of any hero organization? Any government contract?”

“No,” you said firmly. “I don’t take orders. I don’t want someone telling me who I can and cannot save.”

Lois nodded slowly, thoughtful. “Then who holds you accountable?”

That made you pause.

You looked at her, really looked, and said quietly, “I do.”

She blinked, thrown off for a beat. But then she nodded again, much smaller, more personal this time. “Okay.”

“I just want to help,” you added. “That’s all.”

She exhaled. “Okay. One more, what drives you to help?”

After a beat, you answered quietly, “Because I can. And I think if you can help, you should.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. She just studied you, softly and genuinely, like maybe she wasn’t just seeing the cape anymore.

Then, “That’s a good answer.”

You gave her a small smile. “It’s the truth.”

Lois reached into her bag and pulled out a tiny key, unlocking the cuffs with a smug little flourish. “Thanks for the exclusive, Superwoman.”

“Anytime, Miss Lane.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“You’re overthinking this,” Jimmy said from the couch, watching as you paced back and forth, two outfits in hand.

“I just—what do you think?” you asked, finally stopping and holding both options up to your chest.

“Green. The black’s too fancy,” he replied, propping his chin up with his palm.

“Thanks!” you said with relief, darting off to the shared bathroom.

As you slipped the green blouse over your head, Jimmy called through the closed door, “You do realize it’s just a coffee date, right? Mark’s not taking you to a five-star rooftop restaurant.”

“I know, but—” You paused, adjusting the waistband of your pants. “I’ve never really been on a proper date. I mean, there was Lana back in Smallville, but that wasn’t… this is different. Mark is different. I want this to be serious.”

“Kansas,” Jimmy groaned just as you stepped out of the bathroom, straightening your glasses with one hand.

He got up and placed both hands on your shoulders. “You’ve been pining for him for how long? You both mutually asked each other out after dinner with his family. You’ve got this. There’s literally nothing to worry about.”

You sighed, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ve got this.”

“And if you don’t, you’ve got me and Lois to cry on,” Jimmy added casually as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

You froze mid-step and shot him a glare.

“But you’ve got this! You do!” he rushed to say, nudging you toward the door. “Now go get him, farm girl!”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth as you stepped outside, the door clicking shut behind you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The cozy cafe Mark picked was small and quiet, tucked between a bookstore and a florist.

The kind of place with real cups and mugs, soft indie music playing just loud enough to fill the silence, and walls lined with artwork painted by local artists with ‘For Sale’ stickers underneath them.

You spotted him through the front window before he saw you. He was already seated, nervously tapping his fingers on the table, a second mug waiting across from him.

He looked up just as you opened the door.

And his smile, soft and wide, made something warm bloom in your chest.

“Hey,” he said, standing a little too fast and bumping the table. “Sorry— hi. You look great.”

You smiled as you walked over, “You look nice too.”

He held your chair out without thinking, and you caught yourself grinning again as you sat.

“I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?” you asked nervously as he slid back into his seat. “I know we said the time, but I wasn’t sure if—”

“It’s fine,” Mark said, cutting you off with a gentle laugh. “I know you run on ‘on time is late’ logic, but seriously, you’re fine.”

The waitress came over to take your orders, two coffees and a small plate of assorted pastries, had you two pay, then left you to it.

You both settled in, and conversation flowed easily. At first it was a little awkward, at least for you. Stumbling over your words and not knowing how ‘date talk’ works. Mark was sweet though, which calmed most your nerves.

“Wait, you played baseball?” Mark asked, grinning as he leaned forward. “Were you any good?”

“Eh,” you shrugged with a grimace. “Better on field than bat, I was scared of it. But I liked it. Small town league, nothing serious. My Pa was the assistant coach.”

Mark laughed. “Okay, now I have to know, what position?”

“Outfielder.”

“That tracks,” he said with a smirk.

You sipped your coffee. “Let me guess, you were the home run king?”

“Pfft, not even close,” he chuckled. “I was okay, I remember I had one good home run, but other than that I was the strike out king. I think I peaked at neighborhood T-ball.”

You both laughed, the kind that warmed your ribs and made the coffee taste just a little sweeter.

“I’ve been reading some of my dad’s books,” Mark added. You vaguely remembered him mentioning them recently in passing, something about old adventures turned fiction.

“Oh yeah?”

“They seem like novels, but they’re based on him. His experiences. And I was thinking… maybe he ran into someone like you. One of you, I guess,” he said. “We could read them together, if you’d like?”

His voice was softer then, careful. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the subject or because it was you he was offering this to.

Before you could answer, your phone started to ring.

“I’m—ugh, I’m so sorry. Let me just—” you started as you pulled it from your bag, already fumbling to silence it. But your fingers paused when you saw the caller ID.

Ma.

Mark, who had been watching, glanced at the screen and gave you an easy smile. “You should probably take that.”

“You sure?” you asked, already half-rising from your seat.

“It’s your mom,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course. Go.”

You mouthed a quick thank you as you stepped toward the café’s front windows, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Hi, Ma,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice light.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry—you're not at work, right?” Her voice was warm, familiar, grounding. But there was a twinge to it. A tension. Enough to make your stomach knot.

“No, it’s my day off. I’m out with a friend,” you said, shaking your head even though she couldn’t see it.

“Oh, I don’t mean to be a bother, but…” She paused, and the slight crackle of the speaker only made your nerves worse. “Something crashed out in the fields. Your Pa said it looked like your ship.”

Your blood went cold.

Without a word, you speed-walked back to the table, phone still pressed to your ear. “I’ll— yeah, I’ll run over real quick. I’ll take care of it.”

Mark stood up as you approached, clearly concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asked as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder in one fluid motion.

“Something crashed on our farm,” you said breathlessly. “I need to check it out.”

Mark didn’t hesitate. “I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to— really, it’s fine—”

“I want to,” he said, tone firm, brows knit with a worried frown.

You paused. Maybe you agreed because it was Mark, or maybe because deep down, you knew he could help.

You nodded.

Together, the two of you ducked into a nearby alley. A moment later, two streaks of color lifted into the sky, one red and blue, the other blue and yellow, as you flew fast toward Smallville.

𓈒 ⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The fields of the Kent farm were bathed in late afternoon light when the two you descended, boots hitting the dirt with a sharp thud. Mark landed a half-second later beside you, eyes scanning the rows of corn that bordered the property.

You made a beeline toward the porch. Swinging the door open and walking in quickly while Mark hesitated at the doorway.

“Ma? Pa?” You called in the main room.

Your parents rounded the corner from the kitchen, Ma took your forearms in her hands. Pa, while admittedly giving Mark an odd look, waved the boy in.

“We haven’t gotten close since your Pa got a look at it,” Ma explained as she gently turned you toward the back door. “We called you right after.”

You nodded and waved Mark along. Out back, a thin plume of fading smoke still curled into the sky, like a beacon in the middle of the fields.

“Sorry meeting Ma wasn’t under better circumstances,” you said, trying to joke as you walked. It was the wheat season, so the field was like golden grass. The impact trail was obvious, a long scorched scar across the earth.

Mark chuckled from a few steps behind. “Knowing me, it could’ve been worse.”

And then you saw it.

The ship came into full view, smaller than yours, but otherwise a carbon copy. It sat completely still. No hum. No glow. No movement.

Nothing.

Not until you stepped closer and reached out, your fingertips brushing the surface, despite Mark’s quiet, urgent, “Wait—”

A sharp hiss split the silence.

And then

white.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mark ducked back just in time as a white blur exploded from the hatch, slamming into you and launching you across the field like a ragdoll.

He shouted your name, taking off after you without hesitation.

You hit the ground hard, skidding through dirt and grass as the blur gave chase. Before you could even fully stop, it hit you again, square in the chest with a solid enough thud that Mark could hear knock the wind from your lungs.

Mark didn’t think, instead he dove, arms outstretched, and managed to grab hold of something furry and thrashing. But it squirmed violently in his grip, let out a low growl, and launched itself off him with force strong enough to crack something in his ribs.

He barely caught his breath before it pinned him to the ground. His goggles flickered, vision momentarily blurry, until it cleared.

And then he realized what had him pinned was a dog.

A very angry dog.

White fur. Bared teeth. Piercing blue eyes.

Or rather, eyes that were blue until they weren’t. A glowing red hue started to burn through the irises, heat building behind its gaze.

“No!” your voice rang out across the field, slicing through the tension like lightning. The hound’s ears perked. Its head snapped toward you.

It kicked off Mark’s chest so hard that he doubled over with a wheeze, coughing, definitely bruised, maybe worse.

But when the hound barreled into you again, it didn’t attack.

It bounced.

Literally bounced.

Tail wagging. Tongue flopping. Eyes wide. It leapt up, licked your cheek, dropped to the ground, and bounced again like it hadn’t just tried to kill Mark seconds earlier.

“Mark!” you yelled, still a bit breathless, arms up in a loose shield as the creature practically climbed over you in excitement. “You okay?”

For a brief moment, he wanted to say something stupid like Not when you say my name like that, but all that came out was a dazed, “Yeah. I think so.”

He pushed himself up slowly, wincing. His ribs protested every movement.

You grunted, finally managing to shove the dog off. But instead of backing away, it latched onto your cape in its teeth and started tugging like it was playing tug-of-war.

If it wasn’t so shocking, Mark would find it endearing.

“Stop! Quit it!” you barked, trying to yank the fabric free, but the dog just wagged harder and dragged you several feet, toward the ship.

It let go only once you were directly in front of it.

Then, with a small huff, it bounded back into the pod and reemerged with something clutched in its jaws: a crystal, about the size of a hand.

The dog padded toward you, tail still wagging, and plopped the crystal into your lap with a satisfied little chuff before sitting down and staring at you, ears perked like it had done the best trick in the world.

Mark approached cautiously, only to stop as the dog lifted its head and gave a low, unmistakable growl, hackles bristling.

But then you made a sharp sound, one that Mark can easily see you using to get a farm animal’s attention.

And just like that, it settled again.

Mark crouched beside you, resting a hand gently on your shoulder as you stared down at the crystal.

“It’s a dog,” you breathed, glancing up at him. Your eyes were wide, disbelieving. “Alien dog. Are there any alien dogs in your dad’s books?”

“None that I’ve read,” Mark huffed, he was still working his way through him, but for some reason he doubted it’d be in there anyway. “You okay?”

You nodded, standing up and patting your chest, “Yeah, just got the air knocked outta me. Not used to that.”

Mark’s hand drifted from your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand that holds the crystal. “You sure?”

“I’m good, promise,” You turn to give him a reassuring smile, your cheeks flushed.

He watched as you hummed and stood up, the dog quickly gaining energy as it bounced around your feet.

“I’ve seen something like this before…” you murmured, staring down at the crystal. Then you looked to Mark, then back toward the house, and finally, toward the barn at the edge of the field. “C’mere.”

Mark followed you across the grass and through the creaking barn doors. Dust floated in the golden light filtering through the roofing. You walked past old equipment and a sun-faded tractor to a shape hidden beneath a thick tarp.

You grabbed the edge and pulled. Beneath it sat your pod.

“This is my ship,” you said, glancing back at him. “When the vision ended, I saw crystal things like this one, they slid back into the walls here.”

You stepped closer, fingers tracing the narrow seams in the pod’s inner casing outlines where similar crystals had once clicked perfectly into place.

“So you think they’re like… flash drives?” Mark asked, planting his hands on his hips. “Crystal flash drives. Man, I wish that was the weirdest thing I’ve seen from space.”

You made a breathy noise, like a laugh cut short as you tensed, and Mark was about to ask what was wrong until he heard it. A crackle.

Mark stiffened. So did the dog, ears snapping forward as it growled low in its throat.

Mark stepped forward, subtly shifting his stance now fully between you and the sound.

A familiar figure stood framed in the barn doorway, backlit by the setting sun. Scarred. Calm. Watching.

Director Cecil Stedman.

“You know,” he said, voice casual like he’d been here all afternoon, “I almost believed you when you said you didn’t want attention.”

His eye flicked from you to the pod, then to the dog.

“And maybe you don’t know this,” he continued, “but when a ship that matches the one you came down in, crashes down from a suspended orbit around the sun? That’s not exactly subtle.”

“I told you to stay the hell away,” Mark said, low and dangerous.

“And I told you we were watching,” Cecil replied with a sigh. “But now it seems like we’ve moved past requirements for watching.”

He looked back to you with growing irritation. “What have you done? What is that thing, and more importantly, what is happening in the Arctic?”

You stepped forward, voice cool and even despite the adrenaline humming in your blood.

“I’ll be honest and say, I don’t know. But what I do know?” you said. “You’re on private property, uninvited, Director.”

The dog growled, a low rumble vibrating through the whole barn.

Cecil’s brow lifted just slightly. The only sign he’d registered the threat.

He didn’t move.

Behind you, Mark took another step forward, now standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

“I know how this looks,” Cecil said after a beat, voice tight with frustration. “But a large unknown energy surge appeared in the Arctic Circle. The readings matched whatever that came down in.”

He gestured broadly to the dog at your feet.

“And I need to know,” he continued, eyes locking with yours, “if you’re the reason the the next invasion happens. Intentional or not.”

Mark’s expression darkened immediately.

“You serious right now?” he snapped, stepping forward, his fists clenched. “You show up unannounced, throw accusations around, and the first thing you do is threaten her?”

“Mark,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm.

He didn’t look at you right away, but he stilled under your touch. You stepped around him, calm but firm as you faced Cecil directly.

“Look, if you’re genuinely that concerned,” you said evenly, “I’ll go check it out.”

Cecil’s eyes narrowed, scanning your face like he was trying to see through you. But after a pause, he gave a tight nod.

Without another word, he turned and walked back outside. A second later, he was gone, teleported back to whatever surveillance bunker he’d crawled out of.

Mark let out a slow breath as he stepped closer.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice lower now, more concern than anger. Not that the anger had really faded, just taken a backseat. “You don’t owe him anything. You don’t owe them anything.”

You hesitated, your gaze drifting toward the ship, then to the dog, now curled lazily on the floor of the barn.

Then you looked back at him.

“I think these ships… They only activate for me,” you said softly. “Like they recognize me, or my DNA, or something.”

Mark frowned. “You think that’s why they’re showing up? Because of you?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if they’re drawn to me, or if someone’s sending them, then I need to figure it out before someone else gets hurt. It’s my responsibility.”

He watched you for a second. You weren’t panicked. You weren’t scared. You were steady. Determined. And it made something tighten in his chest.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling. “Then I’m coming with you.”

You gave him a quick smile, bumping your shoulder against his. “Wouldn’t expect anything else.”

From the grass, the white dog let out a soft whine, tail thumping once against the dirt.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “So… are we bringing that thing too?”

“Of course we are,” you murmured, frowning like he was the one being weird. “We have to bring it.”

“We have to?” he echoed, eyebrows raised, hands settling on his hips.

“It came out of a pod,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re probably going to check out another pod. It’s a logical decision, Mark.”

“Obvious. Totally logical,” he muttered, raising both hands in mock surrender, fighting the small smile tugging at his mouth. You were already defending the furball like it was your little sibling. “Not like it knock both of us on our asses or anything.”

You ignored that, turning toward the barn with the dog at your heels, now practically prancing after you.

Back inside, your Ma and Pa looked about as surprised as Mark felt when the dog trotted in beside you like it’d always lived there. Your Ma blinked slowly, while your Pa muttered something about needing to redo the field.

You explained the situation, how there’s likely another crash, this one in the Arctic, and that you were going to check it out.

That you’d be careful. That you’d be back.

Your Ma hugged you.

But Mark?

He got a warning. A real, serious one.

“She’s strong, I know,” your Pa said lowly, hand firm on Mark’s shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t keep her safe. Understood?”

Mark nodded. “I will, sir. I promise.”

Outside, you lifted off first, the now late afternoon light catching in your hair as the wind rippled your cape. Mark followed a second later.

And sure enough, like it was the most natural thing in the world, the dog launched after you, legs kicking as it took to the air like it’d done it a hundred times.

Mark watched it for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Right,” he muttered, glancing over at you with a smirk. “Flying dog. Of course.”

You just grinned as the three of you soared north, toward cold winds and a glowing Arctic horizon.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Okay, okay,” Mark said through laughter, turning to face you with his mask on. “But you have to admit, you need a mask.”

You frowned, shouting a little over the rush of wind. “But the glasses!”

“Not exactly a mask,” Mark called back, grinning behind the lenses.

“Then what are your lenses for, bug boy?” you countered, making finger goggles at him.

“To keep the wind out of my eyes!” he argued, mock-offended.

You opened your mouth to retort, probably something scathing and perfect, but the air cracked like a whip.

Sharp. Sudden. Wrong.

Both of you went silent mid-flight.

Then, ahead of you in the snow-blanketed distance, something began rising.

Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, like a spiraling tower unfolding from the depths of the Earth. But not a tower. Not really.

A cluster.

Spikes of translucent blue-white crystal burst upward, spinning, threading together like a frozen bloom.

“Holy shit,” Mark muttered beside you, barely audible over the wind.

And then, barking.

The dog rocketed ahead, a streak of white against white, leaving a flurry of disturbed snow in its wake as it zeroed in on the structure.

You and Mark followed.

The fortress loomed the closer you got. It wasn’t just tall, it was enormous. Alien in design. Each spire jagged but symmetrical, arranged with the kind of deliberate, quiet logic that felt, simply put, alien.

You felt it in your bones before your boots touched the snow.

You landed a few paces behind the dog, Mark thudding into the snow beside you. The cold bit at your face, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were on the structure.

There was a door, or something like one, embedded in the crystal. Seamless and opaque. No handle, no indentation. Like it didn’t want to be opened.

Until the dog trotted up to it.

It barked once.

Loud. Echoing.

The crystal responded with a low resonance, like a chime underwater. Then the door began slowly sink back into the snow.

You stared.

Mark, behind you, let out a low breath. “Okay… that’s new.”

You didn’t reply. You were already moving forward.

The dog trotted through the now-open threshold without hesitation. You followed, heart pounding, senses buzzing. Mark was close behind.

The inside was dim but glowing, lit from within by crystalline veins that pulsed faintly in the walls. The hallway, if it could even be called that, was high-ceilinged, made entirely of seamless crystal, and unnaturally quiet. Every single thing was made of the same crystal. No footsteps echoed. No wind howled through. Just silence.

Then, at the end of the corridor, the dog stopped in front of another formation.

This one wasn’t a door. It was a pedestal. In the middle of a circular room. And in it, one single slot, like the crystals you’d found in the pods belong in there.

Your breath caught.

Mark stepped up beside you, rubbing his arms for warmth, eyes locked on the glowing pedestal.

“Is this..?”

“Like the ones I have?” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “I think so.”

The dog sat beside the pedestal, tail thumping against the crystal floor, gaze fixed on you expectantly.

Mark looked to you again.

You swallowed and reached into your bag that you’d brought, fingers brushing against the crystal you’d taken from the pod.

You slotted it into the hollow.

There was a sound like a bell ringing underwater, and then

light.

Brilliant and golden, flaring out in every direction.

And when it faded, a figure stood before you.

A man.

The same one from your vision. Sharp-featured, robed in layers of red and black, a circlet on his head, his eyes solemn and steady even in flickering light.

You held your breath.

“Do you recognize him?” Mark asked, voice quiet beside you.

You could only nod. “From my vision.”

The hologram opened its mouth and began to speak.

But the language that came out the same one you couldn’t understand.

You stared, heart tightening.

Mark glanced at you. “Yeah. That is definitely not any that I’ve heard.”

You almost laughed, but didn’t. You were too still, too focused.

The man paused, a sigh passing over his expression as if even the recorded message could feel your confusion. He raised one hand and raised it facing you.

From the pedestal, another crystal dislodged and rose.

Cautiously, you reached out. As your fingers brushed it, a flicker of light bloomed in your vision, projected into your mind more than your eyes.

You saw letters, an alphabet. Complex. Elegant and sharp. Completely unfamiliar.

But then, the letters shifted.

They morphed. Bent. Aligned themselves into something you could understand.

English.

It was a translation key.

You blinked, stunned, as more characters slid into place, one by one, matching up with their English counterparts.

Beside you, Mark tilted his head. “Is it working?”

You let out a breath, half-relieved, half-annoyed. “Yeah. Kind of. It’s like the Rosetta Stone.”

“So… you’re gonna have to learn your message?”

You glanced at him, deadpan. “Apparently.”

He let out a low whistle. “Man. That’s one hell of a voicemail.”

Despite yourself, you smiled.

But it didn’t last long.

Because the hologram hadn’t stopped. He was still speaking, still trying to reach you. And now, with the translator forming around you, slowly translating his words in pieces.

Not full sentences. Not yet.

But fragments.

“...my daughter…”

“...survival…”

“...Krypto... safe…”

You sucked in a breath.

The dog whined softly, pressing its body closer to your side.

You looked up at the stranger, no, your father’s flickering image, your heart pounding in your chest, not from fear.

But from something heavier.

A grief you felt like you had no business feeling.

He was a stranger. A ghost. And still, somewhere in the echo of his voice, you felt small, like a child left behind.

Without another word, you reached out and pulled the crystal from its slot.

The image stuttered once then blinked out entirely.

Mark said your name softly behind you, but you didn’t wait.

You turned and walked out of the chamber, leaving the crystal where it was.

“Let’s go,” you said, voice even. “It’s probably late back home.”

Mark didn’t argue.

He followed without a word. The dog padded after him, quiet but alert, as though it could feel the tension you weren’t voicing.

The flight back to Kansas was silent. Wind rushing. Sun beginning to dip low behind you.

When you landed in front of the farmhouse, your smile was automatic.

Your parents greeted you with warm voices and concerned eyes, but you waved it off. You asked them to keep an eye on Krypto, if you’d read the slowly translating message correctly, that was his name, for a few days while you figured out if Jimmy’s lease allowed dogs.

They said yes without hesitation.

And still, Mark frowned.

It wasn’t until you landed on the roof of your apartment building in the low light of the evening that he finally spoke, arms crossed, his posture rigid and tone blunt.

“You gonna actually tell me what’s wrong? Or do I have to force it out of you?”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm. “It’s nothing. Promise. Just…”

You hesitated, voice softening into guilt.

“I’m sorry our date got ruined.”

Mark’s brow furrowed, confused.

“I get it if you don’t want any more hero craziness in your life,” you continued, avoiding his eyes. “You’ve already got so much on your plate, your dad, Viltrumites, the GDA. You don’t need me throwing in a dead planet and a dead father I can’t even understand and—”

Your voice cracked as the words rushed out in a ramble, messy and fast. “—and I feel selfish, even trying to pretend I could have something normal. Like a date. Like us. I shouldn’t have expected that. I shouldn't have dragged you into this—”

“Hey.”

Mark stepped forward, cutting you off with a hand on your arm.

You finally looked up.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, voice gentler now despite the irritation in his expression. “Do you seriously think I don’t want to be here? With you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Mark shook his head, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’ve got crap going on. You do too. And yeah, today got hijacked by… spaceship dogs and holographic dads and mysterious Fortress-of-Whatever in the Arctic.”

Despite yourself, a short laugh escaped your chest.

“But I’m not here because I want things to be easy,” he continued. “I’m here because it’s you. Because you make the hard stuff feel bearable. Even when you’re being stubborn and self-sacrificing like it’s a competitive sport.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how earnest he sounded.

“Also,” he added with a wry smile, “I don’t know if you know this, but I kinda like you.”

A breath of laughter slipped past your lips, shaky, quiet.

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m mad that you keep deciding how I feel,” he said gently. “But I’m not mad at you.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stepped forward, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest.

Mark didn’t hesitate. He wrapped you up immediately, strong and steady, like he’d been waiting for the chance.

“…So,” he murmured, voice low and warm in your hair, “can I still count this as our first date?”

You tilted your head back just enough to look up at him.

“Yeah. But I’m paying for the next one.”

His grin tugged wider. “So there’s going to be a next one?”

“Of course. Here I thought you said you liked me,” you muttered, trying to pull away.

Emphasis on trying. He just held on tighter.

“Oh, I do,” he said, voice annoyingly smug now. “Which is why I’m not letting go until you say it back.”

You snorted. “Mark.”

“Say it.”

“I literally just said I’m paying for the next date—”

“That’s not the same and you know it.”

You groaned and dropped your forehead against his chest again. “Fine. I like you too. A lot. Happy now?”

He hummed, satisfied. “Very.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t pull away this time.

“…Wanna come in for a bit?” you asked, voice quieter. “I think we have leftover cake on the counter.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, smirk pulling at his lips. “Are we talking actual cake, or like..?”

You swatted his chest. “Actual cake, you perv.”

He grinned. “Still sounds great.”

And together, you made your way through the roof access door and downstairs.

#kryptonian reader #invincible x reader #invincible x you #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #softer than steel

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overthedeadsea · 4 months ago

Text

Red Carpet Chaos

Pairing: Aaron pierre x co-star!reader c Kelvin Harrison Jr.

Summary: Red carpet banters and after party crash outs.

A/n: Yayayayayay huge Aaron x reader incoming I love this very much :P

The three of you had one job—walk the red carpet, answer a few questions, and look good while doing it.

Easy, right? Wrong.

Because you, Aaron Pierre, and Kelvin Harrison Jr. together were a recipe for disaster.

And unfortunately for the event organizers, the cameras were rolling.

Round One: The Photo Op

It started out simple enough. You were standing between Aaron and Kelvin, smiling for the cameras, when you suddenly felt Kelvin’s hand creeping onto your shoulder.

“Kelvin, what are you doing?” you asked out of the corner of your mouth.

He grinned. “Enhancing the pose.”

Aaron glanced down at Kelvin’s hand, then casually reached over and yanked it off.

Kelvin gasped. “EXCUSE ME.”

Aaron smirked. “Nah.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Can we act normal for five seconds?”

Kelvin scoffed. “We’re giving them content.”

Aaron just shrugged. “They should be thanking us.”

Round Two: The Interviews

The first interviewer smiled brightly, clearly excited to talk to you. “So! You three have amazing chemistry—”

Kelvin threw an arm around you. “We’re a package deal.”

Aaron nodded, casually prying Kelvin off you again. “Some of us more than others.”

Kelvin gasped, clutching his chest. “Did y’all hear that? He’s threatened by me.”

Aaron chuckled, voice to smooth.“No threats. Just… facts.”

You groaned, turning to the interviewer. “This is what I deal with every day.”

The interviewer was thrilled. “Okay, but who’s the biggest diva?”

You, Aaron, and Kelvin all pointed at each other.

Kelvin laughed. “Look at that. Democracy at work.”

Aaron scoffed. “Nah, let’s be real. It’s Kelvin.”

You nodded. “Absolutely Kelvin.”

Kelvin gasped dramatically. “ME? Y’all, don’t listen to them. I am humble.I am low-maintenance.”

Aaron deadpanned. “You had a hair and makeup team in your trailer for three hours.”

Kelvin pouted. “So I like to look good. Sue me.”

The interviewer laughed. “Okay, okay—who takes the longest to get ready?”

You immediately turned to Aaron.

Kelvin grinned. “Oh, 100% Aaron.”

Aaron looked offended. “No way. Not possible.”

Kelvin nodded sagely. “Bro, you be in the mirror for an hour. Talking about ‘lighting angles.’”

Aaron scoffed. “I respect the craft.”

Kelvin smirked. “A mirror selfie is a craft?”

Aaron crossed his arms. “If I do it, yes.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I need new co-stars.”

The interviewer laughed. “You three are so much fun.”

Kelvin grinned. “We try.”

Aaron grinned. “Naturally.”

Now, you were at the afterparty, and somehow, things had only gotten worse.

The venue was gorgeous —moody lighting, high ceilings, and a DJ spinning smooth, vibey tracks. Celebrities mingled, drinks flowed, and the air buzzed with post-premiere excitement.

And you? You were stuck between chaos and destruction.

Kelvin nudged you at the bar, grinning. “You trust me?”

You squinted. “Not at all.”

He gasped dramatically. “Wow. After everything?”

Aaron, standing way too close on your other side, scoffed. “You’re literally an agent of chaos.”

Kelvin put a hand over his heart. “That is so unfair. I am a wholesome individual.”

Aaron gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

Kelvin waved him off. “Whatever, y’all are boring. Let’s do shots.”

You sighed. “Kelvin—”

But it was too late. He was already ordering.

Aaron leaned in, voice low. “You know he’s gonna try to sabotage you, right?”

You smirked. “Obviously.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, like he was assessing you. Then he grinned. “Think you can outplay him?”

Your smirk widened. “Watch me.”

Kelvin returned with three shots. One for him. One for you. One for Aaron.

Except you knew better.

So when Kelvin handed you your glass, you didn’t drink it. Instead, you slid it across the bar and swapped it with his.

Kelvin blinked. “Wait—”

Too late. You knocked it back smoothly.

Kelvin gasped. “YOU SNAKE.”

Aaron let out a low chuckle, watching. “That was smooth.”

You shrugged, pretending to examine your nails. “Some of us have survival skills.”

Kelvin was stunned. “I—I can’t believe this. I was gonna betray you, and you betrayed me first.”

Aaron smirked. “Outplayed.”

Kelvin groaned. “I need new friends.”

After drinks, the energy shifted. The music picked up, the lights dimmed, and people started moving toward the dance floor.

And somehow, you ended up there too.

At first, it was just you and Kelvin, goofing off and hyping each other up. But then, Aaron appeared.

And that’s when things got… interesting.

Kelvin twirled you dramatically. “You are the moment.”

You laughed. “Obviously.”

But then you turned—and Aaron was right there. And when you say right there, you mean right there.

He smirked slightly. “Having fun?”

Your breath caught. Maybe it was the dim lights. Maybe it was the cocky way he was watching you. Or maybe it was just Aaron Pierre being Aaron Pierre.

Either way, you felt a shift.

Kelvin immediately clocked it.

“Ohhh, this is spicy,” he muttered, stepping back. “Lemme just…”

And then he was gone.

You barely had time to react before Aaron leaned in slightly. Not touching you—just close enough to feel it.

“You still think I’m not in the running?” he murmured.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

But you weren’t going down easy.

So you smiled sweetly, tilting your head. “Are you applying?”

Aaron chuckled. Low. Deep. Dangerous.

“You tell me.”

And just like that—

You were in trouble. Because Aaron Pierre wasn’t just flirting anymore. No, this was different.

He wasn’t cracking jokes. He wasn’t throwing playful jabs.

He was looking at you like he had already won.

And you?

You weren’t sure if you were about to fight or fold.

The tension was too much, so you did the only logical thing (at least to you)— you turned on your heel and walked away.

Kelvin reappeared immediately. “Ohhh, you’re running.”

You scoffed. “I am not running.”

Kelvin smirked. “Then why are you speed-walking like you just saw your ex?”

You opened your mouth—then shut it, because damn it, he was right.

Kelvin grinned. “Just admit it. You’re scared.”

You huffed. “Of what?”

Kelvin pointed. “Him.”

And when you turned—

Aaron was right there.

You swore he had teleportation powers because how the hell did he move that fast?

Kelvin held up his hands. “Welp. My work here is done.”

And then that traitor left.

Aaron was too calm. Too relaxed. Like he knew something you didn’t.

“You ran,” he said simply.

You scoffed. “I walked.”

He tilted his head. “Fast.”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. Then, before you could react, he took a step closer—just enough that the noise of the party faded into the background.

“You gonna keep dodging?” he murmured.

Your throat went dry.

You had two options:

1) Keep pretending nothing was happening.

2) Acknowledge the very obvious tension.

Unfortunately for you, Aaron wasn’t giving you the first option anymore.

So you lifted your chin. “You’re feeling bold tonight.”

Aaron hummed. “And?”

You narrowed your eyes. “And… what do you want?”

Aaron leaned in slightly, voice low and deliberate.

“An answer.”

Your breath hitched. “To what?”

Aaron’s gaze dropped to your lips. Just for a second. But you noticed.

And suddenly, the entire world felt too small.

You were seconds from saying something reckless. From maybe making a choice you couldn’t take back.

And then—

“YO, SHOTS ROUND TWO?”

Kelvin barreled back into the moment like an agent of destruction.

You and Aaron immediately stepped apart.

Kelvin frowned. “Oh. Did I interrupt something?”

Aaron sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Yes, Kelvin.”

Kelvin blinked. “Oh. My bad.”

Beat.

“…So that’s a no on the shots?”

You groaned. Aaron looked to the sky for patience. And Kelvin? Kelvin just grinned.

Because one way or another—

This wasn’t over.

Kelvin had horrible timing.

Because the second he popped up, whatever was about to happen between you and Aaron got cut short.

And Aaron? Oh, he was not happy about it.

Kelvin was still standing there, blinking between the two of you like an oblivious menace.

Aaron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kelvin.”

Kelvin grinned. “Yes, my dear friend?”

Aaron gave him a look. The kind that said leave.

Kelvin gasped dramatically. “Oh, am I in the way?”

You groaned. “Kelvin—”

Kelvin clapped his hands. “WELL. Y’all have fun. I’m gonna—” He gestured vaguely toward the bar. “Yeah.”

And then he disappeared again. Which left you and Aaron… alone.

Again.

Aaron exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I swear to God, that man’s a walking interruption.”

You smirked. “It’s his love language.”

Aaron chuckled, but there was something else in his expression. Something unresolved. Something determined. And then—before you could even process it— Aaron grabbed your hand and started walking.

You barely had time to react as Aaron led you through the crowd, weaving past oblivious partygoers until you were in a quieter corner of the venue.

The music was still loud, but the crowd had thinned, giving you at least a little space.

And then—

Aaron turned to face you. And you knew. This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t a bit.

This was real.

“Aaron—”

“I’m not letting you dodge this time,” he said, voice low and firm.

You swallowed.

The way he was looking at you? Way too intense.

And yet—you didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t try to escape this time.

Aaron tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping just for a second.

“You gonna keep running?”

You inhaled sharply. “I never ran.”

Aaron smirked. “Mmm. You sure?”

Your pulse was going crazy. But you weren’t backing down.

So you tilted your chin up, giving him your best smirk. “You’re awfully confident.”

Aaron hummed. “I have a reason to be.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

And then—

He took one more step closer.

Your breath caught.

Because now?

There was no space left.

Aaron watched you carefully, like he was waiting.

Waiting for you to push him away.

Waiting for you to say no.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

So he leaned in—

Slow. Deliberate. Giving you time to stop him.

And when you didn’t—

He kissed you.

And the whole world stopped.

It was just you and Aaron Pierre. And damn.The man could kiss.

Warm, slow, intentional. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Like he’d been waiting for this.

Like he wasn’t in a rush—because he had all the time in the world.

By the time you pulled back, you were breathless. You blinked up at him, still catching up.

Aaron just smirked. “Still think I’m not in the running?”

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Shut up.”

Aaron chuckled, brushing his thumb over your jaw. “Nah. I like hearing you admit it.”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

Aaron grinned. “No, you don’t.”

And the worst part?

He was absolutely right.

From across the room Kelvin spotted you two. Saw the kiss. Saw the way you were still standing way too close. And his eyes went wide.

“Oh, HELL YEAH.”

The entire party was about to hear about this.

But right now? You didn’t care.

Because Aaron Pierre had made his move. And you were all in for it.

A/n: How tight me and bro locked in

This is lowkey a mini series 😼

#aaron pierre x reader #mufasa #aaron pierre #lion king #kiros #kelvin harrison jr.#fanfic #x reader #disney #timon and pumbaa #sarabi #simba #simba lion king #aaron pierre fanfic #terry richmond

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