#and considering all the things I *should* be writing instead this felt like the perfect time

[queerofthedagger]

Inspired by this absolutely precious dreamling art by @anabimelo ! <3

The first time, Dream doesn’t do it on purpose.

He visits the New Inn as he has taken to doing a little more often than perhaps he should, and finds Hob with bruised skin beneath his eyes and a stack of unmarked exams scattered all around him.

“I can return at a better time if you are busy?” Dream offers; he would very much like Hob’s company, but he dislikes seeing him tired like this—much more, he would dislike adding to the reasons for it.

“Stay,” Hob requests, doubt flickering across his face before he nods at the bench beside him.

Dream has been finding himself increasingly incapable of denying Hob anything. He very carefully ignores the implications of said condition.

“Are you certain?” he asks. “You appear to be stressed.”

“All the more reason for a break,” Hob says, waving him off. “You could tell me about… just anything, really. News of your realm? How is the rebuilding going?”

Dream has been trying to become better about this—telling Hob his name and his purpose, all those minute implications that come with it—and so he does.

He speaks of the restoration process of the library, and Lucienne’s tireless work. He spins the stories that make up the inhabitants of the Dreaming and their various histories, while life in the pub keeps playing out around them, a comforting lull that never once disturbs their quiet bubble.

Hob listens, even as his eyes seem to grow heavier, exhaustion radiating off of him.

The first time is not on purpose, and so when Hob Gadling rests his head on Dream’s shoulder, drifting off into his realm, Dream freezes. He is painfully, viscerally aware of the warm weight of Hob’s head, the hair tickling his neck, the soft cadence of Hob’s breathing now pressed against Dream’s side.

Within his chest, something awfully close to a heart is thrashing against its bone-coloured constraints.

The implicit trust is almost overwhelming, would be too much if it wasn’t Hob; Hob, who is muttering a name in this early stage of sleep that he has learnt only months ago, pressing his nose into Dream’s neck as if to build himself a home there.

Dream can do little but breathe, can do little but wrap the magic of his realm around them so that he can carry Hob to his bed without waking him.

He lingers, for the briefest of moments, witnessing Hob’s sleep.

He ignores the blooming tenderness within his chest, too.

While the first time was an accident, the following instances are not.

Hob doesn’t mention it the next time they see each other, as their meetings spill over from the Inn to strolls through London’s early autumn streets and into Hob’s flat. They huddle up on Hob’s sofa, as Hob talks about anything and everything, and nudges Dream to do the same.

So he does; he talks about Matthew and Rose and Jed, about his siblings and his plans for the Dreaming. He lets his voice drop low, lets it drag and curl through the room and wrap around Hob like the magic of lullabies that people dream of.

When Hob’s head comes to rest on his shoulder once more, Dream forgets that he does not need to breathe. He forgets the weight of eternal responsibility that usually presses down on his spine, forgets the phantom coldness of glass and steel, and comes alive beneath the steady, never-ending rhythm of Hob’s breathing. --- So it becomes a habit. Selfishly, Dream builds himself a sanctuary between the sleeping mind and the waking form of his only friend.

He allows his voice to coax Hob into his realm and pretends not to see the knowing glint in Hob’s eyes. He talks of his past and his present and his future as if of gifts that are simple to hand out, and he offers them all up at Hob’s feet for the comfort of his warmth against Dream’s shoulder. For how, without fail, Hob’s calloused hands will find his. How, without fail, once Dream puts him to bed after taking his fill of the warmth, Hob’s fingers will still curl into the insubstantial fabric of Dream’s clothes as if asking him to stay.

It has nothing to do with him, really, and there is only so much Dream can allow himself to indulge. So he never does, no matter how much the longing is threatening to swallow him whole—to lie down beside Hob, to press his nose into the tender skin of Hob’s throat. To pull the covers over them and bask in Hob Gadling’s warmth as if he were the sun and Dream the thawing ice of early spring.

So he never does, until one night, Hob’s grip on his clothes does not loosen; instead, he blinks up at Dream with drowsy eyes that are full of fond exasperation.

He shouldn’t be, is the thing. No mere human should possess the strength to tear themselves out of the Dreaming’s grasp—not with Dream’s attention on them, with no nightmare or outside force to throw them back to waking.

Hob Gadling has not been an ordinary human in a considerable time. He is blinking up at Dream, slow but awake, awake, awake. He says, “Stay. Please.”

Dream’s throat is dry, air stuttering through insubstantial lungs; part of him is tempted to step back into his realm and the safety of its loneliness.

Hob’s fingers are still warm against the skin of his wrist. Beneath the exhaustion and the hope and the quiet confidence, Dream can read the nervous anticipation as if in bold letters.

You have been staying for months now, he seems to say. Will you let me stay with you too, finally, finally?

Dream has been finding himself increasingly incapable of denying Hob anything; Hob’s constant, gentle tenacity renders it impossible, at last.

“As you wish,” Dream murmurs, and means, please; I would stay for as long as you have me.

Hob smiles up at him as if he understands, and once Dream has stretched out beside him, Hob reaches for him. The blanket is spread over Dream, and Hob’s hand finds his wrist, unerring.

“Could’ve just done that weeks ago,” Hob says with a sigh, pulling him close with a light arm around Dream’s waist that he could slip out of if he so pleased.

He doesn’t; he stays silent instead, tension unspooling as his body melts into the warmth of the bed, the scent of Hob around him—its own kind of lullaby.

“Thank you,” Dream says, the words slipping off his tongue in a rare moment of missing deliberation. He can’t bring himself to mind.

Hob hums, a small, content sound before he presses his lips to the crown of Dream’s head. He pulls Dream a little closer yet, and then he drifts back off into Dream’s realm as if it all really is as easy as this, for him.

Dream breathes in, and lets the quiet joy seeping off of Hob’s mind fill the cold cracks within himself. He breathes out and presses his nose into the crook of Hob’s neck, feeling at home for the first time in over a century.

[bimbobaggins69]

welcome to the dungeon…

modern sex shop steddie x only fans reader

summary: it’s just your luck that the two men you planned to shoot a scene with canceled last minute. It’s also just your luck that your usual sex shop you frequent is closed, leaving you to make a thirty minute trip ending up in a town called Hawkins… it’s also just your luck that the two men behind the counter totally know who you are and might perhaps even be willing to shoot that scene with you?

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, fem reader, no use of y/n, mentions of weed, overuse of pet names, overuse of the word cock (not sorry), sex on camera, oral sex (male & fem receiving), rim job (male receiving), p in v sex & p in a sex (fem receiving), double dipping (don’t recommend), use of an anal plug, full nelson position, double penetration, daddy kink, squirting, cream pies, dom!eddie, switch!steve, sub!reader, flufffff.

authors note: absolutely no one asked for this, but I felt v compelled to write it. Thank you to my loves @take-everything-you-can, @corrodedcorpses and @xxhellfiregirlxx for beta reading, appreciate you all so so much <333.

wc: 9.4k

Part two | series masterlist

Thirty minutes… your gps says the only other sex shop near you is thirty minutes away, in a town you’ve never even heard of before. Harkins or Hawkins, something like that?

Of course, if anything could go wrong today it most definitely will. And has.

It all started when you spilled iced coffee all over the front of your new white dress, then your favorite vibrator went out, you also seemed to misplace your butt plug which in your line of work is a travesty… then the two men you had planned a collab with had to cancel last minute.

That’s the last time you ever plan to work with a couple.

So now you’re in your car, listening to your favorite Spotify playlist while your hair whips through the wind.

Making it into Hawkins was so underwhelming, you could never live in a town like this… no chance in hell. You begrudgingly roll up your windows when the smell of cow shit wafts through the air.

God, if the sex toys suck I swear it’ll be my thirteenth reason.

“The destination is on your left.” Siri's voice echoes through your speakers.

You pull into a parking spot right up front, luckily the lot seemed to be pretty empty. You gather your purse and phone before allowing your eyes to flicker along the building now in perfect view—

The bricks were painted black, the store seemed as if it went on for ages and the red LED sign that read “the dungeon” seemed to taunt you.

You would’ve totally mistaken this place for some kind of bdsm club had you not known it was a sex shop. Clearly this town isn’t as conservative as it seems.

“Welcome to the dungeon!” The boy behind the counter sweetly recites with a welcoming smile. His honey brown eyes immediately catch your attention, along with his pretty brown head of hair.

Oh he’s cute!

“Thank you.” You smile back while hesitantly walking up to him, you quickly decide it’s best to just ask where the things you need are located instead of having to look around mindlessly, considering this was one of the biggest sex shops you’ve been in.

“Hi,” you purr while leaning up against the counter, “I need help looking for a few things.” Leaving your cleavage perfectly on display for the pretty boy in front of you.

“Oh yeah, sure, what are you looking for?” He shoots you a charming smile before leaning in closer to you.

“butt plugs, lube and vibrators.” You divulge with a pretty smile.

“Mmm, yeah I can help you find all of that. Let me just call my partner up here to take over.” He says with a wink.

You allow yourself to ogle at him a bit as he talks almost secretively over a walkie talkie; you observe his light brown eyes that twinkle with excitement, to the pretty beauty marks that seem to litter his skin, to the way his hair perfectly coifs.

“Alright, Eddie should be up here soon to take over.” He announces with a beaming smile.

“Thanks Steve.” You respond with a flirty bat of your lashes.

He looks at you for a moment as if a deer caught in headlights before his eyes shift down to his name tag, reminding himself it was in fact still pinned to his black shirt. A black shirt with red print of said sex shop; that hugged his biceps and chest so perfectly, that also showed off those speckled and toned arms that you now realized were spotted with a few tattoos.

You hear shuffling footsteps as another cute boy with wild wavy hair and even more tattoos walks up from behind you, his face is adorned in a knowing smirk as he hungirly looks you up and down.

“Alright, I’m here.” He declares before giving Steve a playful slap to his ass.

Steve rolls his eyes as his cheeks flush.

“Right this way.” He murmurs before looking back to the boy behind the counter and nodding as if Eddie had mouthed something to him.

Curious

“So, what brings you all the way to Hawkins?” Steve asks as he walks a couple steps ahead, his hands nervously shoved in his pockets.

“The shop I usually go to in Indy was closed so.. I had to drive like 30 minutes out of the way to come here.” You huff in exasperation.

“Oh I’m sorry about that…well we have the best sex toy selection in all of Indiana if that's any consolation.” His eyes nervously find yours before giving you a little smirk.

“Yeah, I see that. I’m surprised actually, never thought I’d find a sex shop like this in such a small town.”

“Well, you know what they say.. small towns have the biggest freaks.” He says with a laugh that makes your lower stomach flutter. He’s so pretty.

“Do they say that?” You giggle with a teasing raise of your eyebrows.

“I mean that’s what I’ve heard.” He shrugs his shoulders before licking at his bottom lip. “Okay, butt plugs… here we are.” He presents with a wave of his hand, showing off the wide selection and varieties.

“Oh wow,” is all you say as you let your hands skim over the array of silicone, metal and glass toys.

You grab a long metal plug, the packaging says the ridges are sensation bumps, which piqued your interest immediately.

“That ones my favorite.” Steve says with a bashful smile.

“Oh yeah? You use it on your girlfriend a lot or..?” You question as you internally pray he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“No…I um, I use it on myself or my boyfriend… Eddie he’s uh- me and him are together.” He finally spits out.

“Oh okay, cute.” Is all you say, before grabbing the recommended plug that you’ve now noticed has a pretty red jewel at the bottom.

Your old baby was a pink silicone with just a regular white jewel, but you were excited to play with the ridges on this new one.

You grab a bottle of lube off one of the shelves before you and Steve make your way in complete silence towards the vibrators.

Steve was now a mystery to you, considering you knew he’d been flirting with you… also the way they both eyed you up and down? They had to be into women too, right?

We’ll see.

Once Steve shows you to the vibrators you snatch up the exact one that went out on you, it was your favorite and you weren’t in the mood to switch up what brought you ample amounts of pleasure.

“She knows what she wants..” Steve says with a low rasp that was doing no favors for your panties.

“This thing gives me back to back orgasms.” You say with a playful tilt of your head.

“Oh does it? Interesting.” He murmurs with a nod of his head, the look on his face was too cocky as if he knew something you didn’t.

He couldn’t have seen my videos, right?

“I’m gonna take a look at the lingerie and then I’ll be ready to check out in a bit.” You declare before giving Steve one last sweet smile.

You walk up to the counter with a handheld basket of the toys you came for a long with some pretty lingerie sets and a couple pairs of crotchless panties.

Eddie and Steve are standing huddled together, facing away from the register, talking rather secretively as the metalhead shows the pretty boy something on his phone. They quickly break apart when they notice your arrival.

Hmm, that’s suspicious.

“Hey,” Eddie greets with a smirk, “find everything, okay?” He asks before a shaky exhale.

“Mmhm, Steve was a big help.” You say coyly as you take everything out of the red basket one by one, setting it on the counter to be rung up.

“I bet.” His smile gets devilish as he shoots a look at the blushing boy behind him.

“So how’s your day going?” He continues to probe.

“Honestly, not great…” you pout while studying the boys faces closely for their reactions. “Well, it’s better now that I’ve gotten these …” you say pointing to the plug and vibrator. “But, I had a collab scheduled and well the two guys I was supposed to work with canceled on me at the last minute, and I guess I’m just really horny and frustrated.. ya know?” You feel your frustrations finally coming to the forefront as a lump forms in your throat.

“Hmm, a collab?… what kind of collab?” His cocky smile manages to send a shiver down your spine. Oh, these boys were making you feel things you haven't in years.

You can also totally tell he’s fishing, he already knows, that was confirmation enough but you decide to go along with their ruse.

“I do only fans, so it was supposed to be a bisexual threesome. Probably some dp, frotting, a daisy chain.. things like that.” You list away as both boys' eyes widen at your frankness.

“Shit.” You hear Eddie mumble under his breath as he shifts in front of you.

“Me and uh, me and Stevie here have always wanted to um, ya know, do a threesome with a chick.” He confesses as the redness from his cheeks travel down along his long tattooed neck.

“Have either of you ever been with a woman before?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah, w-we both have, before we started dating.” Steve answers quickly.

“Oh okay, so you both like women too, or…?” you continue to indulge in your curiosity.

“Absolutely we do, sweetheart.” Eddie snickers, “especially ones who are up for taking two men at once.” He winks with a seductive lick of his plump lips.

“Down boy.” Steve chides, as he rolls his eyes at his boyfriend's brashness.

“He’s a bit shy, don’t mind him.” Eddie whispers with a downright devious smirk.

“Shy boys are my favorite to play with.” You say towards Steve with a wink.

“You hear that big boy?” The metalhead guffaws.

Big boy…

How could you not be immediately intrigued by words like that?

“So O.F. huh?” Eddie smugly asks “ya know, you do look pretty familiar, maybe we’ve seen your stuff.”

“Maybe you have…” you say before pulling out your phone to pull up your most recent video, it was a solo vid of you fucking your self with a pink dildo while your ass was stuffed full of your beloved anal plug (rip)

Before clicking on the video for their viewing pleasure, a username catches your eye: @bigboyandhellfire. Judging by the fact that Eddie called Steve big boy and Eddie’s throat tattoo so clearly reads ‘hellfire’ you’re now more than positive they are subscribed to you and they’ve liked your most recent video.

The throb between your thighs pulses and you’re trying so hard not to clench them together as tight as they’ll go.

“Hey, are you both busy after this?” You examine as both their faces shift to equal amounts of interest and curiosity.

You had balls, you had big fucking balls but you already knew that. You’d never been the type to shy away from anything, you’ve always been an “i’ll try anything once” kind of girl so it shouldn't surprise you that you propositioned two of your subscribers you met at a sex shop no less, to shoot content with you.

After their shift you had all gone out for some food and drinks. You were able to get a taste for their personalities and in turn it helped you feel much better about your compulsive decision.

You learned they were truly great guys, who were very in love, but also had so much extra love to give… by the end of the night it felt as if you’d known them forever, almost like you had fit so perfectly into their already incredible relationship.

You'd never really considered polyamory for yourself, which is surprising in your line of work as you have tons of friends who are very poly and proud. You just never thought you'd find more than one person who’d love you and willingly share you as all of your exes were jealous little shits, but now you’re completely rethinking any stances you've had on basic monogamous relationships for yourself.

After all of Eddie's dirty but hilarious jokes and Steve's absolute charm you explained to the boys how things worked; positions for the perfect shots, things they were into and things you were into, as well as hard limits between you all. You couldn't believe how much in common you had with them, sexually. That almost never happens with other creators.

The last and most important thing you needed from them before going any further were negative test results. The plan was for them to get tested, have the pdf file sent over to you to prove they were both clean and then they were to meet you at your apartment that night.

“You ready, big boy?” the metalhead beams over to his boyfriend before they swiftly exit their shared jeep.

“Hey, you alright over there?” Eddie asks with concern as he drapes his heavily tattooed arm over Steve’s broad shoulders.

“Yeah no, I'm fine. Just nervous I guess.” He softly admits as he and Eddie cross the street, making their way into the clinic.

“Nervous to get tested or nervous to fuck our dream girl?” Eddie snorts at his own words.

“Honestly, a bit of both.” Steve confesses as he shyly cowers away into his boyfriend's chest, Eddie has always found Steve’s coy shyness utterly adorable, he wanted so badly to eat him up everytime he put his pretty head of hair into his chest or on his shoulder.

“I know I'm clean, since ya know i’ve never gone without a rubber, but I don't know, it's still nerve wracking I guess.” the honey eyed boy disclosed with a harsh breath into his boyfriend's neck.

“We’ll be alright, baby. It’ll be worth it, I mean how long have we been subscribed to her and how often have we come to the idea of her being between us?” Eddie acknowledged a little too loudly as the women in line ahead of them turned back to give them a disapproving look, making Steve’s cheeks tinge the sweetest shade of pink.

“Will you keep it down?” he sharply whispers into his boyfriend's brown waves, making Eddie cackle in amusement.

After an hour of leaving the clinic and grabbing some food as they awaited the results, they both get a ding on their phones. Steve’s eyes widen as he continues to chew on an extra big bite of his burger before harshly swallowing it down and cautiously grabbing his phone, as Eddie grabs his without a care in the world. To be fair Steve was much more sexually active before him and Eddie had gotten together; as in Steve had a huge hoe faze his Junior and Senior year of high school and although he had never forgotten to use protection, there was still a chance he could have caught something, or at least that’s what Steve’s anxiety riddled brain keeps telling him.

He stares at the results as a loud exhale is shared between the couple.

Steve catches his boyfriend's eye as his face scrunches up in confusion.

“I thought you weren't nervous?” He asks as a relieved smile spreads across his face.

“I never said that, I just have to be the brave one and talk you off the ledge. But believe me that shit is nerve inducing for anyone. Hell, I'd be nervous even if I still had my v card.” The metal head guffaws, popping a fry he’d dipped in his vanilla shake into his mouth, making Steve grimace in disgust at his boyfriend's condiment of choice.

“Yeah, true.” He quickly agrees.

Steve never thought to get tested or to make this big of a fuss about it, but after seeing the results, it left him with a sense of relief for something he may have subconsciously been worried about.

“WOOH!” Eddie shouts with excitement, “you ready to do this, Stevie?” He asks with the biggest, brightest smile while scanning his boyfriends beautiful face.

“Fuck yeah, I am.”

“Michelle, are you even listening to me?” You pout into your phone's camera while on a somewhat grainy facetime chat with your beautiful bombshell of a best friend who seems to be occupied by the little smoke sesh/kick back she is hosting, the only one you’ve ever missed.

“Yes bitch, of course I am.” She says with slight annoyance, “come on, show me the options.”

You set up your phone on one of the many tripods that sit facing your bed before backing away with two sets of lingerie, “Okay, so I have this baby pink set or this like, deep blood red set with the knee high stockings and garter belt.” You say with a slight tremble to your voice that reaches your hands.

This is so not you, you’re never nervous to shoot content with even the biggest names…so what is it about these two boys that have you anxiously awaiting their arrival?

“Oh, def the blood red one, its fucking hot!” Michelle growls the word ‘hot’ into the speaker, slightly distorting the sound before you see a cloud of smoke billowing from her mouth.

“Yay! That's the one I was gonna choose anyway, since it matches my new butt plug.” You squeak in excitement.

“You fuckin’ freak.” Your best friend guffaws, “Maybe you and your boy toys can come through after y'all are done with your little fuckfest.”

You giggle at her choice of words as you begin to remove your robe and slip into the red lingerie set, foregoing the panties so you can lube and stretch yourself out for the buttplug you want to have inserted before Steve and Eddie show up.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll ask if they’re up for it when we finish.”

Finally, your hair and makeup are close enough to perfection, your lace set was on and hugging all the right curves on your body along with the knee highs and garter belts, your butt plug was sitting nice and snug inside your recently waxed puckered hole.

You begin to set up the ring lights around your room brightening the two in the front to max brightness as you've already lost sunlight, then you perfectly angle your tripods towards your big 70’s inspired circular bed, adorned with black silk sheets.

Once you’re setting out the lube and different toys you think the boys would be into, you hear the doorbell ring and all the busying you've been doing to try and calm your mind from complete and utter nervousness is now null and void as it all comes rushing back within an instant.

You saunter downstairs practically slipping on oak wood floors, no thanks to your nylon stocking like knee highs that hug your dainty feet.

Reaching the door, you pull it open with slight aggression that you can only blame on the anxious beating of your heart, here you are opening the door in nothing but lingerie yet that’s not even the part you’re nervous about. No, you're never nervous about showing your body off, as you’re quite proud of it, instead you're nervous because these two beautiful boys that you had an instant connection with will be in your presence, you have to keep reminding yourself they already like you, they’re subscribed to you for fucks sake, so there has to be some type of attraction there.

‘Just be yourself and you'll be fine’ is what you repeat like a mantra in your mind, something you haven't repeated since you were the new kid in 6th grade, entering into an unknown world of small town life in the midwest.

“Fuck me.” The long haired boy gasps under his breath as he eyes you up and down, his pretty boy boyfriend stands beside him with his mouth agape in shock, half lidded eyes and a soft and sweet blush to his cheeks.

“Come inside and I will.” You giggle as you take the expensive looking champagne they had brought along. You can always appreciate the people that don't show up to a shoot empty handed.

They step inside, curiously looking around your ‘too big for just you, house’.

“Do you live alone?” Steve questions shyly as Eddie continues to shamelessly check you out.

“I do, so you don't have to worry about anyone interrupting or listening in.” You add in an attempt to ease his tense shoulders that have been that way since you opened the front door. Even though you were nervous you wanted to make them as comfortable as possible, since this was their first time doing anything of this nature.

“So, you live in this big ass house all alone?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Yup, a big three bedroom house just for me. My roommate just moved out actually, so I've got the place to myself now. It's not so bad, unless you know of anyone who's looking to live with a porn making roomie?” you say with a smile and hand propped under your chin, in a cute pose.

The boys both smirk as they continue to eye everything up, as if in high interest of the offer you had just given them, well not them specifically but someone they knew. But their lease to their shitty apartment was almost up and they had been talking about moving out of Hawkins and to the city, nothing was keeping them in that shit hole town and there were so many more opportunities in indy. Maybe it was something they could bring up later.

“So… how do we start this?” Eddie questions, his usual cocky facade slipping as he cracks his knuckles out of nervousness.

“Well once I hit record, we just kinda start it how ever you’d start just a regular fuck.” You say as you shrug your shoulders. “So, my phone is set up on this tripod, can one of you offer up your phone so I can set it up on this other one? I want as many angles as possible.” You ask sweetly as you point to the tripod that sits on the left corner of the bed.

“Yeah, you can use mine.” Steve quickly offers “the code is eddie or 33343.” He coyly asserts before his boyfriend is pulling him back to plant a big wet kiss to his lips.

That action alone made you throb between your thighs, Jesus you couldn’t wait to see how they’d make that burning feeling in your belly erupt.

You open his phone to a sweet background picture of him and Eddie; Steve kissing the metalheads cheek as a bashful looking Eddie, playfully flips off the camera.

You quickly open the camera and click the video option, before setting it onto the black base.

“Okay so, Eddie can I use your phone for like, close up and POV angles?” You ask as Eddie walks over and plops down onto your bed before leaning back to remove his phone from his side pocket. “You can use anything you’d like, princess.” He flirts with a wink, causing your stomach to swoop with butterflies.

He sets his phone down by the lube on your side table, for later.

After you’ve finished the setup process and helped the boys undress down to their boxers all while kissing each other, albeit without the cameras rolling which was so foreign for you, you never touched a costar if it wasn’t being recorded.

But you couldn’t help it, when you were lifting up Eddie’s shirt and he went in for a chaste kiss to your lips, the same one he planted on Steve earlier, It quickly heated up as he slipped his tongue into your mouth while you were unbuckling his belt.

Steve comes up behind you and whispers in your ear “is this okay?” Before he places a tender kiss to the side of your neck, causing a mean shiver to run down your spine, making both boys smile into your skin.

You nod to Steve’s question with a moan, before he begins to attack your neck with sweet yet sloppy kisses.

Both boys reach for your bra clasp on your back, unhooking it with ease and allowing it to quickly fall to the floor, only to be kicked out of the way.

You pull your lips away from Eddie’s to chase Steve’s, removing his shirt before kissing him with absolute hunger, causing him to groan into your mouth.

“Fuck, we have to stop before we don’t get anything recorded.” You giggle before walking over to the tripods. “Eddie, take his pants off.” You demand before you’re waiting behind the camera for the perfect time to hit the button.

Once Steve’s pants are off and he’s down to his black Calvin Klein briefs, you order them in what position to stand in; both facing the camera, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, beside your bed.

You hit the record button on both phones then saunter up to them, placing a kiss to each of their lips before dropping to your knees.

You look up at both boys as you bring your hands to rub them over their boxers, making them both hiss simultaneously.

You pull Steve’s cock out first and big boy is right! He has one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen, and it instantly makes your mouth water. It’s so pretty and thick with the pinkest head, totally reminds you of how pink his cheeks get when he’s shy. God, it makes you want to stick his cock so far down your throat and never come back up for air.

Instead you kiss the tip before looking up at him, and licking away the yummy bead of precum that sits on his pretty pink slit. You make a whole show of it while holding it on the tip of your tongue so he and Eddie can see, before sensually bringing it into your mouth, moaning at the taste, “mmm, you taste so good.” You purr, as you take him fully into your mouth.

Both boys moan out at your little display.

You give Steve a couple hard sucks to his head before taking him back into your throat, bobbing your head and letting him fuck your mouth until your eyes water.

“Holy fuck.” The pretty boy groans as his head falls back, he places a rough hand through your hair and tightens the strands between his fingers.

Eddie, ever the impatient one, slides his checkered boxers down his legs and strokes at his hard almost equally girthy and long cock a couple times before he’s grabbing a handful of your hair and making you instantly pop off of Steve’s cock and on to his.

“That’s right baby, let us use you.” He groans as he begins fucking your throat.

You had all talked about this that night at the diner, you told them you enjoyed being used, you wanted them to pass you back and forth like a whore.

Eddie had a nice chuckle at that.

The curly haired boy grabs his phone off your side table, before opening the camera and hitting record as he continues to fuck your throat. All that could be heard were gawking noises and Eddie’s pretty moans and groans, after getting a close up shot of you pulling off of his cock and gasping for air as a string of spit falls out of your mouth and onto your tits.

Eddie passes the phone to Steve silently telling him to record.

Once his hands are free he cups underneath your chin and threads his ringed fingers back into your hair as he begins to fuck your throat with reckless abandon.

“Oh my fucking god, your throat baby. And no fucking gag reflex? Just taking it all aren’t you?” He growls as his head falls down towards his chest, getting a good look at how your tears have caused your makeup to smudge and smear, it’s the hottest thing the guys have ever seen.

“My turn.” Steve demands pulling you off from a particularly deep thrust Eddie had made, spit falling in strings to the floor and your thighs, but most landing on your tits, nipples so peaked and wet with your drool.

“Fuck yeah, get back on my cock you little slut.” Holy shit, where did shy little steve go? Cause whoa, you think you might like this version even better.

Steve fucks your throat until it’s sore before Eddie’s bringing you back to him, stuffing your face into his balls as you licked and sucked at them. “That’s right, dirty girl. Suck my balls. Fuck.”

You give a few more swipes of your tongue to his sensitive sack before you take both balls into your mouth, lightly sucking until you hear the sounds of smacking above you. Looking up to the beautiful sight of them making out, tongues and spit being passed back and forth, gives you a good idea.

You slip Eddie’s balls out of your mouth before grabbing both of their cocks at the base, they both look so huge with your dainty hands wrapped around them.

You bring both cocks up to your mouth, fitting them in as you open your mouth to maximum capacity. They break their filthy kiss as they groan, both sets of eyes falling down on you as you fit two huge cocks into your very skilled mouth, deepthroating as spit drips down their cocks.

“Such a messy girl.” Eddie tsks, as they simultaneously thread their hands into your hair, pushing you even deeper on their cocks, making their cock heads rub together so beautifully inside your mouth.

You remove your mouth again as you begin gasping for air. Steve still has the pov camera on you, as you begin to rub their spit soaked, pink cock heads together.

“Two of the prettiest cocks I’ve ever seen.” You say up at the camera with a giggle, making both boys smile and groan down at you.

You suck at Steve’s balls next as you continue to jerk both boys' cocks in each hand.

“Okay fuck. Get up here baby.” Steve growls as he lifts you up by your hair, not gentle whatsoever which is exactly what you asked him for.

Eddie pushes you down onto your bed, your butt sliding along the black silk sheets as you laugh at their absolute desperation; they need you as much as you need them, you can feel that want in the air.

Eddie wants you, Steve wants you, you want them and they want each other. It’s a beautiful dynamic. One you could get used to.

Focus.

“Let’s remove these pretty panties baby, need to see that even prettier pussy.” Eddie murmurs before he bends down and plants a sweet kiss to your inner thigh and another one on the other to match before he’s spreading your legs back towards your shoulders.

You’re certainly not used to your co stars being so soft and sweet towards you, it makes the throb in your clit amplify and your heart race with an unknown feeling.

“Fuck, look at that.” Eddie groans as your slick soaked pussy is now fully on display for both boys, making their eyes roll back at the way your sticky folds part with strings of your arousal keeping them connected, Steve is licking at his lips like a man ready to devour a four course meal.

It’s not a secret that both boys miss pussy, they love each other's bodies, no doubt about that. Steve loves getting stretched out on Eddie’s cock and Eddie loves to do the stretching, but fuck if they don’t miss the taste and feel of pussy too. They often talk about it in the throes of their passion, about how nice it would be for Steve to have a pussy to fuck into while he’s getting his guts rearranged by the metalhead, that kinda talk makes the pretty boy cum over Eddie’s fist every time, as he tries his best to mimick the warmth and tightness of a pussy with his hand, all while whispering absolute filth into Steve’s ear.

“Move up onto your pillows, sweet girl.” Eddie suggests as his fingers trace the red jewel attached to the plug that is nestled deep between your cheeks. You’re not really sure what they have in mind but you’re so far gone and you’re totally willing to give up all control to these two men, another thing you never do.

Once your head hits your pillows, your hair is fanned out around you and both boys are still eyeing your body like a snack, you slowly open your legs, hiking them up towards your shoulders like Eddie had you on the edge of the bed but this time both your arms keep them pulled back. They lick their lips as their cocks twitch at your flexibility, something they’ve seen in your videos as long time subscribers of yours.

“Jesus.” Steve whispers under his breath, grabbing the pov phone and walking on his knees to get a closer look for the camera and let’s be honest, himself.

“Damn, look at that soaking fucking wet pussy, it’s so ready to be fucked isn’t baby?” Steve asks as he brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing soft circles into it, making you jolt up as your eyebrows knit together and a pretty moan falls from your open lips.

“Yes, it’s so ready.” You agree with your subby little breathy voice they love so much.

“Soon baby, first we gotta get our tongues on you.” Eddie says as he come up to rest beside Steve, and if you think this is going where you think it is, it is very fucking welcome.

Steve removes his thumb from your clit, sticking it into his boyfriend's mouth, making Eddie moan around the younger boy's finger, at your taste.

They both lay on their stomachs between your hiked up legs, Steve has his hand on the outside of one thigh and Eddie has his hand on the other, they both bring their heads in at the same time to lick at your clit. The tip of their tongues rub against each other while your puffy sensitive clit is between their soft pink muscles, making your toes curl and your back arch from the intense pleasure.

“Fuck!” You moan loudly as you take the abandoned pov camera and point it down towards the boys, as they both look up at you.

Eddie winks and you’re not sure if it’s for the camera or for you but you continue to watch them on the screen, as they share and bully your clit. Steve spits on it making Eddie lick it up and off your throbbing bud, they both begin soft licks before Eddie grabs Steve’s head and pulls him in for a sloppy kiss, their faces still so close to your pussy you can feel Eddie’s stubble rub against your clit, making you moan out louder.

“Mmm, I gotta get an even better taste of your pussy.” Eddie mewls as he brings his tongue down to your hole, fucking you with it while Steve begins to lap at your pink swollen bud, again.

You’ve never felt such pleasure before.

“Holy shit, I’m g-g-gonna c-cum!” You whine as both boys speed up their ministrations.

“Mmm, cum for us, pretty girl.” Steve moans into your pussy.

Eddie removes his tongue bringing it back up to slide against Steve’s on your clit, before plunging two fingers inside of you and curling them, instantly hitting your sweet spot, making you thrust your hips up to chase their tongues and Eddie’s magic fingers.

“Fuck, I’m c-cumming!” You begin to shake, as your legs fight Eddie and Steve’s strong hands that are holding them down towards the bed.

They lick and finger fuck you through the longest and most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, before they’re removing their mouths and Eddie’s removing his fingers.

Steve opens his mouth with his tongue hanging out, like an obedient little slut as Eddie plunges his fingers into the pretty boy’s mouth making Steve close his lips and expertly sucks on the two fingers that were just deep inside you. It’s so fucking hot.

And you’re filming it all with the pov camera for your viewers pleasure, but let’s be honest it’s mainly for yours.

There’s no way you won’t look back on this video as you play with your vibrator in the exact position you’re in now, absolutely no way.

“I’ve gotta get my cock inside you.” Eddie pouts as he lays down towards the end of the bed in between both cameras as they focus on him perfectly.

You were excited to try this position you had all talked about, it’s not one you saw much of in mmf threesomes so you were happy to do something a little different.

You straddle Eddie’s waist, sitting on his thighs as his cock rests so prettily against his happy trail, reaching all the way up to his belly button. You let your eyes roam his body and the insane amount of tattoos that cover every inch of skin, they all look like they belong in some kind of fantasy novel.

Steve finally straddles Eddie’s face, his leaky cock sitting just above Eddie’s mouth as his pink asshole is displayed for you. You’ve given a couple rim jobs but holy shit, if you weren’t gonna enjoy eating Stevie’s little hole the most.

Steve’s head was resting face down in your pillows, but he had it angled to where you can see his reactions to all the pleasure you and Eddie were about to give him.

At almost the same time you grab Eddie’s cock that continues leaking copious amounts of precum, Eddie grabs Steve's from between his thighs.

You slowly sink down onto Eddie’s warm throbbing sex, before he's shoving Steve into his mouth to the hilt. Eddie groans around Steve’s cock as Steve groans out from Eddie’s mouth.

Finally when you’re stretched and ready to start moving you lower your head, bringing your tongue to Steve’s pretty, smooth hole giving it a couple licks before prodding it with the tip of your tongue.

“Fuck, that so fucking good!” The pretty boy groans into your silk pillows as they get wet from the drool that drips from the side of his mouth.

While you’re rolling your tongue back and forth from Steve’s hole, over his gooch and towards his balls, Eddie expertly fucks Steve with his mouth.

Finally, the metalhead plants his feet onto the bed before he starts fucking up into your soaked pussy, making you moan out so loud, if you weren’t so cock drunk on these two men you’d probably be embarrassed.

“Jesus Christ, your pussy feels amazing!” Eddie groans after popping off of Steve’s cock to catch his breath.

Eddie continues to pound into you, the angle you’re in is allowing him to hit your g spot perfectly, over and over until suddenly he has to stop, causing you to whine as you sloppily lap at Steve’s puckered hole.

“I’m gonna cum, I gotta switch positions.” He whispers into Steve’s inner thigh before he gives it a sweet kiss, all while landing a swift playful swat to your ass, causing your fucked out wet cunt to rub against his shaft that’s still dripping with your juices.

You quickly make your way off of Eddie so he can stand up, you’re allowing the boys to have full control as they seem to be very eager and excited for what’s happening, so you sit on your bed as your wet thighs and slick cunt ruin your sheets, waiting for directions.

“On all fours, now.” Eddie demands with a growl in his throat that could get you to do just about anything.

He walks to the dresser to grab the bottle of lube before making his way back with a devious smirk on his face, one that has you vibrating from the inside out.

“You’re gonna suck Stevie’s pretty cock while I double dip your pretty holes, how’s that sound princess?” He says as his hands come up to rub on your exposed ass cheeks, giving the right one a harsh smack. “I said how’s. that. sound?” He spits through his teeth,

“S-sounds good! Please!” Your needy whimper makes both boys laugh, causing your cheeks to heat up. But you couldn’t lie, you loved the degrading feeling of it all.

“Such a needy little thing, isn’t she, baby?” Eddie smirks up towards his boyfriend who’s now laying flat on his back, the metalhead slowly removes your plug before pouring lube on his two fingers and bringing them to your still too tight rim.

“So fucking needy.” Steve agrees with a teasing laugh.

He prods at you with the tips of his fingers, slowly sinking two into your needy hole.

“Mmm.” Is all the only sound you can make around Steve’s girthy cock as Eddie begins fucking you on his long appendages.

Once you’re even more stretched to his liking, Eddie removes his fingers causing you to gasp from the equal amounts of pain and pleasure.

He grabs the meat of your cheeks, two handfuls pulling them apart as far as they’ll go before spitting right onto your already lubed up hole. The surprise action makes you yelp and buck your hips.

“Uh uh, none of that moving shit.” He tsks with a harsher slap to your ass, “you’re gonna lay there and take it like a good little slut, understand?” He grits before you can feel his breath harshly fan over the globe of your right cheek, he bites at the meat but it quickly turns into a rough suck, as he worships your ass while you continue to bob on Steve’s cock and occasionally tongue his hole.

“Yes sir!” You whine after popping off of one of Steve’s balls. You can tell the pretty boy is losing all resolve and he’s seconds away from cumming in your mouth, but you need them both inside of you, so you lazily stroke his cock with your hand as Eddie begins to push into your ass, causing you to cry out into Steve’s thigh.

“Oh fuck, that’s it baby, take it.” The metalhead spits before he’s grabbing your hair and pulling you back, making you release your hand from Steve’s throbbing cock, causing him to whimper in frustration.

Your back is now flushed with Eddie’s chest as he continues to move you with the handful of hair he has a hard unforgiving grip on. He harshly turns your head bringing your lips to his for a dirty, sloppy, mostly tongue, kiss.

“Mmm, you taste so good on our girl’s lips, Stevie.” Eddie groans as him and his boyfriend make eye contact while he continues to fuck deeper into your ass.

You’re so far gone you couldn’t even register or put any further thought into our girl.

“You both look so fucking hot together.” Steve confesses as he bites down on his bottom lip and takes his painfully hard cock into his own hand to stroke.

Eddie gives you one more kiss before he’s pushing your head back down into the mattress and taking his cock out before shoving it into your pussy, giving it a few strokes then moving back into your asshole and repeating. Your eyes roll back into your head as you whimper and moan into your sheets.

Steve comes up beside you to push your hair out of your face, pov camera in hand as he passes it to Eddie in order to get a good close up of the way he’s switching between your holes.

“Hi, pretty girl.” He coos with a soft smile, “You’re doing so fucking good, taking his cock so good, baby.” His praises cause you to tense up and shake, cunt and asshole squeezing Eddie like a vice.

“Don’t you fucking cum yet, hold it!” Eddie scolds, as he dips his cock one more time into your asshole, another harsh slap to your already burning skin.

Eddie pulls out of you, motioning for Steve to follow him. He whispers into his ear off camera, making the pretty boy hum and nod in agreement, a sly smirk gracing both of their faces.

“Come on, angel. Up.” Eddie demands with a snap of his fingers, you’re up and off the bed in a matter of seconds as you stand before both boys, stark naked aside from your thigh highs.

Eddie lays down on his back, still facing the cameras like he was when you rode him, but this time they’re both guiding you to sit on him while you also face the cameras, your ass on full display for the metalhead.

Steve grabs Eddie’s extremely stiff shaft as you straddle him backwards, he teasingly guides Eddie through your slick folds before he’s inserting the long haired boy's cock into your sopping wet pussy.

As you sink down slowly causing the boy behind you to hiss in pleasure, Steve guides your feet onto Eddie’s knees as your hands go back on Eddie’s chest to help keep you balanced.

Once you’re fully impaled on his cock, his silver rings slide against your delicate skin as he holds the backs of your knees up causing your feet to dangle in the air, giving Steve and the cameras the perfect view of eddie fucking into you, and all the pretty faces you’ll make.

Steve drops down to his knees as he observes the way Eddie’s cock squelches in and out of you and how tight you’re gripping him, along with the white ring of your arousal that has gathered at the end of Eddie’s shaft, Steve just wants to lick it off, and he will.

Eddie bounces you by the backs of your knees a couple more times before he’s lifting you up, his cock plops out of you but is quickly retrieved by Steve who takes it into his mouth, moaning as he tastes you and Eddie’s mixture, so heady and earthy but oh so fucking sweet.

He gives Eddie a few strokes before he moves up to lick at your pussy, shoving his tongue inside of you and shoveling some of your wetness out, savoring the delicious taste before he puts Eddie’s cock back inside of you, only to be bounced some more.

Eddie continues hitting your sweet spot, but you’re trying so hard, so fucking hard not to cum.

“That’s it baby, hold it for me. Hold it and I promise I’ll make you see fucking stars…me and Steve both will, okay?…fuck.” Eddie encourages with broken gasps.

He lifts you by the knees again, this time Steve eagerly pulls Eddie from your cunt and laps up your addicting flavor, rolling his tongue up from Eddie’s cock and into your folds, going straight to the source of the sweet nectar he craves, and then rolling his tongue from your clit down to eddies cock and sucking.

“Fuck you’re such a good boy, Stevie.” Eddie groans as his fingers dig into your skin where he still has a hold on you.

“Mmm, I could eat pussy and suck cock all day.” He hums in contentment, making you and Eddie giggle at his fucked out tone.

“That’s right, my little slut boy. Always so eager for daddy’s cock aren’t you?” Eddie chuckles in satisfaction “and now you have the prettiest cunt to eat from… fuck, daddy’s just spoiling you, aren’t I?”

Eddie’s words cause you to moan as you throw your head back, he had a fucking mouth on him and you loved every second of it!

“Mm, I think pretty girl over here likes that.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, before Steve is shoving Eddie’s cock back inside of you, the metalhead begins bouncing you back on his cock but this time he fucks up in to you, making you whimper and babble incoherent words.

“Do you, huh slut? You want me to be your daddy, too? Own this pussy and fuck it whenever I want?” Eddie groans as he throws his head back at how fucking good you feel, he can’t even believe he’s lasted this long, but fuck he’s trying his best to impress you, and maybe just maybe you’ll wanna do this with them again.

“Yes, daddy! Please!” You sob as your legs begin to shake, again.

Both boys practically growl at your words, they fucking love the idea of you being their’s.

Eddie lifts you one more time before he orders Steve to grab the lube and lather his cock with it, once Steve’s done he’s guiding Eddie’s cock into your asshole, watching with hungry eyes as you sink back down onto the metalhead. He’s so turned on by the way the ring of your hole looks being filled to the max by his boyfriend. God, it was so fucking hot.

Steve gives a quick lick to your puckered stretched out skin and up to Eddie’s exposed shaft, mid thrust before he adds a gentle kiss to your clit.

He stands up and gives his cock a couple strokes before he’s guiding himself into your pussy, to help his boyfriend stuff you full, until you’re cumming all over their cocks. Fuck, he couldn’t wait.

You all moan out in tandem as both boys fuck into you, Eddie still holding your trembling legs up and Steve is now holding you around your waist as you both moan into eachothers mouths.

Their thrusts get harder the closer you all get to your glorious releases.

“Oh fuck, okay baby, cum for us. Cmon.” Eddie growls, as his thrusts get even harder.

You’re all so fucked out and ready to cum as the moans throughout the room get louder.

Steve hasn’t stuck his cock in a pussy in years and he’s about two seconds from embarrassing himself and cumming the hardest he has in awhile.

Eddie’s trying his best to hold out, too. But your asshole keeps gripping him and he can feel Steve’s cock through your walls, and his big mouth wants to tell him how good he feels through you, but he knows if he vocalizes it, it’ll make both boys cum in an instant.

“Oh my god!” You finally wail as your legs shake so intensely, Eddie and Steve have to hold them still for you.

“There you go baby, cmon, give it to us.” Steve groans, as he brings his fingers down to your clit drawing soft circles to the overly sensitive pink bud.

Steve’s fingers bring you closer to the edge as a familiar burning in your belly courses through you.

You can barely hold your body up anymore as you tremble and shake, eyes rolling into the back of your head as that all consuming peak hits you harder than it ever has, a splash of liquid shoots out of you like a waterfall onto Steve’s stomach and down on Eddie’s thighs, causing both boys to gasp and moan in complete bliss as they now use you for their own gratification.

Steve loses it first with a loud whimper as his head falls back in pleasure, his beautiful head of hair swishing around on his forehead as he shoots his warm load of cum deep inside of you.

After Steve pulls out and takes a seat up amongst the pillows at the head of your bed, Eddie puts you into a complete full nelson as his hands lace behind your head, he fucks even deeper into you causing you both to scream out in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Eddie howls as his hips come to a complete stop while buried deep inside of your tight, warm hole that continues to suck him in as he cums so much it begins to drip down his shaft. Getting the perfect shot for the cameras that are still rolling.

Eddie gently lifts you off, laying you on the bed close to Steve’s legs as you cling to them, peppering them with soft kisses while Steve runs a soothing hand through your hair.

Eddie takes his phone and records the white creamy cum that seeps from both of your used holes.

Fuck, he feels his cock twitch at the sight of you.

You’re a complete mess and both of your holes are leaking his and his boyfriend’s cum. He swears if this never happens again with you, this will be at the top of his spank bank for the rest of his life.

Eddie gets up to stop the cameras, coming back to give you and Steve a quick kiss before he’s going into your bathroom to search for a rag to clean you up with. He comes out with one of your rolled up white ones that are specifically for decoration, but you don’t have the heart to tell him they’re not to be used.

He brings the wet rag down between your legs and wipes until there’s no more cum seeping from your holes.

“I think this was the best collab I’ve ever done, like my subscribers are gonna love this! Thank you both so much.” You shyly say as you look from one boy to another.

“Of course baby, anytime.” Eddie says with a beaming smile.

“So, my best friend’s having a little hang out, smoke sesh at her house and she invited all of us after we were done with our fuck fest.” You say as you put fuck fest in air quotes, playfully rolling your eyes, making both boys to chuckle in amusement.

“We actually wanted to pop open the champagne and hang out with you, after. I also brought a little treat of my own.” Eddie teases as he picks his jeans up off of the floor and digs in one of the pockets, pulling out a nicely rolled blunt.

He waves it around with a bounce of his eyebrows, as if trying to entice you, before he sticks it behind his ear, for later.

“Okay, that sounds fun. I have a pool, we could go late night swimming.” You suggest to both boys, as they look at you in a way that sends the butterflies in your belly fluttering.

Steve breaks out into a big grin. “Fuck yeah, let’s go swimming.” He says as he jumps up out of your bed, reaching for his boxer briefs.

You stop him before he fully bends down, “how about late night skinny dipping?” You giggle when both boys eagerly nod in agreement.

“I like the way you think, baby.” Eddie says as he throws his arm over your shoulders, walking out of your room and down your stairs, with both boys at your side.

Steve grabs the champagne, then asks where he could find the flutes, before you’re all making your way outside into the fresh night air.

You flip the pool light on before you and Steve walk together, sitting side by side on the first step, warm heated water washing away the goosebumps that have formed on your leg as it rubs up against Steve’s.

He begins to pour you all a glass, as Eddie hands you his joint and lighter before he runs and jumps bare naked ass on display into the pool, making you and Steve cackle, you lay your head on his shoulder while you both continue to die of laughter.

“What are you both laughing at?” Eddie questions with a smirk and curious raise of his eyebrows.

“Your pasty ass.” You retort, making Steve laugh harder.

“Oh I see how it is, you’re ganging up on me now?” Eddie says with faux sadness as he swims closer to you and Steve, playfully grabbing both of your legs as if to try and drag you in, but you and Steve pull him in towards you.

Eddie kisses you first, as he holds your chin in place between his fingers, then he kisses Steve with the same amount of vigor, before Steve is kissing you.

You don’t think you can ever move on from this, it feels too right, like these are your people.

“So, about the roommate position?” Eddie inquires, “how would you feel if, say, two guys you know are very interested, like they would move in tomorrow if they could.” Both boys look at you with the biggest doe eyes, as if you’d say no, as if you wouldn’t want to have them live in this big lonely house with you, possibly starting a new chapter with these two men you have so quickly fallen for.

“I would say, abso-fucking-lutely.”

If your age is not in your bio, I did not tag you.

(Also, tagged everyone above age who interacted with the teaser of this)

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @lil-quinnie @danielabrandt @prettypeachsworld @youare-hackskellington @sebs-oxygen @livsters @wheel-of-hyperfixation @imonhereforareasonsadly @kingdomkitten32 @munson-magic @tiannamortis @katwinchester64 @the-unforgivenn @micheledawn1975 @josephquinnsfreckles @jasminelafleur @emsgoodthinkin @manda-panda-monium @munsonsuccubus @teletubbysteroids @eddies-puppet @munsonssecretblog @eddieslittlewh0re @itsgonnabeoktodsy @randomworker @starrthemushroom @imaautisticchicken @creativename01 @m-chmcl-rmnc @emmerson-1 @siouxiesiouxtryhard @munsonology @pillow-titties @cherryc1nnam0n @wyverntatty @spicedandicedtea @justmeinadaze @violettaskies @bebe07011 @devilinthepalemoonlite @lunatictardis

[melzula]

hii i was wondering could you write a oneshot of how zuko's self cautious of his scar and reader just kisses his scar and reassures him and tells him that hes perfect and that she loves everything abt him. This is in a very like intimate and loving way ykyk

a/n: ah this plot is so sweet! had to rewrite this piece a few times before landing on something i liked so i hope you enjoy!

summary: zuko asks you to remove his bandages

“Are you sure you want me to do this? I can fetch Iroh instead.”

“No,” comes Zuko’s soft reply, his sullen features bathed in candle light. “I want it to be you.”

Sighing softly, you give him an understanding nod and press a careful kiss to his check. The Prince remains stoic in spite of your show of affection, simply signaling for you to proceed.

It’s been a week since the Agni Kai, and the healer has given Zuko the okay to remove his bandages. The wound should be healed by now, nothing but a painless scar with a painful memory attached to it. It’s not only your first time seeing Zuko’s new face but his as well, and neither of you are sure what to expect.

You were honestly surprised when the Prince had asked for you to be the one to remove his bandages. He’d been cold and standoffish with you since your departure from the Fire Nation, something you couldn’t blame him for considering all he’d been through, but you didn’t expect him to trust you with something so important so soon. It made you nervous, but it also made you relieved to know he still felt he could trust you with such things.

Your fingers work carefully as you unravel the white cloth around his head, doing your best not to cause too much discomfort for your Prince. He says nothing as you move and only watches you through the reflection of the mirror before him.

“Are you ready?” You ask him softly, hesitating as you reach the final layer of wrapping.

“Hesitation is a sign of weakness,” Zuko replies gruffly, and that’s all you need to hear before finally pulling away the last of the bandages.

The room is silent and tense as Zuko stares at his own reflection. The skin around his eye is angry and red, permanently damaged and forever serving as a reminder of his failure. He can hardly see out of his left eye, but he’s still able to make out your figure watching on silently as he assesses the damage.

“Go ahead and say it.”

“Say what, Zuko?” You murmur softly, carefully resting a hand upon his back.

“Say you’re disgusted by me. Say you’re repulsed,” he snarls bitterly. “Say that you’re too embarrassed to be seen with such a failure!”

“Is that really what you think?” You utter sadly, a pained smile on your lips as you carefully reach out to touch his face. His hand immediately flies up to catch your wrist in a firm grip before you can get any closer, and despite the discomfort it brings you make no attempt to move.

“It’s what I know.”

“Then you must not know me at all,” you counter with a small shake of your head.

Reality sets in and Zuko guiltily removes his ironclad grip on your wrist. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you, but there’s an amalgamation of emotions festering within him at the sight of his deformity. He was a Prince, he wasn’t meant to look like this, he wasn’t meant to be out at sea fruitlessly trying to find the Avatar so he could end his banishment. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“You’re perfect, Zuko,” you console with a careful brush of your fingertips against the freshly healed skin. His eyes flutter shut at the comforting sensation, and you take it as a sign to continue. “I love you the way you are, and this scar doesn’t change that.”

He can’t help but gasp when he feels the softness of your lips pressing against his temple. How could you not feel sickened by him? How could you still love him after everything?

“Your scar is nothing but a sign of your strength, I hope you know that,” you tell him before pressing another kiss to his cheek just below his eye.

He says nothing in response, but you know that he understands you. With you, he doesn’t have to feel shame or guilt. Your love for him knows no bounds, and there’s nothing he could do that would ever make you turn away from him.

He sits in silence as you begin to apply a soothing balm to his skin. His eyes close in contentment and for the first time since leaving home he finally feels at peace.

He knows then that he made the right choice in having you be the one to remove his bandages. No one sees him like you do, and it’s more than he could ever ask for.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

[hauntedwitch04]

Little one

Sam Winchester x reader

Words: about 3.9k words

Warnings: smut, smut, I forgot to say smut, DESTIEL BECAUSE I LOVE THEM, dirty talk

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 5: Size kink

"Hey little one do you need a hand?" You hear Sam ask, hearing in his tone of voice that silly little sly smile you hate so much. You huff as still with your back turned you don't even turn to look at him, knowing you couldn't help but melt under the gaze of his green eyes. You feel him coming up behind you, his chest brushing against your back as you see his hand reach for the book you've been reaching for for more than ten minutes. His presence behind you almost makes your knees give way.

The two of you have been playing this game for weeks now, provoking the other but at the same time neither of you seems to have the courage to take matters into their own hands and drag the other into your bedroom. A few days ago Sam realized how sensitive you are to the size difference between the two of you. You have never considered yourself short, you have always been average, but next to him you look little more than a smurf. He is literally a giant, and that doesn't mean he is merely tall, but because of the life you lead he has developed a lot of muscles in his arms and chest, as well as perfect abs, and that makes him imposing, and fuck if that isn't attractive. You get lost in thinking what it must be like to be under him, enclosed between his warm body and his bed, but almost immediately you are interrupted by a cough behind you. You turn and see him with a raised eyebrow looking at you amused. Now the two of you are face to face, or rather you have your face at his chest level, and in fact you have to look up to stare into his eyes.

The man in front of you seems to be quite amused by this, in fact he leans forward a little, thinking you would move for that movement, and instead you stand still, not showing weakness.

"Careful little one your neck will hurt if you keep holding it like that. Maybe we should buy a stepladder at least you'd be able to look me in the eye without any trouble." Says Sam, a breath away from your lips.

"You giant asshole, I swear I'll cut your balls off if-" You start to threaten him, but you are interrupted by a new voice. Castiel has just entered the room and is looking at you with a questioning expression before shouting.

"Dean they are doing it again." He says to the other hunter who immediately responds to the angel, threatening you as well.

"Home run before you see things you don't want to see. And you two stop circling around the fact that you want to fuck. There's too much sexual tension in the air and no one can take it anymore. You better find a solution or I swear I'll have the next witch I meet charm you." Says the brother of the man in front of you, from the kitchen, making both you and Sammy blush.

"Fuck you Dean." Sam manages to say, not looking you in the eye. Immediately you turn away from each other, going in different directions.

You arrive in your room, close the door, and lean against it as you take a breath of relief.

You can't deny that there is not that sexual tension between the two of you that Dean accuses you of, but at the same time you don't have the courage to take that extra step for fear of being rejected because treacherously you think Sam intends all that as a kind of game between the two of you, but nothing more. You stay for a moment thinking again about the feeling of his body so big and muscular against yours. You felt so small and helpless, and yet you were not afraid, in fact all your brain could process were rather spicy situations with the youngest of the Winchesters. Then suddenly you violently detach yourself from the door, as your mind was again training itself in those overly specific thoughts of what it would be like to be fucked by Sam, placed on all fours on his bed, while he on top of you, with his chest pressed against your back, holding the bed keyboard with one strong hand to make stronger, firmer thrusts. You get lost in thinking about what it must feel like to have his kisses on your bare back with the light beard he has, what one of his strong hands gripping one of your hips must feel like, or his cock pushing in. You decide it's time for a cold shower at the very moment you're left thinking about whether the size of his member is directly proportional to everything else, hoping that at least that might bring you back to your senses a little.

You've never been much of a person who likes to go to parties, but you certainly can't say no to a nice evening with your favorite people spent drinking and singing your favorite songs. By now it is very late and both Dean and Cas have gone to bed, no matter how much the last one doesn't sleep, but by now since they had declared themselves to each other they had created a routine, thanks to which the oldest of the Winchesters is finally able to sleep without nightmares. You are happy forni your friends, they both deserve the small portion of happiness that fate has reserved for them, and on the contrary you wish they had fi more. Since they've gone to bed, though, you and Sam are left alone, with more than ample amount of alcohol in your system, which is a bit dangerous considering the thoughts some days that led you to take a shower so cold that even penguins would beat their beaks for cold.

You and young Winchester spent those days avoiding each other, and when you couldn't, all you could do was avoid each other's gaze and not blush.

You remain silent again, enjoying that peace to which you are not very accustomed. You are sitting side by side, and you can't help but slowly move closer to his body, attracted by the warmth it produces.

It seems like hours go by, and maybe it's only a few minutes, but eventually he interrupts that state of stillness.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sammy asks, turning toward you, and you can't help but be a little annoyed by his question, but you nod as you down some more alcohol. He seems to consider what words to use.

"Have you ever thought of anything more than this between us?" The man asks, looking you in the eye. You pause with your glass in midair, petrified by that question. For a moment it crosses your mind that he has figured out how you feel about him, but then you look at him and see him waiting for your answer and realize that he is really only asking you out of pure curiosity.

"Why did you think of that?" You ask in turn defensively. You see him hesitate for a moment as you did a few seconds earlier, but eventually he flashes you a smile, regaining all the resourcefulness he has shown in this last period.

"Oh little one, I'm afraid I'd scare you if I told you all the things I've been thinking about doing with you." He says in a rough, sensual voice, and you immediately feel a shiver go down your spine. You feel him move closer to you, while you remain still, afraid that if you moved even a finger, this whole situation would vanish like a soap bubble. You think more than once that all this is a dream produced by the alcohol in your system, then you feel his lips on your neck and realize that it is all true.

"Well you could show me a couple of things you've imagined doing with me, and I'll tell you if they're the same things I've thought of." I say in a whisper, as he continues to nibble on my neck, leaving sweet kisses at times.

"You're going to fucking kill me sooner or later." Sam comments before standing up, and with a smooth, quick movement, hoisting me onto his shoulder. I let out a soft yelp, before starting to bombard him with threats and questions.

"Sam Winchester, let me go now! Where are you taking me?" I ask, trying not to give away that just that simple gesture that showcased his strength and how much bigger he was physically than you was turning you on.

"In the room, unless you want to be fucked here where anyone could walk in at any moment. I didn't take you for that kind of person, but we could always try it another time." He says chuckling, while you in response punch him lightly in the back. "Besides, from here I have a first-class view of your ass." He continues nonchalantly, and you can't help but blush.

"Sam!" You take him back, but he immediately doesn't give you time to continue.

"Little one, don't be an angel, because we both know how many times you've thought about doing dirty things with me, and you can't even lie because it was all over your face." Notices Sam, scolding you as one scolds a child who has eaten too much candy.

"Like you had a marble mask on, and you couldn't see all the times you looked at my boobs." You comment, as you try to figure out by now where you are, but the corridors of the bunker are all dark and you can't quite get your bearings.

"It's not my fault you have particularly nice tits." He replies, as if it were a given, and you can't help but laugh at the situation. Your laughter is interrupted, however, when Sam throws you onto what you recognize to be his bed.

The playful air that had been created disappears in an instant and gives way to a new tension, steeped in passion and mischief. The youngest Winchester slides all the way down your body until his plump lips are inches from yours. The feel of his body, so large compared to yours, is even better than you had imagined. He spends a few seconds teasing you, kissing all over your face and the area near your mouth, but he doesn't touch your lips a single time, until you slip your hands into his hair and force him to do so. He smiles against your lips, and when you pull away to get some air, he teases you.

"Someone is a little impatient, what can't you wait to feel my cock inside you anymore?" He asks rhetorically, while his hands begin working to remove the several layers of clothes you are wearing.

"All promises Winchester, it's time to keep them." You say, trying to answer him again in kind as pleasure begins to work its way through you.

"You'll regret this shamelessness little one, another time, not today, but next time I won't be as good to you as I will be this time."

Quickly he removes the few clothes you have on while you do the same to him, a little groggy from pleasure and a little from alcohol.

He kisses your neck, leaving red, biting marks as he slowly moves down to your breasts, to remove the bra you still have on. He takes one of your nipples in his teeth, while the other teases it with his hand.

Once he is done torturing your breasts, he goes down to your navel with his kisses and then gently bites your panties. A shiver runs through you again as you feel his lips graze the skin of your legs, while he stares into your eyes and pulls them off with such slowness that you feel faint before long at how hard your heart is beating.

"You better get moving Winchester." You try to threaten him, once he completely peels off the penultimate layer of clothing that stood between you and him, since he still has his boxers on.

"Or what small thing? I don't think you're in a position to threaten me." He comments amused, before returning to your center, and leaving sweet kisses all around in your inner thigh. You can't help but sigh as you slip a hand into his soft, long hair, trying to take him where you most desire.

"Fuck you." That's all you can say in response, and he can't help but laugh. Eventually Sam lets you guide him where you want him, and finally his lips meet those of your pussy. You can't help but let out a moan mixed with a scream as the man squeezes your clit between his teeth as he had done with your nipples earlier. With his tongue he continues to lick you, slowly increasing the pleasure.

Suasult when you also feel his fingers join in the torture, as he rhythmically works them into you. His fingers are long and big, enough to reach all the right places, and make you wriggle between the covers of the now unmade bed, making you clutch the sheet so tight you thought it would tear.

Eventually, faster than it had ever happened to you, you feel the orgasm coming, with the impetuosity of a wave ready to sweep whatever it meets in its path.

"Sam- fuck- please don't stop." You beg him, as you continue to move your hips under his mouth to create more friction.

"Oh my little one is cumming?" He asks, pulling away from you slightly.

"Sam, please." You beg him again as you run a hand through his hair again, and he can't help but moan as you do so.

He doesn't respond to you, but his actions speak for themselves as he again begins to lick your center as he speeds his fingers entering your pussy. A few minutes pass and you finally reach orgasm, and for a second you think you lose contact with the whole world. All you hear in your ears is blood pulsing, your eyes narrowed as your lips hold back a scream, while your hands continue to cling tightly to Sam's hair. Once you regain your breath and some clarity you stop and look at Sammy who is now looking at you seriously. Around your mouth you can still see the remnants of the otherworldly experience you just had.

"Are you okay?" He asks you as he licks his lips.

"Never felt better." You answer, as you signal for him to come up. He complies and comes with his face at the same height as yours. You kiss him softly, and he can't help but do the same. It is very different from the kiss you shared earlier, passionate and impetuous, but no less sensual and beautiful. Then suddenly you take him by surprise and reverse the situation by finding yourself on top of him.

"Now it's my turn to torture you a little." You whisper in his ear before moving down to his boxers. You slip them off him the same way he took off your underwear, which is with your teeth, and you hear him cursing as you brush against his now very obvious erection. Then unable to hold back you take his member with your hands, and like everything in your body it seems to be huge compared to you, but in this case you don't really know if it is your point of view or is objective. You tease his entire length with your tongue, before starting to suck lightly at the tip, while moving your hand along everything else you don't touch. Immediately his hand, almost as big as your head, gets stuck in your hair and begins to send you further and further down, at the pace he likes best. That's how Sam begins to fuck your mouth, at first slower, going steadily increasing, so that the last thrusts you feel his cock coming down your throat, and you can't help but get aroused when you feel the air miss you. He continues this game for a few minutes, until with a series of moans where he screams your name he doesn't cum in your mouth, and you swallow everything he gives you.

"That's my girl." Sammy comments as he catches his breath, but you see a spark in his eyes that tells you you're not even close to the end.

"So far we've been playing, now comes the main course." He continues, as again he reverses the situation, bringing you under him. You feel one of your thighs open, and with his knee he stimulates your pussy. Immediately you let out a scream that he silences with his lips. You begin to kiss more and more passionately as you feel him driving his cock in front of your entrance. The moment he is about to push in for the first time, you stop him by asking him a question?

"Are you sure it fits?" You ask slightly frightened by his size, and excited at the same time. He looks at you and chuckles a little, throwing his head into the crook of your neck.

"It's just that I've never had anyone so ...great, it's no laughing matter Winchester!" You continue, chuckling in turn. He kisses you gently on the nose before answering you.

"I promise in case it does you, you'll just have to tell me and we'll stop right away, okay?" He asks seriously, watching you as he moves a strand of hair away from your face. "Besides, I think the orgasm has prepared you well honey." He finishes by winking at you. He kisses you again but this one more gently, trying to distract you. You feel him enter you, and for a moment you think you have died and are in your own little piece of heaven.

"Are you okay little one?" Sam asks seeing your closed eyes and clenched fists holding the pillow.

"Oh God, Winchester you better move your ass and fuck me before I come at this exact moment." You whisper, as you release one hand to bring him to you and kiss him. You feel him begin to thrust in and out of you, picking up a rather fast pace as he stimulates one of your breasts with one hand and his lips are busy making more marks on your neck, lest he cry out your name in pleasure. You are not much better off, so much so that at one point you feel an iron taste of blood in your mouth from how much you bit your lips to keep Cas and Dean from hearing you. You keep moving in unison, seeking pure pleasure.

"God baby, you are so perfect. You don't know how much I've dreamed of having you under me, screaming my name, rocking your world." Sam comments, before kissing one of your breasts. "I love your body, so small compared to mine, so much that I'm afraid I'll break you every time I touch you, but at the same time so sinful that I can't stop myself from doing the worst sins they ever came up with even in hell."

You fail to respond too caught up in everything the boy is making you feel. You feel like it's the first time in years you've breathed again, the first time you've really tasted oxygen.

"Sam, please, I'm going to-" You are interrupted by a kiss from him.

"Me too baby." He replies after pulling away from your lips. "Your pussy is squeezing my cock so hard, I think I'm about to go crazy." He comments, and it seems that his words are the keys to reach again that already before, only with his fingers had you tasted, but that was but a paltry appetizer, this was of the magnitude of a wedding feast. Your whole body quivers with force, as your center, in pleasure, tightens even tighter around his size, making you feel the size of his member even more.

Just as Sam's words were for you, for him it seems that your orgasm triggers his, in fact when you finally seem to have regained some mental clarity, after spending several minutes with your mind clouded, drowsy with pleasure, you feel your womb being filled with his seed, and you have another orgasm, smaller than before, but still quite important.

It is some time before both of you have caught your breath, in each other's arms. You remain in silence enjoying the warmth of the naked body of the person you love by your side. Then without saying a word Sam moves to your side and encircles you with his arms, having spread a blanket over your uncovered bodies. You fall asleep within minutes, with a smile on your lips, both of you happy to be close to the one you love, and especially happy to know that the one you love loves you back.

BONUS (I can't help it, I love bonuses too much :) )

Dean sits at the kitchen table as Cas hands him a steaming cup of coffee. He thanks him with a whisper before sipping his drink in silence. The only noise in the room is that of the liquid slipping over his lips as the two lovers stare into the void, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually it is the angel who breaks the silence.

"We need to soundproof the rooms better." He comments, and Dean can make no more than a sound of approval. They had not slept a wink because of your shouting, and as happy as they were to know that now the tension between the two of you had been cleared up, they also did not want to hear how their nephew was created, since his brother and you had not made much effort to be quiet. And this was not the first time. Since you had come out to each other now almost a month ago, every night you had done nothing but shout each other's names in pleasure, so much so that often both Dean and Cas had decided to go for a drive, but they couldn't take it anymore.

"You're damn right." Dean says before taking another sip of coffee. "You know I almost preferred it when they hadn't come out, now I'm afraid to turn the corner and watch them procreate on the library table." Dean comments amused, finishing his drink as he sees his boyfriend shoot him a look and a smile.

"As if we never did." Cas says, laughing.

"But they don't know that." Dean replies, giving him a wink, then getting up and leaving a gentle kiss on his forehead and heading out of the room, obviously checking to make sure you are not in it.

TAGLIST

@laurennnomg @deanwinchestersgirl87 @samanddeansannoyingsis @ash04w3 @l3viathanpup @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @wafflezo @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @shodowbane09 @acidicpickle @supernatural-lvr

[lucyandthepen]

love on the floor - i. | njm

exactly when does vice president na turn from the company’s worst nightmare into your favorite daydream?

pairing: chaebol!na jaemin x secretary fem!reader rating: vaguely M, but will very quickly escalate into a hard R in coming chapters genre: romance, fluff, (eventual) smut (in later chapters), chaebol!au warnings: jaemin isn’t really a total asshole but he isn’t great at the beginning either and i think that should be a warning, there’s probably some language use that deserves a bit of caution i GUESS, but tbh nothing much here because we want to pretend that this is a fic of chaste circumstances and not a lead-up to raunchy, depraved smut  word count: 16.4k

author’s note: first of all, the development of this fic is absolute SHIT because i love context too much and refuse to shut up at the beginning only to get antsy for the ending so if the pace is a little stop and go … it’s because i’m a Fewl !! and i totally own up to that !! and second of all, this is actually just a set-up for about two more shorter (?? what’s shorter) works that i’ve already been wanting to write but felt like i would be remiss in doing so without some kind of build-up to the relationship so :^) here we are ! heavily unbeta'd and miss lucy is a bit rusty but we carry on for the sake of enjoying oneself (and practicing writing once again) muah enjoy!

At least this job gets you free medical. 

Actually, all things considered, this is an excellent job with limitless benefits. You never have to worry about the three-level insurance, you have monthly paid-for visits to the dentist, and you sometimes get to use the company car for personal errands for as long as you meticulously check everyone else’s schedules and butter up the head secretary, Son Seungwan, just enough so that she feels mollified enough to let you have this favor (but not too much to the point that she catches on and gives you a ten minute lecture on the rising prices of gas post-the-turn-of-the-decade). Your rent’s well paid-for, and the apartment you’re staying at is comfortable, albeit a little smaller than most, although that’s just because you prefer spending your money on once-in-a-lifetime type things, like front row seats to a Paul Kim concert. You get 50% discounts at the company cafeteria, which boasts a pretty nice salad bar with more than just perilla leaves as the greens. The bathrooms even have luxury soap installed into the automatic hand dispensers, so you always come out clean and fancy smelling. 

All in all, the job’s pretty perfect, to the point that you don’t think leaving will ever truly be in the cards — except for the fact that you barely see your boss, which, as nice as it sounds on paper, is actually the most stressful part of the position. 

You’ve always been of the opinion that if Vice President Na Jaemin put his mind to something, he’d actually do it very well, but the running issue is that he hardly ever puts his mind to anything, especially when it comes to work. In fact, the only thing he ever seems to take seriously is having eleven hours of uninterrupted sleep, which you personally think is an extremely hard thing to achieve, leading you to the firm belief that if he channeled that energy into something less dead-to-the-world and a little more productive, things would be amazing. 

And maybe things would also be a little less distressing if his family would just accept him for who he is instead of expecting too much (or, actually, anything) from him, but Vice President Na is the only son of the family that owns the largest telecom company in the country, so his parents have a ton of huge expectations for him. His father, in particular, is clearly trying to prepare him to take over the entire business, something that the Vice President clearly isn’t keen on doing, based on the many arguments you’ve had to sit through alongside Head Secretary Son. The result is a lot of tension that’s only exacerbated by the Vice President’s desire to avoid more conflict, which he does by suddenly disappearing from the office for hours — sometimes days — at a time. 

So for as much medical, dental, and reasonably priced caesar salad as you’re getting from this job, you’re not entirely sure how worth it those things all are if they come with the task of you having to sit through twenty minutes of lecturing in place of Vice President Na Jaemin himself. 

“This is the last time,” President Na roars — not necessarily at you, but at you, in your general direction, while you stand helplessly in front of his desk, your hands folded across your lap and your head hung low. You don’t really feel terrified or hurt — more than knowing that the President isn’t shouting at you for your incompetence, you’ve also gotten used to being on the receiving end of these weird, indirect lectures and have thus come to know the exact standard of ‘sorry’ that you have to look for it to be over as quickly as possible. Still, you’re kind of annoyed that this particular spiel is taking up precious minutes from your afternoon break. Then again, you don’t know what you’d expected to begin with when you’d come back from the cafeteria after lunch and found the Vice President’s chair abandoned, leather cold, indicating that he’d been gone for quite a while. It’s about four o’clock now, and he still hasn’t come back, and all your messages to him have gone unread, as you’ve also grown used to. “You tell my no-good son if he isn’t back within the hour, he can live the rest of his life without my last name.”

You’re not sure if the implications of that will really sink into the Vice President’s heart enough to trigger the guilt it’s clearly trying to elicit, but you know better than to voice your opinion. You nod once, then bow at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Four years of this, and he hasn’t learned a single thing,” the President continues, completely ignoring your useless and vaguely insincere apology. “Where’d he run off to this time?” 

You don’t know. You never really know. Since he actively tries to avoid all work-related things, he also actively tries to avoid you, something he does by never picking up the phone or telling you the details of his daily schedule anyway. You can only share what you do know, which is very little and, therefore, extremely useless, but you try to say it in a way that appears relatively helpful. “His schedule says he was supposed to have lunch with the foreign investors that are trying to connect Prime Video to the Korean market, but it seems he didn’t show up for that.”

Which essentially translates to: you have no clue. Again, all parties in the room — inclusive of Head Secretary Son, who constantly has to bear witness to the many threats Vice President Na receives via you — know this isn’t your fault, but it doesn’t make the vein that’s about to pop out of the President’s temple any less pronounced, nor does it stop you from bowing and apologizing again when he says “get him back in here before five o’clock or tell him he’ll never be able to step foot in this building again!” even though you know that the threat would probably sound more like a gift than anything else to Vice President Na. 

“And you,” the President points a vaguely accusatory finger at you. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. “If he isn’t back here at that time, you can kiss your job goodbye too. You go ahead and tell him that. Let’s see if Jaemin will finally get off his ass if he knows someone else is going to have to suffer for his behavior.” 

The only person who sees your jaw fall open is Head Secretary Son, who’s now leading you away from the President’s desk and towards the door; the President has taken to staring at this huge family picture of himself, his wife, and the Vice President that’s hanging just behind his executive’s chair, all looking considerably happier than anyone in this situation feels. You hear him mutter something that sounds like “where did I go wrong with you, you punk?” before the door shuts close behind you.

“I’d say he doesn’t mean that, but we don’t actually know to what lengths he’ll go to get the Vice President on board.” Head Secretary Son admits, lifting two fingers to gently shut your mouth, still agape. “If I were you, I’d figure out how to keep him on a leash. The fact that he’s never around is probably ninety-percent of our current problems.”

“I can barely get him to respond to schedule reminders,” you groan; your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose like this will somehow stop the oncoming migraine. “Let alone get him to stay still. I was just about to put in a down payment for a car of my own, too.” 

You’ve never really been considerably attached to this job, mostly because there isn’t much to actually attach yourself to, but if you think about it now, it really is better than most, and this economy isn’t really kind to people who get fired from their jobs. You feel like puking at the thought of losing the free unlimited coffee in the pantry and trading it in for a life behind a convenience store counter, which is probably where you’ll end up, pessimistically speaking.

You excuse yourself from Head Secretary Son, who has the heart to look a little pitying as you trudge towards the elevator. You don’t even know where you’d start looking for the Vice President, especially since he spends quite a lot of his efforts trying to avoid having to communicate with you. You don’t even know what his habits are, which means you can’t make educated guesses on where he might have run off to, so the only route to go is to look in the immediately surrounding area and widening your search diameter as time passes.

Until five o’clock, of course — a deadline that, if unmet, will likely mean you also won’t be returning to the office either. 

You start off at the nearby bookstore, extremely skeptical that the Vice President would ever willingly go to a place that requires more effort even after you make a purchase. As expected, he isn’t there, but he isn’t in the nextdoor candle shop (also unlikely) either, nor do you find him in the hand-cut noodles shop next to that as well. You walk down the entire street for a good twenty minutes, pressing your face against the windows of stores shamelessly, to the ire of many startled and disgruntled staff, trying to look for a familiar head shape in the small crowds in them, but to no avail. Then, you think about calling him again, but when you pat the pockets of your jacket, you realize your phone is still on your desk, where you’d left it when you’d been summoned to see the President. With a loud groan and an annoyed clip clop of your heels as you stamp your feet on the pavement, you walk back to the office. 

In your frenzy to find the Vice President, you’d gone quite a distance, and your shoes simply aren’t made for long, aggravated walks; they start hurting your feet halfway back, and you’re pretty sure you have a blister behind the strap of the left one. Pride would tell you to tough it out, but you’d thrown that out at the thought of losing your job at the expense of a single man, so you don’t even hesitate to take them off and run back to the building. The big digital clock above the elevators says you have ten minutes left to find your boss, and you start thinking about using that time for better things — like packing your stuff up neatly in a box for when you get sacked. 

With the situation seemingly hopeless, you trudge to the first floor cafe, where the return counter has a pitcher of water and a stack of tiny paper cups. They’re tiny tiny, like the size of your thumb, so you have to keep refilling it just to start feeling a little more human. 

You’re on your third refill when you hear a giggle come from across the space. The barista’s just finished laughing at what must have been an extremely hilarious joke, or she might be flirting with whoever’s leaning over the counter to talk to her. A whoever that seems to be the exact same height and build as the elusive Vice President of this company. 

You accidentally toss the paper cup in the plastics bin in your desperation to get moving, worried that if you’re not fast enough, he’ll disappear into thin air again. Luckily, his attention’s completely focused on the barista, so he can’t go anywhere when you finally reach his side and huff, loud enough to interrupt what seems like an intimate-ish conversation between them. 

“Sorry, I was just — oh, it’s you.” The Vice President’s smile fades when he sees it’s you, someone he can’t charm out of what they’re supposed to be doing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the Vice President smile at you in any capacity, anyway, except for maybe one or two slightly sarcastic smiles that are probably more fit to be classified as grimaces. “What do you want?” 

“I’ve been looking all over for you, sir,” you say, stiffly and a little quietly because you still don’t want to embarrass him in front of the slightly confused barista. “You haven’t answered my texts.”

You don’t have any way to check, but you’re pretty sure this is a safe enough assumption, which is corroborated by the Vice President bringing his phone out and checking the screen lazily before turning it back off. 

“Sorry. I don’t answer unknown numbers.”

You guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to save your number when he hates hearing about work, which is all you really try to communicate with him about, but it still stings considering it’s been two years and you’ve been using the same number since high school. It’s fine, you think. You really can’t expect much from him. 

“Well, your father’s been looking for you, too. He wants to meet you.”

“I’ll take a rain check, but thank you.”

“Sir,” your voice quivers with poorly quelled exasperation. “This isn’t an optional thing. This is very serious.” 

“I can see that, Briar Rose,” his eyes are trained towards your shoes, still dangling from your grasp, with a level of unabashed amusement. “Did he summon me from deep within the woods, or is this a new casual Friday look I should get in on?”

When his words are met with a stony silence, he sighs, pushing himself off the counter. His half-finished Americano is collecting a small pool of condensation under it, and you offer him the little handful of tissues you had gotten from the return counter and had originally been planning to use to wipe your tears in case you cried after getting fired so that he doesn’t waste time looking for something to hold his cup. He takes them without even a word of thanks, opting to instead say ‘lead the way, miss.’ You don’t miss the fact that he meets the barista’s eye with a considerably more genuine grin, raising a hand in goodbye to her before he strides ahead — before you even get a chance to lead the way at all — towards the elevators with you, hobbling on one foot to slip your shoe back on, not far behind. 

The President’s office must be sort of soundproof for instances like this. For the first time, you’ve been asked to wait outside with Head Secretary Son as the Vice President gets chewed. It doesn’t matter; you don’t really want to be in the middle of yet another round of shouting that has nothing to do with you in the same afternoon, plus you also know how the conversation usually goes: the President making very agitated threats and talking about his heart condition (even though the medical reports from their private doctor say he’s in perfect health) that the Vice President, who just spends the time looking boredly at his nails, will inevitably trigger. When you press your ear to the door for a minute, you actually hear something like ‘... strike you out of the will so that when you kill me, you won’t get a single won!’, and you can imagine Vice President Na’s exasperated sigh punctuating the statement. 

Ten minutes later, the room has gone quiet, and you step aside just in time for the Vice President to open the door and step out. You don’t even understand how he can look so unaffected after being ripped apart, but you suppose he’s also heard the lecture as many times as you have and is pretty much immune to all the insults. He doesn’t really have to make a show out of not caring, though, with his hands in his pockets and his lips pursed to allow him to whistle idly as he strolls down the hall to his barely used office. He’s been in it so few times that after long, inexplicable vacations, he sometimes forgets how to get there. You’ve always had to walk behind him just in case he gets lost or, worse, tries to make a run for it. You’ve never had to tackle him to the ground reciting the Miranda warnings, or anything, but he has faked left a few times just to give you a mild heart attack for the fun of it all. 

This time, he just walks, not bothering to joke you into trying to create a human wall he could just as easily push away. When he gets to his office, he lazily plops down onto his couch, extracting the Rubik’s cube he’d been working on for a few weeks now from underneath himself and spinning the top layer idly. He’s only ever finished the blue side. 

You just stand there, kind of perplexed and unsure of how to start the conversation. He’s still whistling, and you’re not sure if talking over him will count as interrupting him, which isn’t something you’re supposed to do. Thankfully, he stops after about two minutes of fiddling with the yellow side of the cube, looking up at you with a slightly surprised expression that somehow makes you want to cry. 

“Can I help you with something, Secretary ___________?” 

“Well, I…” You stutter for a bit, unsure of how to politely point out that he should be asking you for help with his job instead of the whole other way around. “Because… I just thought…”

“You can always leave a message with my secretary if you need time to figure it out.” He grins. “Oh, wait a minute.”

“Sir, don’t you think you should… I don’t know. Figure out your schedule, or something? Prepare for… anything?” 

“What’s that smell?” He lifts his nose to the air, suddenly curious, and because he looks so serious, you also start sniffing, but you can’t really smell anything out of the ordinary. “Smells… fresh. Very clean. A little like green tea.”

“Oh.” You awkwardly shift your weight from leg to leg. “I think that’s my perfume, but I don’t see w—”

“You smell very expensive, Secretary _____________.” He sounds genuinely surprised that you do, like he’s somehow saying he hadn’t expected you to have good taste. You have no idea where this conversation is coming from, so you chalk it up to him wanting to derail you from talking about work. “I like it. Very classy. Not too strong.”

“Sir, I don’t think now’s the time to be talking about perfume scents.”

“You’re actually quite pretty.” He sounds genuinely surprised again, but this time, it stings a little more. “I never noticed that before. How come?” 

You want to say that it’s because he spends most of his time and energy playing long-term hide-and-seek with you, but there’s also no polite way of putting that into words; even if there were, with the way you’re now bristling under his gaze, you’re not really sure you’d go the courteous route, anyway. You just decide to ignore the comment and question entirely, which you almost get to do.

“Wouldn’t you like to take a look at some of our upcoming projects? For instance, we’re just about to start negotiating the terms of this new partnership with Huawei —”

“You’re pretty, but you’re also pretty tense.” He cuts you off again, now looking a little dejected at this newfound information. You can’t understand why this disappointment in you actually hurts your feelings a little. “I think the cafe downstairs serves some tea, if that kind of stuff helps you.”

“Sir,” the one syllable is laced with weariness, and you knot  your fingers together in front of your lap. It probably looks polite, but it’s mostly so that you can feel like you have some semblance of control over anything, even if it’s just your own body fighting off the urge to grab him by the collar. “Please. If you could just take a look at your schedule — even just for tomorrow —”

“What’s the point?” His shrug is nonchalant, and he’s turning the cube over in his palm now, more interested in looking at it than witnessing your tired expression. “It’s almost six o’clock. I’ll deal with tomorrow tomorrow, you know what I mean? If my dad finally loses his marbles, I’ll deal with it all then. In fact, I might actually be okay with losing this department if it finally actually gets him off my back. I’ll also deal with that when it happens, probably.” 

Another long, uncomfortable silence blooms as his words sink in; not for the first time today, President Na has threatened the existence of your job, now alongside a good twenty other people’s, all for the sake of snapping some sense into the Vice President. However, like everything else, it seems to just be backfiring; Vice President Na doesn’t seem to care about anyone else in this department, most likely because he’s barely interacted with anyone else. You’re surprised he even remembers your last name, considering he once called the department accountant ‘Heejin’ even though her nametag clearly spelled out ‘Jinhee.’ 

It makes sense that the threat of abolishment means absolutely nothing to him, but it doesn’t make the knowledge of that any less distressing. He watches you curiously as you tug back at your ponytail, like it’ll once again stop the crawling migraine. 

“Sure a cup of chamomile tea isn’t in the cards today? I think I have the company card in here somewhere, although I can’t be sure that it hasn’t been cut off, based on my dad’s last threat—” 

“I’m fine; thank you.” You mumble, checking the clock. He’s wasted what’s left of the hour anyway, and the lack of change in his position just means he’s not going to change his mind for the rest of the time. “At least let me give you tomorrow’s agenda.” 

“Boring, but okay. Give it to me, then.” He yawns to make a point, and you offer him the tablet you tote around with you everywhere you go, just in case Vice President Na finally decides he wants to do his job. To clarify: that’s two whole years of you carrying that heavy thing around, with the Vice President only having touched it a handful of times. You’re mildly shocked that he actually opens it to check, because he barely does even that, but that all goes away when he yawns again, his expression glassy as he scrolls down aimlessly. “This is a lot. Can’t you just clear my schedules tomorrow? Actually, if I can make demands for real, I’d like to clear out my schedule for the rest of the year.” 

He stretches when he stands, ignoring your slightly agog expression as he pats you on the back, smacking his lips sleepily. “Good day’s work, Secretary _____________. Want to grab a beer? Have ourselves a little intra-department party? I’m pretty sure ‘intra’ stands for ‘us two,’ or am I wrong?”

You sincerely hope he doesn’t mean a goodbye party, but with his attitude right now, that might very well be. You shake your head, and he shrugs, like he wasn’t really expecting you to agree in the first place. “No thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He’s already halfway out the door, waving dismissively with his back turned to you. When you peek out of the space he leaves by opening the door, you can see about half the entire department’s watching, not even bothering to pretend to scurry back to their seats as he saunters out of the office. He calls out to you, his voice ringing clear even though he’s already out of sight. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

You come up with a master plan, but not before you scope potential jobs. 

You actually stayed an hour overtime at your desk looking for positions, but all of them pay lower than average or are about an hour’s commute away from where you live, so none of them seem worth it. The search ends when some people from the department come over to say goodbye and see your computer open to SaramIn, at which point they connect the dots and start to panic about their insurance. You shut your monitor off and spend another useless twenty minutes calming Jinhee, who’d started having a mild panic attack. 

In that time, your resentment builds. Why can’t Vice President Na simply get his act together? You suppose that there’s some indescribable burden to being in his position, but between him, a rich heir who owns two sports cars and lives in a paid-for house, and you, a public-transport-using, pays-by-the-month nine-to-five worker, you can’t really understand why he would be having it worse than everyone else who works under him.  If he worked even just half as hard as everyone else did here, he might scrape by. 

You can’t know if President Na’s anger was only short-lived or if he actually meant to downsize the company by getting rid of your department entirely, but you also know that if he’s serious, then there’s nothing much you can do about it, short of terrorizing the Vice President into stepping into bigger shoes.

So, that becomes your master plan.

It isn’t very refined, mostly because you think about it on the bus home, but the heart and spirit are there, and those are probably the most important things anyway. It’s that heart and spirit that motivate you to get up an hour earlier than you usually do, dressing quickly for the day before taking the company car from your place to downtown Apgujeong. You usually don’t take it on days that Vice President Na doesn’t come into work, which is practically every other day, but this time, you’re determined to see him into the office. The ride with Hyunsung, his official company driver, is quiet, save for the question he asks when you roll up to the Vice President’s driveway. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

“No,” you admit. He’d probably seen you chewing down on your thumb, some of your confidence taking a hit when you belatedly realize you could be shot with a huge privacy lawsuit if this doesn’t go the way you plan. But you do know a lot of secretaries that do the morning calls for their superiors, so this should be fine. Not that you’ve ever heard from those secretaries ever again. 

Vice President Na’s laziness seems to extend to all aspects of his life, including the fact that he doesn’t ever change his door’s passcode; it’s still the same numbers as it had been when he first bought the house a year ago and had you install his lock while he was missing in action from work, yakking it up with some farmers up in the Netherlands. He likes to do that — ‘see the world,’ or whatever, even though his wanderlust makes everyone else’s lives very difficult. At least it makes your life easy now, and you step through the door and walk quietly across his unnecessarily large living room. 

You’ve never been in here exactly, and you only realize very belatedly that this house’s design would be very frustrating for a break-and-enter criminal because nothing seems to be where it’s supposed to be. You learn the owner’s suite is actually on the basement floor, so all the climbing of those slippery stairs was for nothing. 

Vice President Na’s bedroom is bigger than your whole apartment, which also means he has a sizable bed and, thus, is completely out of sight under his gigantic covers. The only indication that he’s even still in there is that they’re rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. You stand by the edge of the bed, on the side he’s closest to falling off of, clearing your throat at the tuft of hair peeking out from under the comforter. 

“Vice President Na? It’s time to go to work.” 

Your voice has been tempered down by years of this professional work, and this is easily the loudest and most demanding you’ve ever heard it. You’re not even sure you can do it again, but the muffled groan from under the covers is all the motivation you need to try. 

“Sir, you have a ten o’clock meeting with Samsung’s representatives for Apple. President Na also asked that we contact Amazon right away to reschedule the Prime Video deal.” 

“How,” his voice comes out first before he does, squinting up at you, completely disoriented. “The hell did you get in here?” 

“Sir, I’m your secretary.” You sigh, skimming over the fact that you’d walked into his big kitchen twice through two different entryways before coming into his bedroom. “I’m supposed to be able to get in here.”

“Except this is a first.” You think he’s about to get up, but he just shifts his weight, rolling over so he can cocoon himself tighter into his blankets. “Goodnight. There are eggs in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“I’ve already eaten, like a normal, functioning human being with a very important job that starts precisely at nine o’clock would.” 

“This seems like a very targeted comment, Secretary ____________. I’m not sure I appreciate it.” 

“Since we’re already having this conversation, I’m guessing you’re conscious enough to get dressed.”

To your relief, he actually does throw the covers off of him, leaning up on his elbows. You try not to balk at the fact that he’s shirtless, although you’re also not sure why this should surprise or bother you to begin with. He doesn’t even seem to mind; he just yawns, wide and unashamed, as he looks over at the clock. 

“It’s seven-thirty. This is insanity.”

“No, this is a wake-up call.” You offer him a neatly folded towel that he eyes suspiciously. “We need to get you in the office on time.”

“There’s really no point,” he sighs, scratching his head idly. “It’ll just be another boring day of talking to people I don’t care about. Someone who cares about it should talk to them. You care about it, don’t you?” 

“I won’t talk to them for you, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t get paid enough to be doing that.” 

He once again stares at the towel like he’s trying to will it to evaporate, but in the end, he only sighs louder and takes it from you, kicking his blankets off completely. You look up at the ceiling, not in prayer but to avoid the more embarrassing fact that he’s only in his boxers after all. Well — it’s embarrassing for you. He doesn’t even seem to care. 

“Something’s different.”

“Usually I don’t wake you up,” you offer the painfully obvious. “Or come here. Or talk to you.”

“Yeah, all that stuff,” he says dismissively, halfway through a yawn. “Did you have a life-changing experience recently?”

“Something like that.”

“Couldn’t it have been one where you decided to leave me alone for good instead?” He grumbles, more to himself instead of to you. It doesn’t matter, anyway; you already see he’s up and fishing socks out of his drawer, so you’re marching out of his room to avoid having to hear more of his complaints (and, quite frankly, to avoid looking at his broad back). 

However, the day thereafter doesn’t go as planned. You thought that waking Vice President Na up for an early day of work might shock him into doing something with the knowledge that it was urgent, but you’re not sure why you didn’t anticipate a scenario in which he’d fall asleep in the car on the way to work and you’d have to shake him into waking in the stuffy parking lot. He spends the rest of the morning out of sorts, ignoring you point blank when you try to brief him on the meeting. The meeting in and of itself doesn’t go any better, with him excusing himself fifteen minutes in by saying the pitch doesn’t seem all too exciting and innovative. You didn’t even know he knew the word innovative and, by the shocked faces of the Samsung people, they were of the same mind. 

By lunch time, you’re more exhausted than you’ve ever been, and a part of you is wondering why you wanted Vice President Na in the office in the first place when you’re already used to the much simpler routine of get up, work, eat lunch, get yelled at, work again. Sometimes, on slow days when Vice President Na is completely out of town for the week and President Na is out of things to yell at you about, you even get to just sit back at your desk and play old crossword puzzles. 

Now, you’re basically handholding him, but the weight that keeps him down is so heavy that you’re being dragged down, too. 

“You mean people do this every single day?” He shuts the folder with a contract that requires his signature that you’d given him just now, not even bothering to peruse the first page, much to your rapidly increasing ire. “This is ridiculous. Working makes no sense.”

“All employees come to work to do that, sir. It’s literally what makes up half their lives.”

“Except it shouldn’t,” he sighs, like this is a true global issue and not a problem of his own making. “Everyone needs to be able to do what they want and live life to the fullest.” 

“Not everyone can,” you point out flatly. “Some people don’t have the luxury of time even for that.”

“Then, they should. The more I’m in this situation, the more it feels like it might be better for everyone to have a little work break for — I don’t know. The next year or so.”

Vice President Na has his arm outstretched, handing the folder back to you. You don’t know if it’s what he says that causes your blood pressure to rise, or if its the completely unconcerned look on his face, or if it’s the fact that he’s holding the folder so lazily that the papers are starting to slip out on your end, requiring you to use two hands to keep them all from falling apart and creating a mess you’ll end up having to clean up anyway. Whatever it is, you snatch the folder from him with a little more aggression than necessary (or that you’d even care to admit). Even though it’s out of place, you can’t help but feel a small sense of triumph at the slight surprise in his eyes. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

“No, sir.” You pause, mostly because you can tell he doesn’t believe you — Vice President Na is nonchalant, not stupid — and you want to give yourself a little bit of time to grapple with your pride before you admit the truth. “Yes, sir. It isn’t fair to your entire department for you to talk that way.”

“I’m saying the entire department doesn’t have to work this hard. It’s senseless. How are you supposed to live a good life if all you’re doing is sitting behind a desk?”

“Like I said, not everyone has the luxury of living your life. If they want even a little bit of that comfort you enjoy, they have to work very hard for it first.” 

“Then they should at least do something they enjoy. If this department goes down the drain —”

“If this department is abolished,” this is your first time interrupting a superior, and it already makes you want to throw up. “Then people will have a very difficult time finding a job in this market. More than that, a lot of people enjoy working for this company — quite genuinely, in fact. I don’t think it’s right to think that they’ll be happy while they’re jobless and floundering in this economy.”

“So you’re happy like this? You really want this job — this whole working under me situation?” 

“Well…” you trail off, your voice taking on a slightly thoughtful tone. It’s been a relatively long time since you’d entered this job, but you do faintly remember the feeling of excitement at getting this position — the desire to want to learn from the best in this industry, the anticipation of being able to meet and network with interesting and important people. Your first few weeks of work had involved wanting to spend as much time in Vice President Na’s shadow, in case you could pick up some important business tidbits from an entrepreneurial master… until, of course, you realized there wasn’t much you could stand in the shadow of to begin with. “These days, it isn’t ideal. But this job is a really good thing for most of the people who work here.”

“Then it sounds like you have more to gain from me working hard than I do.” 

You can’t contain your disapproving frown, and your voice comes out a little sharper than you intend. “Doesn’t it bother you at all, sir? Knowing almost twenty people could lose their jobs in the blink of an eye? Think about all the people who look up to you and rely on you — they’ll have to suffer because of this. They might never find a job that matches their needs, and a lot of them have families to take care of, too. If you can do something to make sure they have these good lives you keep talking about, why not do it? I know you’re capable of that. You’re capable of doing much more than what you’ve been doing thus far.” 

Vice President Na is quiet for a moment before leans over on his desk, lacing his fingers into a loose combined fist and putting his weight on his forearms. One of his forefingers detangles itself from the pile of digits and curls inwards, beckoning you closer. Your grimace is probably obvious, and you lean in a little warily. He lifts himself off his chair slightly so he can whisper in a low voice, as if you two aren’t the only people in this wide office. 

“If you care about it so much, then ask a little more nicely.” 

Your light breakfast almost makes a reappearance, and you draw back in mild shock. He also leans back, significantly more relaxed than you, looking unperturbed as he settles back against his chair. You two engage in a very uneven staring match, until he gestures for you to proceed, looking expectant. 

“You want me to beg for my job?”

“Not what I meant, but I could accept that,” he hums. “I just think you could throw in a please while you’re guilting your boss, at least.”

Gawking probably doesn’t suit you, but you do it anyway, wondering how you managed to find yourself in this position. This morning, you had been strictly guiding him through what to do, and now you’re paralyzed in front of the Vice President, feeling very foolish for saying so much out of turn. You couldn’t even get through a whole work day before seeing your grand master plan slip down the drain.

But there is, at least, some small comfort in what he said — the part about guilting, which, if you squint hard enough, seems to be implying that this conversation has left him with a small amount of guilt. You don’t think it’s that much, but it’s a miracle he feels it at all, so you take the horribly subtle win and inhale deeply.

“Please, sir.” The words are very thick and reluctant, unsticking from your throat. “This department really needs you.” 

He stares, very unnervingly, without saying anything, but there’s something in his gaze that makes you vaguely certain he’s actually thinking about it. In fact, he actually looks a bit serious, which isn’t anything you’d ever think you’d be able to characterize him by. That impression easily falls apart when he claps his hands, once but very loudly, startling you into jumping a little. 

“Ah, how could I turn down such a nice request?” Vice President Na is grinning from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen him do in the context of the office, much less a few feet away from you. His smile is actually kind of nice, if you don’t think about the fact that it seems to be smug at your expense. “Since you asked, I guess I’ll have to try my best, or whatever it is people do in this damn company. I guess that means you owe me now, Secretary ____________. You’re very welcome.” 

The silence that once again blooms as you stand, motionless, in front of Vice President Na is suddenly interrupted by the sound of chairs scraping back all at once. The floor vibrates a little as the entire department troops out to the elevator area so they can go to lunch. You only watch stupidly as he also stands, shrugging off his jacket and flinging it over the back of his chair. “See you, then.”

“Where are you going, sir?” 

He looks a little surprised that you even ask. “To lunch. Do I have to ask for your permission for that, too?” 

“Are you… coming back?”

“You want to come along with me and make sure I don’t run away?” He smiles even wider, which you didn’t even think was possible. It makes you awkwardly uncomfortable to know he’s taking a lot of pleasure in joking around with you, mostly because you were kind of hoping you’d get him to take things seriously in a serious manner, not in a … whatever this is that’s making you feel like you’ve lost a game manner. 

“A little bit.”

“Ask a little more nicely, then.” 

“Never mind,” you mumble. “Have a good lunch, sir.” 

He snaps his fingers a little comically before turning to the door, flinging it open so he can join the now thinning throng of people leaving the floor. “Thought I almost had you there. Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. Or not.” 

In the end, to your utmost relief, Vice President Na does, in fact, stay inside the entire time he has lunch. You’re not sure if this is the product of you sitting two tables away, trying to will an imaginary chain to his wrist so he doesn’t bolt off or because he’s still feeling a little affected by everything you said earlier on, but whatever it is, it works. He just eats his club sandwich in peace, picking off the crust easily and double dipping the fries that come with it in his ketchup. At some point, he looks up and notices you burning holes into his torso, so you quickly have to avert your eyes in shame. You think he laughs at this, but you can only see out of your peripheral vision at this point, so you can’t be sure. 

You’re supposed to have one hour for lunch, but he eats quickly and gets up before the whole hour is over, so you end up throwing your half-eaten wrap and following him. Again, you’re not sure what’s funny, but he’s chuckling to himself as he holds the elevator door open, waiting for you to run in next to him. 

“Relax, miss secretary. I already said I was going to do my best.”

“No offense, sir, but I don’t know what that looks like, so I have to be careful.”

“Fair enough.” He hums, letting the door close on its own. “But you should still take it easy. You’re pretty t—”

“Tense. You said so yesterday, sir.”

“That’s two times you’ve cut me off in a single day.” He doesn’t sound very annoyed about it; in fact, he’s still got that amused, inside joke tone to everything he’s had all morning. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gunning for an insubordination report.”

You don’t think that’s fair for him to say, especially since you haven’t really had much of an authority figure to be subordinate to for most of your career in this company, but you keep your mouth shut since saying so is exactly what would be on the first line of an insubordination report. 

When you arrive back at his office, you take the time to discuss what you should be doing from now on. It’s an extremely messy exchange, with you two grappling between terms you can’t agree on. For instance, Vice President Na thinks that it seems only fair that he should really only be coming in after one o’clock, but you’re insistent on making sure he gets to work on time, since most important meetings happen within that time period (a fact he already seems to know but chooses to ignore anyway). You end up agreeing on bringing him in for the standard nine-to-six for as long as he never has to work overtime. You also find it necessary to iron out the fact that if he has lunch outside, he has to actually come back, a statement he once again finds very amusing for some reason, as if you’re the weird one in this conversation. 

And to his credit, he tries to stick to his word. It isn’t exactly a walk in the park, especially not during the first couple of weeks, but you suppose that habits are very difficult to break when they’ve been so easy to acquire and nurture over many years. More than once, you’ve arrived late to meetings to the disapproving gazes of Head Secretary Son and President Na. However, the latter finds he has less to say these days because Vice President Na’s presence in said meetings had, before this time, been nothing but a pipe dream for everyone. 

You also notice he starts taking the time to ask about things he doesn’t understand, as opposed to his initially brash or sometimes completely unresponsive approach, which has turned out better results when it comes to business lunches with investors and potential partners. Even the Samsung people, who are extremely wary of him during the callback meeting, come out of their next encounter with the Vice President looking vaguely more satisfied than they did the last time (the bar isn’t that high, considering they’d left shell-shocked previously, but you’ll still take the improvement).

Of course, with all the time you end up spending with, chasing after, and vaguely lecturing (only when the need truly arises) Vice President Na, you also learn some things about him that you hadn’t expected, like how he doesn’t really like milk in anything he drinks (but especially coffee) and that every third Sunday of the month, he meets his old high school friend Lee Jeno, the son of the guy that owns half the residential high rise condominiums on this side of the Han. Apparently, they play badminton together — he had told you that when he’d caught you wondering about the super out of place little kid’s karate trophy among other more adult, official ones in his living area. The trophy goes to whoever wins the match of the month, and according to the Vice President, he’s been ‘wiping the floor with that bastard’s handsome face for half a year straight.’ Although you can’t verify this by anything more than the slight blanket of dust on it, you think it takes nothing out of your pride to applaud him like this is an amazing thing. It also does you no harm to see him swell with misplaced pride about a kid’s karate trophy. 

You also notice that despite how healthily he eats at the office, he has a bad habit of craving deep fried food in the afternoon, which is why, over the last few weeks, you’ve been accompanying him to the corndog street stall two blocks away, a few days a week. He’s even had to borrow loose change from you a few times to because he always forgets that no street vendor likes to receive crisp, fresh-out-of-the-bank fifty-thousand won bills, but you just let him have it; his heart’s in the right place when he orders an extra one for you without even asking. You realize that he has a fairly good memory for as long as he’s concentrating, and that he likes to spend late nights watching the shittiest horror movies ever known to man (his words, much to your bemusement), and that when he listens attentively to you telling him about the day’s agenda, his left ear twitches a little when your voice hits it. 

Somewhere along the way, you realize that Vice President Na is a charming, outgoing, and fairly capable person, and in doing so, you also realize that he seems to be, for lack of a better word, your style. 

You can’t really believe it either, and you’re not even sure when it started. In between sitting with him in the company car and handing him forty-page agreements he has to look over carefully (very carefully, as you’ve taken to reminding him, so often that he starts saying it before you do now, which has only somehow endeared him further to you and not annoyed you the way you were sort of hoping it would), the small non-work related part of your consciousness had decided that it needed a more complicated situation now that things were going relatively well.

To be fair to yourself, liking him isn’t a huge distraction; most of the time, you’re both so engrossed in something you desperately have to finish that you don’t even have time to think about it. Instead, it kind of catches you off-guard, like when he’s double dipping his french fries into his ketchup, or when he smiles at you (politely to him, probably, but overwhelmingly charmingly to you) before he leaves the office, or when his brow’s furrowed in (a total shocker) concentration as he reads. 

Then again, everything about Vice President Na seems to be catching you off-guard these days. This much is proven by the fact that instead of the normal silence that you’ve grown accustomed to being greeted by when you enter his house, there’s a lot of noise coming from one area that can only mean either that someone had broken in to mug him or for some reason, he’s up before you need to wake him. 

It’s nothing you have to call 911 for, but it still paralyzes you to see him, surrounded by opened jars and a particularly dirty bread knife as he stands in front of his fancy toaster, drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently. 

“If you have a minute to spare, could you bring my laptop into the car?” He asks without turning around. His hand, still holding the bread knife, points towards the bar counter on the far end of the kitchen, where the laptop is still whirring away. 

“Of course, sir. Um,” you gingerly shut the monitor, putting the laptop to sleep and tucking it under your arm. “Were you… working this morning?”

“No, I was playing a riveting game of bridge against the computer AI.” He turns to you, grinning. “Of course I was working, miss secretary. What do you think I’d be up this early for?” 

You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind — Vice President Na hasn’t ever woken up early for anything to your knowledge, anyway — so you just nod and bolt, unwilling to bear witness to his smile this early in the day. When you come back, particularly less red in the face, you find him topping one of two sandwiches with the last slice of bread to complete it. He takes one, as you expect he would, and you stand there, trying to look polite as you essentially observe him eat.

This isn’t something very unusual; ever since the first time you’d done it, you’ve been watching him out of habit. So far, only the motivation’s changed from you wanting to make sure he doesn’t bolt to you simply enjoying the view of his profile when he eats. Of course, he probably doesn’t know this, but he’s also just gotten used to you watching him and probably finds it funny — as suggested by his perpetually amused expression — that you still think, after all this time, that he’s going to make a run for it. You don’t actually mind it; you get to watch him for free, and he has something to laugh about, so everyone kind of wins. 

He’s halfway through the sandwich when his expression turns quizzical. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Eat,” you echo hollowly. “Eat what, sir?”

“A delicious, handmade, gourmet peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich.” When you don’t move, he pushes the plate with the untouched sandwich forward towards you like he thinks you can’t understand anything he’s saying. “What? Are you allergic to something?”

“No, but…”

“But?”

There’s no but; you don’t have a good reason to decline other than the fact that accepting it feels weird, but refusing him when he’s looking at you this expectantly is just as awkward. You rub the back of your neck as you walk over, not missing the look of triumph that crosses his face as you pick up the sandwich and take a bite. It’s good, but you don’t really think that has anything to do with his culinary skills, based on what it is; still, he looks like he’s patting himself on the back for this feat. 

“Thank you, sir.”

“Secretary ____________, I hope you can count this as a momentous occasion for the both of us.” He chuckles. “You get free breakfast made especially for you by your direct superior in the comfort of his own home, and I finally get to learn what all the settings on my toaster are for. Between you and me, I think mine’s the better achievement.” 

You’re still in the middle of eating when you laugh, and you hastily raise a hand to cover it — only Vice President Na catches your wrist halfway through, so quickly you vaguely choke on the bread that’s only partially down your throat.

“I’ve never seen you laugh,” he looks as surprised as you feel, although probably for a different reason. “I don’t even think you’ve ever smiled at me, specifically.”

“Oh.” You need time to respond, mostly so you can swallow but also because you need to collect yourself from your shock. There seems to be a lot of that going around this morning. “Sorry. Should I do that more often?”

“I mean, if you ask like that, it’s kind of disingenuous,” he laughs. “But I like it. I like knowing you’re not just in a constant state of stress because of me. Feels even more momentous than the toaster thing.” 

He loosens his hold, and you manage to take your hand back, now refusing to meet his eye. “I’m not… stressed by you.”

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore,” you agree, and he looks particularly delighted when he sees the corners of your lips turn up again. “Not for a while. And not that my opinion matters, but you’ve been performing above expectations, sir.”

“You’re right,” he hums, taking the plate and putting it in the sink — a problem he seems to be saving for later. “It doesn't matter. But I like it, all the same.”

You’re willing to chalk the morning off as a wonderful anomaly, especially since the rest of it passes as it normally does, with a generally quiet car ride (you’ve also learned that Vice President Na likes to listen to rap music on days when he wants to avoid falling asleep in the backseat, which is equal parts amazing and amusing) and a fifteen minute briefing of what he has on his plate today. He disappears for the better part of the morning and even the whole lunch hour, but you expect this because he has a business lunch with the representatives for some Norwegian appliance company that’s looking to break into the Korean market. You can’t imagine many people want a state of the art rice cooker alongside their monthly internet bill, but it’s polite for him to go anyway, and the prospective partner seems very on edge about company secrets. It’s one of those meetings you aren’t allowed to come along to, which means that you’re missing out on a few hours of Vice President Na trying to iron details out with a couple of old guys. 

While you eat, you’re once again struck with the random notion that it feels weird not to be around the Vice President. You’ve been working together regularly and in a very close capacity, which basically means that you’re always in his shadow. It’s the life you were kind of hoping to have at the beginning and were deprived of for a good two years. Now that you have it, it feels weirdly natural — so natural that it’s unnatural to not have his voice ordering you around in that easy tone or his aftershave lingering in the air directly above you. 

You throw the tissue you used to wipe the oil from your egg toast off your mouth onto the table, crumpled and wilted. 

You miss him, which is ridiculous considering you don’t even know what there is to miss. Your relationship, while admittedly lightyears ahead of the starting point it had been at back then (again, not a great standard, considering you didn’t even have a relationship before this period of time), is nothing close to the point of being what it should be for one to miss the other. 

And yet, you look forward to seeing him, watching him do something from afar, helping him whenever he needs you. You like the fact that he still sometimes fakes left when you’re accompanying him back to his office, and you do this thing where you pretend to be annoyed even though it makes you happy to know he won’t go anywhere. You like the little sounds he makes when he eats his super unhealthy corndog as if he’s eating it for the first time every single time (see: very unnerving and slightly disturbing but altogether amusing mmmmmmmmmms). In fact, if you didn’t have a vivid memory of telling him off from way back then, you feel like you could easily convince yourself that things had always been like this — that you two had always been together, happily at work. 

You’re not surprised that he isn’t back from his meeting even when you get back to your desk after lunch, but you do feel a pang of dejectedness that lasts for a few more hours — time which you spend lazily looking over a contract he’d signed yesterday that needs a fair amount of amending and re-signing. It’s hard to pretend to care today, for some reason, especially since your mind keeps going back to peanut butter sandwiches and some ridiculous vision of Vice President Na standing in the middle of your tiny studio apartment’s kitchen area. 

Your reverie’s broken when an envelope falls onto your desk, covering the page of the contract you’d been glassily staring at for the last hour and a half. You’d drawn the same circle about twenty times already, and the paper’s all dented from your efforts. When you look up, Vice President Na is staring down at you, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Miss me?” He drums the envelope, the paper muffling the noise of it all. “Oh? I was joking, but it looks like you actually did. That’s twice in a single day, Secretary ____________. You’re setting a very high record.”

You try to tamp down the smile on your face upon seeing him, clearing your throat so that you have an excuse to press your lips together. You guess it doesn’t work because he just keeps smiling, anyway, or maybe he’s just in a really good mood. “Did your meeting go well, sir?” 

“Is Lotteria the national fastfood chain? Too bad I don’t work for anyone because it kind of feels like I deserve some kind of reward.”

“Could we say that this partnership is its own reward?” 

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he sighs. Once again, his forefinger taps the envelope, calling your attention a little more clearly to it. “I know we’re on a tight schedule for this, and I hate to ask this so late of you, but —”

“Of course, sir; I’ll have it in your hands first thing tomorrow.” 

You’re already gathering it up along with your other (vaguely unfinished) paperwork when his whole palm comes down, trapping the envelope and everything else you’d been intending to carry under it. Your hands go up like you’re being held at gunpoint, your eyes wide. 

“On second thought,” Vice President Na muses, a little too serene for someone who’d just scared the living daylights out of someone else. “How about I take care of the Samsung deal you’re looking over, and you can handle the Norwegian contract?”

“I haven’t… really made a lot of headway with it, if I’m being honest.” You’re hoping he doesn’t ask you why because you’re too embarrassed to come up with a lie on the spot and will inevitably have to confess your random attraction to him under these terrible circumstances if he does. Luckily, he just shrugs.

“All the more reason to split the work, then.”

The still mildly stern part of you is begging to point out that he’s giving you a whole new set of documents to look over anyway, so it’s not even like you’ll have less to do, but the larger, more endeared part of you tells it to shut up and mind its own business. “I thought the crux of our agreement was that you’d never have to work overtime.”

“Because I look like such a stickler for the rules, don’t I?” He snorts, waving you in with the same envelope, and you concede.

Working next to Vice President Na isn’t anything new to you; you’ve been doing it everyday for a while now, especially if he needs you to be quick on call. Ever since you’ve realized his presence makes your heart beat a little faster, you’ve promised yourself not to let that fact show at all when he’s around, something you’ve been quite careful about perfecting. 

Something’s different, though, when it’s after official hours. Maybe it’s because the floor is quieter than it is during the day, so there’s nothing you can listen to but the sound of pen scratching on paper and Vice President Na’s steady breathing. The only real interruption is when Hyunsung knocks on the door to ask if the Vice President is going home; the look on his face is panicked and confused, like a puppy that’s just been dropped off at the mouth of a dumpster site, when he’s told that Vice President Na will drive himself home, so he can just leave the keys. 

Maybe it’s also because it’s pretty dark outside, and while you’ve worked into the night a few times, it’s usually alone or with some other poor sap that has even more backlog than you do — it’s never been just you and the Vice President, who seems supremely unperturbed by the fact that he isn’t at home doing… whatever he does at home after work. You can only guess at it (or wish you knew). 

That makes one of you that’s keeping busy, although you know it should be two. The fact that you’re distracted by his presence all of a sudden is only exacerbated by the mutually exclusive headache that the paperwork you’re looking over gives you. You don’t know why you had expected it to be in Korean, but you and your intermediate level English struggle to keep up with all the little things you have to look through. Sometimes, you can’t tell if the clauses are actually confusing or if you’re just the poor product of your middle school education. It strikes you more than once that Vice President Na had gone through this, somehow, himself — talked to people in a completely different language, probably with ease. You can at least be proud of yourself for being right: for as long as the Vice President puts his mind to something, he’s able to do it — perhaps even well. 

What shocks you after an eternity of silence is the hand that extends towards you, forefinger lightly nudging your chin. You sit up straight like a bolt of lighting had gone through you, meeting Vice President Na’s thoroughly and inexplicably amused expression. Your jaw slackens in shock, but his finger just stays there, like it isn’t invading your personal space. Like it just belongs there.

“What are you doing?”

“What—” you splutter, bemused at the fact that you hadn’t asked the question first. “What are you doing?”

“You keep moving your mouth. What — are you praying or something?”

“No, I —-” You gesture at the contract page you’ve been trying to stumble through for the past twenty minutes. “No, I’m just… I’m reading?”

“You’re…” The start of a laugh escapes him, and you really don’t know what’s so funny. “You’re reading aloud?”

“I wasn’t making any noise, I think,” you grumble, sounding a little more defensive than you’d care to admit. 

“You read silently aloud, then.” His eyes twinkle at this information, although why it should elicit this reaction also completely escapes you. “Why? Because it helps you memorize it or something?”

“My English isn’t that great,” you admit begrudgingly, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Sometimes I need to mouth the words to understand it.”

And he does the most outrageous, inexplicable thing: he gently cups your chin, making sure you can’t turn your head to look away in embarrassment. Now you have to look at him, red in the face and close to exploding. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little too much, miss secretary?”

You can’t ask what; your voice isn’t working. You just open and close your mouth around the syllable, and after a couple of attempts, he starts copying you, evidently having a better time than you are based on the grin stretched across his face.

“What? What? That you’re doing something this cute in front of me is what I mean. You’re obviously going overboard, and I don’t think it’s very nice.”

He retracts his hand as quickly as he’d used it to close the distance between you, and your hand immediately comes up in its place, almost cupping your jaw like he did. It definitely doesn’t give you the same tingly feeling, so that’s an obvious bust.

You and Vice President Na have a sudden staring contest with amended rules: you blink a hundred times a minute at him while he laughs quietly, leaning back on his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It confuses you and kind of enrages you, but you also find your heart thumping away in your ears like it’s trying very hard to remind you that Na Jaemin makes you feel alive. 

“I— I just—”

“Coffee? I could use some coffee. You look like you could use some too.” He stands, buttoning his blazer with one hand like he has someplace important to go. You’re still so shell-shocked that you don’t even try to stand up to help him, a fact which he notices very clearly. “Oh no, I’ll do you this favor. You sit tight and read your contract. I’ll be back. Keep doing that cute thing with your mouth.” 

Vice President Na finds you exactly as he left you: still wondering if you should be offended at his teasing or enamored by his touch and, more importantly, what the hell his deal is. You have a million questions that need answering, but the only thing you blubber out when he comes back is “Why?” 

“Because you’re amazingly fun to tease,” he responds simply. “And because it’s true. I find it extremely cute. I find you very cute, Secretary _____________, in a kind of good girl, cool girl kind of way. It’s a little confusing to me too, but I think this slightly stern but overall gentle aesthetic of yours is actually growing on me a little.”

“Sir, I—”

“While we’re taking a break,” he interrupts you. You guess it’s probably the right time for a break considering there’s no way you can work in peace now. “Do you constantly have to call me that?” 

“What else would I call you?”

“My name,” he suggests, taking a sip of coffee. You ignore the shit, that’s hot that comes out of him as he puts the paper cup down gingerly on his desk, looking a little bit betrayed by his drink. “Jaemin. Many people call me that.”

“People who are close to you, you mean. Like your family or… your friends.”

“Are you saying you don’t think we’re close? Or that we aren’t friends?”

“Sir, I work for you.” 

“So by that alone, we simply can’t be friends? Et al?I think you really are being too much now, Secretary ____________.” He folds his arms across his chest, tutting disapprovingly as he leans back on the edge of his desk. You try not to think too hard about the fact that he does it very close to you, at an angle optimal for viewing the leanness of his form. “After all those times you broke into my house—”

“To get you ready for work.”

“— walked into my bedroom—”

“Only whenever necessary—”

“— gone through my things while I’m half naked in bed like you’re trying to organize a charity drive—”

“Because you need to get dressed, not because I have some perverted agenda —”

“—eaten the food off my kitchen counter, too—”

“You told me to!” You get to your feet, the contract slipping from your lap in your enthusiasm to defend yourself. “You offered it to me!”

Whatever happens next is completely out of your control, and you know this because the room spins without you moving by your own will. Vice President Na must have been an expert dancer in his past life, or something, because after that one dizzying moment, you find yourself leaning against the edge of the table he had been just a second ago. Warm hands are on your waist, tucked under your cardigan, the heat bleeding through your shirt. 

And the Vice President’s smile is inches away from your face, still mischievous but much gentler than any other time before. 

You’re not sure if you’re paralyzed or if you just don’t want to move, but the reason doesn’t affect the outcome: all you can do is stare up at him, once again dumbfounded after a small outpouring of words that ends in some kind of forced defeat. Except this particular surrender doesn’t feel so sore, for some reason. 

“Even when you’re angry, you’re still pretty, you know that?”

“I wasn’t… angry,” you mumble under your breath, afraid that talking louder will scare him off. You don’t even think he’s listening all that much to you, considering that all he does is tuck your hair behind your left ear and completely change the topic. 

“So, tell me, Secretary ____________. Is this still a situation where we’re not close at all?” He pauses for a moment, probably to let you answer, but you don’t say anything. You’re pretty sure your swallowing nervously is the only true sound you make. He seems to be eager to do a lot of the talking anyway, which is absolutely fine by you. “Or have I completely misread all your cute little signals?”

“Well — no, but I didn’t send any signals.” Obvious ones, at least. You’d been pretty sure you had tried to keep it under wraps as much as possible, but you’re starting to realize it’s a little possible you’re not as great at pretending as you think you are. 

“Not on purpose, probably. Although you really almost got me with the one-man show vibe you have during lunch hour.”

“I… didn’t think you knew, if I’m being honest.” Honesty is the only thing you have right now, anyway, especially since Vice President Na has pretty much confirmed, in his own way, that he knows about how you feel. Now you can only wonder if he’d noticed before you even came to terms with it yourself, and the thought of that being a real possibility urges you to grab the still-steaming cup of coffee and douse yourself with its contents. 

“For a while, I was pretty sure you were messing with me. I would never,” he adds just as you say it too, mimicking your astounded tone up to the lilt. “Which is why I started thinking about why else you might be looking at me so intently. You weren’t sitting there objectifying me, were you, miss secretary?”

“Sir, I would never,” you repeat, and he mouths the same words again in his amusement, although silently this time. 

“I think I would have been okay with it if you were. Or would be, even until now. For the record.” 

“I wasn’t.” 

“You sure? No shame in it. Totally fine. Not sure about anyone else, but I’m totally okay if someone else thinks I’m eye candy in the privacy of their own minds. I am, I think, a fine specimen of a human, if I do say so myself.”

“I really wasn’t, sir.”

“You should have, then. Lost opportunities.”” 

“I could argue that I was just worried you’d leave and not come back.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you,” he hums. “Not anymore, anyway.” 

The ‘to you’ is what stumps you into another silent spell, but this time, Vice President Na doesn’t attempt to fill in the void. He just starts running his eyes over your face, like he’s trying to read something there or maybe memorize your features, or something. At some point, you start thinking about how this kind of silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, contrary to your expectations and with interesting consideration of the fact that he’s still holding your hips. Apart from the idle skimming of his thumb over the curve of your pelvic bone, he doesn’t move — nearer or closer, which is probably for the best since you don’t know which one you really want more at this point.

Again, when you gather some part of your wits, the only thing you still know how to ask is “Why?”

“Because,” he replies immediately, simply, like the answer has always been very clear and you’ve just been too ignorant to figure it out. “You said that I could, not that I had to.” 

It’s hot. Isn’t it hot? You don’t know what he’s talking about, but your body already reacts on principle, and you have to stand-half-lean there with your entire face burning and Vice President Na’s body heat washing over yours like an electric blanket.

“I don’t know what that means, sir.”

“It means I didn’t do this for my dad or just because you told me off in the comfort of my own office.” He bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing (yet again) at you as he witnesses, from the best seat in the house, your face turning almost purple with the effort of keeping down your embarrassment. “Although that played a bit of a factor in it. I couldn’t tell if it was rude of you to say so much or kind of cute that you did despite knowing you were being rude. But that’s besides the point.”

Good, you think. If he manages to hit you with another cute in this timeframe, you may easily cease to exist. 

“You know firsthand, anyway, what my dad always says. You must take on the responsibility you were born with. You have to do your job. You must remember that you owe your life to my achievements.” He mimics his father’s gruff, booming voice amusingly well, to the point that you can’t stop yourself from laughing. His facade breaks easily, and you think you hear him mumble cute under his breath again, although you choose to ignore it so your knees don’t buckle completely (something that you think would be very embarrassing with you so close to him). “I don’t think he’s ever once said an encouraging word to my face. And if there’s anything I can confidently say I won’t do, it’s doing what people only say I need to do. It’s my life, you know what I mean? I’ll do what I want.” 

“You’re saying you suddenly wanted to work because I said you could?” 

“More like I wanted to see if you were right.” He muses. “I was pretty sure I didn’t have the personality for it. Or the attention span. Or the skill, either.”

“I think a couple of those things are still up in the air, sir.”

“One compliment and you’re already gunning for another insubordination report.” Vice President Na’s voice is a low, casual hum, but you notice the grip around your waist tightens for a brief moment. “At first, I figured I’d just show up to get everyone off my back, but I realized along the way that I’m pretty good at this being at the helm business. I’m sure you’ll agree. Hopefully because you want to, not because you also have to.”

“I do agree.” Your reply is wholehearted, and the Vice President’s smile widens. Your chest swells so much that you think you might explode right in front of him. “Because I want to.”

“Please don’t misunderstand me, miss secretary. I’m not attributing all my successes to your impulsive words.” He teases, although his eyes stay gentle despite his tone. “The efforts were still all mine. However, I’m not too proud to admit I had a very responsible first mate by my side, for whom I am very grateful. Although I hope this doesn’t mean she’ll pluck up the courage to ask for a raise considering how well I pay her. I think. Does she get paid well? Maybe I should ask Park Jinhee from accounting.” 

“She won’t,” you laugh softly, not missing the fact that he’s finally learned her name. “And she’s not really doing this for the salary, even if it is a nice bonus.” 

“What’s she doing it for, then?” 

As a job, this was really mostly about yourself — or it was, in the beginning. You’d terrorized Vice President Na to some degree because of the innate tendency towards self-preservation, and when that felt a little one-sided, you also considered everyone who might lose their jobs if the department got cut. It had been, for the most part, an act of pure desperation, so strong that you were willing to point fingers and raise your voice (only a few decibels, because you’re not a crazy person) at your boss. Now… that wasn’t really part of the equation. Maybe you had gotten used to the fact that the Vice President wouldn’t be going anywhere, so you’d stopped worrying about your and everyone else’s jobs, which all seem to be on a smooth path alongside the captain of the ship.

But if you had to be honest to yourself, part of the reason you’d grown a bit complacent about thinking about the fate of the department also had to do with the fact that you genuinely enjoyed being next to the Vice President. Mornings spent helping him prepare for work were regular highlights in your week, and the looks of approval you received from him every time you helped him finish a particularly difficult task were second to none. Always being close to him, always being the first and last to see him in the day, simply being able to look at him -– silly as that all sounds, they now play an undeniable factor in your desire to wake up and go to the office every single day. 

“I did it for you.” You answer, and because the answer’s honest, it feels completely natural to say. A pause slowly lengthens between you two, though not nearly as tense or borderline uncomfortable as you thought it might be this time around. A slow smile stretches over the Vice President’s face, but his words don’t easily take the straightforward route this time, either.

“Should I take up with the human resources department the fact that you’re outright breaching the terms of our contractual workplace relationship? How am I?” He speaks over, with you again, your voices overlapping. You can’t help it — you laugh at the absurdity of how well he’s come to know your responses, from the word choice to the lilt in your voice that signals some level of affront. When, exactly, did Vice President Na start committing the things you said and did into memory? “You’re seducing me, miss secretary. Before you say you’re not — you are. You are, without even knowing it. You’re winning me over, telling me all these sweet nothings to tickle my heart — I believe in you, Jaemin. I love working with you, Jaemin. I did it all for you, Jaemin, because you’re obviously the best in the whole world, ho ho ho.”

“I never said it like that.” 

“You might as well have.” 

“Should I stop believing in you so that we can avoid a scene, then, or is the damage to your good standing too far gone?”

“Rather than stopping something already in full motion, I think it might be better to make certain amendments to our current agreement.” Vice President Na reaches for the pen tucked into his breast pocket — the gold clip catches the fluorescent light and momentarily blinds you as he brings it up between you. He brings it to one side, then to another, and your eyes follow it, amused but also admittedly a bit hypnotized.

“What kind of trance are you putting me under, sir?”

“The kind that gets you to stop calling me that,” he chuckles. “Among other, more important things on my agenda.” 

You have an excellent view of Vice President Na’s stellar smile from the back of the meeting room. 

The deal he closes three days later goes even better than expected; not only does he bring Amazon into the fold after weeks of (surprisingly consistent) hard work and no small amount of beguiling charm (owing to the fact that he’d offended said Amazon representatives earlier on in his still relatively short-lived career), but he also manages to snag Samsung Electronics’ participation. As an already existing subscriber to the company-provided phone plan, you’re pleased to find out that you’re entitled to twelve guilt-free months of Prime Video as part of a new promotional deal, which you can now enjoy on nights you aren’t working overtime — something you’ve racked up more of as you’ve found yourself striking more of a work-life balance, thanks in large part to the Vice President’s steadily active involvement in all things on the ‘work’ aspect of the scale. Your first goal is to finally get past the first episode of an animation everyone in the department is raving about (but that you haven’t seen more than five minutes of, in actuality, because the horrible subtitles and sluggish 144px stop motion-esque have, until recently, adamantly deterred you from enjoying anything about the story).

Standing a fair distance away from the executives, you wait for the flurry of handshakes and accompanying congratulatory statements to die down; it takes quite a while, considering the sheer volume of people, and the thickest throng has come to gather around Vice President Na. At one point, all you can see of him is the slightly unruly lick of hair that’s sticking out above the rest of the considerable crowd of balding men around him (the sole crow’s feather a mountain range of gray). All their voices overlap, and you’re only able to catch key phrases — brilliant young mind… knack for business! … just like the President… bright future ahead, you know? 

Fifteen minutes of conversation and bellowing guffaws pass before Vice President Na emerges, adjusting the front of his blazer as a result of too much handshaking. Behind him, still speaking to one of the  marketing executives, is President Na, who shoots his son a surreptitious look you’ve never seen him wear in your considerable number of years in the company’s employ  — one of triumph and pride. The Vice President, however, is intently loosening his tie and scanning the room, stretching himself just a fraction taller above everyone else to get a better view throughout. 

You wait, wondering if he’s looking to speak to someone, lost in that host of black and gray suits — the Amazon media director, perhaps, or the in-house designer that also seems to be trying to catch his eye, for some reason (you sense the needy greed for a sudden promotion that seems highly unlikely in such a setting), but even though his vision passes over them, however briefly, Vice President Na doesn’t seem satisfied.

That is, until his eyes land on the corner of the room you and Secretary Son have backed yourselves into to allow the higher-ups room to mingle. 

One beat later, and the corners of his mouth are pulled up — a soft, knowing smile directed in your general direction. You glance at Secretary Son, maybe out of instinct, maybe somehow out of panic — as though you worry she’ll somehow come to chastise you, but she’s too busy trying to re-buckle her thin coat belt with rapid-fire tsks. She seems acceptably preoccupied, so your eyes flit back to the Vice President, whose eyebrows are now slightly raised, the telltale signs of a growing grin now playing on his lips as the front of his teeth begin to peek out from the seam. Another cock of his eyebrows, lifting them higher, tells you he’s waiting for some kind of message — an indication that you see him too, maybe, or… perhaps, oddly, any sign that you’re as proud of him as everyone else in the room is. 

You can’t help it  — you laugh, louder than you’d have originally liked to, a hand coming up over your mouth as Secretary Son’s head snaps up from her waist, bamboozled at your quick but sudden outburst. She throws you a look that suggests she firmly believes your mind has snapped, quite like a stale breadstick in a derelict Italian restaurant, but it’s worth it; Vice President Na looks satisfied at this — though, why he would be, you haven’t a true clue. 

As the managers and members of the board file out of the room, both you and Secretary Son inch closer to your respective direct superiors; you both stand a few steps away as the last of the executives drag their feet, still hoping to share one last handshake with either of the two, until an elderly Mrs. Kwon’s surprisingly firm grip is finally shaken off by a sheepish President Na. He turns to his son, who’s still hosting the remnants of a genial smile on his lips, clearly poised to say something. For some reason, you expect the senior to berate the former, simply out of sheer habit, but he does nothing of the sort. 

“Jaemin-ah,” his voice is gruff but not at all begrudging; it’s a low rumble of triumph. “Who’d’ve thought? My boy… you brat…”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now, dad,” the Vice President teases, to which the President chortles heartily. 

“Old men like me have the right, much more than anyone else.” You’ve never seen the President wear an expression even remotely close to softness, but you see it in his gaze now; it strikes you, then, that although you’ve always known the two to be related, this is the first time you can confidently say they resemble each other to the cores of their being — a view of happiness, somewhat mirrored in each of them. “I’m proud of you, son. You did everything I hoped you would — no, no… more than that, even.” 

“I’ll take most of the praise, thanks,” Vice President Na replies with his characteristic cheek. For a moment, so quickly you think you may have missed it, his eyes flicker to you. “But I can’t say I could’ve done it alone.” 

“Punk,” President Na snorts, yanking on his son’s earlobe; you and Secretary Son have to avert your eyes with expert speed to avoid being caught snickering at the slightly juvenile “ow, dammit,” that the Vice President groans out. “One big closed deal, and your head’s this big? I better not catch you floating away to a Las Vegas casino after all this.” 

“Give me some credit; I’d at least visit the desert first.” This time, when the Vice President glances at you, his father’s head turns too, and you stand up straighter at the unprecedented onslaught of attention. “Besides, I’ve got someone here to keep me anchored now.”

“Good work, Secretary ____________,” President Na offers you a rare smile that truly has you feeling like the world has turned upside down: the President in an agreeable (almost ecstatic, though you’d never say that out loud) mood, the Vice President doing his job not just in general but actually commendably well, and not a single strand of baby hair sticking up from out of your ponytail. Inconceivable. 

You bow, murmuring a thank you, and Secretary Son quickly follows suit for the formality of it all before she strides over to the President, who’s leaving his son with one last thunder-like clap on the back before he’s leaving the meeting room, still jovial when he catches up with the suspiciously lagging figure of Mrs. Kwon by the door. 

Vice President Na starts to follow suit, walking towards the other end of the meeting room; you quickly scurry behind him, still clutching your tablet, blinking a low battery warning, to your chest. You’ve come to grow accustomed to the ‘secretary’s pace’ over the last few weeks as well — always close enough to help, never too close enough to step on a superior’s toes.

But in the moment you fumble to silence your device, you end up stepping into someone’s shadow; glancing up at the Vice President, you find yourself looking at not the familiar view of his back but that of his side profile (one you’re actually also familiar with, though you refuse to admit to the level of familiarity). He’s slowed his pace considerably, allowing you to naturally fall into step with him, and even this, he expects a response from you somehow — he asks for it with yet another wiggle of his eyebrows. You laugh again, shaking your head, and yet, inexplicably, it seems to be exactly the reaction he hopes to see.

The department floor erupts into applause when the two of you pass through the glass doors; a flash of mollification crosses the Vice President’s features before he’s back to his signature light humor, raising a palm up in receipt of praise. Park Jinhee is clapping with only her left hand smacking the side of her mug, a few drops of coffee streaming down the handle side on impact. One of the team managers rushes forward, eager to shake Vice President Na’s hand, and, riding his high, also yours, pumping it up and down with so much vigor that you mumble a quiet ow behind a strained smile. Only the Vice President’s hand on your shoulder, steering you away, saves you from what feels like possible dislocation. 

He’s still waving at them like this is a pageant and not his day job, even as he guides you towards his office door; you have to use your elbows to push it open and effectively help you both avoid ramming into frosted glass. The applause dies down as your somewhat conjoined figures disappear through the doorway — you first, albeit convolutedly, your heel still holding strong in the job of keeping the door wide open enough for Vice President Na to saunter through before you let it swing shut to a now relatively silent office floor. 

His hold on your shoulder doesn’t let up, though; it’s still urging you forward, towards his desk, and you open your mouth to say something along the lines of I’m gonna break my hip if we keep going this way, but just as your throat conjures up the first syllable, he turns you around, letting you rest light against the edge of the table. 

In a pattern reminiscent of three days prior, Vice President Na’s hand finds its way to your waist, utterly comfortable in a way that mystifies you; he acts like it belongs there, as natural as the smile that’s still playing on his lips. 

“Sir, you realize it’s the middle of the day?” 

“You realize that we had a deal,” he corrects you, brow furrowing in feigned sternness. “Hold up your end of it, miss secretary.” 

“Only if you stop calling me that.” 

“Now, that absolutely was not part of the contract.” 

When you laugh this time, he chimes in; there’s a harmony in your voices that has your posture softening. You feel airier, your heart much lighter, and when you look up at him, you can’t help but flush at his expectant gaze. 

“You realize it’s the middle of the day,” you repeat, carefully, the words suddenly somewhat unfamiliar on your tongue — the next two syllables, most of all. “Jae… min.” 

Odd as it is, you’re rewarded with the pleased look that takes over his features; he takes a moment to exaggeratedly revel in this new occurrence. 

“Better. Much better. You could still be a bit more comfortable with it, I’d say, but… baby steps?” 

“Please re-prioritize your day, si— Jaemin.” The terse tone you’re going for is brutally marred by your blunder, which has his shoulders shaking from laughter. “Someone could very easily walk in.” 

“Who’s going to fire me?”

“I can think of one person.”

“You heard him. I’m proud of you, Jaemin. You’ve completely exceeded my expectations, Jaemin. You are the light of my life — my favorite son, Jaemin, ho, ho, ho.”

“Sir,” you sigh. “You’re his only son.”

“We had a deal,” he repeats, letting the return to habits slide, and there’s a laughably childish air to his words. “I’ll… file an insubordination report. Breach of contract as well. Tsk, tsk, miss secretary. Not on such a momentous occasion.” 

“Some might classify this as threatening behavior.” Your eyes are soft, though, when they meet his humored gaze. “If you want a reward… ask a little more nicely.”

A soft snort — his fingers dig lightly into your waist, and the next second, he’s lifting you off your feet and settling you lightly atop his desk. his palms never leave you, even after you’ve been placed; they’re increasingly warm beyond the fabric of your top. 

“____________,” he murmurs, saying your name so naturally that you could almost believe he’s referred to you as nothing else for as long as you’ve known him. “Kiss me.” 

Your own hands find their way behind his neck, but he does most of the work in closing the gap anyway; you’re not even sure who, between the two of you, gave that first sigh of longing, of relief. Perhaps it was both of you, all at once. 

Jaemin still tastes like the coffee you’d given him this morning — not a trace of richness, but a bittersweet and earthy twang that’s signature post-Americano. There’s even a hint of mintiness from the nervous handful of Tic Tacs he’d had just before the meeting started; you find that out the moment his tongue swipes against yours, leaving behind the invisible bite of menthol. And then there’s you, a clean taste that settles against his teeth, subtle first but growing stronger until you’re satisfied with the notion that you may linger there for some time — even after you pull away, slightly breathless.

“Congratulations to me,” he breathes out, trademark grin flashing bright again. “So what happens if I close next month’s Disney Plus deal?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer; his hand’s already skimming down, over your hips, following the path of your thigh. Your hand reaches out on instinct to stop him, but he’s oddly more aware of his surroundings than you give him credit for (or maybe, you’re just that predictable to him). He meets your palm, fingers lacing into yours and allowing him to lift your wrist to his lips. There, you feel the warmth of his kiss again, and he uses his hold to bring himself even closer, until he’s able to press his face into your neck. 

“Sir—”

“Jaemin. You call me Jaemin from now on, remember?”

“Sir.” You’re adamant. “It’s work hours.”

“You’re not tense.” 

He doesn’t move his head; in fact, you feel him burying his face further into your shoulder. In this position, there’s no real way for you to pull away — there’s also no real desire for you to do so, anyway. 

“No, I’m not.”

“Good.” Warmth again on your skin — his lips leave an invisible mark just above your collarbone. “I like you best like this.”

“What? Not tense?”

“Happy,” he corrects for accuracy. “Happy that you’re with me.” 

You fall silent, not because you’re not sure of what to say, but because you don’t need to tell him that he’s right. 

Moments later, his fingers find their way into your ponytail; the index hooks into the elastic, bringing your hair down. You feel his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, he’s inhaling your perfume again. 

“Green tea. Something floral. Jasmine? Maybe a little bit of citrus.” He lifts his head but stays close, warm breath washing over you. “It’s so you. Fresh. Pure. Beautiful.” 

The gap between the two of you doesn’t last for too long thereafter; he kisses you again, and your heart lifts to find that your taste still lingers somewhere there. It’s longer because it’s slower — less playful and more exploratory, until he pulls away to a much more breathless you. How he finds the air to talk even after is miraculous to you. 

“Be mine, miss secretary.” 

You blink — once, twice, at his serious expression, wondering if it will break and give way to more humor. But he waits, unwavering, until the last piece of resistance you’ve clung onto is washed away — the last thing that made you, for a second, deny that you were in love with him. 

His smile slowly mirrors yours as it grows. 

“Like you could ever get rid of me, Na Jaemin.” 

[temiizpalace]

☆┊”CAN I COPY YOUR HOMEWORK ?”

SUMMARY: you forgot to do the homework before your next class.. excellent job prefect. no problem. you can just copy off your classmate! what’s his response to “can I copy your homework?”

CHARACTERS: all dorms (+ grim)

GENRE: crackfic, but could be considered fluff

WARNINGS: cursing

reader gender is not mentioned, reader is yuu

“i’ll help you with it!”

i mean, you COULD copy.. but how will you understand the material? if you copy then you might not understand it later! that’s not good at all! instead of letting you copy it all together, he helps you and walks you through it like the angel he is. he’s explaining everything in detail but in a way you could comprehend it. totally should be your teacher. even if you already understood the subject, he still wants to lock it in and make sure you truly do get it. (after that you felt like albert einstein)

riddle, trey, jack, ortho, rook (he already knew you weren’t paying attention so he got ya covered), silver

“yeah, sure”

you wanna copy his homework? yeah, sure. why not? you’re the overworked prefect of ramshackle dorm, or some may say “crowleys assistant.” you deserve a break every once in awhile right? maybe they do care about your wellbeing and want you to rest as much as possible. you already work your ass off every day. you study, care for grim, do crowleys work, and deal with some random dorms shit almost 24/7. hell, why not let him write it for you?

it’s that or he just doesn’t give a shit. 🤷🤷

epel, lilia, malleus

“bold of you to assume i did the homework”

you’re both in the same boat. well sort of anyway. he’s a busy guy, he doesn’t have time for that. life is short, and he should be doing things he wants. not sit in a classroom all day and write, just to sit down in his dorm room and write for the rest of it. oh no. he probably has like 10 missing assignments right now. long story short: his ass did not do the homework cause he didn’t wanna.

ace, leona, floyd

“lol nope”

damn you didn’t do the homework? well good luck with that. listen, he did the homework. he’s on top of it. you on the other hand chose not to do it. what’s that? oh you were busy? that sounds rough. he wishes you the best and hopes that you’ll listen next time. alright? bye 🫶🫶

idia, jamil

“wait, we had homework????”

there was homework? THERE WAS HOMEWORK? oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. he messed up. now he’s scrambling to get it done before his next period, panicking and triple checking his answers. poor baby was so caught up in his life he forgot all about class assignments. now you both are sitting at the cafeteria with pencils and eraser shavings everywhere. those sitting around you both were losing their appetites because for some reason their meal tastes like led or graphite. best of luck to you both 💔💔

grim, deuce, cater, kalim

“sure you can copy it! for a price of course.”

yeah he’ll let you copy it. one teensy weensy detail though, what’ll he get in return? well it was your fault for not working on it during your free time. it’s only fair right? he worked so hard to get these answers, why should he give them away for free? haha. that’s just how the world works, prefect. it’s nothing personal really, he just wants to benefit.

azul would definitely try to upsell you into getting one of his study guides. capitalist.

ruggie, azul, jade

he scolds you.

you didn’t do the homework? *sigh* perfect, oh, prefect. that’s a horrible habit to develop, really. why didn’t you do it? now you must scramble to finish it. you see not doing the homework once is alright, but if this happens again he will know about it. he’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again third time. now he’s giving you a long ass essay on why doing your homework ON TIME is the right thing to do, and why copying others homework is the road unsuccessful students go down.

but his lecture went on for hours. im sorry it won’t happen again just please let me copy it 🙏🙏

riddle (scolds then lets you copy), vil, sebek

A/N: I do all my homework stay safe guys 🙏

my second writing tada! lately I’ve just been going off of alignment charts and how I see them fit. hopefully this is good enough.

date written: 11/24/23

© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!

[thisismeracing]

Charlieverse | CL16

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader ― Word count: 2.1k ― Warnings: mentions of alcohol and Halloween costumes (clowns, werewolves, and others).  ― Summary: When Yn decided to go to a Halloween party with her best friend, Charles Leclerc, she did not consider that some of the fantasies would be so close to reality that they would terrify her. But one thing Yn had no idea about too, was Charles’ feelings for her. All Hallow’s Eve is not the most romantic scenario to confess your feelings, but it might be just the perfect one for them.

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There are many sayings about how sharing is caring, and how life feels bigger and better when you do so.

Charles knew this all too well.

He was used to sharing everything with you since he was a kid.

It all started after you forgot your snack at home. He was only five years old then, but he had two brothers so he knew exactly what to do. Little Charles offered to share his bag of colored goldfish and grapes with you. The next day you shared your coloring pencils with him. It started with simple things, and it grew as you both grew older. All through the school years, Charles and you were inseparable, even with his crazy racing schedule. You would take notes for him, he would bring you stories, and you would study together until late hours. You shared your fears, deepest feelings, and even the shame of being underdressed when invited to a party such as now.

“I had no idea people would go this hard,” you state, watching as the Taxi driver came to a halt in front of the big doors. Gathered in front of the mansion were people dressed as all kinds of gore Halloween beings, some of the makeup seeming too real to your liking.

“We can go back home and change if you want,” there’s Charles' tranquil voice. He is always the one to keep his patience even if the world is ending, and you love that about him.

You shake your head, “We would never find something else in time, plus, we’re together, so… here’s to another good story,” you point to your matching costumes, and Charles smiles.

You’re both wearing Spiderman costumes. Though it felt like the best choice, the easiest one, you should have guessed it was too easy and, therefore, not ideal.

Charles gives you one last wink before putting on his mask. You do the same just as he opens the door for you, and hand in hand you walk through the crowd into the house. You cling to your best friend’s arm trying to stay as far away as possible from some of the costumes.

“You sure you’re ok over there?” Charles asks when you’re halfway to the kitchen, and you tighten your grip on his hand.

You nod, “Yeah, just.. That werewolf costume seems too realistic.” And there’s no need for you to explain to him. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand, his favorite track, his most played song. Charles knows that someone planted a seed of fear about some creatures when you were little, and some of the stories have stayed with you even after you grew. It is a bit curious how despite your fears, you still love Halloween, at least the kind of parties you go to where people will dress in a way that clearly shows that they are human beings and meant no harm.

Were you supposed to guess that a certain crazy clown costume was a mere costume after seeing people being killed by those?

You wouldn’t stay to answer that question.

When you finally reach the kitchen, both of you take off the mask to your friends, hugging and making your rounds. Charles grabs you two a drink and you choose to stay there instead of mingling and risking bumping into scary figures.

“Can you get me another of these?” You mouth to Charles pointing at your empty cup. From across the kitchen, he nods, and a few seconds later he’s in front of you with a full cup.

“They were out of ice, is it ok if we share this one?” he asks over the music and you nod. You’re sitting on the counter, and when Charles turns to your friends he stands right between your legs. One of your hands goes to his shoulders, and you keep talking about your costume as if your heart weren’t hammering inside your ribcage, almost coming out from your throat the second his hand finds your knee, holding it so your anxious bounce can cease.

You gulp trying to keep your attention on whatever your friend is talking about because all your mind can focus on is your best friend’s hand on you, his body radiating warmth into yours. And not that it is unusual for Charles to touch it, quite the opposite, he loves to hug and kiss those he cares about, but it’s just lately your heart seemed to wish for a different kind of sharing.

It wants to share the secret touches. It wants to claim hungry kisses, tears of happiness, loud silences, and whispered mysteries. It is as if your heart created a reality where you had all of this with Charles.

Your own Charlie-verse.

The party keeps going in full swing, and Charles never leaves your side for over thirty minutes. He comes and goes always checking if you’re ok and if you want to go with him, but you choose the safety of the counter and your crowd of friends. The conversation is good, and so is the booze, from the kitchen you can see a bit of the living room and the pool area through the glass doors.

And it’s only when part of the girls decide to go dancing that you hop off the counter, and grab Charles’ hands following him in the direction of another crowd of friends. You’re tipsy enough to lace your fingers with his and to tighten your grip when you pass people dressed as clowns, werewolves, and with fake open wounds.

You end up in the pool area in front of Charles, he holds your body protectively against his, while his other hand has a cup you’re still sharing. The conversation is between the group, but every once in a while something will catch his attention and he’ll whisper about it in your ear, to which you’ll slightly turn your head, chuckle, and then answer him.

Though you felt a bit out of place at first with how everyone’s costumes seemed so extra compared to yours, you and Charles have had a lot of fun. So much so that you have given up going back home and decided to share a cab to his apartment.

Half of the ride a tipsy Charles is lecturing you with his “I told you so” about how he suggested you slept at his place and you denied it before the party. You just rest your head on his shoulder and pretend you are listening to his non-stop rant.

As it happens, the driver seems a bit uninterested in Charles’ rant because he turns the music on, and the last song that starts playing when he makes the curve into Charles’ street is Michael Jackson. You shriek and start jumping on the car seat.

“Chérie, it’s late,” your best friend tries to reason, but you just giggle.

“You have soundproof walls.”

“But not windows,” he tries again, and you playfully roll your eyes before getting out of the car wishing the driver a good night.

“Annie, are you okay?” you start to sing as you reach the elevators, and Charles just fakes a sigh, holding you close by the waist.

“So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?” you sing loudly until you reach the penthouse.

“Love, that’s not Smooth Criminal’s dance, that’s Thriller…” Charles holds back his laughter when you start a made-up choreography in his living room. “Oh mon dieu, you’re so precious.”

You giggle, smacking a loud kiss on his warm cheeks. While you make your track to the bathroom Charles goes to the kitchen.

“I’m using the guest bathroom! Go shower on the main one, you stinky!” you scream from the corridors and you hear his scoff, almost able to picture his eye roll.

You go through your shower on autopilot, brushing your teeth, and reaching for one of Charles’ shirts that are on the guest bedroom bed. Your visits have been so frequent you have everything you need there, but tonight you didn’t want one of your pajamas, you want to indulge in the daydream that your mind is harnessing.

When you reach your favorite Monegasque bedroom you can hear the shower still running, so you settle in the middle of his bed, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere in your head, there’s still music playing and your body seems to have kept a bit of the buzzing from the party. The distant noises coming from the open windows, along with the wind hitting the curtains lull you into a soft slumber, that only goes away when a door closes, you guess it's his closet, you smell his body wash and shampoo before he steps close to you.

There’s too much happening inside your head, so you choose to stay in silence while your best friend watches you attentively, eyes finding yours in a beat.

Charles, on the other hand, doesn’t have much in his head. He only has you. Your smell, your laugh, your voice, your body on his bed wearing his shirt.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” his mouth works faster than his brain does, and just like that you’re staring at him in confusion.

It’s like his brain is shortcircuited.

Charles gets up from the bed.

He walks to the door, then turns around and comes back to your side. There’s a crease between his brows and you have known him long enough to identify it as worry.

“Sharls, what’s going on?”

“I’m not drunk ok? Before you say anything, I’m not drunk, I’m just tipsy like you,” he starts and you nod from your spot on the bed. “I am so sorry, but I have to tell you this, and I’ll completely understand if you don’t feel the same, but I have to take this out of my chest, Yn.”

Sensing how serious the situation is you sit up, legs crossed one over the other, hands tucked under them.

“I- uhm… See- It’s like this, I-”

“Charles,” you call.

“I’m in love with you,” he spills in a single sentence, but then he keeps going. “I love you so fucking much it’s starting to hurt the fact that I’ve been keeping it from you. And I don’t even know when it started, but I’m so used to sharing everything with you, I just.. I wanted us to share more. I wanted to share my bed with you, and my clothes, and-” he points with his fingers before you could say something, “And I know we already share those things, but I want to do it differently. I want to share romantically. I want to share my heart with you, Chérie, all of it. But I’ll understand if you’re confused or overwhelmed by my outburst, in fact… shit… I should have waited in case you wanted to go home right? Please, tell me that if you don’t feel the same you’ll at least get the farthest guest bedroom, I promise I won’t bother you, we’ll pretend it didn’t happen in the morning and I-”

“No,” you interrupt.

“Pardon?”

“I said no, I won’t sleep in the farthest guest bedroom.”

“Oh- then let me drive you, just…– fuck I can’t I drank… uhm I’ll–”

“No, Charles, stop,” you get on your knees on the mattress and reach for his arm, bringing his body close to yours.

“No, I’m not sleeping in the guest bedroom because we’re sharing a bed tonight. No, I’m not mad about your admission, I’m sharing my heart with you too. Romantically,” you confess.

His shoulders drop in relief, and you giggle, threading your fingers on his soft strands. Charles mutters something you can’t understand because you’re too focused on how his face seems different from this angle, after all the confessed words. He’s still your Charles, but he’s also a new Charles, and this knowledge brings a new feeling to your heart and stomach.

When his lips find yours, soft and warm, a contrast with his cold hands on your jaw and waist, he presses your bodies closer and hums in pleasure. You smile, unable to contain your happiness. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, and when the air has made itself scarce, you part the kiss, foreheads still touching.

“So, Charlie, are you okay? Are you okay, Charlie?”

Charles throws his head back and laughs.

He knows how insufferable you could get once a song gets stuck in your head.

“I was struck down. You’re such a smooth criminal, Chérie. Stealing hearts around so easily.”

It is your turn to laugh.

“That was cheesy, but I loved it,” you mumble before pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I love you.”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, lovelies! I hope you liked the piece, I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia on Tumblr) for proof and beta-reading this <3.  Let me know your thoughts on this piece *mwah*.  

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[blossomthepinkbunny]

Charlie as an underdeveloped character

One thing I was genuinely dissapointed by when watching Hazbin Hotel was that they never cared to dive into Charlie's Morality more.

I feel like a lot of people can agree that Charlie felt very flat/sidelined in a show she was supposed to be the main character of and I think that that's because they ran out of Character Moments for her. Her Backstory is pretty much just infodumped at the start so there's nothing you can really explore there (except for her relationship with her parents ig but they only really brought that up and resolved it in one episode). Alastor has the mystery behind him of what his goals really are, Angel Dust has his arc about standing up to his abuser, Vaggie has her dramatic backstory reveal thing and Sir pentious gets focus as the one real guest at the hotel and with his goal to be redeemed.

Charlie really has no conflict at all, which is weird since the whole plot is that her idea is relentlessly mocked and never succeeds until the end. But she doesn't have a personal conflict. All the issues she faces come from the ignorance of the people around her who don't support her, but never from who she is. She never has to change. They try to hint at this with her being possibly invasive and not respecting boundaries in the Angel Dust and Valentino episode. But the episode doesn't focus on her and Angel as they talk it out and she realizes how she might have to change as well (from how I remember it). It focuses on Husk and Angel's relationship instead.

I feel like the easiest route they could've taken for her character was that of a moral dilemma. Charlie believes in second chances and being able to change demons and her opposite is Adam, who doesn't think demons should be redeemed and should just be killed instead. But it's never specified if Charlie truly believes everyone deserves a second chance or if there are restrictions to that. Adam sings a song in the first episode and explaines his reasoning for why he believes demons shouldn't be saved, which is that they had their chance to be good and didn't choose it and now they can't expect another one (I guess the real reason is that he's just an asshole who doesn't care but that's because Vivzepop can't write Villains so I'll just pretend like that's his real reason).

The problem is that Adam is presented as fully in the wrong and I just don't agree with that. I'm not saying he's right with killing random demons of course but the show never takes the time to consider that sometimes people go to hell because they are actually terrible and have done inexcusable things. Like yeah, someone who had an addicition or a mental health problem while they were alive obviously doesn't deserve eternal suffering without any chance for redeemability, but we know that those aren't the only people that go to hell (in the pilot it's literally confirmed that real life criminals like Jeffrey Dahmer are also down there).

The show blatanly shows us characters like Valentino who are shown to do irredeemable things and be purely evil.

My question is just if Charlie would also look at someone like Valentino and say: "Yeah they deserve to be saved and get a second chance". She obviously thinks Valentino sucks, which we see in the Episode were she meets him.

So like, what would she have done if in the second episode someone like him stood at their door and wanted to be redeemed instead of Sir Pentious. Does she draw a line? Or would she have really heard him out? Her morality with this "everybody deserves a second chance" attitude is so underexplored even though it would have been the perfect place to develop her more. If they had confronted her with an actually tough situation, where she is presented with a truly terrible person, they could've had two interesting ways to take her character.

She could've accepted the person and with that she'd have taken her role a fully 'good' saviour for the demons. Someone who is truly without judgement, or atleast believes that there is good in everyone that just has to be brought out. Which would've also given room to think about if people like that are even inherently good, if they can 'excuse' the actions of terrible people and still want to help them. This would have made her a very extreme character in her believes, but something coherent and definitive is actually something Charlie desperately needs for her characterization.

The other way would've had her reject the person and with that she would have to face the idea that maybe Adam isn't fully wrong. In that situation she would have found herself in a similar position to the Angels in heaven, where she basically is the one deciding over what's acceptable and what isn't. This could lead to her having a moral dilemma. Is she even a good person if she's deciding what's moral and what isn't? Can she just be okay with making exceptions to her idea to protect her people? Does she even want to view EVERY demon as her family? Or does she think there are some demons that maybe deserve death?

I'm just really dissapointed that the show takes such an interesting idea and such a difficult topic and then just does nothing with it. What we view as bad and good and which people we judge harder than others will always depend on social norms and the situation. It's a topic with no real right and wrong answer because there are so many things to consider. But this moral grey conflict that is literally one of the MAIN CONFLICTS in Hazbin Hotel is so incredibly underwritten, that it's not even funny.

Instead of acknowledging the difficulty of the subject Hazbin does what it does best and takes the easy route with seemingly clear right and wrong sides. This is especially stupid, since morally grey characters are supposed to be the point of the show. Like there are these demons who have done bad things and who aren't perfect, but that doesn't make them bad people. Its about revealing that a person has layers (which the writing doesn't). This is also a big point in Helluva Boss, where characters like Blitzø or Stolas who mess up repeatedly, are supposed to be shown as still having interests, aspirations, and good things to them.

The easy route which is taken constantly in both shows however makes it so that Charlie is completely in the right and anyone who criticises her is one of the evil people who try to ruin her plan, just like Adam. Who's also such a straw man for anyone who even dares to bring any objection to Charlies ideas, because everyone who does is apparently a hypocrite who just doesn't understand her and would rather side with genocide (I wonder were Vivzepop takes her inspiration from).

Charlies writing was just really dissapointing with almost never any reflection being done on her part. She doesn't have really striking moments, discussions or ideas to her in a show she's supposed to lead. That's just an issue that comes with Vivzepop never really putting as much work into her female characters, even tough they would desperately need it.

I know that only the first season is out so far, but I highly doubt thay they'll bring up a discussion like this in s2. Especially since Adam is dead now and the Angels will probably try to work more with the demons, after Sir Pentious' redemtion and the reveal of the exterminations to them. Also the Vees, Lillith and Alastor will be more of focus from what we can assume by the ending scenes.

I just don’t like that Viv can take interesting conflicts and write them to be completely one-dimensional and boring.

[magmythedevil]

Envy shippers are forgetting something, and thats kinda of connected to misogyny.

..........

Just warning before i start that i will be talking negativily about N a litte bit in this post, even If a love him very much, Its necessary lollll.

Also Please dont think this post is some form of hate against V or envy. Its a post about the way >some< NxV shippers treat Uzi and their double standards.

........

So, i saw that *one* group of people making jokes about Uzi dying/N killing Uzi so N can be with V again and after some time thinking i realized that those jokes are kinda of connected to how they think that "Uzi stole N from V" or "V deserves N more than Uzi does"

And thats make me think: why, them, as an envy shippers, chooses to throw their hatred at Uzi especifically? Why is the Idea of Uzi, the young girl who did >>nothing<<< to deserve what shes going through, dying so satisfing to them? Even If Its a "joke"?

And i guess i know the answer, they think V deserves N more, they are the one that deserve to be end-game, because they have a tragic love story, they had a spark and becuse they have known each other for way longer and all that stuff, right?

But I guess, them, yes, the one who love V and N as a duo and as a couple, are forgeting something important in this equation: N himself

If they want to blame someone for envy not working in the present time that much, N is the one they should be hating on (and V too tbh) not Uzi, Uzi is just having feelings.

N is the one that choosed to prioritize and protect a random purple worker girl he just met.

N is the one that choosed to change sides and fight against his own damn crush to protect the people of a random worker girl he just met.

he is the one that choosed to stop to act on his crush on V once he met Uzi, the random worker girl. (Srs, not even a single sigh of it since episode 2)

He is the one that choosed to keep holding Uzi's hand (and embrance It harder, when she was the one to ask him to let It go) while blushing at her on that hallway in front of everyone.

He is the one that randomly got her to have a dance with him in that prom fight.

He is the one that felt extremely bad of the Idea of Uzi being scared of him, yes, the random worker he just met.

He was the one to get angry at V for not respecting Uzi and say to her face "what is wrong with you?"

He is the one that ins't afraid to be all cozy with her in public (cabin fever is here as proof)

He was the one that, even after reexperiencing the thing he had with V in the past again, was happy to see Uzi instead of being nervous about it, when even V was embarassed.

Uzi never did anything, thats just a Uzi they created in their minds. wich ins't that surprising since they all dont even like to rewatch most of the show anyways (N and Uzi's interactions are too much for them to handle)

The worst thing she has done was being agressive to V, but mind you, thats bc V was treating her way worse when Uzi even considered her a friend.

>>N<< was the one that, accidently or not, made most of (If not all) his romantic moments with Uzi real.

But they wont talk about his position in this triangle right? Its just Uzi, Uzi this, Uzi that, Uzi is always the villian here.

Because N is the perfect boy who ins't capable of understanding love outside of his thing with V, right?

""N would never feel something like that for Uzi!!! Hes clearly being peer pressured by her!!""

"""the writing is sooo badddd!!! N would never do this ugggfhh""

""weirdo vickers, fix you damn show""

And..... you know what that sorta looks like...right? Yes, misogyny . Because they choose to hate on and make weird jokes about Uzi, the woman, when N, the man, had a bigger role with his romantic thing with Uzi than she did. And If they hate nxuzi so much, they should be hating on N too, but i know they wont.

For the people who hate to see N "being babied" they sure dont like to talk much about him in these things

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! I've been reading through your blog for the past few days and everything you write is so amazing. I was wondering if maybe you would consider writing something about an aro high schooler who gets asked out by this person they've convinced themselves that they like, but when they're actually asked about it, it just feels wrong? (Bonus points if they think kissing is gross because imo it is) - sincerely, an aroace teen writer who is very inspired by you

"River kissed you!?" Their best friend shrieked, with all of the excitement that the protagonist had expected to feel.

They managed a weak smile. Their stomach squirmed.

It was supposed to be great, wasn't it? A first kiss. People wrote novels about them. It was the epic climax of the episode. It was fireworks and a fluttering stomach, it was the whole world narrowing down to a single moment, it was heart pounding love.

It was gross.

"...was it bad?" their friend asked, catching their expression. Their face fell. A smashed plate of disappointment.

The protagonist swallowed. "It was...wet."

"I mean, it takes a bit of practice to get good at it. Even with the right person. Did they stick their tongue down your throat?"

"No. I don't think so? I mean - it was fine." It would be fine. It would definitely be fine. Maybe their first kiss hadn't exactly been what they were hoping for, but it would get better. Wouldn't it? Their throat suddenly felt horribly tight. They pressed their lips together to keep their voice from wobbling and took a breath. "You're probably right. I mean, I don't know if they've ever kissed anyone before either. Maybe I was really bad at it."

"No!"

"It's okay." At least, if they were bad at kissing, that was something they could improve upon. At least it wouldn't always feel so...

It wasn't like it was all some elaborate ruse the whole population was in on, anyway. That would be ridiculous!

It had been a nice night otherwise. The movie had been good, and their hands had touched over the popcorn, and they'd got into a great discussion about the plot after.

It would get better.

...it did not get better, though.

They started to find excuses not to kiss River; "Let's take it slow."

A kiss on the head or the cheek wasn't so bad, or like a one second peck on the mouth. It was all the other kisses.

When it didn't feel wrong, they felt nothing. They counted the awkward seconds for it to be over, then vowed to do much better next time when they caught a glimpse of the confused sort of hurt in River's eyes.

"I know you're shy," River said, one day, in a trying-to-be-casual voice. "But you like...never kiss me. It's always me kissing you. Did I..." Their voice dropped, agonised, "am I really bad at it or something?"

"No, no!"

"Oh, good."

"I just - I don't now." Their stomach squeezed. "I'm not sure I really like kissing," they confessed. "It's - I don't know." It felt rude to say ew.

"Oh," River said, in a tone of less good, but trying to be chill and non-judgy. "Okay."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." River took their hand, squeezed. "Kissing isn't everything, I guess. There are other things."

For a second, just a second, they were sure they'd never loved anyone more.

They liked River. Didn't they? They certainly thought they had. They had those cheekbones, and those pretty eyes, and they were always nice to everyone. They made the protagonist laugh, at least when there wasn't kissing involved.

It should have all been perfect.

They'd always wanted to fall in love.

In the end, they broke up after about three months.

The protagonist didn't ask what they'd done wrong, because it felt obvious, even if River wasn't cruel enough to say it. Maybe they should have ended it themselves, instead of forcing River to do it. Probably.

But what could they possibly say? It's not you, it's me. Nobody would believe that even if it was true. Oh, I know I said yes to dating you, but I'm just not that into you. That felt far too mean. It wasn't like River had done anything bad.

Their best friend held them while they cried, wracking things that choked up in their chest.

"What if I die alone?"

"Don't be stupid." Their best friend hugged them hard. "Of course you're not going to lie alone. River wasn't that great anyway! There's clearly something wrong with you if they don't want you."

The protagonist didn't quite dare say that wasn't exactly how it happened.

They kissed a few other people over the years, normally around the time when everyone else did. New Year, at the strike of twelve. If there wasn't any fireworks in the kiss, at least they were popping and fizzing outside and a new year was a new slate. They tried once after a few too many cocktails, with a friend, because maybe it would feel a little better when they were tipsy. With someone who definitely knew what they were doing.

It wasn't, though.

"You'll find the right person," their best friend said. "It's different when it's the right person, you know? Like me and Willow. I didn't think, but then..." They were happily in love; exuberant on it, nonstop on it.

The protagonist didn't want to resent it. They didn't want to be that person, spitting bitter like the villain in a fairytale.

"Romance novels are very exaggerated," their best friend said. "It's not always butterflies. It doesn't have to be butterflies to be real, you know? It's just someone you really want to spend time with."

But, the more the protagonist thought about it, the more they weren't sure that was quite true. There were plenty of people that they liked being around. It still didn't make them want to kiss them.

They weren't even sure they wanted to fall in love anymore. It wasn't like they spent most of their life miserable or anything. It was just...sometimes, when everyone else in the room had someone, or their parents asked them yet again if there was anyone they'd been seeing. Even in the height of drama, it all seemed so much easier for them.

They were twenty when they first came across the words.

Aromantic Asexual.

It was the second time they'd cried over the whole kissing thing.

That time it was relief.

"Oh my god," they left their best friend a message, vindicated. "It is an elaborate ruse!!! I'm going to bite something!!"

It got better, after that.

[ryker-writes]

i just remembered reading ur pome siblings post and oh my god please if you have the time and motivation, write an angsty version of vils part! its so interesting to explore his potential sibling relationship rgsfbyddnr

absolutely! I feel like a lot of the dorm leaders could have a broken and angsty relationship with their siblings, Vil just was the first one that popped up in my head

warning: Book 5 spoilers

Vil as a sibling (Broken relationship edition)

the Schoenheit family was not an easy family to live in

that became very clear early on in your childhood

your father was a very famous celebrity that did a lot of modeling and acting

and he really wanted you and Vil to do the same

the two of you would be signed up for many roles and auditions in anything

even if you didn't want to, you had to

sometimes you two would be so busy that you didn't have time to just relax and play with other kids

half of the time you and Vil wouldn't get roles in the same thing and you wouldn't even see each other

even just being in the Schoenheit family was enough to get a spotlight on you and your life

you grew up with eyes on you at all times

eyes that criticized every little thing you did

if you tripped, made a slip of the tongue, or even got slightly upset you would be criticized

but you wouldn't only be criticized by the public, but also by your father

he would lecture you on how to act at all times until you got it right

until it became second nature

it was a constant demand for you to be perfect

and you had no choice but to do what they all say

it was either do what they say or be shamed by society and your own family

so you did everything you could to be perfect

to not let the public ever see a single flaw and to be considered beautiful

Vil often helped you with this too by giving you pointers

as you grew up you became very good at it and so did Vil

you two were both well established celebrities by the time you entered Night Raven College

the both of you ended up in Pomefiore together of course

Pomefiore is the dorm that values beauty

you and Vil often talk since you two are in the same dorm

it actually felt nice to talk to Vil about school things instead of new roles or similar things

at first it was fine

you even met his friend Rook, and found out he was a fan of yours and Vil's

but then he started pushing you away and talked to you less

he always said he had important things to do and didn't have time

he couldn't completely ignore you though so there would be times he would still hang out with you

while you may have liked to spend time with your brother, Vil hated it

there he was with the ultimate goal of being the most beautiful

and there you were, not even trying to be the most beautiful, but the other students talked about you being beautiful and perfect and even debated which one of you was more beautiful

the answer should be obvious right?

but now he not only had Neige as rival, but you too

and when you had a new post on magicam or a new role in something, he would check to see who was currently the most beautiful

he absolutely hates when it says your name

it's one thing for it to be someone else but for his own family to be better than him?

especially after he helped you when you were younger

and he gets so angry when he thinks about it

but he never shows that anger

in fact he acts very nice when he is around you

it's when he's alone in the privacy of his room that he'll let the anger show on his face

for just a single second, the thought of poisoning you crosses his mind

the Evil Queen did that, and she's his role model after all

but he would have a moment of rationality after that

he couldn't do that. you were his sibling

but you were also competition

so maybe he couldn't poison you, but he could do something else

when Vil did hang out with you, he would always point out some small thing about you that was out of place

even if you had everything together, he would find something to criticize

afterwards he would always make a comment about how you should be careful because your actions reflect on him and your father

sometimes he would even give you a backhanded compliment or when he was especially angry, he would straight up insult you and claim he's trying to help you

everything he says slowly chips away at your confidence

and it hurts even more to come from your own brother, someone who helped you become who you are

once upon a time he was someone you could look up to

if you started slipping up more in public, he would be happy

unless...somehow people enjoyed that because it was cute or a reminder that you're human

at that point he's furious and it's getting harder to hide

Rook started noticing too

sometimes you could be hanging out with Vil and Rook will come along and tell you someone else wants to talk with you

he basically separates you two in hopes Vil will calm down

through this repeating process, the distance between you and Vil grows greater by the day

an unspoken hatred and sense of competition is hard to miss

and the one person who you're supposed to be able to rely on at NRC, absolutely hates you

Somewhat happy ending:

after Vil overblots, he has time to reflect on his actions the past few months

he does realize that the way he treated you was rather ugly

and he will personally apologize to you

he'd be lying if he said that people claiming you were more beautiful didn't bother him anymore

it still does, but it doesn't make him as angry

he tries to spend time with you to actually genuinely spend time with you instead of tearing you down

it can be a bit...strange at first

but give him time and he will start to come around more

he's really trying to be nicer to you and try to fix what he's done

but is it too late? has too much damage been done? is it even possible to fix it?

the choice is up to you

will you forgive him?

[silent-browser]

Fuck it. Insane yandere with a noise sensitive darling.

The very first time he ever saw you scared was because of a particularly aggressive phone conversation he was having back when he still considered himself stable. It was also the first time he ever felt his psyche crack.

It was supposed to be date night. Going to pick out a some books in the library and then off to a small vietnamese place near by that had amazing pho. A perfect and quiet night out. A night was was interrupted and nearly ruined before it even got started.

Work. Always work. A crappy office with even crappier management. They tried to call him in.

You can cover so-and-so's shift can't you? You will get recommended for that higher position we were talking about last time if you do.

Rudeness at its finest. He explained politely that he had a prior commitment and that he can't come in.

If it's a partner I'm sure they wouldn't mind. After all it's more money in your bank account and you can just make it up to them later.

He still can't come in. He just wants to spend a relaxing night with his-

If you can't commit yourself fully to this company I'm afraid that we may just have to write you up for insubordination. Now you should really consider what's more important. Your lively hood or one insignificant person.

He felt like an explosion went off in his brain. He roared down the receiver of the phone. How dare they threaten his job. His income. His darling. Disgusting, awful things were said that night, including threats to sue and rip that whole company to shreds. That eventful phone call ended when he threw his phone at the opposite end of the couch he was sitting on.

With frustration and rage still swimming in his mind he started ranting. Growling and pacing his living room like a caged predator when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He had whipped around and was ready to rip into whomever touched him until he realized who was standing there as well as the expression on their face.

His partner. His lovely partner was standing there. Shaken. Scared. He didn't mean to make you scared. He's so sorry. Please let him hug you. You don't like certain loud noises? He's even more sorry. He wishes he knew sooner. Reassureances that an outburst like that won't happen infront of you again.

The second time he saw that frightened look on your precious face was when he went on trial for murdering three entire departments from his office.

He saw you in the audience of that trial. He wanted to catch your eye. Hopeing to get across the message that he would be home soon. Instead he saw raw fear and disbelief. And suddenly the extra time off he had gained through the murdering of all those people didn't feel like an accomplishment. It felt like shame.

The crying mothers and screaming loved ones never moved him. The guilty charge didn't get phase him. Life in prison even seemed preferable at the time. Anything to get him to stop looking at and remembering your terrified face.

The third and hopefully final time he saw that look, the one that haunted his nightmares and delusions now, was when he came back.

Prison really only did one good thing for him. Gave him time to work out. He had never been stronger or in better shape. Hopefully it was a shape you were attracted to, was a common thought for him during his time in prison. In every other aspect it only caused him to get worse. Nightmares of you running away from him, hallucinations of your voice telling him that you didn't love him anymore but worst of them all were the visions of your body, broken and bruised, usually accompanied by more auditory hallucinations of you telling him that this was all his fault. He was tortured by his own mind daily. So when he finally got out he made it his new life's mission to take care of his darling. Whatever the cost.

He had to be quiet when breaking into your new house. Loud noises scare darling. If I scare darling I'm an awful and unworthy boyfriend. Don't scare them don't scare them don't scare them.

He had to be careful when drugging you. Darling hates needles... But this is necessary! But darling hates needles... Please don't hate me...

He had to be confident leaving your house. Nothing to see here. Just a man with THE MOST WONDERFUL AND AMAZING HUMAN BEING IN HIS ARMS, and wrapped in a carpet. I hope they can breathe in there... Have I suffocated them!? Have I just killed my darling!?!

He had to rush to the car and speed off.

He keeps you in a cabin now. Deep in a forest. No news from the modern world reaches here. None of the reports of an escaped convict from a mental asylum (but that was allowed right? He escaped for true love after all.). No reports about his old boss being found in his home, gutted and torn apart with his heart removed (that heart would make a fantastic anniversary present! A show of his devotion and ability). No reports about the expartner of the infamous workplace ripper suddenly disappearing the same night as the asylum escape. (Better this way in his opinion. Those other FAKES didn't really care about you. They were only reporting it because the story would bring in some money. Hmm... Maybe he should visit that news station soon... Teach them the error of their ways...)

[neverchecking]

Could I please ask for Sub!Four with hypno kink? Poor guy has too many thoughts in his head with the Colors... But Reader wouldn't mind taking them away for a bit of fun ;)

You absolutely can! Subby boys are my jam!

What are the personalities of the colors? Like I can't find it anywhere and I'm trying to be very strategic when writing four that I don't have to include them right away-

ANYWAY-

(I'm currently out of town so I'm posting my stocked drafts. I'm not ignoring my asks or the reblogs I wanna add to, I'm just not near a computer where I can answer them properly.)

Smut so 18+, MDNI

Smut CW: Hypnosis, Sub! Four, Dom! Reader, AFAB Reader

He was going to need to re-evaluate the amount of trust he put in you.

Honestly.

This might've been pushing his limit just a bit. He probably wouldn't have even considered this should he have not been so enamored by you. He wasn't even sure the absolute chokehold you had on him was enough to keep him on his place on the bed.

"My jewel, you know I would never doubt you-" Never. Never in a million years. He would follow you to the ends of the Earth. "But, are you sure about this?"

This was insane.

You nodded happily nonetheless, weaving a delicate gold chain around your fingers. The clock hooked to the chain swung hypnotically beneath your hand, picking up a steady tempo as it rocked back and forth. It entranced him, making his eyes follow it's every move--despite all the voices screaming at him to do otherwise. To pry his attention away from the pendulum and instead focus on you. But this was what you wanted. You wanted to see if you could hold his ever moving focal point on one thing. You wanted all of his attention on you and you alone.

And while he never wanted it to be on anything other than perfect, divine you, it was a struggle to get everyone's attention on one place. One would be off, worried about enemies lurking in the trees. Another would go off on tangents about how beautiful your eyes were and how he could get so lost in them within moments. Another was reminding him of all the ways you had been whimpering beneath him, crying for his every move. Another was cataloguing your outfit and every bit of it that he could mend or better or-

It was a lot getting everyone's attention on one point.

You figured this may help in the very least. And whatever you wanted, he would give. Anything at all. If you wanted someone slain in your name, it would be done. If you wanted the kingdom of Hyrule to fall before you, it would just be a moment. If you wanted to strip him of his will, to make him nothing but a mindless servant for you to use?

Your wish is his command.

The clock kept his attention as he felt his raging psyche gently melt away. One by one, each of the colors settled into nothing, their voices shutting down and falling away. For the first time in a long time, there was silence around him. He didn't even notice you pulling the watch away, settling it down before you were gently cupping his chin with a hand.

"-ear me, my love?"

You were asking him something. Could he hear you maybe? Either way he nodded. It was all so blissfully quiet. All he could see was you. Everlasting, exquisite, paradisical you. Treating him like fine glass, you touch was never anything more than positively featherlight, gently tracing the lines of his jaw and neck.

He nodded slowly. It felt like someone had laid a blanket over his busy mind, clouding it in a layer of pure mindlessly feeling. He could feel the cotton of the blanket beneath him (Why were you sleeping with something so rough? He would need to replace it right away.), the give of the pillows stationed behind him (Those were too flat, you deserved only the best.), even the feeling of the mattress beneath him (It was so firm. How would you be expected to sleep soundly when it felt like a freaking rock beneath him?! How had he never noticed this before?!). Things he never would've thought of before were now jumping out at him only to flit away in the blink of an eye.

Anything he previously found issues with simply fell away at the feeling of your touch on his leg. It started at his knee, igniting a fire in it's wake, before trailing up his thigh and towards his pelvis. His entire being lit up, nerves firing to life, sending impulse after impulse to his brain, overloading it with just the knowledge of you. The way you smelled, the way you felt, the way you were so close he could feel your breath against his shoulder as your fingers brushed along his shaft.

His nerves clenched, as if to jump at the action, but the action never came. No, instead, he laid there limply. Morphing himself to your every whim.

It was different, to have someone else take the forefront. Even when one of the colors was in charge, he was still there. With this, he was completely giving himself to you.

And what better way was there to show his absolute devotion to you?

He couldn't think of any other way. Actually, he couldn't think of any thing as your fingers wrapped around his shaft, thumbing the head of his cock to spread the bulbing precum down the skin.

"-hats it, Link. Just let me do the thinking for you."

He'd let you do anything to him. Absolutely anything. You could say jump and he'd say how high.

His entire body was yours to use and manipulate, anything you so wished.

Your hand moved, making his thighs tense in anticipation. Some sort of whine left his lips as his every sense was overloaded with just you. His muscles coiled like a viper, tight and poised to snap at any moment. His eyes burned as tears collected in the corners of his eyes, feeling too overstimulated to do anything but without any of the relief of release.

It was nothing but pure pressure building in his gut as you sped up your ministrations. The coil was tightening further, and further just begging to snap and give him any form of release. He would take anything at this point but he would never dare disobey you.

"Cum for me, Link."

The coil snapped as his hips bucked up to meet your hang, thick, viscous strands burning like magma against his skin before cooling enough he gave himself goosebumps. Flashes of white blinded him from behind his eyelids as he jolted and cried, fat pearls of tears trailing down his cheeks as drool shined against his lips.

Everything was abuzz, his skin feeling too hot to the touch, as you retracted your hand. A part of him wanted to beg and plead for your touch once more, but another part knew that it would do nothing but burn his nerves wit overstimulation (He'd leave that for another day).

The first thing that came back to him from any of the colors was one simple thought.

'Holy Shit, dude.'

[cuffmeinblack]

Lost and Found

Garreth Weasley x Ominis Gaunt

Tags: explicit | modern!AU | fluff | angst | loss of virginity | homophobia | heartbreak | happy ending

5.4k words

ao3 link

Summary: A love story told in five scenes.

A/n: Inspired by this art and written for the Weasley Wednesday prompt: AU! It's been a while since I wrote Garrinis and I've missed them a whole lot. It's hard for me to write anything but fluff with these two because Ominis deserves the world and Garreth is perfect to shower him with love and happiness. Still, I managed to make myself sad writing it.

One: You Had Me At Hello

"Garreth…Garreth, you're staring again," Cora's voice came from behind him.

"Wha- oh, shit!" 

Garreth's attention returned to the drink he was making, or rather making a mess of. That was one coffee he'd have to start again, much to the chagrin of both the customer and his supervisor. 

"Garreth," Cora sighed. "You can't spend all day staring at him."

He nodded and muttered an apology,  giving the customer a friendly smile as he picked up a fresh mug, but she was too distracted herself to notice. It had been three times in as many weeks that his eyes had wandered away from his job, and instead of his world-class coffee, he'd produced a syrupy, foamy mess all over his apron. Somewhat a fitting conclusion, considering the source of his disturbance and the absolutely lewd daydreams he'd been having.

Garreth couldn't take his eyes off him—goodness knows the blond was way out of his league and would likely turn up his nose so much as utter a single word to him, but that hadn't dissuaded Garreth from indulging in his fantasies. Ones where the boy's delicate, porcelain skin blushed under his own calloused and freckled fingers. He wondered what his voice sounded like, and that thought almost cost him the second macchiato he'd been making. Thankfully, he'd torn his eyes away just in time to deliver a mediocre drink to his loyal customer. He could practically feel Cora's eyes burning into the back of his skull.

"Take your break and go talk to him," she said, nudging him away from the counter.

"I'm not…I can't just go and talk to him…"

"Consider it a condition of your employment."

Garreth sighed, glancing back at her dark stare and crossed arms and deciding against an argument—she was deadly serious. He untied his apron and strung it over a hook in the staff room before steeling himself to do the impossible. What was wrong with him? He'd never felt this nervous around someone he found attractive before. Something about this mystery boy had his stomach in knots before he'd even come close to uttering a greeting, and when the time came that he stood in front of his table, Garreth was quite speechless.

He was even more radiant up close. The hint of blue eyes were cast down at a book as his delicate fingers traced over the…oh. There were no words on the pages, and only then did Garreth notice the white cane leaning next to the table.

Shit.

Well that certainly complicated things. Garreth was a decent looking bloke but now he had to entirely rely on his wit and charm. He was doomed. He must have stood there gaping for minutes before he summoned the courage to clear his throat.

"Er…hello," he said.

The boy continued reading, and Garreth cringed at his attempt at gaining his attention. Stepping closer to the table, he tried again, aware of Cora's scrutinising gaze on him from across the room.

"Hi! Sorry…," he mumbled.

The blond finally tilted his head towards his voice, revealing the most captivating blue eyes Garreth had ever seen. Devoid of pupils, they struck him as two swirling pools of crystal waters, icy hues with flecks of softest grey. 

"Ah, yes, of course," the boy said, pushing his empty mug to the edge of the table.

Garreth had been too busy bumbling and losing himself in his eyes like some lovesick puppy, he'd somehow given the impression of being a member of staff. Well, technically that were true, but that's not why he'd approached. He should have said something, but apparently this boy rendered him completely and utterly useless.

"Thanks!" Garreth squeaked back, taking the mug and retreating behind the counter with a furious blush and a whole heap of embarrassment.

To say he'd never seen Cora more annoyed at him would have been an overstatement, but the way her pale face pinched into a frown only heightened his unease.

"He uh…thought I was staff," he mumbled.

"Yes, I can see that," she said, staring at the mug still clutched in his hand as if it were a priceless artifact.

"I swear to God, Garreth…if you don't talk to him properly I'll fire you."

"You wouldn't. What about my loyal customers? There'd be uproar!" he replied, only half joking.

"You're not irreplaceable, especially if you can't make a simple drink in his vicinity," she said, snatching the mug away.

Her attention diverted to serve a nervous young lady who'd obviously overheard the entirely unprofessional exchange. With a groan, Garreth steeled himself to again approach the source of his distraction. He didn't have a plan, as with most things, but at least he could put right his first mistake.

"Hello again! Sorry to disturb you, I uh…well, I wanted to say hello. I'm Garreth," he said, sticking out his hand which lingered awkwardly in the air.

Of course it was, he couldn't see it. Idiot.

Garreth lowered his hand and helped himself to a spare seat opposite the boy, who's finger paused on the raised bumps of his book. Heavens above, what was it about him that made Garreth so bloody nervous? Was it the way he held himself so elegantly? Those piercing eyes that couldn't see but appeared to stare right into Garreth's soul? The blond gave off an aura of propriety—he practically oozed old money. Not Garreth's usual type, considering his own scruffiness that never seemed able to be tamed. His wild, curly copper locks were in stark contrast to the boy's slicked back mane with not a strand out of place…except that little piece that fell in front of his eyes when he bent his head…oh. Shit, he'd replied. Say something, Garreth!

"Uhhhhh…"

"I said hello, Garreth," the boy repeated with a soft, amused smile. "I'm Ominis. How can I help?"

Ominis. He had a name, which was far more than Garreth deserved so far with his poor attempt at introduction. Of course he had the voice of an angel; how could he not when everything else about him was so utterly perfect?

"I thought I'd say hello. I've noticed you in here quite a lot."

"You have?" Ominis asked, placing his hands in his lap and giving Garreth his full attention.

"Yeah…you're one of the few customers that doesn't drink coffee," Garreth chuckled.

"Ah, is that the reason? I confess I'm more of a tea drinker, but I enjoy the ambience here," he said.

"Maybe you'd enjoy coffee more if I made it for you," Garreth said, his confidence growing.

"You're certainly welcome to try," Ominis chuckled.

His soft, melodic laugh sent a tingle down Garreth's spine.

"I will, next time you're here I'll make you the best coffee you've ever tasted."

"I look forward to being converted. So, Garreth…do you do anything besides make excellent beverages?"

"Oh, yeah. I study here, this is only a part-time job. I'm guessing you're a student, too?"

"I am. English literature," he said, though he didn't seem elated at the idea. "How about you?"

"Chemistry ...oh, and I'm in a band."

He cringed inwardly, and outwardly, too—that line always sounded so cool when he told it to girls, but somehow when presenting this information to Ominis it sounded...ridiculous. Juvenile. If Ominis thought so, he didn't show it, only smiling good-naturedly.

"What music do you play?"

"Nothing you're likely to enjoy…"

"How could you possibly know what music I enjoy?"

"Well…I suppose I don't. Only that you don't exactly dress like someone who listens to punk rock," Garreth replied lamely.

"Perhaps not, but it makes very little difference to me what I look like."

"Right…of course…"

"I enjoy most music, as long as there's feeling."

Garreth almost opened his big mouth to ask if Ominis would consider letting him play for him, but was saved the embarrassment by Cora's stern voice cutting through the dreamlike haze telling him to get back to work.

"I have to get back to work. Can I…?"

Ominis handed Garreth his phone before he could even finish the sentence, and Garreth grinned as he accepted it, typing in his number whilst wondering if he'd hear from him at all. Perhaps he was simply being polite, but the eagerness Ominis had shown was hard to conceal behind good manners.

"Lovely to meet you Garreth…?" 

"Weasley. Garreth Weasley."

"I'm Ominis Gaunt."

Perhaps the name should have meant something to him, the way Ominis hesitated to say it, but all Garreth could think of for the rest of the day was the beautiful boy with the strange name.

-

Two: The Odd Couple

Ominis hadn't expected Garreth. He'd sprung out of nowhere when he least expected it, and made ripples through his otherwise stagnant life. Not just ripples, but a veritable tidal wave that dislodged Ominis from his melancholy and carried him to safer shores. One might be surprised to learn of Ominis and Garreth's relationship, but only when looking skin-deep. Apparently, their appearance was chalk and cheese, and their demeanours just as contrasting—and so, people called them odd.

Ominis disagreed wholeheartedly. 

How could they be odd if their hands fit together so perfectly? How could they be strange when Garreth never failed to bring a smile to Ominis' face? The muscles in his cheeks felt as if they had atrophied from years of non-use, until Garreth came along and provided him with much needed laughter. Ominis hadn't realised just how much he enjoyed the warmth of another body before Garreth had held him. In the space of three months, he'd learned so much about himself, by simply being around Garreth. 

And yes, he liked coffee now. But only when Garreth made it. One of his new favourite smells was the dark roast currently steaming in the mug he was cradling, the other happened to be the smell of cinammon and a hint of sulphur. Garreth's lab coat always gave off the most pungent odours after his classes, but it was still him.

Garreth was sitting on the floor of his bedroom as he often did, strumming his guitar. Today's composition was something pleasantly slow, a little sad, and terribly romantic. He could already feel the buildup of pressure behind his eyes that signalled an embarrassing show of emotion he tried hard to suppress, and the swell in his chest he so often associated with his boyfriend. He sipped his coffee and listened, allowing himself to feel anything and everything that the song's sweet melody elicited. As the last chord vibrated in the air between them, Ominis shifted on the bed and sighed, offering Garreth a soft smile.

"Beautiful," he said. “I could listen to your voice forever.”

“Hardly, but I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

The clunk of a guitar discarded against the wall preceded the warm and heavy weight of Garreth pressing between his legs, still kneeling on the floor. Warm hands encircled Ominis’s back as Garreth’s head was nestled into his thighs. Ominis smiled as he stroked those silken curls; another thing he'd not expected to enjoy quite so much. The rhythmic back and forth of his hand and the happy hums from his boyfriend let his mind wander, back to what he’d been mulling over during that rendition. Something terrifying and exciting that he craved more than anything.

Sex.

Three months was a long time to wait by anyone's standards, especially two men still riddled with teenage hormones. Garreth had been more than patient. It wasn't that Ominis didn't want to—very much the opposite. The days spent in each other's company were hard, but all the nights crammed into a single bed together were nothing short of agony. His heart yearned and his body ached for Garreth, yet so far he'd been a coward. Ominis had never been intimate with a soul; never had he allowed anyone else to touch him at his most vulnerable. It was a matter of trust to give oneself over to another completely, and whilst he trusted Garreth implicitly, Ominis had failed to gather the courage to ask for more.

Until tonight.

"Garreth?"

"Mhmmm?" he hummed happily from Ominis' lap.

"I'd like to sleep with you," Ominis said, trying to ignore his hammering heart.

"Of course. Let me just change the sheets…"

"No, I mean…"

"Oh."

No further explanation was required. Ominis felt the bed dip either side of him and Garreth's soft lips on his before he could draw another breath. His firm body pressed against him, warm and inviting under the numerous layers he wore. He'd have to dispose of those, once his hands stopped shaking. Garreth had all the restraint in the world as he peeled off Ominis' jumper, running slow kisses along his jaw, his neck, tongue finding his thumping pulse. Ominis tilted his head, so lost in his lips' caress that he hardly noticed his hands begin to unbutton Garreth's jeans or the rhythmic rocking of their hips.

Months of teasing and simmering tension had led to this moment; little wonder they were both stiff within seconds. The friction between their bodies set his body on fire, every inch restricted by these damned clothes felt like a prison when his skin burned to be pressed bare against Garreth's. His shirt was gently peeled from his shoulders and the fabric replaced by soft lips that tempted and teased. When Garreth nibbled his collarbone, Ominis lost all sense of self as he fell back on the bed and harshly shoved his own trousers down his hips. Gone was his calm, collected exterior; instead he lay bare, gasping and desperate to be touched.

"Garreth…," he sighed as the warm, gentle kisses trailed down his chest.

His muffled reply came as a hand wrapped around Ominis' cock and the most improper whimper left his lips. His world may have ended the moment he was enveloped by a warm, wet mouth. Garreth pulled salacious moans from him over and over again as his tongue flicked and swirled and whipped Ominis into a frenzy. His hands were in his hair, the sheets, grabbing anything he could as his hips bucked wildly into that amazing mouth, hitting the tight ring of muscle on more than one occasion. Garreth didn't seem to mind as he simply growled his approval whenever Ominis' cock slid down his throat. He needed to stop before he exploded right then and there, but how could he when it felt so good, so right, so utterly perfect?

"Stop, ah-! Stop, or I'll come," he managed to groan.

Garreth stirred in his lap, muffled moans vibrating against his length until his deliciously soft mouth left his cock with a pop. Ominis groaned, regretting his decision already, until Garreth's hoarse whisper filled his ears.

"Do you want to…take me, or…?"

Oh, yes. But more than anything, Ominis wanted to be on the receiving end of Garreth's touches. Underneath him, pressed into the mattress as his mouth and hands explored every inch they could reach whilst his cock buried deep inside him. He'd experimented, certainly, but his albeitly long fingers would be no substitute for what he knew Garreth sported in his trousers.

"I want you inside me."

His boyfriend growled with uncontained lust and Ominis' heart found its way into his mouth, suddenly apprehensive, nervous that Garreth might lose himself too soon. He needn't have worried—his caress was featherlight despite the heaviness of his breath and throbbing of his cock against Ominis' thigh. 

"I'm going to get some lube now, okay?" Garreth said.

Ominis nodded, listening to the rummaging in the nightstand drawer. Those strong, calloused hands spread his legs, exposing him completely, yet he felt safe. Garreth was so gentle, whispering in his ear and exchanging sloppy kisses as his fingers teased and prepared him. Ominis arched his back and wriggled his hips for more, please. Garreth sensed his impatience and gave him a long, searing kiss as his fingers retreated, and replaced them with something far larger.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," Garreth whispered.

"I will. But I won't."

"Are you ready?" 

"Yes…yes, please," Ominis gasped, surprising himself with just how pleading his tone was.

Garreth groaned into his mouth, his fingers in Ominis' hair as he pushed inside him. Fuck, it stung, but heavens above he felt incredible. He'd so far been trying to keep his audible pleasure as muted as possible, but the moan that left his lips vibrated off the walls and filled the room and surely far beyond. The last of his composure broke down as Garreth buried himself to the hilt, his hand cupping Ominis’ face as their foreheads pressed together. This was intimacy as he’d never known it; their noses brushed and soft sighs mingled in the air between them as Garreth let Ominis adjust to his size and relax around him.

“How does that feel?” Garreth murmured against his lips.

“Incredible. You’re incredible.”

Not ‘you feel incredible’, just ‘you are incredible’. Perhaps that was the closest he’d gotten to admitting his true feelings, which were both terrifying and all-consuming. 

Three months, twelve days. 

That’s how long it had taken Ominis to admit to himself that he was in love with Garreth Weasley.

-

Three: The Fall

Ominis couldn't help but smile whenever his phone read the words 'incoming call from- Garreth Weasley'. Perhaps he was a fool for falling so hard, so fast. He ought to rein in his feelings, lest he end up with a broken heart, yet Garreth was so easy to love. When Ominis was with him, he could forget the rest of the world; all of his worries, every crushing pressure that threatened to break his already fragile heart. 

Ominis was no fool—he knew how others must view him. They saw his clothes, heard his name, and immediately thought they'd sussed him out as another spoiled trust fund kid with far too much money and very little else to offer. Some days, Ominis believed them. What would he be without his family, after all? A poor blind boy with a brilliant mind, but born into a cruel world rife with discrimination. Garreth only saw the Ominis he wished that he himself could perceive. 

Ominis answered the phone the way he always did.

"Hello, sunshine."

The nickname seemed so befitting for Garreth that he found it hard to be embarrassed about it.

"Omi! Can you meet me after work? I have a surprise for you," his slightly fuzzy voice came through the speaker, no less beautiful amongst the static.

"Of course—five?"

"Yep, I'll see you then!"

"Was that all?" Ominis asked.

"I have to get back to work. Cora's on my arse to finish my break..."

"You know you could have just texted me?"

"Then I wouldn't have been able to hear your voice."

Ominis' cheeks burned as he exhaled a contained chuckle through his nose. 

"I'm glad you did. See you later."

I love you.

Instead of saying that, he hung up. Perhaps the first time shouldn't be over the phone—it should be somewhere and sometime more befitting the gravity of the words. When Ominis was curled up in Garreth's arms after spending the night together, maybe. He'd had plenty of those, yet the words hadn't materialised. No matter, there was still plenty of time. 

He had a couple of lectures to attend before meeting Garreth, but still time to pop by the library for a few much-needed books. He'd picked a challenging subject considering many of the books he'd study weren't available in braille. Some were available as audio books, and some had been miraculously made available to him by the good graces of the University—or rather, his father's heavy influence and deep pockets.

His phone vibrated in his coat as he walked the steps up to the library, and the robotic voice announced something far less desirable than a call from Garreth.

Speak of the devil…

'Incoming call from- Father.'

His gut twisted as it always did when he was forced to talk to his family. It would be unwise for him to simply ignore the call, as much as he wished to. With a great sigh, he sat down on a low brick wall and readied himself before answering the annoying buzzing with a terse greeting.

"Father. How can I help?"

"Ominis. How are you?"

As if he cared.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

As if he cared.

"Very well. I'm calling in regards to a rumour I've heard regarding your conduct."

"My conduct," Ominis stated bluntly.

"Yes, your conduct. How you conduct yourself about the University. Your company has raised some concerns."

"My my, father, if you have something to say then please be out with it," Ominis said, not sure we're his sudden confidence was coming from.

Perhaps it had bubbled up from the pit of rage in his stomach.

"You've been seen with some scruffy boy. In his dormitory, around the campus. Not only have you been indiscreet, your choice of partner leaves much to be desired."

"To whom?"

"To me, Ominis."

"And what, pray tell, is the purpose of your call?"

"You know very well. I'll not have you galavanting about with some boy like some poof."

"Ah, therein lies the problem. I am a poof."

"Despite your disappointment, you're still my son…but I will not tolerate such disrespect. I got you where you are now, boy, and I can reverse your good fortunes just as quickly. Goodbye, Ominis."

The line went dead before Ominis could spit back a retort; perhaps for the best given how furious he was—he must have been attracting quite a bit of attention. His hands were shaking such that his cane rattled on the stone pavement. Anger quickly became secondary to his fear—his father was many things, but he was not a man who issued idle threats. It didn't surprise him that he'd been keeping an eye on him whilst at University—likely under the guise of concern for his poor, blind son. Ominis knew the real reason, and his father had just made it abundantly clear with that phone call.

He must have sat on that brick wall for hours. He missed his first lecture, and decided to skip the second, retreating to his dormitory with a numb backside and an even more numb emotional state. He barely managed to get out of bed to meet Garreth after his shift. Of course he knew something was wrong with Ominis, his concern showing in the way he touched him more gently, the way his voice was softer and an octave higher. Ominis tried to put the conversation out of his mind, but how could he ignore something so life-altering? For a few hours, he put on a poor façade of contentment, whilst his mind slipped deeper into melancholy. He kissed Garreth that night as if the world was ending, and he was quite sure that it was.

-

Four: Gone

Six months. Six months it had been since his heart was ripped out of his chest and soul torn asunder. Garreth was by nature a happy person, full of optimism, but what Ominis Gaunt's departure left behind was a husk of his former self. His friends tried their best to help, but as soon as he was alone, Garreth let the darkness take him. He'd wallow for hours, days at a time, not quite knowing if he'd feel a desire to leave his bed again.

Ominis had left without a word. His phone number went straight to voicemail. His dormitory lay empty. Garreth had asked around and been told he had deferred a year, and that he would be back in September. Garreth wasn't sure if the thought comforted him or made it worse—he still wasn't sure as the month rolled around.

Things were a little better now, thanks to Cora. His job had been a godsend, truth be told, even if he couldn't help the surreptitious glances to the table that Ominis had once frequented. All Summer break, he'd thrown himself into his part-time job, his music, his art. All the little things that made him happy, despite the gaping chasm left in his chest. True, it sometimes felt hollow when he wrote a new song when Ominis wasn't there to hear it, and the drawings he made were often of him despite his best attempts at anyone, anything else. He was trying, though, and each day got a little easier…until the start of term approached.

"Don't go looking for him, Garreth," Cora said, face set into a hard stare.

"I won't," he promised.

He wouldn't go looking, but he might happen upon him whilst walking to and from lectures. Garreth wasn't sure what he wanted—perhaps just to know that Ominis was alright. He should hate him, but so far he'd not managed to muster the feeling. The first week came and went and Garreth didn't see Ominis. He didn't see him whilst crossing the courtyard outside the English building twice a day, nor in the coffee shop when he worked. He didn't find him lingering in the library or outside on the lawn in the shade of the oak tree he loved so much. If Ominis had returned, he was a ghost.

It wasn't until a week later that Garreth finally found him. He'd not even been looking, but the cane was hard to miss when it smacked into his leg.

"Ominis," he gasped, unbelieving.

The pressure built behind his eyes and his throat constricted; his heart hammered and breath grew shallow; there was no angry outburst nor demanding of an explanation, only relief and overwhelming hurt.

"G-Garreth?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me. Sorry, I'm in your way."

"You're not. Well, you are, but I'm glad you are."

A silence grew that Garreth didn't know how to fill, only able to stare at the boy he still loved and commit every edge, every mark, every pore to memory in case he didn't see him again.

"I'm so sorry," Ominis whispered.

Ah, there were the tears that followed the words he'd wanted to hear for the past six months. Garreth was weeping in the middle of campus, and he didn't care as Ominis' arms wrapped around him, hesitant and unsure. He wanted to ask him to hold him tighter, but this moment was fragile, and Garreth couldn't run the risk of breaking the spell.

"Tell me why you left, then you never have to see me again," he managed to say through the tears.

"I told you everything in my letter, it was the truth, but…things have changed, admittedly."

"What letter?"

"What do you mean? The letter I left for you before I…"

Ominis looked panicked as Garreth looked at him through bleary eyes, rapidly blinking away the tears as he tried not to follow suit.

"I didn't get a letter. Tell me you're joking."

"Why would I joke? I left you a letter explaining why I'd left. It was cowardly of me, I should have told you…you never got it? You never knew?"

"No, I never knew."

"Garreth…"

Ominis held him tighter, then, and Garreth squeezed him back. Garreth was sure his heart would soon burst from his chest or he'd simply throw up on the ground, but he managed to ask Ominis to sit with him. They sat on the grass where they'd shared their first kiss and Ominis told him everything that the letter contained. He'd pinned it to his door, but it had been taken before Garreth had a chance to read it.

"I believed my father when he said I'd amount to nothing without him. He's told me as much since the day I'd learned to talk. So I took a gap year, hoping that…you'd forget about me."

"So we can't be together because of your homophobic arsehole of a father?" Garreth asked furiously.

Ominis winced and shook his head with a sad smile.

"No, he's no longer a problem. I regretted my decision almost immediately but I admit I was too ashamed to return. I've spent the past few months working and saving enough money to cut ties with my family."

Ominis took a shaky breath before continuing, his piercing blue eyes fixed into the distance and pricked with tears of his own.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I want you to know that it was you who gave me the strength to finally say no to my father. You…you made me feel more than just a shadow of him."

Garreth sat in stunned silence for minutes just watching the passersby. His brain ached with the deluge of new information. Everything was raw, shocking, unbelievable. 

"Why didn't you find me and tell me?"

"Why would you want anything to do with me after I left?" Ominis asked.

"Because I love you. I love you and if I'd told you that maybe you wouldn't have left in the first place."

There it was; Garreth's heart laid bare. The truth he'd been too scared to tell Ominis before he left and spent half a year trying to deny. 

"I love you too, Garreth. I always will."

He wasn't sure if that changed things, not yet—there was too much to mull over, too much to consider. Garreth stayed silent, simply placing his hand on Ominis' in the long grass.

"Garreth?" Ominis whispered into the breeze.

"Mmm?"

"I'll spend the rest of my life trying to regain your trust, if you'll let me."

-

Five: Forever

Forgiveness and love were said to be fickle things. Ominis hadn't thought he'd deserved the former. The latter was implicitly given; Garreth owned his heart, and had done so since the day they had met. The turbulent and beautiful and incredible years ran through his mind as he stood outside the room that would change the course of his life forever. Perhaps it would have been easier for Garreth to walk down the aisle, but Ominis was loath to rob him of his first look—it was the least he could offer. They had planned every detail for themselves, unshackled from the demands of his family and bolstered by the love and support of Garreth’s.

Ominis chose to hold the arm of a dear friend as he walked, the comforting warmth that stayed the shake in his hand a much better prospect than his cane. Sebastian had been an excellent best man so far, even if his stag ‘do left a lot to be desired. All was forgiven as Ominis wrapped his fingers around his forearm and took a deep breath that didn't fill the depths of his lungs. 

“You’ve got this,” Sebastian muttered as the doors opened.

Why had they chosen such heart-wrenching music for this part? He was already fighting back tears and he’d barely stepped in the room. All Ominis could do was focus on his breathing and the tight grip he had around Sebastian's forearm. The walk was an eternity, made all the more agonising by the sobbing from Mrs Weasley, yet he finally made it to the end and was promptly scooped up into Garreth's arms. They'd not even exchanged vows and their lips were pressed together, holding each other as if the other might choose to bolt at the last second.

After that, it was all a blur. Words were said, tears were shed, and not one minute went by that Ominis' cheeks didn't hurt from smiling. He'd completely forgotten the vows he'd prepared, yet the right sentiments came spilling forth anyway. He'd told Garreth exactly what he meant to him; nothing short of his entire world. It was no secret what had transpired in their University years, yet it would only be mentioned briefly amongst the outpouring of love. The 'blip', as they called it, had shaped their relationship, their entire lives, but inevitably led them here. Ominis wouldn't change a thing, and neither would Garreth.

"You may now kiss," the registrar said to the eruption of cheers and claps.

Oh, thank God. Ominis clasped Garreth's cheeks so tightly he might have torn his head clean off his shoulders. Their first kiss as a wedded couple was quite the display, but Ominis couldn't quite bring himself to be embarrassed. It was hard to keep their mouths together amongst the grins spreading rapidly across their faces, and a clash of teeth later they pulled apart laughing and clasping hands.

Three years, eleven months. 

That's how long it had taken Ominis to make Garreth Weasley his forever.

[girl-next-door-writes]

You Matter To Me

Characters: Steve Harington x reader

Summary: A shared moment before heading into the Upside Down where you and Steve both reflect on what is important.

Word Count: 1000 words

Prompt: You Matter To Me

A/N: I have been going through some ‘real world’ stuff recently and this song showed up on my radar again and despite the million fics I have to write I felt this needed to be written. It isn’t perfect, I couldn’t find all the words, but if you are reading this then I want you to know that you matter.

Nobody should have this much pressure placed on them, and yet he had taken it almost willingly. The role of leader, of protector, it weighed heavy on his shoulders, and although he hid it well, there were flashes of the truth hidden in those beautiful, soulful eyes; eyes you could happily get lost in, even on the worst days, perhaps especially on the worst days. Their warm richness comforting, even though the slivers of profound sadness swam in their depths. Each horror he had witnessed haunted him, words left unsaid and yet screaming as the two of you looked at each other. Insecurity, doubt, the fragility of his carefully crafted self-confident persona swam in those sad eyes, shattering your heart into a million pieces.

There were no words. The painful realization that nothing said could make things any better, caused a deep ache in your soul. Taking a seat beside him, you simply shuffled closer, tucking yourself into his side and slipping your hand into his. Interlacing your fingers, you looked down at your hands, silently vowing to stay right there by his side for as long as he would let you.

This beautiful boy had gotten under your skin, and although your emotions for him were largely undefined, he mattered to you. He was important. He was…irrevocably connected to you. How do you even begin to tell someone that? It isn’t as simple as those three overused words, and it was deeper than a romantic desire. You saw him, just as he truly was, and knew that he was enough, that your life was infinitely improved by his existence. Did he know that? Was he aware of how he touched everyone’s life? You felt an almost overwhelming desire to grip him by the shoulders and shake him until he understood that he was so much more than he believed; that he truly did matter. But instead, the two of you sat in silence, holding hands and watching the others preparing.

Steve stole a glance at you, allowing himself a moment to just be a nineteen-year-old boy, sitting holding hands with someone he cared about. It was a little addictive spending time with you. There was just something about the way you listened to him, like you heard all the parts he didn’t say out loud, and you didn’t think he was stupid or broken.

He had a close friendship with Robin, he adored his best friend, and then there were the ‘kids’, and Nancy; well, the Nancy thing was complicated. Now he also had Eddie… All these people depending on him, needing him to step up and take the lead. There was a part of him that wanted to run, to just get in his car and drive away from this hellhole and start over. If he’d gone to college then he wouldn’t be here for this shit, this would be someone else’s problem. The guilt of that thought gnawed at him and he subconsciously squeezed your hand. He was scared, but he knew he couldn’t turn his back, he would never forgive himself.

There was something different about this fight, a shadow in the back of his mind that said they might not all make it. Looking around at his friends, he felt his heart clench. They all mattered. Dustin would probably go on to cure some deadly disease or figure out a way for everyone to live on the moon or some shit. Lucas, he had a shot at becoming a pro athlete, if he focused. Nancy had a bright future as a journalist maybe, blowing the lid off government corruption and saving people… Each and every one of them had such potential to make a real difference in the world. The only person he could even consider disposable in the grand scheme of things, was himself. This might be the one thing, the moment where he might be of some importance, making sure the rest of them got through.

He was brought out of his thoughts by your head resting on his shoulder. It was such a small gesture but it grounded him, and he found himself leaning down, his cheek pressing against your hair as he closed his eyes.

“Steve?” Your voice was so quiet that he could easily have imagined that you had spoken.

“Yeah?”

“You matter to me. More than all this. More than most people.” Your words hung in the air between the two of you and he felt a tear roll down his cheek.

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. Don’t go doing anything ‘heroic’, because if something happens to you then I’m just gonna have to make a deal with the devil, or bring you back as a zombie or something, and then you’ll be screwed. You will feel my wrath.”

“Your wrath?” he chuckled, an eyebrow raising in amusement as he opened his eyes again.

“Yes, my wrath. I will be incredibly pissed at you for doing something so stupid, and for leaving me, and then making me learn voodoo so I can bring you back to yell at you.”

“Yeah, that does seem like it might be a bit of a hassle.”

“A major one. So, just promise me you will try your best to see me on the other side of all this because, for some fucked up reason Harrington, you really matter to me.”

“Okay.” He said softly, his fingers playing with yours as he took your words to heart. Turning his head slightly, he placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head and let out a deep sigh. “And, for the record, you matter to me too.”

You didn’t reply, you didn’t have to. It was obvious that the feelings between the two of you were simultaneously infinitely complex and so simple. Hopefully there would be time to explore each and every nuance of what it meant to matter to each other, but for now, Steve was content to just sit beside you and feel.

[lttleghost]

El Camino makes me want to Chew My Arm Off

(I know I’ve made several posts about this movie and my problems with it but I just have to put all of my thoughts down or I’m going to explode)

so, Breaking Bad's sequel movie, El Camino… I’ve tried to like it so long, I’ve seen it 5 or 6 times, and the first few times I saw it I was firmly in denial and thought I enjoyed it even if I had a couple of arguments with it… but I’ve hit this tipping point where I just can't pretend anymore, and I just… hate this movie. and it seems like I shouldn't, right? being a Jesse lover I should be happy that he gets a hopeful, if slightly bittersweet, ending, right? because he does get a somewhat happy ending… right?

except… does he? like even when I was trying to force myself to like El Camino, I was a bit upset by the ending; it seems to be asking a lot of me to believe that Jesse is really getting a particularly hopeful “new beginning” when he’s still alone and without support and now can’t even ever confide in anyone without majorly risking revealing his identity and getting arrested. I also always felt that after the first half of the movie Jesse’s PTSD was kinda… downplayed? and I just have this feeling that might’ve been done with the purpose of making Jesse’s “hopeful” ending a lil more believable considering the circumstances, but I admit that particular aspect might just be in my head.

so that’s not great obviously, or at least it pokes a bit of a hole in the tone of El Camino’s ending for Jesse, but what really tipped me over the edge was realizing what the story communicates in presenting it’s ending as more hopeful and bittersweet instead of just kinda depressing. it communicates that what Jesse needs to do to have a happier life is just make the right choices from now on. BECAUSE YA KNOW, THIS DRUG ADDICTS PROBLEM WAS HE JUST WASN’T MAKING THE RIGHT CHOICES!!!!

and I want to believe that this wasn’t intentional, I know the writers at least sympathize with Jesse, but there are scenes within El Camino that just make it really really hard for me to believe that on some level that isn’t what you’re supposed to take away from it, primarily this one -

and this scene which follows it a short time afterwards -

I think that we’re supposed to agree with what’s being said by the disappearer guy and Jesse in these scenes, that Jesse is in fact at least somewhat responsible for where he ended up. It’s hard for me to imagine that they’re scenes where you’re expected to say “oh fuck OFF!!” and “sweetheart I understand why you think that but no, they fucked up” at the screen respectively. 

now, it’s very in character for Jesse to say what he did to his parents. children who are neglected tend to blame themselves for their own hardships - and I bet Jesse also just wants to lessen the guilt that his parents might feel in general if he can cause he’s a sweet person… but I don’t understand why it was necessary to have the disappearer guy say what he said. he could have said any number of things besides “you made your own luck” to Jesse in response to Jesse not quite having enough money for an identity change, including something simple like the cost of his services is the cost of his services, no exceptions.

and since Vince Gilligan does seem to believe that there is possibly a perfect way to pull off the ending where Jesse did end up in jail even if he couldn’t write it himself I’m even more sure that he’s got a fundamental misunderstanding of the responsibility Jesse has in his actions and what might actually be useful for solving the problems Jesse does have. like yeah, Jesse’s gonna feel guilty whether or not his actions were in his reasonable control because he’s a person who cares about others getting hurt, but I’m sorry, is repentance the actual solution to that? really?

cause, tell me this; how is it useful in any way to continue to “hold Jesse accountable” for his actions by the end of Breaking Bad, isn’t the purpose of doing that to prevent someone from doing the same harmful things again? what is the point of this in Jesse’s case? the only genuinely shitty thing that was his full responsibility and was something that he had a reasonable choice to not do was his attempt to sell drugs to the rehab group, but GUESS WHAT!? Jesse snapped himself out of that idea without much of the way of people telling him it was bad to do. I think this is a lesson learned! and I keep using the term “reasonable choice” for a reason, and it’s because sometimes someone has a choice to do something sure, but it’s unreasonable to expect that every single person will make the “right” choice, like most of the worst things that Jesse does are because he is backed into a corner and/or being manipulated by Walt! oh and Jesse being a drug dealer in the first place? a) selling drugs to people who are seeking them out isn’t actually this massive act of harm long as you’re honest about what you’re selling, people will always use drugs and need to get them from somewhere, also alcohol is more toxic and kills more people than meth does, and b) so while Walt had the choice between selling meth and… accepting help from other people who think that they owe him anyway, Jesse had the choice between selling meth and poorly paying jobs, one of which we see offered is ACTUALLY humiliating, not just “ooh I have to accept help sometimes”, and actually he’d have to do this all while lacking support or help from anyone except maybe his friends who are still very involved in the drug trade because his parents are shitty fucking people who weren’t prepared or willing to have a child that wasn’t “normal”. and it's not like this makes anything that he did good or that he didn't do anything wrong I'm not suggesting that he's a perfect person, but I don't think that what he did is uniquely bad in any way.

and even if I’m wrong and the movie is actually trying to get across that Jesse didn’t USE to have choices but NOW he does I think… the ending still wraps it up badly and it still communicates a bad message. like why are we led to believe that Jesse is going to make different choices from now on? not only does he still have no outside support or resources, but he has LESS options in regards to acquiring those things than he had at the beginning of Breaking Bad and a FUCKTON of new PTSD on top of that. like I think it’s unlikely that Jesse is going to get back into the criminal world but instead of me thinking that because his life circumstances have actually improved in the ways that they should’ve it’s because he’s been through so much horrible trauma in the past that he’ll “know better”. Jesse received trauma that we’re sorta meant to interpret as him learning from, punishment that he learned from, so that now anything genuinely miserable coming up in his life will simply seem better than what he’s already been through, again rather than actually having resources to make his rough patches in life better. El Camino still puts all of the pressure onto Jesse alone to have a better life. and I think that ultimately leaves us with an ending that is bleaker than it wants to admit

I don’t know how I could write El Camino to have the happy ending for Jesse that I both want and think he deserves, at least I’ve not been able to come up with anything that feels believable enough, so sadly I think that the best way to fix it is by changing the tone of the ending so that it does feel bleaker. maybe add in a little more focus on Jesse’s PTSD and that he doesn’t really know how to deal with it later in the movie as well, but still keep in everything that show’s Jesse’s kindness, like him feeding the spider Todd was keeping and the scene with the beetle that always brings the Undertale quote “despite everything it’s still you” to mind. if nothing else I’d hope that it’d make people think about how nothing about Jesse’s life circumstances have changed in a way that actually will allow him to thrive, and feel upset about it because he continues to persist in being a caring person in a world that never wanted him to be.