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rosylix · 4 months ago

Note

Hii! I've never requested but I can't get this idea out of my mind..

So basically Felix and reader have been college roommates for a year or two but Felix ends up falling for them and has to tell them cos it’s only a few months till graduation.

Totally understand if you can't do it, but thought I'd ask!

everglow

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂𝓸𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶�� 𝓮𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓮𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

your best friend and roommate is acting especially sentimental tonight. you try to get to the bottom of it

pairing: felix × gn!reader

wc: 6.3k

content: college au, friends to lovers, feelings realization, shy felix, oblivious reader, they're nerds, fluff, light angst, crying?, pouty lix, kissing, mildly suggestive?, hopeful ending

a/n: my first fulfilled request?? i apologize if this was sitting in my inbox for forever.. i wasn't planning on writing a whole thing but then suddenly. i had an epiphany. ty for helping me out of writers block anon 🫶 i hope this is kinda how you were envisioning it!

[also read on ao3]

—

Your college dorm is a familiar sight, the mess of papers and coffee cups giving away the fact that the end of the year is fast approaching. You've been sharing this space with Felix for the past couple years, both of you working hard to keep your grades up and—hopefully, somehow—graduate?

…You're sure it'll be fine. As long as you do well enough on your capstone project, which is why you're sitting at Felix's desk, dutifully researching. Sometimes you take to his room when you need a change of scenery or just want company; though it's just you right now as Felix had to leave for class earlier.

You're just about to take a stretch break when you hear the front door open and soon enough, Felix trudges into the room. “Still here?” he says when he sees you.

“Unfortunately.” You set your things down and look over at him with a long sigh to convey your exhaustion.

“Dude, same,” he groans, tossing his bag on the floor before flopping down on his bed. “I don't think I've ever been so fucking tired in my life. Why did I pursue higher education again?”

That gets you to laugh a little. “Maybe for some kind of high-paying job and… a sense of accomplishment?” you suggest.

He lets out another groan, rolling over on his side. “But at what fucking cost? Sleep deprivation and a caffeine addiction?” He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Remind me why I'm doing this again.”

You get up and walk over to his bed, sitting down on the edge next to him, a playful smile on your face. “Well, I seem to recall someone who said they wanted to be some hot shot computer engineer.”

He props himself up on one elbow to face you. “Ooh, you think I'm hot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You give him a look that hopefully conveys how much of an idiot you think he is. “Hot shot, dumbass.��

…Still, it would be dishonest to disagree: your roommate is attractive. Anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

“Ohh, I see. You think I'm hot shit?”

You roll your eyes so far back it almost hurts. “As if you don't hear that enough.”

He grins, clearly amused and clearly not above shamelessly fishing for compliments. “Oh, but it's so much more fun to hear it from you,” he teases, leaning back against his pillow.

You give him a withering glare but he just reaches out and pats the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit down.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I am literally sitting down.”

“Okay, well, closer, genius.”

You sigh exaggeratedly, but you humor him anyway, scooting over closer to where he's lounging on the bed. You thought that was enough, but this is Felix, and you should have known better. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you down next to him.

He shifts so he's on his side facing you and grins, clearly satisfied. His hair is messy and there's a hint of dark circles under his eyes, but he still manages to look unfairly attractive.

You shake your head at his antics and let out a long sigh. “Well… You've already made it this far, you know,” you tell him. “Only a few months left of dealing with school, and then you're done.”

“...Yeah.”

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting across your face, a hint of something almost like melancholy in his eyes.

“Why am I kinda sad, though?” he finally asks with a chuckle.

You blink. “Sad? About being done with school?”

He nods. “I mean, I want to be done, god, believe me I do, but…” He blows out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, it just doesn't feel as good as I expected it to. And I'm…” He pauses, clearly thinking his words over.

“I'm… gonna miss this, honestly. A lot.”

“This?” You gesture around the room. "You're going to miss this? Our tiny-ass, overpriced apartment?"

He laughs at that. “Not this place, I guess.”

“Then? The constant lack of sleep? Exams? The shitty cafeteria food?”

“Please,” Felix scoffs before taking a deep breath, looking somewhere behind you. “I'm… going to miss this." He looks back at you and pokes your shoulder for emphasis. “This. Us living together. Hanging out all the time. I'm going to miss that.”

You blink, a little taken aback at his earnestness. “Oh,” you say intelligently. “Yeah. I…”

You try to ignore the way your heart is suddenly in your throat. In truth, you've been doing your best not to think about it, how things will inevitably change after graduation.

“I mean…” you start. “It's not like we're never going to see each other again or something. We'll keep in touch, right?” But even as you say it, you feel yourself deflating. It’s not the same.

His expression reflects yours, his smile soft but a little sad around the edges. “...Of course we will.” He sounds like he's saying it as much to himself as he is to you.

He's silent for another moment, his fingers gently running over the blanket, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It won't… be the same though,” he says, mirroring your own thoughts. “Like— you know? I'm gonna miss the convenience store we always go to at 2AM, I'm gonna miss our late-night study sessions and the shitty coffee you make, I'm gonna miss how you always use up the hot water in the shower and your annoying alarm waking me up at fuck-ass in the morning—” He suddenly cuts off, a flush rising in his cheeks.

He turns on his back again, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, I don't know, just shut up and let me wallow in my feelings.”

You're honestly a little speechless. All that, things he claims are annoying — he's going to miss it all that much?

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, you sap, look at me.”

“No. I'm wallowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that.” You poke his arm. Then again, harder. “Come on, look at me.”

Felix huffs dramatically, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. “What? I’m looking.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. He's pouting, looking a little petulant but still so endearingly cute, and you can definitely see the hint of embarrassment in his gaze as he peeks at you.

You let a smile spread across your face. “You're gonna miss me.”

Felix averts his gaze, his cheeks going a little pinker. “I mean, a little, I guess,” he mumbles, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ugh, why are you looking at me like that? Don't let it go to your head or anything.”

It's so obvious that it's more than just a little — but you decide not to call him out on it. Instead, you lean forward, propping yourself up with one arm. “Too late,” you tease, grinning widely. “You're gonna miss me so much.”

He groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes again. "Whatever. Shut up.”

You look at him silently for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his messy hair. God, he's so cute. You've always been aware of how pretty he is, but there's something about seeing him like this, completely unguarded and vulnerable, that's making your lungs feel tight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze away from him. “Hey, come on, cheer up.”

“No,” he says, still hiding his face behind his arm. “I'll just lay here and wallow and die."

“So dramatic,” you chide, poking his side roughly, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You're starting to feel a little flustered too.

He whines at the contact, swatting at your hand, but you notice he hasn't moved his other arm away from his face. “Ow, hey, violence,” he complains, curling away from your fingers. “Ow, ow, dude—”

You reach out and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He lets out a half-hearted protest, but doesn’t get the chance to resist.

Oh. His eyes are shining.

You freeze.

He's pouting again, but it's less childish now and more vulnerable, embarrassed. For a moment you just sort of stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of you are. His face is so close, so pretty, and your heart is doing something strange, beating rapidly in your chest.

“You’re—” You clear your throat, struggling with what to say. You… hadn’t realized how much this was impacting him.

He looks away and blinks hard, but his eyes are still a bit misty, unshed tears stubbornly sticking to his eyelashes. “Sorry. I'm being stupid,” he finally says, his voice a little quiet. “Ignore me, I'm just being weird, it's—” He swallows. “...I'm tired.”

Oh, god. You've been joking and teasing and making fun, but now you just feel like the biggest jerk, because he's actually really upset about this.

“Wait, no,” you murmur, suddenly serious. “No, it’s not— You're not being stupid. I—” You're having a lot more trouble than usual forming coherent sentences.

Your hand is still around his wrist, your fingers pressing against his pulse point. You squeeze it lightly. “It's okay.” You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, in contrast to the rest of him lying completely still. “It's not stupid. I’m— I'm gonna miss you too, idiot.”

He lets out a wet sounding laugh at that, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his arm away from your grip. “So mean,” he says. “Do you have to insult me to say nice things?”

“Well, yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you feel a bit of relief that you've managed to cheer him up a little.

“But you mean it?” He looks up at you with a shy expression. “You're gonna miss me?”

“Of course,” you say, suddenly struck by how much you mean it. “Yeah, I am. A lot.”

He lets out a low breath, eyes flicking over your face. “Yeah?” he says quietly.

It's silent for a moment. Felix is still looking at you, a little shyly, and it's driving you a little crazy. He sighs, his brow pinched slightly, like he’s struggling with some internal conflict. You wait patiently, giving him space to express what he wants to say.

But he doesn't. Just averts his eyes and blinks harshly at the wall behind you.

“Please don't cry or I'll start crying too,” you say with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Felix lets out a shaky breath. “...I’m not going to cry.”

You give him a look.

“I’m not,” he insists, using his free hand to rub his eyes. “I have allergies or something, I just— I—”

He hesitates, clearly trying to gather his thoughts.

“Okay, look,” he sits up, pulling his wrist free from your grip and taking a deep breath. “It's just— I…” He stops, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Felix?” you ask, sitting up too. You're starting to get a little concerned. Why is the mood suddenly so weird?

He groans, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks. “This is embarrassing.”

It doesn't help your concern. “What’s embarrassing?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady.

“This,” he mutters, still hiding his face.

You hesitate a moment, not really knowing what to do, before tentatively reaching out and touching his arm. “Um… It's fine, you can talk to me.”

He lets out a frustrated breath before finally looking at you. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Oh. “Well… Did you… like, kill someone or something?”

Felix stares at you for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch a little. “No, I didn’t kill anyone, you psychopath,” he says dryly.

“Okay, well, good,” you say, clearing your throat. “No illegal activities? The government isn't after you?”

“I… No,” he says slowly.

This conversation is taking a bizarre turn. “And you're not, like… secretly an alien sent to spy on humans this whole time? And… now you have to return to your home planet to plot the annihilation of Earth?”

That finally gets Felix to laugh. “You're— you're a fucking idiot,” he says through giggles. “Seriously.”

“I’m just checking,” you say, crossing your arms. “You're being all weird and shit and…” you gesture vaguely. “Maybe you're an alien. I don't know.”

That only sets him off giggling again. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “Why are you so dumb.”

You roll your eyes, just relieved to see him smile. He's much more relaxed now, the mood in the room lifted with his laughter. All part of your plan. You're more than happy to appear ridiculous if it means seeing him laugh.

He finally stops laughing, though he’s still smiling a little as he lifts his head and looks at you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you try not to be too distracted by the freckles around his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks as his gaze flicks across your face. He’s looking at you intently, and the air in the room feels charged, electric almost.

“You…” he starts, but hesitates, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Why are you so dumb,” he repeats.

Wow. “Now who's being mean?” you pout.

He laughs again, but it’s softer than before, a shaky, nervous sound. “God, I— this is so stupid, I—”

He lets out a frustrated breath, staring directly into your eyes, his expression intense and focused. “How do you not notice,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re frozen under his gaze, your heart suddenly in your throat. “Notice… what?”

Felix closes his eyes. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

What? “It seems like it matters since you’re…”

He opens his eyes again, looking a bit pained as he looks at you. “Just… just forget it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, your hands shaking slightly. “Uh… okay,” you say. “Sorry for… being dumb…?”

He grimaces. “No, I didn't mean it like—”

He lets out a long, heavy breath, shaking his head. Then he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

His voice is quieter when he speaks, looking down, idly playing with your fingers. “Just… you’re supposed to notice,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “It’s supposed to be obvious.”

You stare at him, confused and flustered and… honestly, a little distracted by how he's touching your hand. “What's… uhh, what?” Everything feels like it's too much all of a sudden, and your chest is really starting to do something weird.

He sighs. “Nevermind. Seriously.”

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. “When we graduate,” he starts. “...Which I guess is really soon, huh.”

The way he says it makes your chest pang painfully. He’s still not looking at you. “I won’t see you anymore…” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him.

You grab his hand, stopping him from fiddling with your fingers, and squeeze gently. “Hey,” you say. “C’mon, it’s not like that.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Isn't it, though?”

It kind of feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. This isn't like him, he's usually the one full of sunshine and optimism, reassuring you. But right now, the defeat in his voice is palpable.

The reality of the situation starts sinking in. Time’s almost up.

“Felix,” you say quietly, and he finally lifts his eyes up from his lap to look at you. His eyes are watery again.

He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “Sorry, I’m being… I’m being unfair, I just…” He hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to not see you.”

You frown, tears pricking your eyes now too. You don't trust your voice to speak, throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“And you’re just… so oblivious,” he continues, his finger tracing over your knuckles. “So stubborn, and dumb, and you’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life and I seriously cannot believe I like—”

He cuts off suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Wait.

“Felix,” you murmur, and his eyes dart up to meet yours, a little panicked. He tries to jerk his hand away from yours, but you hold on tighter, keeping him in place.

“Felix,” you repeat, your skin buzzing from the way he’s looking at you. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that.”

He looks away, face a brilliant crimson red. “Yeah, I can.”

You almost want to laugh. You didn’t realize he could be so shy, but you can’t focus on that now, because your heart is racing and you can’t tell if you’re going to pass out, or pass away.

“No, you can’t,” you say shakily. “When are you gonna tell me? At the commencement ceremony?”

He lets out a half-choked, almost hysterical sort of laugh, keeping his head turned away so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Yeah, something like that.”

He has to be joking. “That’s months away!”

“And?”

You shake your head, feeling dizzy. “I’m not gonna wait that long, are you insane?”

He huffs and glares at you, pouting. “Oh, well I’m sorry, would you just rather I shout it from the fucking roof tops then? Hey, everyone, I’ve been in love with my best friend since freshman year!”

What.

You blink, stunned speechless, your eyes wide.

Your mind is spinning, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. The words in love keep ringing in your ears, over and over again.

“You— you what?” you manage to get out, feeling a little faint. You must not have heard him correctly. You're hallucinating, or having a stroke or… something. He can't actually mean—

Felix winces. “...Fuck.” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, brain still struggling to catch up to the situation. You’re still processing that he said the word love, when the last few words register.

“Wait— freshman year?” you say incredulously. “You’ve— since—?”

He’s clearly trying to act somewhat composed but the bright red on his ears betrays him. “Um. Yeah. Shut up. Stop talking,” he says, voice muffled from behind his hands.

You think about the past few years of your life, every interaction with him, and it’s like everything suddenly clicks into place.

The way his ears turn pink whenever you compliment him. The way you could always get under his skin so easily. You think about every time he got defensive, or huffy, or pouty at something innocuous you did or said.

…The way he's never really shown interest in anyone, despite the plenty of interest shown his way. The countless people he's turned down, for seemingly no reason. When you'd questioned him about it, he'd just laughed awkwardly and said he preferred to focus on his studies.

“Oh my god,” you say again.

Felix groans and hides his face further, his ears practically on fire. “Stop. Don't,” he mutters. “It's okay. Just… pretend you never heard that, okay, it's fine—”

“No.”

It’s silent for a moment, Felix still hiding his face, and your mind still swirling with thoughts.

You kind of want to kiss him.

The realization is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. It’s not really a surprise, honestly, just another thing that feels natural. Maybe because deep down, of course somewhere along the line you've developed feelings for the person you can trust with anything, who gets you more than anyone else. Your favorite person in the world.

You’re only half in your right mind as you grab his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

“You ass,” you say, staring directly at him.

He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I'm sorry—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Can I kiss you?”

He chokes, eyes going even wider. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly caught off guard. After a moment, he manages to find his voice, though it’s very high pitched and shaky. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Can I kiss you,” you repeat, your head feeling fuzzy, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“…What?” he asks again. His face is bright red. “Are— are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you murmur, leaning even closer, your faces almost touching.

His breath catches, and his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips. “Please say you’re not,” he manages to say, voice breaking.

“I’m not,” you say, feeling a little crazy. Insane, maybe. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Can I?”

He doesn't give you an answer, letting out an incredulous breath before grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward as he falls back so you land on top of him.

You’re about to protest at the continued lack of a clear answer, but then he’s kissing you and you forget how to speak.

It's not the most graceful kiss, you’re both a little clumsy, but it’s sweet and it’s Felix and that’s all that really matters. You figure it out quickly, getting into a rhythm, and he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. You feel like you’re dreaming, or drowning, or both.

Felix is kissing you. Felix is kissing you. Your closest friend. He’s in love with you, and he’s kissing you.

It makes your head spin. After several moments, you finally pull away, panting and dizzy. You feel a little delirious, staring down at him, both of you catching your breath.

His head falls back against the pillow, face turning impossibly red as he blinks at you like he’s in shock. You laugh a little and he huffs, but his eyes soften.

“So… you, uh— You— Are you—?”

You cut him off with another touch of your lips, effectively shutting him up. He instantly melts into it, tightens his grip in your hair, pulling you further into the kiss, and you can’t think straight, everything is just Felix.

After a while, you’re forced to break away again for air. Felix whines at the loss of contact, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed. You only manage to get a few breaths in before he's pulling you down into another kiss, more urgently this time.

You let out a surprised noise, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He seems to be determined to kiss you senseless, and it’s working.

He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. He mumbles something in response, his thigh sliding between your legs, and your brain short-circuits.

Okay. You shiver. Okay. You should probably… You manage to pull away for a much needed breath and Felix tries to chase after your mouth, but you press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

He groans, looking frustrated, but flops back against the pillow obediently. He blinks at you dazedly, his own chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dark, but his expression quickly morphs into a pout. “Why… Why…?” he complains, trying to tug you closer again.

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head, and he gives you a wide-eyed look, all innocence and sweetness, and that's not fair that he can look like this after all of that.

“Just— one sec,” you somehow get out, your mind still completely overloaded. “We should… uh…”

He’s still trying to reach your mouth. “What,” he mutters, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Talk,” you manage to say, even as his lips make their way to your jaw. “We should… we need to… oh my god—”

You cut off, stifling a gasp as he sucks on your skin. “Felix,” you say, trying to be stern, but it comes out like a moan instead.

“Mm?” he hums against your ear, completely unapologetic. “You want to… talk?”

“Yeah.” It takes all your willpower to pull away, ignoring how he whines in protest. You sit up and take a moment to compose yourself, willing yourself to ignore the urge to just give in to him.

Felix flops back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he sighs, his voice sounding a little raspy.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his ears red. “Sorry, god, I've thought about this so much, I just—”

Oh. “You’ve… thought about…? How much…?”

He makes a strangled noise and covers his face more thoroughly, voice muffled. “Oh my god,” he groans, “I'm going to fucking die. I… a lot.”

…Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay.

“...How much is a lot?” you ask, unable to resist your curiosity. And maybe you want to tease him about it. Just a little.

He groans again. “So, so much. An embarrassing and pathetic amount.” He’s not even trying to hide his pouting. “Can you please not make me say the actual words.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but the way he sounds — breathless and embarrassed — it’s honestly kind of adorable. He’s always so confident in most aspects of his life that you kind of love seeing him so flustered.

“Please… don’t,” he mumbles, peeking at you. “I’m begging you…”

He's blinking up at you, the picture of innocence once again. He glances up at you through his eyelashes, all pretty and delicate and ugh, he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

“You’re distracting,” you say weakly, staring down at him. “Stop making cute faces at me.”

He does not stop making cute faces. He tries though, lowering his hands as his face drops into a scowl. “I’m not making a cute face,” he protests.

“Yeah, you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing it right now. Your pouty thing.”

He sniffs. “I'm not,” he says petulantly, though there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is just my regular face. It’s not my fault if my face is cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off with a finger, placing it over his lips. His mouth instantly snaps shut, and you can’t resist a little grin as he looks up at you with wide eyes.

You watch as he swallows, his eyes fixed on you, and, not for the first time, you’re reminded of how pretty he is. He’s always been gorgeous, in an objective sort of way, but you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time.

You move your hand away and take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You need to talk about this while you’re both still somewhat coherent, or you’ll go absolutely insane.

“So…” You’re a little pleased with how steady your voice is, considering the circumstances. “You… love me.”

Felix coughs and covers his face again. “Do you have to say it like that,” he groans, his voice muffled by his palms.

“You never… you never said anything.”

He just shrugs, still hiding his face. “I was scared to lose you,” he says with a shaky breath. “I didn’t expect you to want me back…” There's no bitterness in his tone, just disbelief.

You frown. “But you’re—” You bite your tongue. Felix was worried about you not wanting him?

You shake your head, a somewhat acrid feeling welling up inside of you. You've seen firsthand the sheer amount of attention he gets from people, from the random gifts and outright confessions and people slipping him numbers and notes everywhere he goes. There's never been a shortage of interest in him, from all sorts of people. Compared to him, you're… nothing.

“So… this whole time, you just… thought I was clueless?” You're still trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighs. “I mean, kind of,” he says, his eyes peeking through his fingers. “You’ve been completely oblivious to anyone who’s ever flirted with you.”

Including me, he doesn't say, but you're starting to put the pieces together.

You wince, your face flushing. “I’m not that oblivious,” you protest weakly. “I just… I’ve never been particularly interested in… anyone.”

Felix stares at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Like…” It's true that you've never really liked anyone very strongly in all your time at college. Some fleeting crushes here and there, but even the few people you had tried to go on dates with always felt lacking in some inexplicable way. You always felt much better as soon as you'd come home to your shared space with Felix, always feeling the most comfortable in his presence. Was that it? All this time, no one could ever compare to your best friend?

And the constant attention Felix would get… It annoyed the hell out of you. At first, you would tease him, even encourage him to give them a chance, delight in the way his face would turn bright red. But it quickly became so annoying watching him have to navigate awkward conversations, politely turn people down. Sure, a part of you was probably a bit insecure always watching him receive so much attention. At least, that's what you told yourself. But beyond that, you think you're finally starting to understand the feeling for what it is.

Jealousy.

“Oh my god.” You’re starting to realize what a mess this entire situation is. “We're both idiots.”

Felix finally drops his hands from his face, giving you a dry look. “Speak for yourself.”

"Shut up," you say absently, not even annoyed. Your head is reeling.

This is… a mess. Felix is in love with you, you’re pretty sure the feeling has been mutual for a while, and you’re both leaving this place in just a few months.

“So… you’ve never liked anyone before?” Felix asks. His tone is a bit teasing, though there's curiosity beneath.

You make a face. “Um.” Yeah, that's what you thought for the past couple years until now. How much do you reveal?

All of the puzzle pieces are clicking into place in your mind, making your head hurt even more. So much time wasted, you want to cry.

“I guess no one ever compared to you,” you say without thinking, and immediately slap your hand over your face.

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence as you both process the words.

Then, Felix starts laughing.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, struggling to contain himself, barely managing to keep his laughter under control. Your face is growing redder by the second, embarrassed and annoyed.

“Will you stop?” you whine.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tries to get himself together, taking a deep breath before looking at you fondly. “This is the corniest fucking shit I've ever— holy shit. We're actually both stupid.”

“I told you,” you say, smacking him on the arm.

He just snickers, grabbing your wrist before you can hit him again. He pulls you so you’re half-lying on top of him again, and you can feel his shoulders shaking as if he’s trying to keep from bursting out into another fit of laughter.

You let your head fall against his chest with a huff, still annoyed even as he wraps an arm around you, his hand rubbing against your back.

“You jerk,” you mutter.

He hums, sounding amused. “You love me.”

You go rigid, and he starts to laugh again, obviously enjoying the fact that he found an easy way to fluster you.

“Shut up,” you grumble weakly, burying your face against him.

It isn't fair. He’s had time to fully realize it, years apparently. He’s had time to process everything. Meanwhile, you feel like you’ve been completely blindsided.

He finally stops laughing and you’re both quiet for a few moments. You can hear his heart drumming loud in his chest.

“Wow,” he says suddenly. “We could have avoided a lot of stress if we realized earlier.”

You let out a snort of semi-hysterical laughter. “I know,” you agree, before pausing and wincing. “Oh god, I can't believe we've been… that we've been living together…”

“Yeeeahh… That's been torture by the way,” he says conversationally, as if he's discussing the weather, and your cheeks flare up.

“...Torture?”

He squeezes your side. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself every day? Every time you wear my jacket, or… anything? Wearing those hoodies on movie nights—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, your face absolutely burning. “I get it, I’m—”

“Stupid?” he offers helpfully. “Oblivious? Cute?”

“...You never said anything,” you say weakly in an attempt to defend yourself.

“I wasn't going to make things awkward,” he protests. “Can you imagine if I’d actually said anything and you just… what? Said no? And then we have to keep living together like normal?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the guilt stirring in your stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine what it's been like from his perspective.

“...Sorry.” You shift so you can actually look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he pouts.

“You really didn't notice?” he asks, finally looking at you. “Even a little?”

“No.” You feel a frustrated sort of laugh bubbling up. “We’ve been so stupid. We could’ve… we’ve wasted so much time, years—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, seeing your expression, sitting up and gently placing his hand on your cheek, and you stop abruptly. “It doesn’t matter,” he says reassuringly. “We have time, okay? Plenty of time.”

You’re still struggling with the whole situation, trying to process everything as you stare at him. “But… we’re graduating.”

He gives you a small, unsure smile. “Yeah. We are.”

"And… I don't even know where I'm going. We could be—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, placing a finger gently on your lips, and you bite your tongue, looking down at him. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You try to take a deep breath and he leans forward until his forehead is touching yours.

Your mind is still racing, your entire universe is completely tilted, and you’re not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. But Felix is close and his hand is still on your cheek and…

And you want to focus on that instead, ignore everything else for now.

“Yeah?” you say weakly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more firm, and he brings his other hand up to cup your face.

“For now,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s just…” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his hands still gently framing your face. “Can we just…”

Your entire body feels a little shaky. You lean forward a bit, closing the distance, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he breathes before slanting his mouth against yours.

It’s not very decorous. You’re both a little desperate, a little uncoordinated, trying to make up for years of lost time.

It’s messy and you can feel that he’s still a little nervous — as are you — but he's also determined. He pulls you closer, one of his hands sliding into your hair, tugging gently in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

Then he suddenly pulls back after a few moments, laughing when you whine pathetically in protest.

“Shh, hang on,” he says, slightly out of breath, and you open your eyes dizzily.

“...What?” you complain.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I… I just remembered that I…”

You watch, utterly befuddled, as he pushes against your shoulders so he can sit up. He gently lifts you off of him, answering your whine of protest with a quick kiss before his hand drifts away from your face, reaching for his phone.

You try to grab at him. “What are you doing—”

He laughs and dodges out of your reach. “Just gimme a second,” he says, turning his phone on as he settles back on the bed.

You sit there, feeling dazed and frustrated as he taps at his phone, his attention focused on the screen. After a few moments, he finally seems to finish what he’s doing, putting his phone down with a satisfied hum.

When he meets your eyes, he just looks amused at your expression. “Sorry, sorry,” he says with a grin, moving closer to you again.

“What was so important,” you pout.

“I was meant to meet with my group mates for our project tonight,” he says. “So, I told them I'm feeling sick.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Felix.”

He has the audacity to just smile innocently, already shifting so he can push you down against the sheets.

“What?” he says casually, hovering over you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “I wasn't gonna be able to focus anyways.”

“Oh.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. “Is… that really okay…?”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning down and pressing a light kiss into your neck. “I practically carry them anyway, they can live without me for one night.”

You swallow, feeling his hands slide up your arms, his touch leaving a trail of sparks along your skin. “Okay,” you agree, completely distracted now, your thoughts hazy.

“Mhm.” He sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone and you let out a shaky exhale. “Can we focus on something else right now?”

You nod. He moves up to kiss you and you know, with him, you'll figure out whatever comes next.

For now, that's enough.

—

a/n: me, a mech eng major.. ofc i had to make felix a fellow engineer. nerds 4 life (do not study engineering i crave death every moment)

also yes title is the coldplay song bc im actually uncreative as hell and name everything after songs. how do ppl come up with titles (T＿T) but anyway since it's one of felix's fav songs i thought it was especially fitting 🤍

tysm for reading 🫶

buy me a cookie if you enjoyed <3

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maxlarens · 1 year ago

Text

MV: YUCK! ⭐ part one

pairing(s): max verstappen x photographer!reader

summary: your aesthetic interest in max verstappen is purely professional, you swear.

fc: daisy edgar jones

a/n: hiiii this is my first attempt at an f1 fic so i hope y’all like it!! might turn this into a series idk? feel free to send me a req or a suggestion or just a message🫶🏻 my inbox is always open (fr now i turned on asks) (also daniel is at redbull in this 🙏🏻 prayer circle w me guys 🥲🕯️) (partially inspired by yuck by charli xcx)

⭐️ next part

(instagram)

@ynusername just posted…

tagged @maxverstappen1 @redbullracing

liked by @maxverstappen1, @danielricciardo and others

ynusername maxie in miami 🏎️💦 as usual thank you redbull for having me out!!! looking forward to the next one where i will once again be standing 100m away from max until he forgets i’m there and acts natural for the camera.

user1 uhhh wait why he kinda… 🥵

⤷ user1 and i don’t even fuck with cars like that

⤷ user2 no right like who even is this?

⤷ user3 @user1 @user2 His name is Max Verstappen. He’s a driver for RedBull in Formula 1!

user4 MAXIE!?? UR KIDDING!!

⤷ user5 we’re losing the idgaf war

user6 THE SECOND PIC. GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST LITERALLY AS WE SPEAK.

redbullracing 🥵💦 (❤️ by @ynusername)

⤷ user7 she liked. are yn and max together?

⤷ user8 @user7 highkey i think shes just employed by them

⤷ user9 @user7 she’s been one of redbulls photographers since they signed max, they’re not together they’re just friends

user10 RAHHHHHH

user11 contender for white boy of the month i dare say😋

danielricciardo Fuck me

⤷ maxverstappen1 Fuck off

⤷ danielricciardo 😬

danielricciardo Yn why don’t you take slutty photos of me?!

⤷ ynusername cos ur always talking ur head off babes

⤷ ynusername max broods. easier to take pics that way.

⤷ ynusername and they’re not SLUTTY!

⤷ maxverstappen1 Exactly, Daniel.

user12 okay so why is her feed 70 percent max? isn’t she a redbull photographer? not a max verstappen photographer?

⤷ user13 its like a known issue. she clearly prefers one of them over the other🫤

(yn’s messages)

(twitter)

(instagram)

🔒 @ynpersonal just posted…

liked by @ysistersuser, @maxverstappen1 and others

ynpersonal anyway 😐 me lately

user1 gorgeous gal! don’t listen to the weirdos

⤷ ynpersonal ty babe love u lots! xx

ysistersuser MWAH LOVE U BIG SISSY

⤷ ynpersonal LOVE U TOO LITTLE SISSY

⤷ ysistersuser 🙂🫵🏻 boyliker

⤷ ynpersonal 😐 so annoyed at u

⤷ ynpersonal still love u tho ig

user2 slay! 🫶🏻

⤷ ynpersonal slay!!! 🫶🏻

danielricciardo Okay so hypothetically…

⤷ ynpersonal hypothetically ur a dickhead daniel

⤷ danielricciardo Hypothetically?

⤷ maxverstappen1 Why are u fighting

⤷ ynpersonal no reason, dan is an asshole

⤷ danielricciardo 👀

user3 When are you visiting home again?? Miss u🤭🫶🏻

⤷ ynpersonal soon i promise!! ill text u!

maxverstappen1 Nice pants

⤷ ynpersonal thank u maxie 🙈 (❤️ by @danielricciardo, @maxverstappen1 & @ysistersuser)

📸 ahhhh okay well sound off if you want another part for this. though i think that is probably coming regardless. but yea this is my first f1 fic and my first smau in a longggg time so pls let me know what u think! i’d love love to hear❤️

✨ next part

#max verstappen #f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x photographer!reader #FICS

2K notes · View notes

viaxslz · 6 months ago

Text

OFFICE LOVE (C.BC)

Y/N, a hardworking office employee, catches the eye of her strict and demanding boss, Chan. As they spend more time together, Y/N discovers a softer side to Chan, and they develop feelings for each other. But with their professional relationship and past experiences threatening to complicate things, can they make their love work?

WORD COUND — 10.1k (I’m tired)

PAIRING — Ceo!bang Chan x secretary!f!reader (cliché)

GENRE — fluff, drops of angst, ceo x secretary, not so slow burn, there’s like one time skip, mentions of exes and previous relationships, jealousy and possessive behavior,the end is just so fluffy fluffy

NOTE — first ever work that isn’t headcanons, stayed up almost all night writhing this 🫠, if you have any ideas or suggestions feel free to slip it into my inbox but come with a mind that says “just an idea if you ever need one” because you might be disappointed if I don’t write it 😭 anyways watch me disappear for another two months

You groggily opened your eyes, only to be met with the harsh glare of your alarm clock. 8:47 AM. Your heart sank as you realized you were running severely late for the interview. You had spent hours researching the company, practicing your responses, and perfecting your outfit. Now, it all seemed like a waste.

You tossed off the covers and leapt out of bed, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. You hastily got dressed, throwing on the first professional-looking outfit you could find. Your hands trembled as you tried to button your blouse, and you cursed yourself for not laying everything out the night before.

Grabbing your bag and a quick breakfast, you rushed out the door, hoping against hope that you wouldn't be too late.

You sprinted to the bus stop, relieved to catch the bus just as it was about to leave. The ride was a blur as you mentally rehearsed your interview answers and tried to calm your racing heart.

As the bus pulled up to the company building, you felt a surge of adrenaline. This was it. You took a deep breath, grabbed your bag, and stepped off the bus.

The sleek glass tower loomed before you, its modern design exuding an air of professionalism and sophistication. You smoothed your blouse, took a final deep breath, and pushed through the revolving doors.

Inside, the lobby was bustling with activity. You spotted the reception desk and made your way over, trying to look confident despite your growing nervousness.

"Hi, I'm here for an interview," you said, trying to sound calm.

The receptionist, a friendly-looking woman with a warm smile, nodded and checked her computer. "Ah, yes! You must be Y/n. The interview is on the 23rd floor, conference room 3. Take the elevator just down the hall."

You nodded, trying to commit the directions to memory. "Thank you!"

As you walked to the elevator, your nerves began to get the better of you. Your heart was racing, and your palms were growing sweaty. You felt like you were going to be sick.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the 23rd floor. As the doors closed, you took a final deep breath and tried to collect yourself.

It's showtime.

You stepped out of the elevator and made your way to conference room 3. You took a deep breath, smoothed your blouse, and pushed open the door.

Inside, a woman with piercing green eyes and raven-black hair stood up from behind the table. She smiled warmly and extended a manicured hand.

"Hello, Y/n. I'm Ms. Thompson, and I’ll be taking you for the interview today. It's lovely to meet you."

You shook her hand, trying to hide your nervousness. "Nice to meet you too, Ms. Thompson."

Ms. Thompson gestured to the chair across from her. "Please, have a seat."

The interview began, and Ms. Thompson asked you a series of questions about your qualifications, experience, and skills. You answered confidently, trying to showcase your strengths and enthusiasm.

As the interview progressed, you found yourself relaxing in Ms. Thompson's presence. She was warm and engaging, putting you at ease with her friendly demeanor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the interview drew to a close. Ms. Thompson smiled and leaned forward.

"Thank you, Y/n, for coming in today. We'll be in touch soon to let you know our decision. You should receive an email within the next few days."

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. You had been hoping for a more definitive answer.

"Thank you, Ms. Thompson," you said, standing up. "I appreciate the opportunity."

Ms. Thompson walked you to the door, her heels clicking on the polished floor. "We'll be in touch soon," she repeated, smiling.

You left the conference room, feeling a mix of emotions. You weren't sure how you'd done, but you knew you'd given it your all.

Now it was just a waiting game.

You stepped out of the office building, blinking in the bright sunlight. The bus station was just a short walk away, and you made your way there, lost in thought.

As you waited for the bus, you couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty. Had you done enough? Had you said the right things?

The bus ride home was a blur, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios and what-ifs.

When you finally arrived home, you felt like a nervous wreck. You paced back and forth in your living room, trying to burn off some of the excess energy.

To calm yourself down, you made a promise to yourself. If you got rejected, you'd spend the day wallowing in Korean angst dramas, with a bowl of popcorn and a pack of tissues by your side.

But if you got accepted... oh, if you got accepted, you'd cook up a storm! You'd whip up all your favorite dishes, from spicy kimchi stew to decadent chocolate cake.

The thought of celebrating with good food was enough to make your stomach growl with anticipation.

As you continued to pace, you couldn't help but wonder... which scenario would become a reality?

You sat on the couch, your eyes glued to your phone as you waited for what felt like an eternity. Your lower lip was trapped between your teeth, and your heart was racing with anticipation.

Suddenly, your phone beeped, signaling the arrival of a new email. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the sender's name: "Silverstone Corporation."

Your hands trembled slightly as you hesitated, wondering if you were ready for the news. Taking a deep breath, you tapped the email, and your eyes scanned the screen.

Dear Y/N,

We are pleased to inform you that after careful consideration, we would like to offer you the position of Secretary to our CEO...

Your heart soared as you read the words, a huge smile spreading across your face. You did it! You got the job!

You let out a little squeal of excitement, pumping your fist in the air. All your favorite dishes, here you come!

You read the rest of the email, taking in the details about your start date, salary, and benefits. But your mind was already racing ahead, planning the celebratory feast.

Kimchi stew, check! Chocolate cake, check! Spicy ramen, check!

The possibilities were endless, and your stomach was growling in anticipation.

Here's a possible expansion of the scene:

The rest of the evening was a blur of cooking, eating, and laughing. You spent hours in the kitchen, whipping up a storm of delicious dishes. The aromas wafting from the pots and pans were incredible, and your stomach growled in anticipation.

As you sat down to eat, you realized you'd made way too much food. But you didn't care. You dug in with gusto, savoring the flavors and textures of each dish.

To accompany your feast, you put on a Korean comedy movie, laughing and snorting at the hilarious antics on screen.

As the night wore on, you started to feel uncomfortably full. You reluctantly pushed the food away, deciding to save the rest for leftovers.

After cleaning up the kitchen, you treated yourself to a quick warm bath, feeling the tension melt away as you soaked in the water.

You changed into cozy pajamas, climbed into bed, and snuggled under the blankets. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but feel excited for tomorrow.

Your new job, your new life – it all felt like a thrilling adventure waiting to happen.

—

You woke up to the warm glow of sunlight peeking through the curtains, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated after a good night's sleep. You stretched lazily, enjoying the cozy comfort of your bed.

But as you glanced at the clock, your heart skipped a beat. 7:15 AM. You were supposed to start your new job at 8:00 AM!

Panic set in as you hastily threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed. You rushed through your morning routine, barely taking the time to brush your hair or apply makeup.

As you dressed in the outfit you'd carefully chosen the night before, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. This was it – your first day as a secretary to the CEO.

You grabbed your bag and hurried out the door, rushing to catch the bus. The ride to the company building was a blur, your mind racing with thoughts of what the day might bring.

As you stepped off the bus, you took a deep breath and smoothed your dress. You walked into the lobby, greeted the receptionist with a smile, and made your way to the elevator.

You pressed the button for the top floor, your heart pounding in your chest. The CEO's office was located on the top floor, and you couldn't help but wonder what your new boss would be like.

As the elevator doors slid open, you took a deep breath and stepped out into the unknown.

You stood outside the CEO's office, your heart racing with anticipation. You took a deep breath, smoothed your dress, and raised your hand to knock on the door.

The rap of your knuckles on the wood seemed to echo through the silent hallway. You waited, your ears straining to pick up any sound from within.

Finally, a low, smooth voice called out, "Come in."

You pushed open the door and stepped inside, your eyes scanning the room for the source of the voice. That's when you saw him – the CEO.

He sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his eyes fixed intently on you. His gaze was like a cold wind, sending shivers down your spine.

As you looked at him, you felt like you were staring at a work of art. His features were chiseled, his jawline sharp, and his eyes... his eyes were like two glittering icebergs, distant and unfathomable.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his eyes locked onto yours, holding you in place. You couldn't look away, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world narrowed down to just the two of you, suspended in a sea of silence.

You stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. But then, the CEO spoke up, his deep voice breaking the silence.

"Are you my new secretary?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You nodded, trying to find your voice. "Y-yes, sir."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. But then, you decided to play it safe. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

Chan's eyes sparkled with amusement, but he didn't comment on your formal address. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

"First task, get me a coffee. Black, no sugar."

You nodded quickly, trying to hide your nervousness. "Yes, sir. Right away."

You turned to leave, but Chan's voice stopped you. "And, secretary?"

You turned back to face him, your heart racing. "Yes, sir?"

Chan's eyes seemed to bore into yours, as if daring you to fail. "Don't spill it."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you nodded calmly. "I won't, sir."

You took the elevator down to the lobby and stepped out into the bright sunlight. The nearby coffee shop was just a short walk away, and you quickly popped in to order Chan's coffee.

"Black, no sugar, please," you told the barista.

A few minutes later, you were back in the elevator, coffee in hand. You returned to Chan's office and knocked softly on the door.

"Enter," his voice called out.

You pushed open the door and handed him the coffee. "Here you go, sir."

Chan took the cup from you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thanks. Now, I need you to get my schedule from the secretary downstairs."

You nodded, trying not to show your frustration at having to go back down again. "Yes, sir. I'll go get it."

With that, you turned and made your way out of the office, heading back to the elevator and the long trek downstairs to the secretary's desk.

You walked into the secretary's office, smiling warmly at her. "Hi, I'm here to pick up Mr. Bang's schedule."

The secretary handed you a sleek black folder, her eyes sparkling with a knowing glint. "Here you go. And, honey, I hope you're not bothered by Mr. Bang's attitude. That's just how he is."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the secretary's words. But before you could ask any questions, the secretary just smiled and nodded. "You'll get used to it."

You smiled back, taking the folder from her. "Thanks for the warning."

As you walked towards the elevator, you could feel her eyes on you, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

You made your way back to Chan's office, handing him the schedule. He nodded curtly, his eyes scanning the papers. "Thanks. You can go."

You nodded, taking that as your cue to leave. As you stepped out of his office, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Your new boss was definitely intimidating.

You walked down the hall to your own office, a small but cozy room with a desk and a chair. You took a seat, looking around at your new workspace.

It was going to take some getting used to, but you were determined to make it work.

You were sitting at your desk, typing away on your computer, when your phone buzzed. You picked it up to hear Chan's voice on the other end.

"Ms.Y/n, I need you to accompany me to a meeting with a client," he said, his tone crisp and professional.

You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "Yes, sir. Right away."

You grabbed your notebook and pen, and followed Chan to the meeting room. The meeting itself was a blur of business talk and handshakes, but you were diligent in taking notes and keeping track of the discussion.

As the meeting drew to a close, you noticed Chan glancing at you, his eyes lingering on your face. You felt a flutter in your chest, but tried to brush it off as mere imagination.

As you left the meeting room, you were stopped by the secretary from the other company. He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You look lovely today," he said, his voice friendly. "That dress really brings out the color in your eyes."

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of gratitude for the kind words. "Thank you," you said. "You look pretty sharp yourself."

Chan, who was walking ahead of you, seemed to notice the exchange. He shrugged it off, his expression neutral.

You watched as he walked away, feeling a sense of relief that the encounter hadn't been awkward.

But as you turned to follow Chan, you couldn't shake off the feeling that he had been watching you, really watching you, during the meeting.

Before you knew it, the day had flown by, and it was already time to head home. You packed up your things, said goodbye to Ms. Thompson, and made your way out of the company building.

As you sat at the bus stop, waiting for your ride, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Your first day had been a whirlwind of new experiences and emotions, but you'd made it through.

The bus ride home was a blur, your exhaustion catching up with you. When you finally arrived at your house, you stumbled through the door, dropping your bag on the floor.

You made yourself a quick and simple dinner, too tired to even think about cooking anything elaborate. As you ate, you couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring.

Would Chan be as intimidating? Would you get to know your coworkers better? And what about the secretary from the other company – would you run into him again?

As you finished your dinner, you pushed the thoughts aside and headed to bed, too exhausted to worry about anything else.

You snuggled under the blankets, feeling the softness envelop you. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but smile, wondering what the future held.

—

You walked into the office, feeling a bit more confident on your second day. As you made your way to your desk, you noticed a few of your coworkers glancing up at you with interest.

One of them, a friendly-looking woman with curly brown hair, caught your eye. She smiled and waved, and you returned the gesture.

As you settled in at your desk, the woman came over to introduce herself. "Hi, I'm Danielle," she said, holding out her hand. "Welcome to the team."

You shook her hand, feeling a sense of gratitude for her warm welcome. "Thanks, Danielle. I'm... " You realized you hadn't told anyone your name yet. "I'm Y/N."

Danielle chuckled. "Well, Y/N, I'm glad to meet you. We don't often get new faces around here."

As you chatted with Danielle, a few of the other coworkers started to wander over, introducing themselves and welcoming you to the team.

You felt a sense of relief wash over you. Maybe this job wouldn't be so intimidating after all.

Just as things were starting to feel more relaxed, Chan's voice cut through the chatter. "Y/N, I need to see you in my office."

Your heart skipped a beat as you excused yourself from the group. What did Chan want now?

You walked into Chan's office, wondering what he wanted to see you about. But as soon as you sat down, he dropped a massive stack of paperwork on your lap.

"Get these done by the end of the day," he instructed, his expression unreadable.

You felt a surge of panic as you scanned the documents. There were reports, contracts, and financial statements, all needing to be reviewed and signed off on. You knew it was an impossible task, but you couldn't say no.

You spent the rest of the day holed up in your office, pouring over the paperwork. But despite your best efforts, you were still only halfway through when exhaustion caught up with you.

Your eyelids drooped, and your head nodded forward, coming to rest on the desk. You were out cold.

The next thing you knew, Chan was standing over you, a hint of amusement on his face. "Forget about the paperwork," he said, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it before. "Just go home."

You nodded, still feeling dazed. "Thank you, sir."

But as you stood up to leave, Chan surprised you by asking, "Do you want a ride?"

You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head. "No, thank you, sir. I'll just take the bus."

Chan's expression was hard to read, but you thought you saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "Suit yourself," he said, turning away.

You watched him go, feeling a pang of curiosity. Why had he offered you a ride? And why did you get the feeling that he was starting to see you in a different light?

—

You walked into the office building, exchanging a warm smile with the secretary at the front desk. You pressed the button for the elevator, stepping inside just as the doors were about to close.

But just as you thought you were alone, a hand shot out and stopped the doors from closing. You felt a jolt of surprise, wondering who it could be.

As the doors slid open again, a tall, dark-haired man stepped inside. He flashed you a charming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Morning," he said, pressing the button for the top floor. "I'm Minho."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Hi, Minho. I'm Y/N."

Minho leaned against the wall of the elevator, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, how's it going? Enjoying your first week here?"

You chatted with Minho for the rest of the elevator ride, exchanging small talk about the office and your job. As the doors opened on the top floor, Minho smiled again and nodded at you.

"See you around, Y/N."

You watched as he walked away, feeling a sense of curiosity about this new coworker. Who was Minho, and what was his story?

As you made your way to your desk, you couldn't help but wonder if Minho was someone you could trust.

You spent the rest of the morning working on your tasks, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of you. But your mind kept wandering back to Minho and your conversation in the elevator.

Just as you were starting to get into a rhythm, Chan's voice came over the intercom. "Y/N, can you come to my office for a minute?"

You felt a flutter in your chest as you got up and made your way to Chan's office. What did he want to talk to you about?

As you entered his office, you noticed that Chan's expression was neutral, but his eyes seemed to be gleaming with a hint of intensity.

"Close the door," he said, his voice low and smooth.

You did as he asked, feeling a sense of trepidation. What was going on?

"I heard you met Minho this morning," Chan said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded, wondering where this was going. "Yes, sir. We rode the elevator together."

Chan's expression didn't change, but you sensed a hint of tension in his body. "Just remember, Minho is a colleague. Don't get too comfortable around him."

You felt a surge of surprise at Chan's words. What did he mean by that?

But before you could ask any questions, Chan nodded curtly. "That's all. You can go."

You left his office feeling confused and a little unsettled. What was Chan's problem with Minho?

As you were leaving Chan's office, Minho appeared out of nowhere, a charming smile on his face.

"Hey, Y/N. I was thinking, since we're colleagues now, we should grab dinner sometime and get to know each other better."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Minho's invitation. You hadn't expected him to ask you out.

But before you could respond, Minho added, "Actually, I was thinking of hosting a dinner party at my place this evening. Would you like to come?"

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. Part of you was tempted to accept, but another part was wary of getting too close to Minho.

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond to Minho's invitation. But before you could say anything, Chan appeared out of nowhere, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Minho.

"Actually, Minho, Y/N is already committed to accompanying me to an event later this evening," Chan said, his voice smooth but firm.

Minho's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Oh, sorry to hear that. Maybe some other time, then?"

Chan nodded curtly. "Maybe."

You felt a surge of surprise at Chan's intervention. Why had he stepped in like that?

As Minho walked away, Chan turned to you. "As my secretary, it's your duty to accompany me to events like this. I expect you to be ready and on time."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You had been saved from having to make an awkward decision.

But as you looked up at Chan, you saw something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. Was it possessiveness, or something more?

As soon as you got home from work, you started getting ready for the event. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You had never been to an event like this before, and the thought of it made you anxious.

But you knew you couldn't back out now. You had to be professional and accompany Chan as his secretary.

You looked through your closet, trying to find something suitable for the event. You finally settled on a black cocktail dress that fell just above your knees. The dress was fitted at the waist, accentuating your curves, and had a subtle sparkle to it.

You paired the dress with a pair of high heels, wincing as you slipped them on. You weren't used to wearing heels, and your legs already felt like they were on fire.

But you knew you had to suffer through it. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves, and made your way to the living room to wait for Chan.

As you sat on the couch, you couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. What would the event be like? Would you be able to handle it?

Just as you were starting to get really anxious, you heard a knock at the door. You got up to answer it, smoothing out your dress as you went.

When you opened the door, you were taken aback by Chan's appearance. He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, his hair perfectly styled, and his eyes gleaming with a hint of sophistication.

You felt a flutter in your chest as he smiled at you, his eyes scanning your dress. "You look stunning," he said, his voice low and smooth.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you smiled back at him. "Thank you," you said, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him.

Chan offered you his arm, and you took it, feeling a sense of trepidation as you walked out the door with him.

You arrived at the event venue, a grand ballroom filled with elegantly dressed guests. Chan led you through the crowds, nodding and smiling at various people as you went.

As you mingled with the other attendees, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the opulence surrounding you. The crystal chandeliers, the fine artwork on the walls, the exquisite cuisine being served – it was all so far removed from your usual life.

Chan seemed to sense your discomfort and placed a reassuring hand on your elbow. "Just relax and enjoy yourself," he whispered. "You're doing fine."

You smiled up at him, feeling a surge of gratitude for his support.

As the evening wore on, you began to feel more at ease, chatting with various guests and even managing to laugh at a few jokes.

But just as you were starting to relax, you saw a familiar face across the room – Minho.

As the evening wore on, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly Chan charmed the other guests. He laughed and joked with the men, and smiled warmly at the women.

You watched in amazement as he expertly navigated the crowds, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with ease. He seemed to know everyone, and everyone seemed to adore him.

You, on the other hand, felt a bit like a fish out of water. You stuck close to Chan's side, trying to absorb some of his confidence and charm.

As you observed Chan's interactions, you began to notice something interesting. Despite his charming facade, there seemed to be a hint of tension beneath the surface. A flicker of intensity in his eyes, a tightness in his jaw.

You wondered what could be causing it. Was it something to do with the event, or was it something more personal?

Just as you were pondering this, Minho appeared at your side, a smile on his face. "Hey, Y/N. Enjoying the party?"

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of unease. What did Minho want?

As the evening wore on, Chan excused himself to mingle with the other guests. You sighed, feeling a bit abandoned, and decided to grab some food from the buffet.

As you scanned the tables, looking for something that caught your eye, you heard a friendly voice behind you.

"Hey, Y/N! Enjoying the party?" Minho asked, falling into step beside you.

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief at seeing a friendly face. "Hey, Minho! Yeah, it's been... interesting."

Minho chuckled. "I bet. These corporate events can be a bit much, huh?"

You nodded, laughing. "Definitely."

As you chatted with Minho, you felt a sense of ease that you hadn't experienced all evening. He was easy to talk to, and you found yourself opening up to him in a way that you hadn't with anyone else at the office.

Just as you were starting to relax, you caught sight of Chan watching you from across the room. His eyes narrowed slightly, and you wondered what he was thinking.

Minho followed your gaze and smiled. "Looks like the boss is keeping an eye on you."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Minho's words. What did Chan think of your conversation with Minho?

You laughed and brushed off Minho's comment, continuing to scan the buffet tables for something that caught your eye. Minho fell into step beside you, chatting easily about everything from the food to the music.

As you reached for a mini quiche, you suddenly felt a presence behind you. You couldn't see anyone, but you could sense eyes on you, boring into your skin.

You shivered, despite the warmth of the room. Minho noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

You nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little... chilly, I guess."

Minho smiled and put a hand on your elbow. "Let's go get you a drink, then. Something to warm you up."

But as you turned to follow Minho, you caught sight of Chan standing behind you, his eyes fixed intently on you. You felt a jolt of surprise, and your heart skipped a beat.

Chan's hand closed around your wrist, his fingers wrapping tightly around it. You felt a jolt of surprise as he pulled you back, his eyes locked on Minho.

"I think Y/N should be with me right now, Minho," Chan said, his voice low and smooth. "As my secretary, she should be by my side most of the time."

Minho's eyes flicked to Chan's hand on your wrist, and you saw a hint of surprise and curiosity in his expression. "Of course, Chan. I didn't mean to monopolize her time."

Chan's grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. "I appreciate that, Minho. Let's just say I need Y/N's attention right now."

Minho nodded and smiled, but you sensed a hint of tension beneath the surface. "No problem, Chan. I'll catch up with you later, Y/N."

As Minho walked away, Chan turned to you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Let's get some fresh air," he said, his voice low and husky. "I think we need to talk."

Chan dragged you outside, the cool night air enveloping you as you stepped onto the balcony. The city lights twinkled below, but you barely noticed them, your attention fixed on Chan's tense form beside you.

There was an awkward silence between you, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustling of the wind. You fidgeted, unsure of what to say or do.

Chan stood still, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. You could sense the tension coiled within him, like a spring waiting to snap.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice low and rough. "I don't like seeing you with Minho," he said, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned to him, surprised by his admission. "What do you mean?" you asked, trying to sound calm.

Chan's eyes snapped to yours, burning with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean that Minho is not a good influence on you. He's... reckless. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Chan's words. Was he really concerned about your well-being, or was there something more to it?

You frowned, confusion etched on your face. "But Chan, Minho seems like a nice person. I don't see what's wrong with talking to him."

Chan sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. He seemed to be searching for words, but couldn't find any. "I just... don't trust him, okay? He's not good for you."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "What do you mean? You don't even know him."

Chan's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "I don't need to know him to know that he's trouble. Just... stay away from him, Y/N. For your own good."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at Chan's intense gaze. There was something in his eyes that made you feel like he was hiding something, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

You shrugged off Chan's warning, chalking it up to his overprotective nature. As you continued to admire the view, you felt Chan's gaze on you, but you didn't turn around.

The event eventually came to a close, and Chan offered to drive you home. You accepted, and the ride was quiet, with only the soft hum of the engine breaking the silence.

When you arrived at your apartment building, Chan walked you to the entrance, his eyes scanning the surrounding area before nodding in satisfaction.

"Get some rest, Y/N," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You smiled and thanked him, watching as he turned and walked back to his car.

As you stepped into your apartment, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something had shifted between you and Chan tonight. You freshened up and got ready for bed, your mind replaying the events of the evening.

You thought about Minho's friendly smile, and Chan's intense gaze. You wondered what had prompted Chan's warning, and whether you should be concerned.

As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what tomorrow might bring.

—

You rushed to work, still feeling a bit sleepy from the previous night's events. As you stepped into the elevator, you let out a sigh of relief, looking forward to a quiet ride to the top floor.

But your peace was short-lived. The elevator stopped on a floor, and Chan stepped in, his eyes scanning the small space before landing on you.

The atmosphere in the elevator became awkward, the silence thick and heavy. You avoided eye contact, staring instead at the floor numbers ticking by.

But then, disaster struck. The elevator jolted to a stop, the lights flickering before stabilizing. Chan groaned and cursed under his breath, pulling out his phone to call for assistance.

As he waited for someone to answer, his gaze landed on you, and you could sense his realization that he was stuck with his secretary. The silence that followed was oppressive, the tension in the air palpable.

But then, Chan seemed to make a conscious effort to break the silence. "So, Y/N," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Tell me, how many siblings do you have?"

You were taken aback by the sudden question, but you answered readily enough. "I have two older brothers."

Chan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "And are you in a relationship?"

You felt a flutter in your chest at the personal question, but you brushed it off, trying to play it cool. "No, I'm not."

Chan's eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you felt like he could see right through you. But then, he looked away, apologizing for asking too many questions.

"I just wanted to get to know you better, Y/N," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I didn't mean to overstep any boundaries."

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "It's okay, Sir. I don't mind."

As you stood there, stuck in the elevator together, you couldn't help but feel a sense of connection to Chan. It was as if, in this small, confined space, you'd found a sense of intimacy that you hadn't experienced before.

The morning flew by in a blur of paperwork and phone calls. When break time rolled around, you weren't really in the mood to eat, preferring to tackle the mountain of paperwork on your desk instead.

Just as you were starting to make a dent in the pile, someone knocked on your door. You looked up to see Chan standing in the doorway, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. "I noticed you weren't going out for lunch. What's wrong?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Just a lot of paperwork to get through, sir."

Chan's eyes crinkled at the corners. "No need to call me sir, Y/N. Just call me Chan."

You nodded, taking note of his request.

But before you could respond, Chan continued, "Leave the paperwork for now. Come have lunch with me."

You declined, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden invitation. But Chan was insistent, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You don't have a choice, Y/N," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Come on."

You felt a flutter in your chest as Chan led you out of the office, his hand resting on the small of your back. You tried to brush off the feeling, telling yourself it was just your imagination.

But as you slid into the passenger seat of Chan's sleek black car, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.

Where was he taking you?

As it turned out, the answer was a fancy restaurant that seemed to cater to the rich and elite. The waiter showed you to a cozy table by the window, and Chan gestured for you to take a seat.

The menu was overwhelming, with dishes you'd never even heard of before. But Chan just smiled and told you to order whatever you wanted.

"Even if it's the whole menu," he added, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I won't mind."

You felt a surge of surprise at his offer, but you tried to play it cool, ordering something that looked nice without going overboard.

As the food arrived, you couldn't help but stare at the mouth-watering visuals. Chan noticed the way your eyes sparkled, but he didn't say anything, just smiled to himself.

You took a bite, closing your eyes in appreciation of the flavors. Unbeknownst to you, you stomped your foot quietly on the wooden floor, a habit you'd had since childhood.

Chan's eyes flicked to your foot, a small smile playing on his lips. He thought you looked cute, but he didn't say anything, just continued to watch you as you ate.

As you gazed out the window, lost in thought, Chan's eyes never left your face, his expression soft and contemplative.

—

Months had passed since you started working with Chan, and you'd grown accustomed to his presence in your life. He'd become softer and gentler, his rough edges worn smooth by time.

But despite the familiarity, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something had shifted between you. It was a feeling you couldn't quite put your finger on, a sense of awareness that made your heart skip a beat whenever Chan was near.

You'd tried to brush it off as mere imagination, but the feeling persisted.

As you sat in Chan's office, typing away on your laptop, the door burst open and a woman strode in. She was beautiful, with long, curly hair and a smile that could charm the birds from the trees.

But as she approached Chan, you could sense the tension in the air. Chan's expression turned cold, his eyes narrowing as the woman began to flirt with him.

"Chan, darling," she cooed, running her hand over his arm. "I've missed you so much. Can't we just... talk?"

Chan's voice was icy as he rejected her advances. "We have nothing to talk about, Sophia. Please leave."

The atmosphere in the room was thick and awkward, and you felt a strong urge to escape. You began to pack up your things, preparing to make a hasty exit.

But Chan's voice stopped you. "Y/N, don't go."

You turned to him, surprised. "Sir?"

Chan's eyes locked onto yours, a hint of desperation in their depths. "Please, just... stay."

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. But as you looked at Chan, you saw something in his eyes that made you stay.

Despite Chan's plea for you to stay, you couldn't shake off the feeling of awkwardness that had settled over the room. You glanced at Sophia, who was watching you with a mixture of curiosity and hostility.

Feeling like an intruder, you decided to leave, gathering your things and making a hasty exit. As you closed the door behind you, you could hear Sophia's voice, sharp and inquiring.

"Who is she?" Sophia demanded. "What do you have going on with your little secretary?"

Chan's response was cold and dismissive. "She's none of your business, Sophia. Just leave."

But Sophia was persistent, her voice growing more urgent as she tried to win Chan back. You could imagine her moving closer to him, her hands reaching out to touch him.

Chan's patience finally snapped. You heard a loud, sharp sound, followed by Chan's voice, firm and commanding.

"Back off, Sophia. I mean it."

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, followed by the slam of a door. You peeked out of the nearby conference room to see Chan storming out of his office, leaving Sophia standing alone in the doorway, her face twisted in anger and frustration.

Sophia's face twisted with anger and humiliation as she watched Chan storm out of his office. She couldn't believe he'd rejected her so publicly.

But as she stood there, seething with resentment, a sinister idea began to form in her mind. She'd make Chan pay for his rejection, and she'd do it by targeting the one person who seemed to be getting in the way: Y/N.

Sophia's eyes narrowed as she thought about Y/N, the quiet, reserved secretary who seemed to have captured Chan's attention. She'd find a way to take Y/N down, to make her look bad in front of Chan and the rest of the office.

A sly smile spread across Sophia's face as she began to plot her revenge. She'd start by spreading rumors about Y/N, whispers that would erode Chan's trust in his secretary.

And then, she'd take it a step further. Sophia's eyes gleamed with malice as she thought about the ways she could sabotage Y/N's work, make her look incompetent and unprofessional.

Chan might have rejected her, but Sophia was determined to make him regret it. And Y/N was just the pawn she needed to play her game of revenge.

Sophia thought she'd cleverly manipulated the situation, spreading rumors and half-truths about Y/N to anyone who would listen. But she underestimated the loyalty and kindness of Y/N's coworkers.

As Sophia whispered her venomous lies, the other employees exchanged skeptical glances. They knew Y/N to be a hardworking, diligent, and kind person, and they weren't about to believe Sophia's malicious rumors.

One by one, they spoke up in Y/N's defense, sharing stories of her dedication and professionalism. Sophia's face grew redder and redder as she realized her plan was backfiring spectacularly.

Just as it seemed like Sophia couldn't sink any lower, Chan appeared, his eyes blazing with anger. "Sophia, what are you doing?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

Sophia tried to play it cool, but Chan wasn't having it. "You're being immature and petty," he snapped. "Stop spreading rumors about Y/N. She's done nothing to deserve your malice."

Chan turned to the security guards, his expression stern. "Please escort Sophia off the premises. And let me make one thing clear: if any of you allow her back into this building, you'll be fired. Do I make myself clear?"

The security guards nodded, their faces serious, and escorted Sophia out of the building. As she was dragged away, Sophia's face was twisted in a mixture of anger and humiliation.

Chan watched her go, his eyes narrowed in disgust.

—

You sat in the conference room, your gaze fixed on the computer screen as you tried to focus on the task at hand. But your mind kept wandering back to the awkward encounter with Sophia.

Just as you were starting to get lost in thought, you sensed a presence behind you. You turned to see Chan standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on you with a look of concern.

He slowly entered the room, his movements quiet and deliberate. "Y/N, I..." he began, his voice low and sincere. "I'm truly sorry about Sophia's behavior. She had no right to come here and cause a scene."

You looked up at him, surprised by the apology. "It's not your fault, Chan," you said, trying to reassure him.

But Chan shook his head, his eyes still clouded with concern. "I should have handled the situation better. I shouldn't have let her get to you like that."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Chan's words, his apology and concern touching a chord within you. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, you felt like you were drowning in their depths.

As the day drew to a close, you couldn't help but overhear the buzz of excitement among your coworkers. They were all talking about the company's upcoming New Year's Eve party, and how they couldn't wait to let loose and celebrate.

But as you listened to their chatter, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. You didn't have a dress for the party, and even if you did, you weren't really the partying type. And worst of all, you didn't have a date.

Feeling anxious and overwhelmed, you decided to come up with an excuse to get out of attending the party. You took a deep breath and knocked on Chan's door, trying to look as pitiful as possible.

"Chan, I'm so sorry," you said, trying to sound weak and feeble. "I'm not feeling well. I think I'm coming down with something."

Chan looked up from his computer, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

You tried to maintain the act, coughing weakly and clutching your stomach. "I don't know," you said, trying to sound miserable. "I just feel really awful."

To your surprise, Chan nodded sympathetically. "Okay, take the day off tomorrow," he said. "Get some rest and feel better."

You felt a surge of relief and guilt at the same time. You hadn't expected Chan to fall for your act so easily. But as you left his office and made your way home, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and freedom.

You had managed to get out of the party, and now you had a whole day to yourself to do whatever you wanted.

You were having the perfect evening. You'd spent the day lounging around in your cozy pajamas, watching your favorite TV shows, and munching on delicious snacks. The party was the last thing on your mind, and you were grateful to have avoided it.

As you settled in for a relaxing night, the doorbell rang, breaking the silence. You frowned, wondering who could be visiting at such an odd hour. You weren't expecting anyone, and you were pretty sure your brothers were busy with their own lives.

You shrugged and ignored the doorbell, thinking it was probably just some silly teenagers playing a prank on you. But then the doorbell rang again, this time more insistently.

With a sigh, you hesitantly got up from the couch and made your way to the door. You peered through the peephole, expecting to see a familiar face - maybe your brother or your neighbor.

But to your shock, you saw Chan standing on your porch, looking as handsome and imposing as ever. You felt a jolt of surprise and embarrassment, realizing that you were still in your pajamas and your hair was a mess.

You stood frozen for a moment, wondering what Chan was doing at your doorstep. Had he somehow discovered that you weren't really sick?

You opened the door, trying to play it cool despite your embarrassment. "Chan, what are you doing here?" you asked, letting out a small cough in an attempt to remind him that you were supposed to be sick.

But Chan just ignored your feeble attempt at deception. "You're coming with me to the party," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And you don't look sick to me."

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you realized you'd been caught. "I...I just didn't have anything to wear," you admitted, hoping that Chan would understand and let you off the hook.

But Chan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I could've thought of that," he said, pulling out a dress from behind his back. "That's why I bought this dress just for you."

You mentally cursed yourself as you stared at the beautiful dress in Chan's hands. You'd been outmaneuvered, and now you had no choice but to go to the party with him.

You nodded reluctantly, feeling a sense of resignation wash over you. "Okay, I'll go change," you said, taking the dress from Chan and stepping aside to let him in.

As you went to change, you couldn't help but wonder what you'd gotten yourself into. What did Chan have planned for tonight, and why was he being so insistent on taking you to the party?

You came back downstairs, feeling a bit more confident in the beautiful dress Chan had chosen for you. You opened the door, and Chan's eyes widened in surprise as he took in your transformed appearance.

For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in awe. You had to wave your hand in front of his face to snap him out of his trance-like state.

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked, laughing nervously.

Chan quickly recomposed himself, a hint of a flush rising to his cheeks. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said, his voice a bit gruff. "You just...look really beautiful."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, but you tried to play it cool. "Thanks," you said, smiling up at him.

Chan held out his arm, his eyes sparkling with gallantry. "Shall we?" he asked, leading you to his car.

The drive to the event was quiet, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. What would the party be like? And why had Chan been so insistent on taking you?

As you arrived at the event, you were struck by the grandeur of the venue. The ballroom was filled with glittering lights, and the sound of music and laughter filled the air.

Chan led you onto the dance floor, his hand on the small of your back. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he pulled you close, his eyes locked on yours.

As Chan stopped to chat with his friend, you took the opportunity to glance around the ballroom. The music was lively, and the crowd was buzzing with energy. You spotted many familiar faces from the office, all dressed up and having a great time.

Just as you were taking in the sights, you felt a hand tap your shoulder. You turned to see Minho, one of your close friends from the office, grinning at you.

"Hey, you look amazing!" he exclaimed, his eyes scanning your dress. "I'm so glad we can finally let loose and celebrate the end of the year."

You smiled back at him, feeling happy to see your friend. "Thanks, Minho! You look pretty sharp yourself."

Minho chuckled and launched into a conversation about everything from work gossip to holiday plans. You found yourself laughing and joking with him, feeling more and more at ease.

But just as things were starting to feel comfortable, you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. You turned to see Chan, his eyes sparkling with a hint of possessiveness as he gazed at Minho.

As you stood there, chatting with Minho, you felt a sudden jolt of surprise. A familiar face had appeared in front of you, a face you hadn't seen in a long time.

Your ex-boyfriend, Alex, stood before you, a charming smile spreading across his face. "Y/N, do you remember me?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You stared at him, your mind reeling in shock. What was he doing here? You hadn't seen or heard from him in years.

Alex chuckled at your reaction, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes, it's me," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Come on, now, let's talk things out."

But before you could even process what was happening, Chan's grip around your waist tightened. Alex's eyes flicked to Chan, and he gently reached out his hand to touch your arm.

Chan's reaction was immediate. He shot Alex an angry glare, his eyes flashing with possessiveness. Alex's eyes narrowed, and he asked Chan to leave you alone.

But Chan refused. "I'm her boyfriend," he said, his voice firm and commanding.

You and Alex both widened your eyes in shock at the same time. Alex's face fell, and he apologized before turning and walking away.

Chan didn't waste any time. He dragged you outside, away from the crowds and the music. You found yourself standing in a quiet alleyway, the cool night air enveloping you.

Chan turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. "What's going on, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and urgent. "Who is that guy?"

You took a deep breath and explained the situation to Chan. "He's my ex-boyfriend," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "We broke up four years ago."

Chan nodded in understanding, his gaze softening as he looked at you. The air seemed to thicken around you, and for a few minutes, neither of you spoke.

The silence was palpable, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was as if Chan was giving you space to process your emotions, and you were grateful for that.

Finally, Chan spoke up, his voice low and gentle. "Y/N, from the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "At first, I thought it was just your intelligence and your wit, but as I got to know you better, I realized it was so much more than that."

Chan's words sent a flutter through your chest. You could sense where he was going, but you couldn't believe it.

"I love the way you make me laugh, the way you challenge me, and the way you always know how to make me feel better," Chan continued, his voice filled with emotion. "Y/N, I think I might be falling for you."

Your heart skipped a beat as Chan's words hung in the air. You felt like you were melting into his gaze, and you couldn't look away.

And then, Chan went straight to the point. "Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, his eyes burning with intensity.r

Your heart was racing as you processed Chan's question. But deep down, you knew exactly what you wanted. You nodded eagerly, a smile spreading across your face.

"Yes, I'll be your girlfriend," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan's face lit up with joy, and he took a step closer to you. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You nodded again, your heart pounding in anticipation. Chan leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

The world around you melted away as you lost yourself in the kiss. But as the fireworks exploded in the sky, you both pulled away, gasping in wonder.

"Happy New Year," Chan whispered, taking your hand in his.

You smiled up at him, feeling a sense of magic and wonder. "Happy New Year," you replied, squeezing his hand.

Together, you watched as the fireworks lit up the sky, the colors and lights reflecting the happiness and excitement in your heart. You knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your life, one that you were eager to explore with Chan by your side.

—

Chan leaned back in his chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. He was bored, and he needed entertainment. His eyes landed on Y/N, who was sitting beside him, completely absorbed in her work.

"Y/N?" Chan said, trying to sound pitiful.

Y/N didn't even flinch, her focus solely on her computer screen.

Chan tried again, this time adding a whiny tone to his voice. "Y/N, I'm boooored."

Still, Y/N didn't budge.

Chan's face scrunched up in a pout. He started to fidget in his seat, making annoying little noises to try and get Y/N's attention.

Finally, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. She chuckled and turned to face Chan, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Chan's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He grinned, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

"Hey," Y/N said, smiling. "What's wrong?"

Chan's response was to lean forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Nothing's wrong now," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "You're such a baby," she teased.

Chan just grinned, looking unrepentant. He was happy now that he had Y/N's attention, and that's all that mattered.

—

You were chatting with a coworker, laughing and joking around, when you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Chan standing there, his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you interact with your coworker.

At first, you thought he was just checking in on you, but as the conversation went on, you realized that Chan was actually getting a little possessive. He kept finding excuses to touch you, his hand brushing against yours or his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

Your coworker didn't seem to notice, but you did. And to your surprise, you found it kind of cute. Chan's possessiveness wasn't aggressive or controlling; it was more like he just wanted to make sure you knew he was there, and that he cared about you.

As the conversation wrapped up, Chan leaned in close, his voice low in your ear. "Hey, can I steal you away for a minute?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest as you let Chan lead you away.

As you walked, Chan's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. You could feel his warmth, his strength, and his possessiveness. And you had to admit, it felt kind of nice.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @intartaruginha

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan fic

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ribbonskiss · 6 months ago

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brother’s best friend -> OP81

warnings: suggestive content, sexual jokes, this is just a drabble PLEASE drop an ask in my inbox if you want a full-length version

“Good morning, sleepy.”

You shiver as you hear his voice, footsteps approaching you from behind. Oscar brushes past you into the kitchen with a soft chuckle as he glances over at you, watching as you rub your eyes with the sleeves of your jumper, leaning over the counter.

“Is he awake yet?” You grumble.

“Your brother?” He replies, opening the cupboard where the mugs are stored with an ease as if he’s in his own home. “Not yet. I’m making the coffee now anyway. He’s a bit of a cunt in the morning.”

“You know him too well,” you tease, even if you don’t quite sell it—your voice starts to tremble the moment you turn to look at Oscar, with his perfect bedhead hair and a permanent hint of a smile. “You’re starting to resemble an old couple. Aren’t you too old now for sleepovers?”

“Aren’t you too old now to be spending Friday nights in alone reading your porny little books?” He quips back too easily, barely able to stifle his grinning. You know his eyes are raking over your flushed face now, and all you can do is roll your eyes. “Don’t get mouthy with me, missy. I’m more observant than you think.”

You stand up straight, clearing your throat. “I read real literature, too.”

“Of course.” He sets off the coffee machine, and it whirrs as the espresso drips into his mug. “But your weekend nights are for a special kind of literature.”

You get even redder than you thought was possible. He sticks the steamer’s wand into a little jug of milk, carefully stirring around the liquid as it heats, foam condensing at the bottom. “Now, if you ask me, little miss,” Oscar continues, and you can hear the smile in his voice now, “I think you could do much better. You’re all grown up now. Why read about fucking a soccer player when you could just, you know, do it?”

You turn around now, arms folding over your chest as you furrow your eyebrows. “That’s not even a book I own.”

“I know,” he says, the jug now in his hand as he carefully tilts the mug, pouring the foamed milk into it slowly. “But I have seen one of them on your desk. Think it was about another sport, actually.”

He walks to you, hands you the mug—it’s a latte, with a cute little heart on top of it. Oscar smiles. “It was racing, wasn’t it?”

Your eyes drop to the floor immediately at his words. You take the mug hastily, taking a sip of the searing hot coffee as he watches.

“This tastes like shit,” you say.

Oscar laughs heartily, his chest rumbling gently as he crosses his arms. “You’re welcome, love.”

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #type:drabble #f1 x you #oscar piastri x you

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thef1diary · 6 months ago

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Thinking about ghost!max teasing and edging tf out of reader (im talking vibrators, fingers, his mouth… the whole 9 yards) while she tries to get ready for a NYE party… he has her panting and crying for a release he will ONLY give her if she stays home… essentially he wants reader to ring in the new years with his cock burried deep in her pussy.

Anyways whore house hours while at work 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

-❄️

— hi nonnie!! So glad to see you back in my inbox <3 whore house is open 24/7 🤭 this is sooo ghost!max, but how dare you even think of leaving him alone on nye of all days? 18+ content below

The short black dress clung to your body like a second skin, paired with shimmering gold heels that sparkled in the soft glow of your vanity lights. New Year’s Eve promised glamour, champagne, and laughter. You were almost ready—almost—if only Max wasn’t tormenting you.

The vibrator tucked into your panties buzzed mercilessly against your clit, its rhythm relentless yet carefully orchestrated to pull you back from the edge every time you got too close. A familiar cool draft curled around you, despite the lack of an open window, sending a chill down your spine.

“Max,” you hissed, gripping the vanity’s edge as your reflection blurred in the soft glow. “Stop playing games.”

Nearby, the spirit box on your dresser crackled to life, faint static filling the room before his voice filtered through. “Stop playing games?” The box repeated his words in fragmented bursts, mocking your plea as his shadowy presence sharpened behind you in the mirror. “Why would I stop when you’re this perfect? A trembling, desperate little mess for me.”

You could barely see him—just a faint, smoky outline, more suggestion than substance. Yet his touch was undeniable as cold fingers trailed down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Two fingers slid in your pussy, curling against that sensitive spot inside. You gasped, your knees buckling as his invisible hand held you steady, keeping you pressed against the vanity.

Your constant moans filled the room as he pumped his fingers inside you, his presence looming, the faint scent of gasoline and something slightly woodsy wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“You’re not leaving tonight,” he murmured through the spirit box, the sound enough to make you shiver. “Not when you should be here, screaming my name into the new year.”

Your hips instinctively rocked against his fingers, only amplifying the torment of the vibrator on your clit causing slick arousal to pool in your panties. You were teetering on the brink, your pussy clenching desperately around his fingers, your moans growing louder as release hovered just within reach.

But just as you were about to reach your orgasm, his fingers stilled, his voice from the spirit box cutting through the haze. “Not yet.”

You whimpered, thighs trembling, and as he slid your panties down your legs, the buzz of the vibrator moved away with an almost mocking finality. “Max,” you groaned, but he only chuckled, the sound resonating around the room like a ripple of cold air.

Before you could protest further, he dropped to his knees, his outline barely visible in the faint glow of the vanity light. His mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue cold but relentless as it worked you over. The spirit box crackled again, his voice threading through the air in between the sounds of your desperate moans.

“Stay home,” he whispered, interspersed with static. “Let me fuck you.”

His hands—more firm and defined than his ghostly form—gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue licked and sucked in a rhythm that had you sobbing. Your fingers scrambled on the vanity, searching for a way to ground yourself, your nails scraping against the polished surface as your knees threatened to give out.

“Say it,” he growled against your folds. The vibration of his voice hit your pussy yet the sound came from the spirit box, sending jolts of pleasure and slight confusion straight through you. “Say you’ll stay.”

“I—I can’t,” you stammered, your resolve crumbling with every flick of his tongue.

He pulled away just long enough to speak, and you could make out an outline of his form looking up at you from between your legs. “Then you’ll be starting the new year with a punishment. You don’t want that do you, schatje?”

When his mouth descended on your cunt again, it was too much. You broke, sobbing out your surrender. “Fine! I’ll stay! Please, Max, I’ll stay!”

A satisfied moan echoed through the spirit box, and his shadowy form rose behind you, pressing you against the vanity as he guided you to bend over. You barely had time to brace yourself before he pushed into you, stretching you to the hilt in one slow, deliberate thrust.

Soon, it was nearing midnight, and he had you exactly where he wanted—pliant, desperate, and utterly ruined. The once-neat dress you’d planned to wear to the party was crumpled somewhere on the floor, forgotten hours ago when he’d pushed you down onto the bed.

Your loud, almost pornographic moans blended with the rhythmic sounds of skin meeting skin, the slick slide of his cock driving into you while he had finally let you to cum over and over again.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned, his faint outline shifting above you as he kissed down your neck. “So fucking perfect when you’re like this. All mine.”

You whimpered as he thrust into you harder, deeper, his cock hitting that devastating spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. The spirit box in the corner crackled again, faint words lost in static, a hauntingly intimate sound that only heightened your arousal.

When the chime of midnight echoed through the room, paired with fireworks happening outside your house, Max gripped your hips tightly, his thrusts quickening. “Cum for me,” he commanded, his voice a growl of pure possession. “Now, schat. Scream my name.”

Your body obeyed, the orgasm ripping through you with high intensity. You screamed his name, your voice hoarse and raw as he continued to move inside you, drawing out every wave of pleasure.

As the last aftershocks left you trembling, Max leaned down, his lips brushing your ear in a ghostly kiss.

“Happy new year,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His presence lingered, a cold yet comforting press against your skin as you lay there, completely undone.

This year, you thought hazily, you wouldn’t need a resolution. You already had everything you wanted right here.

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

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koiukiy-o · 2 months ago

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orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 008 (II). the disquiet.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 1.2k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: um... surprise anaxa pov? mini update once again bc i couldnt help myself. hes a loser and i have no self control i fear... welcome home professor and fuck you very much for ruining my LIFE. i hope you guys like it! <3 next update NOT coming soon bc its going to need a LOT OF RESEARCH !! but it will come, hehe. -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

Anaxagoras sits unnaturally still, save for the occasional, minute twitch of his finger against the trackpad. The inbox is open again—has been, for the last thirty-seven minutes. He’s refreshed it thirteen times. Fourteen. He does not look at the time.

The email remains unread.

No reply.

Of course not.

He closes the tab. Opens another. Reopens the inbox. As if that would change the outcome.

He leans back, then forward, spine stiff and aching with tension he refuses to acknowledge. His other hand flexes once against the armrest, fingers curling in tight, rhythmic spasms. He imagines, absurdly, that he can will the message into existence by the precise calibration of his breathing: inhale, two beats, exhale, one. Inhale. Exhale.

Footsteps behind him. Soft. Familiar. The cadence of someone who does not knock.

“I thought you only hovered when you were revising a grant proposal,” says a voice, dry as old paper.

Cerces.

Anaxagoras doesn’t turn. “You’re early.”

She shrugs. He hears it in her voice. “You’re transparent.”

He ignores that. She crosses the office anyway, folds herself into the spare chair without invitation, like she’s amused by how much it bothers him.

“You know,” she says, glancing toward the screen, “for someone who claims to detest inefficiency, you’re wasting an awful lot of neural bandwidth watching that inbox not blink.”

He keeps his tone level. “I’m waiting for a reply.”

“Oh, I gathered.” Her smile is all teeth. “From the little prodigy, yes?”

“Pathetic,” she says lightly. “You’ve hit refresh so many times, the poor thing’s going to short-circuit.”

“I’m expecting–”

Cerces glides in, unimpressed. “You’re brooding. Badly. Honestly, it’s unbecoming. You usually pace.”

Cerces taps her nail idly against the edge of the desk. “Sent them my paper on subjective structure, did you?” She lifts a brow. “Bold.”

“It was relevant.”

“To their project, or to you?” she asks, with mock-innocence. “Can’t tell anymore. You sent out less reading than usual this term. Except to them.”

Anaxagoras does not dignify that with a response.

Cerces hums, leaning back in the chair like a cat preparing to nap on his thesis notes. “No wonder you’ve been unbearable all day,” she muses. He closes the inbox.

Cerces, satisfied, stands. “Just admit it’s getting to you.”

“It isn’t.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely getting to you.” She adjusts her coat. “You know what I think? I think you’ve finally found a student who doesn’t need your approval to be brilliant, and it’s making you—” she lifts a hand, gesturing vaguely at his expression—“like this.”

She’s halfway to the door when she adds, lightly: “It’d be romantic, if it weren’t so predictable.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Anaxagoras stares at the inbox again.

Then he clicks refresh.

Just once more.

Anaxagoras locked the door behind him with a muted click, the old brass deadbolt sliding home with a satisfying weight. He stood there for a moment, coat still draped over one arm, his keys resting loosely in his hand.

The apartment was dim, lit only by the soft, residual glow filtering in from the streetlights outside. Dromas stirred from her place on the windowsill, her feline silhouette stretching languidly, but didn’t bother to cross the room to greet him. She knew his rhythms too well to expect anything different tonight.

He exhaled, low and measured, setting his folio and coat onto the small entry table. His movements were deliberate—almost mechanical. He loosened his cuffs, folded them back neatly, crossed the room to the kitchen only to stop halfway there, hands half-lifted in the faint, aborted gesture of making tea he didn’t really want.

Instead, he turned, leaning back against the counter’s edge, arms crossing over his chest as he stared into the middle distance.

It should have been a straightforward afternoon.

He had predicted the conversation. He had anticipated the questions—sharp, incisive, urgent in a way most students couldn’t muster even on their best days. He had even foreseen the almost inevitable moment when he would have to reveal that he had submitted the symposium application on your behalf weeks ago.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the look you gave him.

Not gratitude—that would have been easier to dismiss. Gratitude was impersonal, clean, academic. He could have tucked it neatly away with every other minor debt and favor exchanged in the endless currency of university life.

No—what unsettled him was that you had looked at him as if you understood. The warmth of it, the raw, unguarded recognition—it lodged under his ribs like a splinter.

Anaxagoras dragged a hand through his hair, the gesture more frustrated than he would have allowed anyone to see.

It wasn’t improper.

It wasn’t wrong.

You were brilliant—deserving. Your mind had already begun to unfurl in ways that few others' ever could. It would have been criminal not to give you the chance to sit in that room with Cerces and the others, to sharpen yourself against the brightest, most dangerous minds the field had ever produced.

And yet—

He pushed off the counter sharply, crossing the room to the bookshelf by the window. His fingers skimmed across the worn spines without truly reading any of the titles.

And yet there was an edge to it he could not name—a precarious, almost gravitational pull that had nothing to do with academics.

He had always prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize. To categorize attachments neatly away from the crisp structures of logic and methodology he demanded of his work.

But when you had stood across from him this afternoon, tablet still glowing faintly in your hands, passion and ambition thrumming just beneath the surface of your carefully controlled demeanor—

He had wanted.

Not just to teach.

Not just to challenge.

He wanted to see what would happen if you didn’t hold back. If you let that mind—the one so few even recognized as extraordinary—unfurl without apology or restraint.

To watch you unmask the depths of yourself, raw and unfiltered, free from the weight of expectation. He longed to see you, not as the student you so often hid behind, but as the person you were when you let go of the barriers you had so carefully constructed. He wasn’t just waiting to be impressed—he wanted to be seen by you, to be part of that unfolding, as if by witnessing it, he could catch a glimpse of something he had only dared to touch in the quiet spaces of his own soul.

He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.

Cowardice isn’t always irrational.

Cerces' words. He understood them now, in a way he hadn’t when she first said them years ago, with that half-smile and a glint in her eye that hinted at the ruins she was quietly accepting.

If he was careful, this would pass. The symposium would come and go. You would find larger horizons to chase. That was the plan. That was the only rational outcome.

Dromas jumped down from the sill, padding over to rub herself against his leg. He bent down, absently running a hand along her back. She purred once, low and approving.

"You," he said softly, as if the cat could understand the accusation laced into the word, "have far fewer complications."

-> next.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette @hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom @yourfavouritecitizen @sugarlol12345 @aspiring-bookworm @kad0o @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mavuika-marquez @fellow-anime-weeb927 @beateater @bothsacredanddust @acrylicxu @average-scara-fan @pinkytoxichearts @amorismujica @luciliae @paleocarcharias @chuuya-san @https-seishu @feliju @duckydee-0 @dei-lilxc @eliawis @strawb3rri-bliss @khoiyyu @somatchajade @tremendoustragedybard @serena6728 @ameili @aominehaven @skeele @thelightofmylife @casualgalaxystrawberry @sigma-s-wife @nvlusdei @sc4r4luv

(send an ask or comment to be added!)

#❅ — works !#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn reader #hsr x reader #anaxa x reader #hsr anaxa #hsr anaxagoras #anaxagoras x reader #a/n number two YES HE NAMED HIS CAT DROMAS BECAUSE HES A NERD AND IM UNCREATIVE #so what !! i personally think its cute tbh

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arminsumi · 2 years ago

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geto who's way bigger than you. just imagine sitting on his lap while he hugs you. he might kiss you in the hair or make you ride him until you're dripping all over his pants <3

TOO SMALL TO TAKE IT ALL, HUH?

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑

🔞 smut / n.sfw / 18+ content

NOTE: did I just read Geto Suguru with a size kink or do I need to get my eyes checked out again 🥴 anyways hehe my dearest mama pieck in my inbox good to see u angel 💗

WARNINGS — fem reader, size kink, implied clothed sex, implied unprotected sex + creampie, hair pulling, light roughplay, teasing/playfulness, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamic (?), nicknames (daddy, good girl, baby, etc), lmk if i have missed a warning thank u lovelies

That’s the first thing he noticed about you – you and him, the sheer size difference. It made his eyes light up, it made him smirk. He immediately compared his body size to yours and relished in the fact even your shadow was smaller.

Satoru had introduced the two of you to each other years ago during one especially hot summer. You’d coincidentally stayed at the same hotel in Okinawa for the holidays. Geto Suguru very unashamedly chuckled when you looked up at him, noticing how your eyes skimmed the strip of his physique that showed through his Hawaiian shirt. One of the first things he said to you was “You’re so small” as a playful, cheeky little remark.

And it wasn’t the last time he said it. That was a very common phrase to come out of him. He loved making you very aware of how much bigger he was than you.

Never mind the obvious height difference, he was just bigger than you in every aspect. Hands, feet, forearms, chest, torso, shoulders. So often in the early stages of your relationship, he would put his hand out and splay his fingers so that you’d bring your own hand up to compare, showing off his finger length by curling them over yours, with a suggestive smirk too. At some point he made the very expected dirty joke, “Bet you’d prefer mine over yours, huh? Yeah. I could reach much deeper.”

The size difference between you and him was on his mind whenever he hugged you. He made sure that you felt the tones of his torso pressing tight against your chest.

And it was killing him inside whenever you perched yourself on his lap. You felt his muscular thighs supporting your weight.

Pair those together – hugging him while on his lap? He was conscious of every part of your body that pressed against him, as were you; how could you ignore the press of his biceps against your sides? No one could.

His pants started tightening when he mentally compared every aspect of your body and his body. Your hand and his hand, your shoulders and his shoulders, your leg length and his leg length. You wouldn’t expect nasty thoughts to be circling his mind when he’s pressing such innocent kisses into your hair. But he’s thinking of pulling on that pretty hair, making you squirm on his cozy, comfy, big lap while he stuffs his cock inside your tiny hole.

He sweet talks you while palming and kneading your ass, feeling the supple skin bounce and jiggle makes him giddy.

Geto was a giant, but a gentle giant. Well, mostly gentle – gentle when he wasn’t thrusting up into you.

He fucked you like a real show-off, ‘cause Geto wanted to make your pussy remember his size. Splitting you open and stretching you out always earned a wolfy grin from his lips. “Feel that? ‘so deep I’m in your tummy, baby. If I cum inside I’m sure not a single drop will spill out.” He coos into your ear, firm grip unmoving from your hips.

The curve of his cock had you seeing stars, it made your body so weak – he liked that. He liked that he had the ability to make your body practically melt in his embrace, he savored the feeling and sight of your body going half-limp like a ragdoll when you were getting fucked too good by him.

Sometimes he was so needy to feel you stretch around him that he didn’t bother fully taking off his clothes, he’d just unbutton and unzip his pants.

“But I’m gonna soak ‘em.” You forewarned.

“Yeah.” He hummed with a smirk, “I like that, baby. Soak daddy’s jeans with your pretty pussy like a good girl. Make a mess on me.”

Now, Geto only gives you a bit of freedom when riding his lap. Those big hands are always attached to your hips and helping to work you up and down. Sometimes he’ll give you the liberty of bouncing on his cock all by yourself, as clumsy as you are in that cock-drunk state, so he can hold the back of your head and give you feverish kisses all over your face. When he feels the tickle of your hair as it slips through his fingers, that’s when he takes a grip of it and pulls back so gently. Geto’s so sweet and gentle – ‘till he’s cumming, that is, then you feel a slight tingle across your scalp as he really pulls on your hair.

“You’re so fucking tiny, baby. Too small to take it all, huh? Deep breaths, there we go – angel you’re so good for me, always listening to me – fuckkk – s-so fucking small, so fucking small ‘n tiny, ‘gonna milk my cum out with that tight hole of yours? Yeah? Good, be good and milk my cum out.”

When he’s through with you, he always praises you like a princess.

“You impress me.” He tells you, “it's so hot that you can take all of me like that, even thought you’re so small. Mhm, that’s right, you’re my baby angel, aren’t you? C’mere, let me kiss you.” He feathers tenderly against the crown of your head, ignorant of the fact his pants are soaked through with his pretty girl’s juices, and presses pretty kisses to your skin.

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starkeyvhs · 15 hours ago

Text

unhook

PAIRING: nerd!rafe cameron x nerd!fem!reader

SUMMARY: it’s rafe’s first sleepover with his first girlfriend – who is equally shy as him – but she needs help with unhooking her bra.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: shy rafe & reader; she/her pronouns used for reader; slightly suggestive (?) but it’s soft and fluffy 🫶

EDITH SPEAKS: we don’t just have nerd rafe now, we now have nerd reader too 🥰 I loveddddd writing the two of them, just a couple of soft and shy teenagers who like each other so much but are just so anxious 🥹 I have a cool idea on the background lore of this pairing and hopefully I’ll be able to write their full fic one day 🫶 anyways! if you enjoy reading, please reblog and share any feedback you may have 💞💞 also, my inbox is open to discuss all kinds of thoughts && hcs!!! xx

masterlist / join my taglist / requests

Rafe Cameron was an expert at a lot of things: physics, maths, programming, robotics, chemistry, but there was one thing no book could ever teach him.

And it was how to act around girls.

Throughout his life, he thought keeping a safe distance from girls was best for him; relationships and everything else would come to him when the time is right.

But he definitely didn’t think that time would come this soon – in high school.

He was best known for his concentration, and how he could sit still and study for hours on end, not giving up until he was done learning what he wanted to. But this one girl, she was becoming a distraction. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was as if he could see her name hidden between the words of the book he was reading, tucked safely as a sweet memory of this new person who had just waltzed into his life.

And somehow, the one thing that made all of this sweeter was that the girl – you – was also just like him. Just as inexperienced, just as nervous, and, he didn’t realise it, but also just as adorable as him.

It was hard for Rafe to get his mind off someone who had so many common interests as him. You loved science and technology just as much as he did, and you both were somehow just always on the same wavelength with almost everything you talked about.

Now, fast forwarding past the awkward talking stage (well, what’s to say it sometimes still isn’t awkward), Rafe finally bagged you, yes, that’s right, Rafe Cameron got a girlfriend.

And a damn intelligent one at that.

So, after everything, he has you invited over to his place for your first ever sleepover. The nerves are even more than usual, but he’s trying his best to make this work, just for the two of you.

Starting from when you arrive till the dinner with his family, everything is super smooth. You both talk a bit, and Rafe can feel the nervousness between you two is beginning to die, to create something that’s more comforting and warm instead.

But, all the effort he puts to make everything light hearted comes crashing down when he realises nighttime is nearing closer and closer. Meaning, the time to share a bed is getting closer. He makes the offer of his own clothes for your nightwear, which he’s super happy you accept.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of his own shirt as he waits for you to finish changing and freshening up in the washroom. He can feel his mind go absolute berserk, an infinite number of thoughts looping themselves in his head and playing like a broken record. He’s attempting to get his mind off these thoughts, oh he is trying so hard, but he just can’t.

Rafe nervously looks up at the clock hanging on his wall and realises a little too much time has passed since you went to the washroom. It concerns him a tiny fraction, but he attempts to relax that thought by telling himself you must genuinely take time in the washroom to freshen up.

But then he hears your voice calling out your name – oh how he loves the way his name sounds so sweet on your lips, but more on that later – and it seems as if you’re a little uneasy.

“Yeah?” He asks, and his voice automatically takes that softness that somehow only comes up when he’s talking to you. He gets up from his bed and makes his way to the closed washroom door, gently pressing an ear to it. “Everything alright?”

A long moment of silence passes and Rafe doesn’t hear anything from across the door, which almost tempts him to call out to you again, but your voice finally crosses the wood.

“I uh… I need help,” Your voice is already muffled due to the hardwood barrier between you two, but the obvious timidness in your tone makes it even more difficult for Rafe to catch your words.

“Yeah yeah, what is it, sweets?” He says softly, the nickname rolling off almost effortlessly. Whoa, where did that confidence come from? Again, a topic reserved for a much later conversation.

Another long moment of silence passes, and Rafe can now sense the anxiousness through the door, understanding that whatever it is, it’s making you feel more shy than usual.

“My, my bra hook’s stuck… I need help with it,” Somehow, your voice has gotten even quieter.

Now it’s Rafe’s turn to get quiet.

It takes time for your words, and their implication, to settle in him. His limbs feel permanently tethered to the ground below him by a strong force, and that nothing can make him budge. But he soon realises that force is entirely superficial and it’s his own nerves keeping him fixed.

Fighting the strong nerves he musters the courage to speak up again. “You, you need my help?” He asks.

“Yes please,” comes your reply and he hears a heavy exhale escaping you along with your words, as if you’re letting go of the heavy weight of having to tell him what your current situation is.

But god, Rafe doesn’t have a single clue how he’s going to react on what’s bound to happen next.

He hears you unlock the door from inside, and he wraps his fingers around the doorknob, slowly twisting it to open the door.

You’re standing in the center of the washroom, your back towards the door. He can see you’ve changed into his old shorts he gave you, but the t-shirt is sitting on the counter and you’re standing in just your bra. When you hear the door creak open, you turn to look over your shoulder and meet Rafe’s eyes.

The moment you see him, you shy your gaze away from him. “Uh, it’s stuck real bad…” you mumble quietly.

“Oh uh, I’ll… I’ll have a look,” Rafe mutters, moving closer to you so there’s barely any space between you two. He can feel the warmth of your back against his chest and it seems so inviting and soft.

His heart begins to thump loud in his chest, and the deep curtain of silence that envelopes you two makes it even more loud to his ears.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat and lifts his hand up. He brings his fingers close to your back so that the fingertips are almost hovering over the inviting skin.

Do it, Rafe, do it. You’re here to help her, that’s it.

Subconsciously nodding to himself, Rafe lets his fingertips gently press over your back and oh my god your skin is so damn soft. The situation is making heat rush to his face, and he just knows his cheeks are tinted with a champagne pink which is very hard to miss.

He can hear the hitch in your breath the moment his fingers touch your skin, as if the small contact is spreading an electric current throughout your body. Rafe lets his fingers linger over the bra hook, and he brings his other hand up too, attempting to sort the stuck hook out.

“It’s a little stuck…” he murmurs under his breath as he has his way with the hook, but also makes sure none of his movements are too harsh that it hurts you in any way.

“That bad?” You ask meekly, glancing at Rafe over your shoulder. He catches the look of sheepishness on your face, knowing how awkward you might be feeling in this situation.

“I just need a minute, yeah?” He tells you softly, and allows himself to be a little bold, letting his hand drift over your shoulder and squeeze it softly. As much as his heart is beating fast in his chest and his fingers are itching to feel the expanse of your soft flesh, he also knows he should be a little confident because that’ll help you feel a little more comfortable.

His actions do the expected, your tense shoulders relax a bit and you nod to let him continue. Rafe brings his hands back to the hook and lets out a deep breath. Okay, lets just look at this carefully. He takes a moment to inspect exactly how the hook is stuck, and then, carefully, he lets his fingers work through the stuck hook.

It takes a long moment, both him and you standing in the quiet space of the bathroom with bated breaths, but finally, Rafe pops open the hook. That is the moment when your body gets fully relaxed, and he understands how relieving it must be for you to not have a tight constraint around your chest anymore.

He can’t convince himself to bring his hands back down to his sides, his palms now fully resting on your back above your shoulder blades. You stand there, keeping a hand over the bra to keep yourself covered.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks softly, feeling a little more bold as his fingertips begin to trail over your back, tracing over the length of your spine till your tailbone and coming back up right at the nape of your neck with a touch so slow and gentle.

“Yeah…” you murmur, “thank you so much, Rafe,”

Rafe can’t help the small smile that pulls his lips at your words. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger against your skin for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he mumbles softly into your skin, before pulling back.

He clears his throat and reluctantly gets his hands off you, taking a step back towards the door. “I’ll uh, I’ll let you change yeah?” He says softly and watches you nod, but this time you don’t turn to look at him. He makes his way out of the washroom and steps out, closing the door behind him and resting his head back against the hardwood.

He closes his eyes, letting out soft puffs of air through his exhales as his mind plays back the last few moments: his fingers on your skin, soaking up its velvety feel.

He doesn’t know where he got the wave of confidence from which allowed him to touch you that beautifully, but somewhere, he’s glad he got it, because now, he absolutely can’t even think of anything else besides you, your supple skin, and how he might ultimately get to feel more than just your back under his hands.

Well, this only makes him ecstatic about the impending sleepover.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mccaffreyswifey / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @kaileashiftz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @hrtshapedblg / @cherrys-muses / @mattyskies

specific tags for this fic: @maybejj / @appleciderlove / @starkeyszn

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr

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ifnotlovepersevering · 8 months ago

Text

Down the Road (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: your summon to the Witches’ Road unexpectedly reconnects you with the witch that left you behind

Warnings: angsty, anger between R and A, fight scene, injury (A), flashback to past abandonment, R is lowkey into dark magic but in denial, lovers to hurt strangers 😔 whatever will we do

A/N: I used a few different requests in my inbox as inspo. It can also be read as a continuation of Closer. I’m planning on a part two but am open to suggestions on where to take this next! Enjoy 🖤

Tag List: @nyx-aira @crystalline-possession @clxwnnyy @lilibeth-tate @highgaytohell @amethyst-bitch @shinkomiii @agnessharknes @academiagaymess @midnight-lestrange

A summon to the Witches’ Road seemed like exactly what you needed right now. You’d been keeping to yourself these days, staying out of trouble. But it’d been too long since you’d had some excitement and your hands were itching for something new. You were going in blind, but that’s always fun, right?

At least that’s what you’d thought. When the smoke of your white magic disappeared, you were greeted with the sight of your new ragtag coven. You counted four. Where’s the fifth?

“Hello,” you grinned at the youngest, a pale boy with dark hair. “I’m Y/N, I believe someone called?”

“Y/N? As in awesome-moon-powers-Y/N?” The boy exclaimed, grabbing the arm of the tallest one, who seemed equally excited.

You laughed. “I didn’t realize my reputation preceded me so much.”

“Are you kidding?” Now it was the tall one exclaiming. “You’re like, so cool. Incorporating the moon into your power? It makes you the jack of all trades. Healing, light manipulation, water control. I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Moon magic?” The older woman seemed sort of dazed. “I’d heard stories…but have never seen it for myself.”

Before you could respond to the group’s praise, a familiar voice rang out. “What the hell are all of you harping ab-”

You turned around at the same time as footsteps behind you halted in their tracks. You felt your heart drop as you realized why the voice was familiar. It couldn’t be.

Agatha Harkness stood in front of you in all her glory. Gone was the young witch you had known, in her place a woman exuding power and elegance. Both of you eyed each other, surprise and apprehension on your faces.

•••

Your last memory of Agatha was that smirk of hers. You two had started as rivals but a trip that you went on together changed that. You grew closer and animosity turned to friendship, which turned into something much more. So many nights of you sneaking into each other’s rooms, honing your skills, and eventually using your hands to explore each other.

On one of your many visits to the woods for spell practice, the two of you encountered a shapeshifter. You and Agatha fought it off but it forced you to use the full extent of your powers. You were young and had only just started to incorporate the moon into your witchcraft. The fight drained you completely, leaving you weak.

At home, you were checked into the infirmary. News spread quickly of the battle; Agatha, being Evanora’s daughter, caught attention easily. Her power had been a topic of dispute within the coven for some time. You resented the others for how they treated her, especially her own mother. The parts of Agatha that made them turn away were the same you admired undyingly. You loved her.

You had been drifting in and out of consciousness for hours before you finally woke up to see Agatha at your bedside. “They want a formal questioning,” she had told you softly, her hand holding yours. In response to your furrowed brow, Agatha brushed the hair from your forehead. “It’s nothing serious. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You sighed, knowing Evanora took every chance she could to hurt Agatha. “Give them hell anyway.”

“You know I will.” Agatha had smirked, and with a soft kiss, she was gone. Unbeknownst to you, it was the last time you were going to see her.

You woke up the next day, surrounded by the early morning darkness. It was eerily silent; you’d expected Agatha to be back by now. Your strength had returned, and you searched for Agatha everywhere you could think of. No one was around, every room empty.

Eventually you had come to the clearing and saw the husks of the other witches. Their bodies surrounded a post, covered in scorch marks from what you could only assume to be Agatha. You felt yourself freeze as the truth dawned on you. It was more than questions, it was a sentencing. Yet Agatha had obviously survived.

Hot tears had filled in your eyes and a lump formed in your throat before you had collapsed into sobs. She’d survived, of course she had. But she hadn’t come for you. Agatha, the girl you loved without question, whom you had embraced completely. The girl who encouraged you with your magic, the one you’d helped with controlling her own. She had left you.

Over time, the hurt faded but it never quite left. You never looked back, not at her, nor the version of you that broke that day in the clearing. You drew from the pain and let it fuel your ambition. As you travelled and your power grew, you’d heard stories about Agatha. How she’d honed those skills you’d practiced together into something to be both admired and feared. But her betrayal was enough for you to never want to seek her out again.

•••

You blinked, snapping out of your reverie.

“Y/N was the other name on the list? I can’t believe you wanted to leave her behind.” The boy’s voice piped up from behind you.

You scoffed. “Don’t be so surprised.” There was no hiding the snark in your voice, and you saw Agatha’s face drop right before you turned on your heel. “This was a mistake,” you muttered, walking away from the group to recollect yourself.

The rest of the group watched as you left. “What did she mean by that?” Alice hissed at Agatha. Everyone looked at her expectantly.

“Well,” Agatha grinned sheepishly. “We may have some…uh…unfinished business if you will.”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you have to make her stay. We need her to do this.”

Agatha groaned as the others nodded and nudged her towards the area you’d retreated to. But the annoyance was an act. Seeing your name on the list had stopped her in her tracks, bringing back memories she’d tried to bury. And now here you were, and she couldn’t hide from the swirl of emotions within her like she’s used to doing. Her heart still ached for you but it was unlikely you’d want anything to do with her.

She sauntered over to where you were sitting on a log by yourself. Standing close to you, she had a moment to take in your appearance. Somehow you were even more beautiful than she remembered. Time had clearly treated you well, and Agatha found her gaze catching on your features as she took in the sight of the face that haunted her memories.

She cleared her throat. “You can’t leave now that you’re here. The Road. It won’t let you.”

You looked up at her from where you sat. “You think I don’t know that?” You snapped. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew it was you.”

That stung. “Well it’s nice to see you again too, doll.” Agatha sneered.

“Oh save it, Agatha.” You stood up, eye level with the other witch. “I think we both remember who left who. Don’t play dumb now.”

“You act like I made that decision by flipping a coin. You don’t know the half of it.” The nonchalant attitude Agatha had been putting up was slipping away, revealing the raw emotion underneath.

You shook your head and turned your back to her. “Forget it. I’m already going to have to suffer through the rest of this thing anyway. I don’t need some shitty explanation from you.”

But Agatha wasn’t one to take that for an answer. She grabbed your arm, forcing you to turn back and face her. “No,” she hissed. “You don’t get to do what they did. Don’t repaint me as callous because I was never like that with you.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a lump forming at the back of your throat. You couldn’t help it - the hurt you’d buried for this long was coming back up, and it was as sharp as the day it’d arrived.

“Callous?” You laughed humourlessly. “No, leaving me behind wasn’t callous. It was cruel. You’re cruel.”

You could see Agatha’s cheeks flushed in anger, and her mouth opened with another rebuttal when a shriek rang through the air back where the rest of the coven was standing. Both of you jumped, and Agatha dropped your arm.

“What the hell was that?” You shouted at Agatha over the shrieks, which had grown louder.

“Salem Seven ring a bell?” Agatha snarked, but her eyes were filled with fear.

“What the fuck, Agatha.” You all but yelled as the two of you began running back. Somehow you’d never encountered any of the Seven before but that didn’t mean you wanted to start now. They were definitely pissed at Agatha, but it was unlikely that they were happy with you either, as the only other survivor of their mothers’ massacre.

The shrieks were coming from both the coven and a dark, hooded figure who you assumed was one of the Seven floating above them. “Run!” The boy screamed, and everyone began sprinting down the road.

Suddenly you heard Agatha cry out and a thud. You turned to see Agatha on the ground, the hooded figure hovering over her. You stared incredulously as Agatha put her arms up to shield herself, but made no other move to put up a defence. What is she doing?

The Salem Seven witch lunged towards Agatha and you quickly shot a beam at her, making her fall to the ground. As you ran over, you saw the witch was already stirring, not quite dead yet. You began reciting a spell that’d become second nature for you now, your hands falling into the familiar motions.

Agatha watched in awe as you drew the many surrounding shadows towards the figure on the ground. You made a sharp movement with your hand and suddenly the figure that was beginning to rise from the ground was being surrounded by dark tendrils.

Muffled screams could be heard as the shadows twisted tighter and tighter, until the figure fell limp to the ground. You weren’t done, however. Another practiced movement of your hands and you watched as the shadows engulfed the witch, dragging her downwards into the ground until she disappeared like vapour.

With the threat gone, you rushed to Agatha’s side. You could see a gash on her arm where her sleeve had torn, blood seeping out of the wound. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you fight back?” Anger mixed with worry as you searched Agatha’s face for answers.

“Careful there, Y/N. Wouldn’t want to look like you care.” When you didn’t indulge her teasing, the other witch sighed. “Why do you think I’m here?” She asked, gesturing around her. She saw the confusion in your face and waved her hand dismissively. “Long story doll, I won’t bore you.”

Typical. Even all those years ago Agatha would opt to keep you in the dark rather than explain herself. “Fine.” You said, helping her stand. “Let’s find somewhere to sit so I can patch you up.”

You turned to see the rest of the group standing nearby, a mixture of awe and apprehension across their faces. The boy seemed the most awestruck. “How did you do that?” He exclaimed. “Where did she go?”

The oldest of the group spoke before you could. “The shadow realm.” She answered, eyeing you warily. “No one should be doing that.”

“Why don’t we um, find a place to sleep? While Y/N takes care of Agatha.” The tall one spoke now, gesturing for the rest of the group to follow her and leave you and Agatha alone. You watched as they hurried away, the short one throwing a worried glance back at you.

“So, shadow work huh?” Agatha spoke lowly as you examined her arm. “Didn’t realize you’d begun dabbling in my side of things.” Her tone was playful but probing.

You turned your head sharply towards her. “I haven’t. It’s not the same thing.”

Agatha chuckled darkly. “Oh isn’t it? Don’t get so high and mighty now Y/N. I’ve heard things. That good girl persona of yours may be working on everyone else, but not me.”

You didn’t answer, instead pulling her arm into the moonlight coming in through the trees. At your silence, Agatha kept going. “‘Oh wow! Moon girl is so amazing and talented! She can do anything!’” She said mockingly. “All admiration when you’re doing what they like. But you saw the look on their faces just now. Everybody switches up when we start talking real power. The kind you and I have.”

Okay yes, you could admit that the shadow stuff is a bit iffy. But it wasn’t anywhere close to as iffy as using the Darkhold, like you’d heard Agatha did. That was different.

“All I’m saying,” Agatha continued, as she watched you weave the light with your hands to heal her open wound. “Is that we’re much bigger than them. Than this. We’re destined for domination, Y/N.”

You shook your head. Years later and it was still all about power with her. Grand plans and limited following-through were classic Agatha. Enough. You stood up, Agatha’s arm now healed. “You’re talking about powers you had, and that I have.” You said coldly, taking satisfaction in the way her jaw clenched at your words. “Maybe focus on getting those back first.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed away.

#kathryn hahn #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness fic #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness angst #agatha harkness oneshot #wandavision #agnes wandavision x reader #agnes wandavision #angst fic #rio vidal #rio vidal x reader

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