#i got stuck on like three bosses for two days each. and got stuck on shadow teddie for like an hour

[kumakuma-circus]

shoutout to my playthrough of p4 where i played for like a month straight, got to like a week before hollow forest, stopped playing for like a month, started playing again, got through the last week and hollow forest, started izanami's dungeon, and then got demotivated partway through and haven't played for like two months. i'll finish it someday-

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓍 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Crowe has been working himself into the ground dealing with the never-ending mountain of student council paperwork, ridiculous club requests, and—worst of all—the ever-demanding student council president. 

You've begged him, time and time again, to get an assistant, but of course, he refuses. Something about ‘not trusting anyone’ and ‘preferring to suffer in silence’ like some kind of tragic protagonist. So, naturally, you took matters into your own hands. if Crowe won’t take care of himself? Well, you’ll just have to do it for him.

Even if it means driving him absolutely insane in the process.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: this was a request from anon! so, of course, my dumbass turned it into a full-blown story. MIND YOU, I’VE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH THIS FOR THREE WEEKS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE ENDING. And it's not really poof read as I just annoyed looking at it but i haven’t written crowe in a minute, so here we are.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: overworked student council vp!crowe x assistant!reader, afab!reader, chaotic & teasing, reader takes no shit, boss/assistant relationship, mutual pining, secret relationship, possessive behavior, possessive crowe, sassy reader, fluff and smut, slow burn (kinda), soft dom!crowe, playful sub!reader, and mutual obsession  

Soo……

What’s an assistant? you should already know

Well, an assistant can be a person who helps someone else—or a device, or a product designed to make life easier. Something you’d been telling Jericho Ichabod—sorry, Crowe, Prince Charming himself—that he desperately needed.  

The campus was alive with its usual midday bustle. From noon to around two, the student center became a chaotic mess of movement and noise. 

The hallways were clogged with students threading through the crowd, half-zipped backpacks slung over shoulders, their conversations weaving together into a dull roar.  The on-campus market beeped and whirred as it spat out overpriced snacks, and groups of friends hovered near the food court, laughing, talking, and shoving each other playfully before heading to their next class.  

None of it really registered with you.  

While the rest of the student body thrived in the high-energy atmosphere, instead, you moved at a different pace—faster and more worried.

Your thoughts were elsewhere as Crowe had been on your mind since the moment Geo had texted you while you were in the middle of your classes. ‘He's stuck with more student council crap,’ as Geo had so eloquently put it.  

That wasn’t surprising. 

Crowe had a habit of stretching himself too thin, juggling responsibilities like it was some kind of sport. But what bothered you wasn’t just the workload—it was that, for all his charm and effortless control, he never let anyone see when it got to him.

You’d planned to meet him for lunch today, a rare breather in the middle of his overbooked schedule, but now you weren’t even sure if he’d bother to eat.  

Annoying.  

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you made your way upstairs toward the student council room. It was tucked away in a quieter part of the building, hidden beside the upper-level seating area where students went to eat lunch away from the main chaos. You’d come straight here after class—your day was already done, but his, knowing him, was far from over.  

And if he thought he could brush this off like everything else? 

Yeah, no. Not happening.

The second you reached the door, the noise from the hallway seemed to dull, like the chaos of the outside world just couldn’t quite reach this space. The air felt heavier here, still in a way that made you hesitate. Even the fluorescent lights above barely made a sound, their low hum swallowed by the quiet. It was almost eerie—like stepping into a place that existed just slightly out of sync with the rest of reality.   

Through the small window on the other door, you spotted him.  

Crowe was hunched over his desk, his shoulders drawn tight with the kind of tension that looked like it had settled there hours ago. His head was bent low, nearly buried in a mountain of papers that had practically taken over his entire workspace.

 It wasn’t just a mess—it was a battlefield of assignments, reports, and hastily scribbled sticky notes, some half-crumpled, others barely hanging on. His usual easygoing energy was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was only this heavy, rigid focus that clung to him like a weight.   

His fingers drummed against the desk in a steady, repetitive rhythm—soft, but insistent. You’d seen him do it before, a nervous habit, a tell he probably wasn’t even aware of. The sight of him like this, so unlike himself, made something sink in your chest.

The usual spark in his eyes—the one filled with humor, mischief, that unmistakable Crowe charm—was nowhere to be found. 

Instead, he just looked… drained.  

You hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to step inside or leave him be. Before you could decide, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts.  

Turning your head, you spotted Geo strolling down the hall, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. His expression was that signature mix of exasperation and indifference he always seemed to wear, like he was perpetually caught between amusement and suffering.

As he reached you, he let out a deep sigh—whether it was for dramatic effect or genuine exhaustion, it was impossible to tell. 

“He’s been at it since, like, forever,” Geo muttered, jerking his chin toward the window without breaking his stride. His boots scuffed lightly against the floor as he came to a stop beside you, one shoulder propped lazily against the doorframe. 

The bad lighting light from inside the office cast long shadows across his face, but the slight furrow in his brow was still obvious. “Pretty sure he hasn’t even looked up once. Council’s been dumping a mountain of work on him lately.”  

You followed his gaze to the desk across the room. Crowe sat hunched over a chaotic spread of papers, ink stains dotting his fingers as he scribbled something with near-frantic precision.

Again, the lighting itself was casting sharp angles against the exhaustion clinging to him. His normally neat braid was barely form together—stray strands falling into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

Your frown deepened. “He hasn’t even taken a break?”  

Geo let out a short, exasperated scoff, shaking his head. “Please. When does Jericho ever ask for help? He’s as stubborn as a damn mule when it comes to work—worse, even. Dude acts like taking a breather is some kind of mortal sin.” He tilted his head toward the office, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to concern, though he tried to keep it casual. “I mean, just look at him. He’s running on fumes. Won’t be long before he passes out face-first into those papers.”  

Something twisted uncomfortably in your chest as you studied Crowe. He was always the composed one, the one who had everything under control—even when he didn’t.

But right now? Right now, he just looked... weighed down. Buried under the sheer amount of responsibility he refused to share with anyone else.  

Geo nudged you lightly with his elbow, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You should probably go snap him out of it before he actually fuses with that desk,” he said, tone dry but not unkind. “Just... don’t expect him to admit he needs it.”  

You inhaled quietly before stepping forward, your footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor. Crowe didn’t react, too absorbed in whatever he was working on. Up close, the signs of his exhaustion were even clearer—dark circles under his deep blue eyes, tension carved into his shoulders, the pencil awkwardly tucked behind his ear like some absentminded afterthought.  

You lingered just long enough to take it all in before leaning down and knocking your knuckles lightly against the wooden desk. “Knock, knock,” you said, keeping your tone light. “It’s me—your lunch date-slash-concerned friend, here to drag you out of your impending paper-induced demise.”  

For the first time in what felt like hours, Crowe blinked and finally looked up. His eyes, wide and unfocused for a split second, darted around in mild panic before recognition settled in, dulling the shock. He blinked sluggishly, like he was dragging himself out of some deep, paper-induced trance, before exhaling through his nose and shifting his gaze back to the disaster zone that was his desk.  

“Oh. Hey,” he mumbled, voice scratchy from what was probably hours of silence. “Didn’t see you there.”  

“Yeah, no kidding. You were about five more minutes away from fusing with these papers.” You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him a once-over. His posture was stiff, shoulders hunched in that telltale way that screamed exhaustion, and the dark circles under his eyes looked even worse up close. “Are you even taking a break? Or let me guess—‘I’m fine, I’ll finish soon,’ right?”  

He mustered up something that might’ve been a smile in another life, but now it just looked strained, like his face wasn’t quite up to the task. “I’m fine,” he said—right on cue. “I’m just trying to catch up. There’s a lot to do... I’ll finish soon.”  

You gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. “Geo ratted you out,” you informed him, watching as his eye twitched just slightly. “Says you’ve been glued to this desk all morning. So unless you’ve suddenly figured out how to cram ten hours of work into two, I’m calling total BS.”  

Crowe opened his mouth, either to deny or argue—probably both—but you were already moving, plopping yourself onto the edge of his desk without waiting for an invitation. Papers crinkled beneath you, but honestly? He had too many to begin with.   

“Alright,” you announced, clapping your hands together. “New plan. I’m your assistant now. Consider me officially hired.”  

His brows furrowed, somewhere between confused and mildly alarmed. “What?”  

“You heard me.” You grinned, reaching for the nearest folder. “If you won’t take a break, I’m gonna help you power through this so you can. Think of me as your unpaid intern—but better-looking and way more fun to be around.”

Crowe thrust out a hand like a human stop sign, his usual smooth-talking charm dimming under the weight of sheer, soul-crushing exhaustion. “I don’t need an assistant,” he grumbled, voice teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “And definitely not one who thinks ‘alphabetical order’ is a conspiracy theory.”  

You scoffed, waving him off like an irritating fly. “Oh, come on. Filing is just alphabet soup but with extra steps. Besides, it’s either this, or I start making the most obnoxious noises known to mankind until you surrender and flee this room.”  

Crowe stared at you. Hard. You could practically see the internal debate waging behind his tired eyes. He wanted to fight back, to assert some semblance of authority in his own workspace, but let’s be real—he didn’t have the energy for that. 

After what felt like an eternity of silent suffering, he let out a long, suffering sigh, the kind that screamed, ‘I have officially given up on life.’ He dragged a hand down his face. “Fine,” he muttered in defeat. “But don’t touch anything important unless I told you.”  

“Relax,” you chirped, already rifling through a stack of papers with the confidence of someone who absolutely should not be trusted with paperwork. “I’ve got this. What’s the worst that could happen?”  

The worst did happen.  

Many times in fact.

You just didn’t realize it until it was too late.

By the time two weeks had passed, it was like you had unknowingly signed a blood pact with Crowe—minus the actual blood, but definitely with the same level of inescapable obligation. Somehow, without fully realizing how it happened, you had been roped into the prestigious yet completely unpaid role of Crowe’s unofficial official assistant.

Like clockwork, as soon as your classes wrapped up for the day, there you were—reporting for duty like some poor soul enlisted in a student council boot camp, minus the combat training but with twice the paperwork.  

And the workload? 

Oh, it was something else. 

You couldn't make this up if you tried. The sheer volume of tasks dumped on Crowe was enough to make you question whether the entire campus had collectively mistaken him for their personal secretary.

Student club events? His problem. Fraternity and sorority requests? Yup, tossed onto his ever-growing pile. Small-time guest speakers, whose only real compensation was probably free coffee and a handshake? Also somehow his responsibility.  

At one point, you found yourself holding a stack of papers detailing plans for a campus-wide "stress-relief yoga night," and you very nearly asked if Crowe had been secretly elected mayor of the university while you weren’t looking.  

And, because you were clearly a genius with absolutely no impulse control, you had, at some point, volunteered to help him with all of it.

Cleaning up his disaster of a desk? You were on it. Sprinting across campus to drop off forms like some kind of academic carrier pigeon? Already flapping your metaphorical wings. Sitting through excruciating planning meetings for student events? 

Sure, why not? It’s not like watching Crowe argue with five sorority reps over whether they could hold a ‘glow-in-the-dark karaoke night’ in the ‘library’ was a fever dream you ever expected to have—but here you were, living it.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out that Crowe wasn’t just overburdened—he was the burden. A walking, talking monument to suffering.  

“Hey, uh, question,” you said one afternoon, dumping yet another stack of papers onto his already paper-laden desk. You weren’t even sure if there was a desk under there anymore, or if Crowe just sat upon a sacred altar of unfinished paperwork. “How many of these events actually needto go through the student council? Like, for real?”  

“All of them,” Crowe said flatly, not even sparing you a glance as he scribbled furiously on some poor soul’s event approval form.  

“No, no, I mean…” You leaned in, lowering your voice as if you were about to drop some grand revelation. “How many actually need to go through you?”  

Crowe finally paused, pen hovering mid-signature as he slowly—painfully slowly—lifted his gaze to meet yours. His expression was the physical embodiment of ‘I will throw you out of this room myself.’  

“All of them,” he repeated, but this time, slower. Like that somehow made it less absurd.  

Sometime later, while you were valiantly battling yet another stack of event proposals—seriously, why were there so many bake sales?—you dramatically collapsed into the chair across from him.  

“So, uh,” you drawled, tossing a paper into the abyss that was Crowe’s inbox, “is this a student council or a circus? Be honest.”  

Crowe didn’t even look up. Didn’t even hesitate.  

“Yes.”

What.

Anyway, somehow, even with all the chaos, you managed to find a rhythm in it all. Cleaning Crowe’s desk became second nature—so much so that you started questioning if you had become some kind of sentient maid. You even unearthed what could only be described as a historical artifact: a half-eaten sandwich wedged between two stacks of papers. Given its fossilized state, you figured it was either from last semester or from the founding days of the school itself.  

Running errands across campus turned into an unintentional workout program. Who needed a gym membership when you were speed-walking between buildings, dodging rogue club recruiters, and carrying stacks of paperwork heavier than your will to live?  

And attending meetings? That became your personal form of entertainment. You even started timing how long it would take before someone made an absolutely insane request—your record was three minutes. The last champion was some guy from the Gardening Club who tried to get funding for a “therapeutic koi pond.” In the middle of the cafeteria.  

Today, though, you and Crowe were actually making progress, discussing the upcoming club events without any major disturbances. A miracle, honestly.  

Then the door slammed open.  

What waltzed was him—the student council president, looking like he had just stepped off a runway and onto your last nerve. He was an upperclassman with the kind of aura that screamed, ‘I was born better than you, and I will remind you every chance I get.’ 

“Ichabod,” he drawled as if merely saying Crowe’s name was a task beneath him. Then, with all the grace of a medieval tax collector, he dumped another towering stack of paperwork onto Crowe’s desk, causing several precariously balanced forms to slide to the floor. “More approvals. Get them done.”  

Crowe had been hunched over, pen in hand, scribbling out what seemed like his last remaining shred of hope. But as soon as the president stormed in, dropping the latest avalanche of paperwork onto the desk, he froze. His hand hovered in the air for a moment—was he about to launch his pen at the door, or was he just letting the despair wash over him? 

You couldn’t tell, but you knew Crowe had just about hit his limit. He closed his eyes briefly. Was he praying? Meditating? Or was he visualizing the sweet, sweet release of just escaping this nightmare by launching himself through the window?

It was hard to say.

You, on the other hand, were getting mildly entertained by the absurdity of the situation. "Wow," you said, blinking at the fresh chaos that had just descended upon the desk. "I didn’t know you were accepting job applications for ‘Official Paperwork Mule.’"

The president—who had somehow magically entered the room without making a sound, like some kind of overpriced ninja—turned his icy gaze on you. He looked you up and down with all the disdain of someone who had just stepped in a puddle of something they’d prefer not to identify, his eyes narrowing like you’d just insulted his firstborn. "Oh, you're still here?" His voice dripped with condescension. "How quaint."

You couldn’t help but grin. You had been waiting for this. "Yep. Unlike the funding you approved for that haunted house event last week." You paused for effect, casually flipping through the pile of forms as if you weren’t even phased. "I suggest you get to it quick, though, before I let the officials know about your… interesting decisions."

Crowe made a noise. It was an odd noise—something between a strangled laugh and a desperate cough. He tried to cover it up, but the damage was done.

The president, however, either completely oblivious or choosing not to dignify your retort with a response, turned back to Crowe with the practiced air of someone who thought his very presence should be worshipped. "This needs to be finished today."

“Of course it does,” Crowe muttered under his breath, already sinking into the depths of his inevitable paperwork doom. You could practically hear the weight of his soul dragging itself down further into the abyss.

The president gave a tight, self-satisfied smile, like he’d just handed down some sort of royal decree, and turned on his heel to exit the room. His steps were as calculated and ridiculous as his whole existence. You couldn’t help but notice his outfit—tailored suit, perfectly polished shoes, and the kind of cologne that probably cost more than your tuition. 

It was almost as if he thought his appearance alone could somehow make him better than everyone else in the room. It was adorable.

He was halfway out the door when you casually called after him, "Hey, by the way—are you wearing that suit to go rescue puppies or attend a high-society funeral?"

The president paused, looking over his shoulder at you with an expression that could’ve been carved into marble. He said nothing, but his eyes briefly flashed with the kind of ‘I’ll ruin you’ look that only the truly entitled could master. 

You, however, weren’t even remotely phased.

"Yeah, I thought so," you added, pushing another pile of forms onto Crowe’s desk. "You’ve got the whole ‘I’m better than everyone’ look down, but next time, maybe try not looking like you belong in a museum." 

Crowe groaned as the door slammed shut, leaving the two of you alone with the mountain of paperwork once more. You sighed, nudging a piece of paper that had somehow escaped the clutches of the abyss. "So… koi pond in the cafeteria is looking less ridiculous by the minute, huh?" 

Crowe didn’t answer.

He was too busy looking like he might spontaneously combust from exhaustion, or maybe just give up on life entirely. You considered offering him a donut or a bucket of coffee, but really, at this point, nothing was going to save him.

“Crowe? You good?” you asked, leaning in closer. His entire posture screamed ‘I’m about to faceplant into this paperwork and never wake up’. You wondered if he was trying to figure out how to escape into the sweet oblivion of the nearest nap corner or if he was plotting his own demise. At this point, it could go either way.

“I’m... fine,” he muttered, but the way his hand slid across the desk in slow motion, like he was having a mental breakdown in real-time, told you everything you needed to know.  

“You sure? You look like you’re one coffee away from crying on a stack of forms."

Crowe groaned, a sound so filled with despair it could’ve been the opening line to a sad indie movie. “I just want to finish one thing today, ‘just one thing,’ without someone handing me more stupid paperwork. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Probably,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “But, hey, that’s what you signed up for, right? Like, what was your grand plan here? To turn the student council into your own personal administrative hell?”

Crowe shot you a glance that was somewhere between ‘I could kill you’ and ‘Please, for the love of all that’s holy, be quiet.’ You could practically see the little clock in his head ticking down, counting how much longer he could withstand his own existence before he collapsed in the pile of paperwork like some sort of sad, overworked martyr.  

"At least give me a minute to process the chaos." His voice had that exhausted, cracked tone that made you wonder if he’d been functioning on three hours of sleep for the past week.  

You took pity on him. "Alright, alright," you said, grabbing the latest stack of event forms and flipping through them. "Let’s at least start brainstorming for these. I’m guessing half of these are doomed from the start.”

Crowe’s response was a wordless nod, his head still resting on his hand as if that would somehow reboot his brain. It looked like he might pass out at any moment, but somehow, he managed to pull himself back together. Barely.  

"Alright, what's the first one?" you asked, leaning over to get a better look at the next form.  

Crowe’s finger shakily pointed to it. "‘Classical music night... on the roof... with fog machines.’"

You blinked. "I… I don’t even know what to say to that. What, are we trying to summon ghosts now?"

Crowe groaned again. "It’s a real proposal. They want it approved for next week."

"Okay," you said, rubbing your temples. "I think we’re officially past the point of saving this year’s student council. This is just a slow-motion train wreck."

Crowe was too exhausted to even form a proper sentence, his mind clearly whirling through a mental tally of disasters. You could practically see the gears grinding in his head—he was done. It wasn’t clear whether he was about to drop dead or have a full-on emotional meltdown, but either way, the path to recovery was nothing but more paperwork, endless meetings, and a growing sense of doom.

"Here," you said, tossing him a coffee cup with a little too much flair. "You need this more than I do."

Crowe didn’t say a word, just took the cup and stared blankly at his desk. You half expected him to fall asleep standing up, but then he took a long, defeated sip like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. For a moment, you swore you saw him look almost… human again. Though still on the edge of total collapse.  

“Only… five more hours of this shit,” he muttered, voice raw and tired. His words hung in the air like a bad omen, but the way he said it was almost like he was trying to will it into something less awful.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. 

You leaned against the desk—looking over a few documents that Crowe just signed, watching him as he rubbed his temples like he was trying to massage the chaos out of his brain. Then, he took a deep breath and dragged himself to his feet, his movements slow and heavy as if each step took effort.

You stood there, waiting for him to make the move, knowing he was about to drag you both back into the hell that was his office. 

You followed him out to the coffee area just outside Crowe’s office, the place practically empty except for the hum of a few vending machines in the corner. Most people were in class, living their lives while you and Crowe were stuck in this chaotic little bubble of misery together. But honestly, you didn’t mind. Being stuck with Crowe wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

In fact, you might even go so far as to say you kind of liked it—chaos and all. It was weird, but after all the hours spent with him, this was just your rhythm. He was like a broken record, and you were along for the ride. 

Crowe leaned against the the desk beside you, staring out at the empty room, looking just about as done as any human could be without literally face-planting. “Let’s just…” He paused, running a hand through his unbraided hair as if he were trying to shake the tiredness out of his bones. “Finish this,” he muttered, but there was no real conviction behind the words. 

It was more like he was just going through the motions, a man trying to survive one last round of office hell before he collapsed into a pile of paperwork rubble.

You shrugged, leaning a little closer to him, not caring much about the empty room around you. "Yeah, sure. Let’s just get through this so you can collapse into your desk in peace."

Crowe didn’t laugh, but you saw the corner of his lips twitch. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d get today, and that was enough for you. He took another sip of coffee, staring at the distant empty chairs like they were mocking him. Honestly, the whole situation was ridiculous, but if you had to be stuck in this hellish paperwork vortex, you couldn’t think of anyone better to be stuck with.

Despite the avalanche of paperwork, the never-ending meetings, and the constant chaos that seemed to follow Crowe everywhere, there were small, quiet moments when his gratitude actually managed to slip through the cracks.

It wasn’t loud or obvious—no heartfelt speeches or dramatic declarations of appreciation. No, it was more like a fleeting shadow, there one moment and gone the next, but it still spoke volumes.  

It was one of those afternoons when you were buried under yet another mountain of event proposals, flipping through them with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on a caffeine crash. Your eyes had glazed over, the words on the pages blending together into an unintelligible mess of overly ambitious plans and unreasonable requests.

You were pretty sure you could start a new career as a professional paperweight at this point, considering how often you were parked next to Crowe’s desk. But hey, someonehad to keep the chaos in check, right?  

Instead of fighting for your own desk—because, honestly, that would’ve been a lost cause given the sheer size of Crowe’s desk, which could’ve fit a small army and their gear—you'd just claimed a corner of it. You’d made it your own little nook, the edge of his mountain of papers your personal workspace. 

Sure, it was a little unconventional, but considering Crowe's desk practically looked like the inside of an office supply store exploded on it, it made sense. Plus, it was way more fun to pretend you were part of the madness instead of standing on the sidelines.  

So there you were, half-buried in a fresh pile of event forms that had been hastily shoved into your hands the second you walked into the room, flipping through them with the kind of mindless speed that comes from hours of sheer boredom. 

You didn’t even look up, thinking it was just another stray form that had somehow wandered into your orbit. But then you heard it—a soft clink. And when you glanced over, there it was: a steaming cup of tea, perfectly brewed and a small snack, sitting on the edge of his desk as though it had always been meant to be there. 

Crowe didn’t say anything. He didn’t even speak to you.

He just silently placed it down, then you felt his hand on top of your head, planting what felt like kiss on top. Afterwards, he gave you a brief, exhausted glance, and went back to his own paperwork like nothing had happened. As if that tiny, thoughtful gesture wasn’t quietly shifting the entire atmosphere of the room. It was his way of saying, ‘I see you’—without actually saying a word. 

Then there were the rare occasions when you handed him something that, frankly, could have been labeled as a ‘miracle’—like a perfectly organized event schedule, where the scattered mess of dates and details had somehow been magically turned into something resembling order. His eyes would flicker to it for just a second before he’d mutter a quiet, almost begrudging “thanks.” 

The words were always there, but they came out like he was fighting them every step of the way as if the concept of gratitude wasn’t quite his thing. Still, the small nod that followed—something barely noticeable, but unmistakably there—told you everything you needed to know.  

Those little moments were a rarity, but when they happened, they felt like an entire month’s worth of appreciation crammed into a second. No fanfare, no grand speeches—just Crowe, the overworked, underappreciated student council lifeline, showing his gratitude in the most subtle ways possible.

It was like he didn’t know how to say it out loud, but his actions spoke louder than any words could. 

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to keep you going.  

That, and the sheer comedy gold of watching Crowe try—and fail—every time a club proposed something so ridiculous it could’ve been pulled straight from a fever dream. Like the latest masterpiece—a ‘puppies and pizza’ day in the science building. The look on his face when he read that? Priceless. 

It was like watching someone go from a hopeful puppy to a full-on terrified deer caught in headlights. Half of him expected to ask if it was some kind of prank. It wasn’t.

But today?

Today’s mark a day of early freedom

One of those rare, blessed afternoons where Crowe managed to finish his work before sunset. That alone was enough to make you believe in higher powers—like the universe had decided to give Crowe a break for once. And honestly, you were enjoying it too. 

Crowe seemed... different. Less like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and more like he was just a dude who'd had a good day for once. His hair was actually neat—an anomaly that deserved to be framed and hung in a museum—and his outfit looked like it had been picked out by someone who didn’t live off caffeine and stress. His usual tense, I’m-one-email-away-from-a-breakdown stance was gone, replaced by a more relaxed posture. 

And the best part? That trademark smirk of his wasn’t the usual ‘I’m-exhausted-but-I’ll-pretend-I’m-cool’ look. It was... real. Like he actually meant it. You had to blink a couple of times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

"You know," he started, hands stuffed in his pockets, walking a little lighter than usual. He glanced over at you, his face not quite as guarded as usual, like he was letting his walls down just a little. "You've been a such lifesaver."

You raised an eyebrow, figuring he was about to make some sarcastic remark. But instead, he hesitated for a second, exhaled, and with a tiny shake of his head and a soft half-smile, he added, "I don't think I would've survived without you."

Okay, that? That was huge.

For Crowe, the guy who acted like he had the entire universe under control at all times, admitting that he needed help was like watching a robot suddenly develop emotions. You could tell he meant it, too, judging by the way he looked at you. There was no sarcasm, no defensive wall—just a genuinely appreciative look. And yeah, maybe it made your heart do a weird little skip. 

You coughed to cover up your smile, not wanting to get too sappy about it, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through you. 

"I need to wrap up a few things before I can lock up the student council room," he said, voice steady and calm. "After that... we came to meet at my place?”

You couldn’t help it. Your lips twitched into a grin, arms crossed, watching him with an amused glint in your eye. "Wow, Crowe, are you suggesting a private date?"

The reaction was instant.  

His eyes widened, and for the first time, you swore you saw the faintest hint of color dusting his cheeks—a slightly deeper shade against his usual warm brown complexion. Just for a second before his usual playful demeanor slid back into place. He let out a half-laugh, half-grumble. "It’s not a date," he muttered, though you could tell he was trying not to smile. "Just... you know. A thing."

"Uh-huh. Sure, a thing," you teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, if ‘things’ include pizza and not having to talk about student council for once, I’ll consider it.” 

He rolled his eyes, but that little real smirk was back again. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, but you love it," you shot back with a grin.

Crowe let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head at himself. “You’re such a tease.” 

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

His deadpan stare told you he definitely knew exactly what you were doing. You could practically hear the thoughts running through his mind: I know you’re trying to distract me with that nonsense, but it’s not going to work.

But instead of entertaining your antics, he let out a long exhale, like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders, and straightened up. His hands moved quickly to gather the last of his papers, that familiar rhythm of someone who’d been in a constant state of ‘paperwork battle’ for way too long.  

"I’ll be done in a bit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock, looking like he was calculating the exact time when he could finally escape the clutches of his responsibilities. “Shouldn’t take long. Just… come to my place, please.”  

The way he said it was almost a plea, like he was clinging to the last shred of hope that you would save him from his own self-imposed chaos. There was something in the way his voice dropped, that quiet vulnerability that even Crowe couldn’t hide when he was completely overwhelmed. 

He didn’t ask for help. Ever. 

But right now, it seemed like he couldn’t bear to be alone with all that paperwork for even another minute. 

Without even thinking, you stepped forward, about to throw out some joke or tease him, but before you could, his hand shot out, fingers lightly brushing against yours, like he was desperately reaching for something, anything to ground him.  

You froze, blinking at the unexpected contact. Crowe’s hand lingered there for a moment, not quite holding yours, but not pulling away either. His gaze met yours for just a second—there was something there, a flicker of something deeper than just the usual exhausted annoyance.

“I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his voice a little quieter, a little more raw than you were used to hearing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to give him the classic ‘it’s fine, we’re cool’ smile. But you could see it—he was yearning for just a little bit of peace, a little bit of support. 

Maybe more than he’d ever admit.

So, you squeezed his hand, just a little, before giving him a half-smirk. "Don't worry, Crowe. You’ll survive. Just don't expect me to help every time you feel like a nervous wreck." You smiled, slowly walking away. “I’ll gonna go change. See you later.” 

His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything else, only shaking his head as he returned to his work. You turned on your heel, heading out of the student center with an extra pep in your step. Whether he meant it as a date or not, he still invited you over.  

And that was definitely something to work with.  

With that, you made a break for it, finally escaping the chaos of the student council room. You decided to take the scenic route back to your apartment—aka a detour to your place to freshen up a little. Nothing too extravagant, just a little something to feel less like a walking disaster.  

You slipped into your long-flare yoga pants, because, let's be honest, they were basically good thin material and nobody could judge you for that. You paired them with a long tank top and layered it with a cropped graphic tee that you’d definitely cut at the shoulder yourself for that ‘I woke up like this’ off-the-shoulder look. 

Sure, it looked like you couldn’t be bothered to try, but you weren’t heading to a red carpet event—just to Crowe’s place to eat dinner. Who needed to look cute when you were about to inhale your body weight in food, right?  

You kept your hairstyle in check, though—that was the one thing you weren't willing to sacrifice. A little effort to at least pretend you had it together. And the earrings? Oh, the earrings were a must. They hung from your ears like delicate little reminders that you were, in fact, capable of caring about something.

Maybe not your best outfit, but its’s something.  

Before heading back out, you made a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a small blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery. The one where the guy behind the counter always slid an extra smile your way whenever you came in, like he was secretly rooting for you to get that slice of dessert joy. 

You grabbed it like a pro, but this wasn’t just any cheesecake. Oh, no. This was the kind of cheesecake that required ID verification because they had to make sure you were worthy of its glory.  

It was rich, creamy, and topped with a glossy layer of blueberry wine reduction that probably had magical properties. Or at least, that’s what you liked to tell yourself. You figured the extra indulgence might help Crowe decompress a little, so, like a good friend, you were willing to go the extra mile.  

“Maybe it’ll help Crowe unwind,” you mumbled to yourself, adjusting the strap of your bag before heading out. “Not that he’d admit to it. He probably thinks ‘relaxing’ is a dirty word.”  

You snorted at the thought. Crowe would probably rather eat a salad than admit he was anything less than an overworked machine. But hey, everyone deserves a little luxury now and then, right? Even if that luxury was blueberry cheesecake and a very reluctant attempt at unwinding.

The walk to Crowe’s place was mercifully short, tucked just on the edge of campus. The air was crisp, carrying the lingering chill of the evening, and the faint glow of his windows stood out against the dimming sky.

It was a modest place—large, practical, the kind of space that was meant for luxury rather than convenience. But the moment you spotted the faint flicker of movement inside, a shuffle of shadow passing by the window, you knew he was home.  

You hesitated for just a second before knocking.  

Part of you hoped—no, expected—that when he answered the door, he’d look at least a little more relaxed than he had earlier. Maybe the stiffness in his shoulders would be gone. Maybe he’d be in something softer, a hoodie instead of that ever-present button-up. Maybe—dare you dream—he’d actually be smiling.  

But when the door swung open, it was immediately clear that reality had other plans.  

Crowe stood in the doorway, his hair once again was an absolute wreck—not the effortless kind of messy that turned heads, but the kind that screamed, ‘I’ve run my hands through it too many times out of frustration.’ A furrow was etched deep between his brows, and his usual sharp posture was stiff like he was physically bracing against the weight of his responsibilities.

And—oh, fantastic—a folder was tucked under his arm, looking as though it had permanently fused to him at this point.  

You exhaled through your nose. Of course.

Yet, despite the exhaustion written all over him, something in his expression softened when he registered it was you at the door. The tightness in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear, but there was the faintest tug of a smile at the corners of his lips—tired but real.  

“What’s with the face?” you asked dryly, raising an eyebrow as he stepped aside, silently motioning you in.  

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically, the words so robotic and rehearsed that you almost laughed.  

“Right. And I’m the student council president,” you deadpanned, stepping inside and crossing your arms. “You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Again.”  

“Funny thing about the student council president,” Crowe muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you. “It turns out he can, and will, dump work on me at all hours. Apparently, I’m not allowed to have a life outside any paperwork.”  

Crowe allowed you inside, leading you up the sleek, polished staircase to his bedroom. As he pushed open the door, you were immediately struck by how effortlessly luxurious it felt—like stepping into a five-star suite rather than your living space.  

The room was spacious, barely lit by the warm glow of a single overhead light and a tall, modern floor lamp near his desk. The walls were painted a deep, muted blue, the color rich yet understated. But it was the bed that truly caught your attention—elaborate and inviting, draped in dark blue satin sheets that gleamed subtly under the soft lighting.

The bedding was pristine and neatly arranged with thick pillows and a comforter that looked like it belonged in a high-end catalog rather than a broke college student apartment.  

And yet, despite the undeniable elegance of the space, the desk against the far wall told a completely different story.  

Stacked with an obscene number of papers, open binders, and what you were pretty sure was the same coffee cup from this morning, his desk looked like a war zone of responsibilities. A sleek laptop sat open, its screen casting a faint glow over the scattered documents, and a small, gold-rimmed clock ticked quietly beside a stack of folders. 

The faint scent of ink and paper lingered in the air, mixing with the rich undertones of expensive cologne and the barely-there scent of cedarwood. The place had the distinct feel of someone who had been trapped inside for far too long—like a space meant for relaxation had been forcibly converted into an office.  

And honestly? That pissed you off a little.

You turned back to him with an unimpressed look, arms crossed as he carelessly tossed his folder onto the desk. “You invited me to hang out, and now you’re telling me I’m supposed to just sit here while you work?”  

“I’ll multitask,” he said with a faint smirk, already lowering himself into the sleek, leather chair at his desk like that settled the matter.  

You let out an exaggerated sigh, setting your bag down on the small couch tucked into the corner of the room. Of course, even his couch was high-end—dark velvet with a few neatly arranged cushions, barely touched, like it was there for decoration rather than actual use.  

“Unbelievable,” you muttered. “What a great person you are. Let me guess, next you’re going to ask me to fetch you coffee?”  

Crowe didn’t look up, but you caught the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you’re offering.”  

You rolled your eyes before reaching into your bag and pulling out the carefully packed cheesecake you had brought. With deliberate flair, you set it on the small wooden table near the couch, ensuring the movement was just noticeable enough to break Crowe’s focus.  

And to your satisfaction, it worked.  

From his place at the desk, Crowe’s eyes flicked up, momentarily distracted from the mountain of papers in front of him. His gaze landed on the dessert, his brow raising slightly. “Is that… blueberry cheesecake?” 

You shot him a smug grin. “It is. And not just any cheesecake—blueberry wine-glazed cheesecake. Only the best.” 

Crowe’s lips twitched, almost forming a real smile, but as his gaze flicked back to the cheesecake, hesitation crept into his expression. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Wait… you said wine-glazed?”  

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Yeah? It’s just a glaze, Crowe. It’s not like I’m trying to get you drunk off dessert.”  

He exhaled, glancing between you and the cheesecake as if debating whether he should risk it. “Still…” His fingers tapped idly against the arm of his chair. “…I don’t know if I should.”  

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face before throwing him an exasperated look. “Crowe. It’s cheesecake. Not a bottle of aged whiskey.”  

His eyes narrowed slightly, but the reluctant amusement in them told you he wasn’t completely opposed. He just wanted to be difficult.  

“You’re seriously overthinking this,” you added, crossing your arms. “One bite won’t turn you into a lawless delinquent, I promise. It’s just something to help you relax for once.”  

Crowe exhaled slowly, glancing at the dessert once more before shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry but no, I need to work—because if I suddenly start making reckless decisions, it’s your fault.”  

“Oh, please.” With a scoff, you pushed yourself up from the plush velvet couch, smoothing your hands over the soft fabric before stretching lazily. “I’ll be right back.” Crowe barely acknowledged your movement, too focused on whatever tedious task he was drowning in.  

Perfect.  

You slipped out of his bedroom, padding down the sleek hallway and down the grand staircase that led to the main floor. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint ticking of an ornate grandfather clock positioned near the entrance. Of course, he had something so unnecessarily extravagant in his house. You shook your head, making your way toward the kitchen.  

And, unsurprisingly, even his kitchen looked like it belonged in some high-end interior design magazine—black marble countertops, dark mahogany cabinets, and sleek, modern appliances that gleamed under the warm glow of overhead lighting. The air carried the faintest scent of coffee, no doubt from whatever caffeine-fueled disaster had taken place earlier that morning.  

You pulled open a drawer, rummaging through its neatly arranged contents until you found the gold forks—because, of course, even his utensils were unnecessarily fancy, polished to a pristine shine. You hesitated for a second, eyeing the wine bottle in your other hand. You could technically be a menace and grab another fork just for him, despite his earlier protests, just to see if he’d cave.  

A slow smirk curled at your lips as you picked up another fork and then made your way back upstairs.  

By the time you reentered Crowe’s bedroom, he was exactly as you left him—hunched over his desk, a hand buried in his long brown tousled hair, muttering something under his breath as he scribbled furiously onto a page. His laptop cast a faint glow across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, and the way his brows furrowed with quiet frustration.  

You shook your head in fond exasperation, setting the forks onto the small wooden table—top of a paper towel near the couch with deliberate flair. The sound of metal forks against wood was just loud enough to pull his attention away from whatever crisis was currently occupying his mind.  

His gaze flickered to you, then to the newly placed items, and finally, to the bottle of wine you were already uncorking with far too much enthusiasm.  “You don’t take ‘no cake for me’ seriously, do you?” he asked dryly, watching as you handed him a fork, which he took. You raised an eyebrow, swirling the liquid slowly before taking a deliberate sip. “Oh, I heard you,” you mused. “I just chose to ignore it.”  

Crowe exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, but there was no real irritation in his expression—if anything, the corners of his lips twitched upward, like he was fighting off a smile.  

You handed him a fork, gesturing toward the cheesecake. “Now, be a good boy and eat before I start burning your paperwork.”  

That earned you a full, amused huff of laughter. “You wouldn’t.”  

“Oh, I would,” you said smugly, already reaching for the nearest document with mischief glinting in your eyes.  

And just like that, for the first time that evening, Crowe finally relented. With a quiet sigh of defeat, he grabbed his fork, cutting into the cheesecake with a small shake of his head.  

“Happy now?” he muttered, bringing a bite to his lips.  

You grinned, raising your fork in victory. “Ecstatic.”  

Later on, You ended up sitting in Crowe’s bed, which, honestly, wasn’t part of the original plan. You’d offered—very generously, might you add—to just sit on the floor, but Crowe wasn’t having it. And of course, that turned into a whole thing. A full-blown back-and-forth argument that went nowhere because, shocker, Crowe won.

So now here you were, cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone while eating cheesecake like it was just another day.

Meanwhile, Crowe was buried in paperwork, signing off on whatever ridiculous event proposals students had cooked up this time.

Between the scribbling of his pen and the occasional tap of your phone screen, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of conversation—nothing deep, just the usual random nonsense that somehow never failed to keep things interesting. 

You could say literally the most out-of-pocket thing, and Crowe would have an opinion on it. 

“You think pigeons ever feel bad about stealing people’s food?” 

“No. They’re menaces.” 

“What about geese?” 

“Demons in feathered form.” 

It went on like that for a while, but then, out of nowhere, Crowe, still focused on his paperwork, casually muttered, “If you end up drunk, you can stay here.” 

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh?” 

“I have hangover pills for situations like these,” he added as if that was just normal information to throw out there. 

You squinted at him, completely lost as last time you checked—he didn’t drink. “Crowe, sir, what the hell do you have those for?” 

He didn’t even hesitate. “They’re normally for my mother.” 

Oh. 

…Well damn. That changed the vibe.  

You suddenly found a very interesting spot on the wall to look at, your brain screaming at you to not ask any follow-up questions. Just let it slide, move on, talk about geese again— 

“…How come?” Damn it.

Crowe paused mid-signature, his pen hovering over the paper for a second too long. He didn’t immediately answer, which only made the air feel heavier. You shifted a little on his bed, suddenly regretting asking. But at the same time, you had to know. 

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, setting his pen down and leaning back slightly. “She’s a businesswoman,” he said simply like that explained everything.  

It kind of did.  

You nodded slowly. “Ah. So… business meetings, long nights, expensive wine, and regrettable choices?”  

“Basically,” he said, rubbing his temple. “She doesn’t get wasted often, but when she does, it’s always a mess. It’s better to just have something on hand so she doesn’t call me at two in the morning complaining about a headache and demanding I fix it.” 

You raised an eyebrow, resting your chin in your hand. “So what I’m hearing is… you’re the designated babysitter for your mom when she goes too hard on the fancy liquor.” 

Crowe gave you a flat look. “I wouldn’t call it that.”  

“But I would.” You grinned, taking another bite of your cheesecake. “Imagine that. Big, serious Crowe, the man who runs student council like a military operation, reduced to fetching electrolyte drinks and aspirin for his drunk mom.”  

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly like he was reevaluating all his life choices. “You are so lucky I tolerate you.”  

“Tolerate? Please. You’d be bored out of your mind without me.”  

Crowe rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips almost twitched up. Almost. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  

You smirked, then gestured toward his desk. “Speaking of you tolerating me, when are you actually gonna stop working? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been signing papers for the last hour and I’m starting to think you might be stuck in an endless loop.”  

“I’ll be done when I’m done,” he muttered, flipping to the next page.  

You squinted at him. “Liar. You never finish. The work just keeps coming.”  

Crowe didn’t deny it. He just let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple again. You could tell he was exhausted but too damn stubborn to stop.  

So, naturally, you had to push a little.  

“Y’know,” you started, setting your plate aside and stretching out on his bed dramatically, “I’m not a heavy drinker. I won’t get drunk.”

Crowe quickly said, “That’s what you said last time.”

“Blame Britt, she needed someone to take shots with at that club.” You sighed, “But If I look drunk, there’s a chance I might be pretending.” You mentioned. “Why,” Crowe asked. “…I’ll be able to get the tender loving care of a certain man.”

Crowe somewhat blushed, then added. “And If I’m the one who gets drunk, will you look after me? Or will you let me fend for myself?”

“Ehhh, that depends. What kind of drunk are you?” You gave Crowe a pointed look, lazily kicking your legs back and forth. “’Cause remember when Britt got wasted after we passed our exams and threw up in the car?” You grimaced at the memory. “Still sorry about that, by the way.”

Crowe, who had been signing something, paused and flicked his eyes up at you. “There are different types of drunk?”

You snorted. “Uh, yeah. There are levels to this, Crowe.” You started counting on your fingers. “Tipsy, somewhat affectionate—y’know, the giggly, slightly dumb but still functioning stage. Then there’s a buzz, which is what I usually am. A nice little warm feeling, maybe a little too honest, but still got control.”

Crowe raised an eyebrow. “And then?”

“Oh, it just gets worse from there.” You grinned. “There’s sloshed, where your words start slurring, and you start thinking you can dance when, in reality, you cannot.” You pointed at him. “Britt was sloshed. Then there’s blacked out, which—self-explanatory. Bad decisions are made. Regret is guaranteed.”

Crowe hummed, going back to his papers. “Lovely.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” you continued, thoroughly enjoying this. “Then you got aggressive drunks—you know, the ones who suddenly wanna fight everyone, including their own reflection. Confident drunks, which are honestly my favorite ‘cause they act like they own the place and think they’re hot shit. Sad drunks—kinda self-explanatory. They cry about their ex, their childhood, or how the bartender didn’t smile at them enough.”

Crowe sighed like he already regretted indulging this conversation. “And?”

“The two everyone really looks out for are lightweights and heavyweights.” You leaned forward a little, smirking. “I used to be somewhere in the middle, but, uh… college happened. And Britt happened. So now I’m lowkey more of a heavyweight.”

Crowe set his pen down and gave you that look. The one that was half disappointed professor, half exasperated parent. “Really.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I build tolerance fast.”

Crowe pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not something to be proud of.”

You waved him off. “Anyway, what about you? Heavyweight or lightweight?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it.

Crowe let out a slow breath, glancing at you like he was debating whether to humor you or just ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “I have work to do.”

You gasped dramatically. “Avoiding the question? That means you’re a lightweight, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t respond.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, grinning. “Crowe, do you get tipsy off one drink? Is that why you don’t go out? Are you—”

He gave you a look. A very pointed, very shut up before I actually throw you out look.

You just cackled. “Yeah, alright. Go back to work, lightweight.”

Soon after, it didn’t take long for Crowe to start feeling something—not that he’d ever admit it. You had finished your slice—even had another one without issue, enjoying every bite while Crowe had been more hesitant, taking small, slow bites as if waiting for some dramatic effect to kick in. And, to your delight, it did.   

He shifted in his chair, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the odd sensation creeping up on him. His usually sharp gaze had softened just a bit, and though he kept his expression neutral, you didn’t miss the way his fingers drummed against the desk a little too loosely or the way he exhaled through his nose, slower than usual.  

You smirked. “Feeling okay over there?” 

Crowe shot you a flat look, but there was something off about it—like his focus wasn’t entirely there. “I’m fine.” You tilted your head, scrutinizing him. His dark brown skin had taken on a noticeable flush, heat blooming over his cheekbones and creeping down his neck.

 You knew that look.  

“Oh my god,” you gasped, leaning forward with barely contained laughter. “You’re lightweight, aren’t you?” Crowe blinked, frowning slightly before scoffing. “No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “It’s just warm in here.”  

You bit your lip, trying to stifle your amusement. “Crowe, this is embarrassing. I ate the same cheesecake on my third slice, and I feel fine.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening for a second before he muttered, “You have an unfair advantage.”  

You grinned. “No wonder you avoid alcohol like the plague. You can’t hold your liquor.” Crowe furrowed his brows at your mocking tone, his face turning into a bit of a pout.

"I can hold my liquor," he grumbled, though the faint tinge in his face betrayed his words. He shifted in his seat slightly, crossing his arms defensively. "I just don't see the appeal of losing my inhibitions and making a fool of myself. Unlike some people."

Your expression turned into a smirk, tone still just as condescending.

"Ah, the classic excuse." Your gaze remained fixed on him with a hint of judgment. "Inhibitions are what make us human, you know. Or perhaps you fear the idea of letting go and having a little fun."

Crowe bristled at your words, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

"I'm not afraid of having fun," he retorted, his voice betraying a hint of defensiveness. "I simply prefer to maintain control over my actions. I see no need for losing myself to something as shallow as alcohol."

He let out a scoff. 

"Besides, true fun can be had without the need for impairment."

You let out a short, derisive laugh. "Ah, yes. The need to control everything around you, even your fun. How incredibly dull of you." She leaned closer, her expression a mix of mockery and superiority.

"But tell me, Princess, do you ever truly feel alive, or is your life merely an endless cycle of monotony and self-imposed discipline?"

"Oh, please." Crowe rolled his eyes at your mockery. "Just because I don't partake in mind-numbing substances doesn't mean my life lacks excitement. I simply find joy in more meaningful pursuits." He crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "Unlike some, I don't rely on alcohol or other substances to feel alive. My life is filled with purpose and discipline, and I take pride in that."

You tilted your head, the smirk still dancing on your lips.

"Purpose and discipline…?” she drawled. "I bet you take pride in your ability to follow routines like a well-trained dog, too."

“Excuse me?” Crowe frowned, his voice sharp as he watched you lean closer, sensing the shift in the air.

You didn’t back down. “Jericho,” you said, using his real name with a seriousness that seemed to catch him off guard. “I’ve been your assistant for the past two weeks now, and I’m starting to notice something. You let the student council—and even the president—treat you like a dog, and I see the expression on your face every time. Pure irritation.” 

You shifted and hopped onto his desk, sitting beside him, your legs casually swinging back and forth as you watched him try to suppress his usual annoyance. 

Crowe’s frown deepened, his hand tightening on the paperwork as he visibly tried to keep his composure. You could almost see the gears grinding behind his eyes, a mix of irritation and something else, something less guarded. 

"I’m aware of the circumstances," he said, voice tight but still trying to assert some control, "and I can handle the student council just fine. I… I’m fine with it. Really." He trailed off, and his words faltered. You could tell he was trying to convince himself more than you. The bravado was fading as his frustration bled into something more vulnerable, something he didn’t want to admit out loud.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little closer. “Oh, I don’t doubt that you can handle things, Jericho. But here’s the thing—you’ve been avoiding something for a while. And it’s not just the paperwork.”

He didn’t meet your gaze, his eyes flicking away as he shifted uneasily in his chair. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, that much was obvious.

“Look, I get it. You’re used to doing everything by yourself, keeping things together, and letting everyone walk all over you if it means getting things done. But that doesn’t mean you have to take it. And it definitely doesn’t mean you’re okay with it,” you said, leaning forward, voice low but firm. You saw the way he struggled to keep his walls up, the cracks widening. 

“I appreciate your concern,” he muttered, barely audible, “but I can handle everything. I really don’t mind being treated like a dog.”

Your smirk faltered just a bit, and a hint of seriousness crept into your tone. “Hm, now I know you’re not the buzzed type…” you murmured, thoughtfully. “You say you don’t mind… but I can sense there’s more to it than just handling things. You’re avoiding my gaze for a reason, after all.”

Crowe didn’t respond right away, his eyes avoiding yours, but the tension in the air was palpable. You could feel his discomfort growing, but there was something else, too—a sense of reluctance mixed with a desire for something else, something you both knew he wasn’t willing to admit yet.

You sighed heavily, making sure to add some extra dramatic flair before stepping closer. His desk, though structured, had a certain worn-in look, the wood slightly dulled from constant use, with scattered notes and open folders sprawled across its surface. The lamp at the corner cast long, soft shadows, adding a golden warmth to the otherwise sterile, paper-filled workspace.  

You crouched beside his chair and gestured toward his feet. “Move.” 

Crowe blinked down at you, finally breaking his focus. His brows furrowed. “What—?”  

You didn’t give him a chance to retreat into his shell. Instead, you were now kneeling down in front of him, slipping under the desk with the kind of confidence that said ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ “I’m going to see if you’ll actually let me help,” you said, your voice light but insistent, “because right now? You think you don’t need anything from anyone. But I’m betting you’ll let me assist you. And I’m going to find out just how much you really don’t mind.”  

The air between you shifted, thick with unspoken tension, as Crowe’s jaw tightened. You could almost see the internal battle raging within him—the need to keep control, to not rely on anyone, fighting against the small, desperate part of him that did need help, that did want something different. Something softer, something less exhausting.

“Stop acting like you can do everything by yourself, Jericho," you said gently, yet firmly. “Let me help. Please.”

His eyes flicked down to where you were kneeling in front of him, his throat working as if he were trying to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t move, letting the silence stretch just long enough for him to feel the weight of your presence. You were here, offering, and this time, you weren’t going to back off.

“I’m not going to bite, I promise.” You smiled, though it was a soft, knowing grin—one that suggested you could see right through the mask he wore.

For a moment, he said nothing, just staring at you like you’d asked him to do the impossible. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, His deep blue eyes flickered with something unreadable—something between exasperation and tiredness.  

Then, finally, his shoulders and arms sagged, just a little, and he let out a quiet, resigned sigh. “Fine. Okay. You win. Help me, then.”

Still kneeling on the floor, you tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked onto his with a mischievous glint that told him you weren’t backing down anytime soon. You let your gaze linger a little longer than necessary, unwavering and unblinking, before slowly shifting closer, inching just enough to make your presence impossible to ignore.

You could feel the tension building between you two, a palpable electricity in the air, and you were loving every second of it.

“Y’know, as your assistant,” you began, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “all I’ve done is watch you mistreat me, running errands, picking up the slack... I mean, I barely get a ‘thank you’ for anything.” You leaned in just a little more, making sure he could feel the weight of your words.

It was a total lie, of course. He doesn’t actually mistreat you, but you loved getting under his skin, watching the way he reacted to your teasing. The slight furrow of his brow, the tension that flickered in his jaw—he was trying so hard not to take the bait.

Before he could respond, you lightly placed a hand on his thigh, just above the knee, your fingers barely grazing his skin. You could practically feel the sharp intake of breath he took, his body going rigid under your touch.

“You really should show your assistant some gratitude,” you added, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Or... maybe I’ll start taking advantage of the fact that I know exactly how much you don’t want help.”  

His eyes flickered to your hand, then back up to your face, but he didn’t move. His lips pressed into a thin line, clearly debating whether to stay stoic or snap at you. But you could tell that you were getting to him—just a little. 

You were testing him. And so far? You were winning.

You felt it instantly—the way his muscles tensed beneath the fabric of his pants, his entire body going rigid for just a fraction of a second. His smirk, always so confident, faltered—just barely. Instead, he regarded you with something sharper now, something closer to curiosity than irritation. “Oh?” he mused, his voice dipping into a lower register, sending a slow ripple of heat down your spine.  

"I don't treat you badly," he protested, though his voice had an edge to it—strained, like he was trying very hard not to focus on the placement of your hand. “I always make sure to take care of you, even when I’m busy…”  

You chuckled slyly, inching closer so that you were practically hovering over him now. Your fingers traced absentmindedly along his thigh, feather-light but deliberate, as you tilted your head and gave him a teasing, knowing look.  

"Oh, Crowe," you crooned, drawing out his name, savoring the way his jaw clenched in response. “That’s not enough. And you don’t reward me ‘nearly’ enough."  

His breath hitched for the smallest moment, but he recovered quickly, exhaling sharply through his nose. Almost a laugh—almost. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something restrained, but the corners of his lips twitched upward in spite of himself.  

"Rewards, huh?" he murmured, the words slow, measured. He leaned back slightly in his chair, though his gaze never left yours, locked in a silent battle of wills.

You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the papers he had been holding—forgotten now, unimportant. 

You had his attention. Completely.

"And what exactly do you think you deserve as a reward, huh?" Crowe asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone deceptively casual, but his body language betraying him. You paused, considering his question, letting the moment between you.

What could you ask for?

What did you want from him?

Your fingers, still resting on his thigh, tapped once—thoughtful, teasing. "Well," you mused, lips curling at the edges as you leaned in just a fraction closer. "That depends. Are you finally done with work?"

Crowe exhaled sharply, the sound unmistakable as he shook his head—a familiar gesture that meant he was about to endure something he definitely wasn’t looking forward to. You could see the frustration in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if bracing for the inevitable storm that was coming his way. But before he could even open his mouth to express his exasperation—

His phone rang.

Shit maybe you don’t have his attention like you thought 

You didn’t need to check the screen to know who was calling. The ringtone had become so ingrained in your memory, it was practically a soundtrack to your time spent in the student council room. You could’ve recognized it in the dead of night, half-asleep and groggy.

But you still raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Who is it?”

“The student President…” Crowe muttered, barely a glance at the phone before he visibly grimaced.

Without skipping a beat, you leaned over his thigh and nudged him, giving him that determined look that meant ‘this was happening whether he liked it or not.’ “Pick it up.”

He shot you a look of disbelief. “What now?”

“Yes. Pick it up.”

Crowe hesitated for just a second, clearly torn between his usual aversion to the student council President’s calls and the sense of duty that always seemed to take over.

You could practically feel the battle within him: to pick up and face whatever nonsense was about to unfold or to pretend he hadn’t heard it ringing and hoped it went away. But, of course, he didn’t choose the latter. 

With an exaggerated sigh, Crowe picked up the phone, his fingers brushing over the screen like it was a ticking bomb. 

Above you, Crowe cleared his throat, the sound sharp and professional—the tone he always used when he was in full ‘I-have-to-do-this’ mode. It was crisp and controlled, but there was a thin thread of tension that clung to the edges of his voice, betraying the fact that he was anything but relaxed.

“President,” Crowe greeted, his voice polite but tight, like he was holding back the urge to snap. "Didn’t realize you were gonna call so late."

You could practically feel the irritation dripping off him, but he kept it buried under that forced professional tone. If the student council president had any clue how much Crowe was dreading this call, they sure weren’t showing it. Crowe shifted in his seat, like he was bracing for whatever nonsense the student council president was about to throw his way.

You almost felt bad for him—almost—but let’s be real, he was the one who willingly signed up for this madness.

Still, you had a feeling this call was gonna drag on a lot longer than either of you wanted. Your heart was hammering as you pressed your head flat against Crowe’s lap, barely breathing, just waiting—again for this stupid call to be over.

Every inch of you was aware of how close you were, and it was making it hard to focus on anything else. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but it was way too hard when Crowe’s leg was right there, brushing against you. 

On the other end, the student president’s voice—sharp and already full of annoyance—came through loud and clear. "It’s about the upcoming budget meeting. You didn’t submit the finalized report yet."

Crowe let out an exaggerated sigh from above, and you could feel the shift in his chair like it was trying to rattle your very bones. You clenched your jaw, trying not to squirm as you felt the brush of his knee against your shoulder. It definitely felt deliberate, like he was trying to mess with you, making it impossible for you to get comfortable. 

You swallowed down the discomfort and forced yourself to stay still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. 

"It’s almost done," Crowe said, smooth as butter, his voice way too casual for how much of a lie it was. "I was just in the middle of… reviewing it."

Such a liar. You rolled your eyes internally. 

"Good," the student president replied, clearly distracted by whatever papers they were rifling through. “I need it by tonight. No excuses.”

Your stomach dropped. You held your breath, teetering on the edge of panic as Crowe leaned forward, his lower body inching closer to yours. He reached for something on his desk, and suddenly, the space between you felt way too small. 

Like, way too small. It was suffocating, but you didn’t move. 

You couldn’t. 

…Right?

“Noted,” Crowe said, his voice only slightly strained. You could hear the tension in it, though, and it made your pulse spike. 

The student president sighed on the other end of the phone call, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in Crowe’s office. “I don’t know how you manage all this paperwork, Ichabod. You’d think with your assistant, things would be more efficient.”

You nearly choked. Excuse me?

Crowe let out an amused huff, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, well. Sometimes, they can be a handful.” 

Your eye twitched. Oh, he did not just say that. That smug little—oh, he was so not getting away with this. 

From under the desk, you moved quickly, your fingers darting to his pants. You undid the buttons with practiced ease, then unzipped them, pulling them down to his thighs. And then—oh. 

Oh~

The first thing you saw was the massive tent in his briefs, and you almost choked on your own saliva. How was he even walking like that?

“Hey—what are you—what are you doing—?” Crowe hissed, his voice low and frantic. You glanced up at him, and the look on his face was priceless. His jaw was tight, his dark blue eyes wide, and there was this desperate, pleading expression that screamed, ‘Don’t you dare.’ 

But oh, you dared. 

You brought a hand to him hesitantly, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his briefs. The second you started palming him, Crowe let out this low, shaky sigh that he barely managed to stifle. How the hell was he already this hard? And why did that make your stomach flip in the best way possible?

You could feel him twitch under your touch, and you bit your lip to keep from grinning. This was payback, plain and simple. He wanted to call you a ‘handful’? 

Fine. You’d show him exactly what that meant.

Crowe’s voice was strained as he tried to keep his composure on the phone. “Yes. I’ll—uh—make sure to follow up on that.” 

You smirked, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his briefs. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he shot you a look that was equal parts warning and begging. But you weren’t about to stop now. Not when he was squirming like this, not when you had him right where you wanted him.

“Crowe?” the student president’s voice crackled through the phone. “Are you still there?”

“Y-yes,” Crowe stammered, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just dealing with something. Urgently.”

You stifled a laugh, your hand wrapping around him fully now. Crowe’s head tipped back slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but you could see the cracks forming. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white, and you could feel the way his body tensed under your touch.

Crowe was trying to focus. 

Keyword: trying. 

But you were making it impossible.

You had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, your fingers teasing the sensitive skin there, while your other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them in a way that made his leg twitch under the desk. You kissed the tip of him, soft and teasing, and when you glanced up at him, his jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“Yes, President,” Crowe said, his voice strained but impressively steady. “I’ll make sure the budget report is finalized by—” He cut off with a sharp inhale as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, slow and deliberate. His free hand slammed down on the desk, and you could see his fingers trembling.

You smirked, your lips curling around him as you took him deeper, your tongue flicking against the underside of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to cover the sound. “Apologies,” he said, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just a bit of a cough.”

You almost laughed at that, but you were too busy enjoying the way his thighs tensed under your hands. You pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and then—because you were feeling extra mean—you slapped his cock against your cheek a couple of times, the sound muffled but still way too loud in the quiet space.

Crowe’s eyes snapped down to you, wide and panicked, and you gave him your best innocent look before leaning in to lick a slow stripe up his length. His hand shot out, tangling in your hair, but he didn’t push you away. No, he just held on, his grip tightening as you took him into your mouth again, deeper this time.

“Ichabod?” the student president’s voice came through the phone, sharp and impatient. “Are you even listening?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Crowe managed, though his voice was definitely higher-pitched than usual. “Just—uh—just reviewing the numbers.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his hips jerk involuntarily. He bit down on his lip to stifle a groan, but you could still hear it, low and desperate. You pulled back again, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocent.

“You’re doing so good,” you mouthed, your voice silent but your meaning crystal clear. Crowe’s face flushed a deep red, and he quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried—and failed—to focus on the phone call. His free hand, the one not clutching the phone, gripped the edge of his desk so hard you thought the wood might splinter.

You didn’t let up.

Instead, you ducked your head again, taking him deeper this time, your throat relaxing around him as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s hand tangled in your hair, his fingers tightening almost reflexively, and you could feel the way his body tensed, the way he fought to keep his hips still. 

He was a losing battle, and you knew it. 

You could feel the subtle shift in his muscles, the way his control was slipping with every flick of your tongue, every slow, deliberate movement of your lips.

“President,” Crowe said, his voice strained, “I think we might need to—ah—to reschedule this call.”

You smirked around him, your tongue flicking against that sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he let out a shaky exhale that he barely managed to stifle. You could feel the way his thighs trembled under your hands, the way his entire body was teetering on the edge.

“Reschedule?” the president snapped, his tone incredulous. “Ichabod, this is important. We don’t have time for—”

But Crowe wasn’t listening anymore.

His hips bucked forward involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you could feel the way his body shuddered, the way he lost control for just a second. 

It was all you needed. 

You hummed softly, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth, and you could feel the way his resolve was crumbling. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling just enough to make your scalp tingle, and you could hear the way his breathing grew ragged, uneven.

“I—uh—apologize, sir,” Crowe managed to choke out, his voice tight and unsteady. “Something… urgent has come up.”

You didn’t let him finish. 

Instead, you pulled back slightly, just enough to swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before taking him deep again, your throat working around him. Crowe’s head tipped back, a low groan escaping his lips before he could stop it, and you could feel the way his body was trembling, the way he was barely holding it together.

The student president was still talking, his voice sharp and impatient, but Crowe wasn’t hearing a word of it. His focus was entirely on you, on the way your mouth felt around him, on the way you were driving him absolutely insane. His hips bucked again, this time more deliberately, and you could feel the way his control was slipping, the way he was losing himself in the sensation.

“I’ll—ah—call you back,” Crowe said abruptly, his voice rough and strained. He didn’t even wait for a response before he ended the call, tossing the phone onto his desk with a clatter.

The second the call was over, his hand in your hair tightened, and he pulled you off him just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark and blazing with need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, his voice low and rough.

You just smirked up at him, your lips still wrapped around him, and then you took him deep again, your throat relaxing as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, and his hips jerked forward, his control completely gone now.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his voice rough and strained, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. His movements were desperate, almost frantic, like he was losing control and couldn’t stop himself.

You could feel the way his body trembled, the way his thighs tensed under your hands, and you knew he was teetering on the edge. 

You kept your pace steady, your lips wrapped tight around him, your tongue working against him in ways that made his breath hitch and his grip on your hair tighten almost painfully.

"Here I—"

Crowe didn’t get to finish his words.

His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he came with a low, guttural groan. You swallowed half of it, the taste warm and salty, before pulling back just enough to let the rest spill across your lower face. A few streaks of white painted your chin and the corner of your mouth, and you looked up at him, your eyes never leaving his.

“I’m so sorry,” Crowe said, his voice hoarse, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His hand loosened in your hair, his fingers brushing gently against your scalp as if to soothe the sting. But you just smirked, your tongue darting out to catch the cum at the edge of your face.

“It’s all good,” you said, your voice low and teasing, as you licked the last traces of him away. The way his eyes darkened at the sight, the way his jaw tightened like he was fighting the urge to pull you back in, only made your smirk widen.

When he finally stilled, his body limp and spent, you pulled back slowly, a satisfied smirk on your lips. Crowe slumped back in his chair, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. He looked completely wrecked—his hair disheveled, his shirt rumpled and half-unbuttoned, his face still flushed with the aftermath of his release. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint tremble in his forearms.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get caught,” Crowe muttered, his voice low and gruff as he leaned back in his chair. He was trying to sound stern, but the way his eyes lingered on you—dark and hungry—gave him away. “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if the student president had figured out what you were doing under my desk?”

You just shrugged, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, a sly grin spreading across your face. “At least I had your back, so he didn’t really hear anything. Besides, he sounded more pissed that you hung up on him than anything else.”

Crowe groaned, running a hand over his face like he was trying to wipe away the memory of the entire ordeal. But you could see the corner of his mouth twitch like he was fighting a smile. “You’re such a menace,” he said, though there was no real heat behind his words. His voice was soft, almost fond, and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the room that mattered—made your stomach flip.

You stood, leaning against his desk, your grin widening. “You love it,” you shot back, your voice dripping with playful defiance. 

Crowe let out a low laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “I really do,” he admitted, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. 

You couldn’t help but notice how flushed Crowe’s face was, the deep red hue spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

Was it from the way you’d just had him unraveling under your touch?

Or maybe it was the spiked cheesecake that you convinced him to indulge in earlier, the alcohol warming his veins and loosening his usual tight control. Honestly, it could’ve been both, and the thought made a smug little smile tug at your lips. 

Either way, you wanted him to relax, to let go of whatever tension was still coiled in his body.

“Do you need the hangover pills from your bathroom?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing as you tilted your head, studying him. You were half-turned toward the door, ready to fetch them if he said yes, but Crowe shook his head almost immediately.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I don’t need pills. I just need you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded, and before you could respond—before you could even process what he’d said—he reached for you. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that sent a shiver up your spine.

In one swift motion, he was on his feet, pulling you toward him with a force that made you stumble. You let out a surprised laugh, but it was cut short as you collided with his chest, his other arm snaking around your waist to steady you.

And then his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a hunger that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, demanding, almost possessive, and you melted into it without hesitation. His tongue slid against yours, and you could still taste him on your lips—a faint, lingering reminder of what you’d just done to him. It seemed to drive him wilder, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

His hands roamed over your body like he needed to touch every inch of you, to remind himself that you were real, that you were his. One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled your head, holding you in place like he never wanted to let you go. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

You could feel the heat of him through his clothes, the way his body thrummed with restless energy like he was still riding the high of what had just happened. His chest rose and fell against yours, his breathing ragged, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rested against him. 

It was intoxicating, the way he wanted you, the way he needed you, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding into his long, soft brown hair. His hair was silky between your fingers, and you tugged gently, earning a low groan from him that vibrated against your lips. 

The sound sent a thrill through you, and you deepened the kiss, your tongue sliding against his as you poured every ounce of your own desire into it. Crowe’s grip on you tightened, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to fuse the two of you together, and you could feel the evidence of his want pressing against your hip, hard and insistent.

The kiss was everything—hot, desperate, and full of unspoken promises. 

It was a collision of need and longing, a silent conversation that neither of you could put into words. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless, his hands gripping you like you might disappear if he let go.

And when he finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath came in short, uneven gasps. You could see it in his eyes—the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, softer this time but no less hungry. You let yourself get lost in him, your body leaning back until the edge of his desk stopped you from moving any further. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, his body pressing you firmly against the desk.

One hand braced on the surface beside you, trapping you in place, while the other stayed on your waist, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

When he finally released you, you could see the redness of his face, the flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. It was almost enough to make you laugh, and you couldn’t resist tapping your finger lightly on his nose. He blinked, taken aback by the playful gesture, and then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face.

“It’s time to reward beloved assistant,” he said, his voice low and rough, before kissing you again. This time, it was fiercer, more demanding, and you barely had time to react before he was roughly pushing all the papers off his desk with one sweeping motion.

The sound of them scattering to the floor barely registered as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the now-clear desk. His hands stayed on your thighs, his grip firm as he leaned over you, trapping you once again.

Crowe’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with want. He was about to kiss you again, but you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest to hold him back.

“Crowe, you’re still drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. You cupped his face in your hands, your fingertips brushing over the soft skin of his cheeks. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were now clouded with a mix of desire and something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. “One slice of spiked cheesecake is all it takes for you to be someone else?” you teased, your fingertips grazing over his soft, parted lips.

As much as you adored Crowe, you didn’t want to take advantage of him in this state. He was always so composed, so in control, and seeing him like this—unraveled and needy—was both intoxicating and a little unsettling. 

Crowe’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, his lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “I wonder if you fed me that cake on purpose, you to take a break.” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Did you want to see me like this?”

You almost laughed. 

Yeah, maybe you did. 

But you wouldn’t tell him that to his face.

“Who could’ve guessed a small amount of alcohol would get you this drunk?” you said instead, looking down as his hands traveled up your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch was electric, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping.

“I never allowed myself touch alcohol,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands stopped at your waist, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. “But for you, I broke that rule.”

“Crowe…” you mumbled, your arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to steady yourself. His proximity, his touch, the way he looked at you—it was all too much, and yet not enough.

“You said you wanted a reward,” he said, his eyes pleading as he leaned his head down into the crook of your shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so warm. You smell like you, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than the stars in the sky.”

Confident, may you add, needy drunk definitely.

You felt your breath catch as his lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft and lingering. His hands moved back to your thighs, sliding up to your waist, and then under your shirt again, his fingers exploring the plush curve of your hips. Everywhere he touched, it felt like he was leaving a mark, branding you as his.

“You’ve been such a wonderful assistant,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “As your so-called boss, let me reward you, starlight.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the windchime laugh that escaped you, muffled against his chest. It made his heart flip-flop like a fish in the cavern of his ribs. 

“Crowe, please…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“If you want me, you can have me,” he said, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “In whichever way you want.”

In whichever way you want?

That was a dangerous offer, especially from someone like him. And you knew you’d take him up on it, again and again and again. But not like this. Not when he was drunk, his inhibitions lowered, his control slipping. 

You sighed, gently pushing against his chest to create some distance. “Jericho, you’re really drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll get the hangover pills.”

But before you could slide off the desk, Crowe grabbed your arms, pulling you back onto the surface with a force that surprised you. “Are you trying to escape?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. “You keep saying I’m drunk. So, must I always stay sober?” He rested his head on your chest, his breath warm against your skin. “Because of you, everything is spiraling out of control. How can you pretend you’re not affected?”

Your eyes flickered away for a moment, your hand resting on his chest as you thought about his words. It was hard to say no to him, especially when he looked at you like that, when his touch set your skin on fire. But you didn’t want to push him into something he might regret later.

“Jericho…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. You were torn, your resolve wavering under the weight of his need and your own desire. 

Fuck it. 

You were a little tipsy too.

Just a bit better at hiding it than him.

You kiss him with a softness that he thinks must come naturally to you, a tenderness that makes his chest ache in the best way. Crowe adores it, even as he feels a twinge of guilt for the way he wants to devour it, to take that softness and turn it into something wild and untamed. 

But for now, he lets himself sink into it, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that quickly deepens. Lips give way to tongue, and then to teeth, his mouth nipping at your lower lip in a way that makes you gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair.

His hands know your skin like they’ve mapped it a thousand times before, and yet every touch feels new, electric. They’re everywhere at once, hot and aching as they slide under your clothes, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that makes your breath hitch.

One hand slips up to your breast, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your top. The sensation is enough to make you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips that he swallows down with another kiss.

Crowe takes his time with your layered tops—first the crop top, then the tank top—peeling them off you carefully, like he’s unveiling something sacred. His gaze never leaves you, his eyes dark and hungry as he drinks in the sight of you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then he’s leaning in, his mouth finding the spot right above your sternum, where he can feel the rapid flutter of your heartbeat beneath his lip as he removes your bra.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles into your skin, his voice low and rough with desire. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate circles.

“The brightest star in my life,” he adds, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s confessing something he’s held onto for too long. He tilts his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as his hand slides under your back, fingers pressing into the dip of your spine. 

You arch into him instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as he takes his time, lavishing attention on your body despite the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers—once again a bulge as pants were still unbutton. “Such a pretty star,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. “So hot to the touch.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping you firmly as he lifts you by your ass, pulling your flared yoga pants down and off in one smooth motion. His eyes follow every movement, every inch of exposed skin, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting of the standing lamp near his desk.

It casts a warm glow over you, highlighting the curves of your body as you sit on top of his desk, completely at his mercy. His gaze is intense, almost reverent, as he takes you in, his hands sliding up your thighs with a touch that’s both possessive and tender. 

“Stay still, dearest,” he murmurs, his voice a low command that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands continue their exploration, fingers lacing through yours as they move over your hips, down to the waistband of your panties. He hooks his fingers into the fabric, pulling them down slowly, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his breath coming a little faster now.

But of course, you can’t let him have all the fun.

“No,” you say suddenly, your voice firm but playful, pushing Crowe away with your foot on his lower chest, slowly rubbing.

Crowe freezes, his head snapping up to look at you, his cheeks still flushed with desire. “No?” he asks, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of amusement.

“Isn’t this my reward for being your assistant?” you ask, tilting your head as you give him a sly smile. “Shouldn’t I have a say in how this goes?”

His eyes widen for a moment, and then a smirk plays on his lips, his expression shifting from surprise to ‘of course, whatever you say.’

“My apologies, dearest,” he says, his voice soft but laced with teasing. “How selfish of me. Of course, it’s only fair that you have a say in this.” He steps closer, his hands resting on either side of you on the desk as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what is it that you desire, my sweet star? You have my full attention. Just tell me what you want.”

There was one or maybe two things.

You were sprawled back on Crowe’s desk, the cool surface pressing into your skin as your legs fell open for him. 

The edge of the desk dug into your lower back, but the discomfort was a distant thought—completely overshadowed by the way Crowe was looking at you. His deep blue eyes were dark with hunger, his gaze raking over your body like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. His long brown hair was undone,messy, falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you couldn’t help but reach up to brush a strand away. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before letting it go, his lips curving into a smirk that made your stomach flip.

His hands slid up your thighs, his grip firm but not rough, like he was savoring the feel of you. He pushed your legs wider, settling himself between them, and you shivered as his fingers traced patterns on your skin, teasing and deliberate. His touch was electric, sending little shocks of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip to keep from begging him to hurry up.

But Crowe wasn’t one to rush. He took his time, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips soft and warm against your sensitive skin. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as he kissed his way up, his breath hot and uneven. Each kiss was slow, and deliberate, like he was mapping out every inch of you, and by the time he reached where you needed him most, you were already trembling.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, the words sending a thrill through you. And then his tongue flicked against clit, and you let out a strangled cry, your fingers tightening in his hair. He didn’t hold back, his mouth working you over with a skill that had you seeing stars, your hips lifting off the desk as you tried to get closer, to feel more.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled back, leaving you gasping and desperate. You whined, your hands tugging at his hair, but he only chuckled, the sound dark and full of promise. “Not yet,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. “You missed the best part.”

You groaned, your head falling back against the desk as you tried to catch your breath. Crowe straightened, you can heard him unbuttoning his shirt, then pulled down his boxers along with his pants.

Soon you felt his hands sliding up to grip your hips, and you could feel the heat of him as he positioned his cock at your entrance—which he slap his cock against your pussy, enough to make you jump little bit as you tried to mentally prepare yourself.

Crowe laugh softly, holding you, "Don’t worry," He started before opening your pussy with two fingers, "Just relax, right?"

That little cheeky asshole

Suddenly, he pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. He felt so good, stretching you, filling you completely, and when he finally bottomed out, you both let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his head dropping forward as he tried to steady himself. His hands tightened on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that was almost soothing. “You feel so fucking incredible.”

You could only nod, your hands sliding up his arms to grip his shoulders as he started to move. His pace was slow at first, almost torturous, each thrust deep and deliberate. But then he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Just you.”

Crowe groaned, his pace quickening as he gave you exactly what you asked for—a rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he kissed you, deep and hungry.

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs higher as he thrust into you, each movement deep and deliberate. You could feel the tension building in your body, your nails digging into his back—enough to almost leave marks as you tried to hold on.

And then, just as you were about to lose yourself completely, his phone rang.

The sound was jarring, pulling you both out of the moment, and Crowe let out a frustrated groan, stop completely. “Shit,” he muttered, glancing at the phone where it sat on the desk beside your head. He reached for it, his movements jerky and impatient, but when he saw the name on the screen—Student Council President—he hesitated.

“Answer it,” you moaned, your voice breathless and teasing. Your eyes met his, and you could see the conflict in his gaze—the way he wanted to ignore the call but knew he probably shouldn’t. “You know I can’t,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure. 

But you didn’t care. 

You reached for the phone, your fingers brushing against his as you answered the call and handed it to him. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it’s something important?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful innocence.

Crowe shot you a look that was equal parts ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me’ and ‘I’m so into you it’s ridiculous.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reluctantly bringing the phone to his ear, standing up straight. “What?” he snapped, his voice sharp and impatient, like he was already done with this conversation before it even started.

The student council president’s voice crackled through the phone, loud and unmistakably pissed. “Ichabod! What the hell was that earlier? You can’t just hang up on me like that! Do you have any idea how unprofessional—” 

Then, out of nowhere. With a playful annoyed sigh, your body to move, slamming yourself hard against Crowe.

He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning into the phone, however, your warm pussy clenching around cock—deep inside you, so warm, so fucking wet and bare— he wonders if he stretching you out in all of the right places.

You could feel the way his body tensed, the way he was trying to keep his voice steady while you were doing your absolute best to ruin him. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Unprofessional. Got it. Can we move on?”

“Move on?!” the student president screeched, his voice so loud you were pretty sure the neighbors could hear it. “You hung up on me in the middle of a very important discussion! Do you know how much paperwork I have to deal with because of you?!”

You couldn’t help it—you smirked, your fingers digging into Crowe’s arms as you rocked against him. He shot you a glare, but it was half-hearted at best, and you could see the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Look,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, “I’ll… uh… I’ll get you the forms tomorrow, okay? Can we just—ah—drop this for now?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could practically hear the president’s brain short-circuiting. “Are you… are you breathing weirdly? What’s wrong with you?”

Crowe’s eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked genuinely panicked—like a deer caught in headlights. His grip on your hips tightened, his body freezing as the president’s voice blared through the phone, sharp and accusatory.

But then, just as quickly as the panic had set in, it was gone. His expression shifted, an unfamiliar mask of cool composure sliding back into place. 

His voice dropped into that low, dangerous tone he used when he was about to shut someone down, the one that sent shivers down your spine even when it wasn’t directed at you.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, though you could feel the way his body tensed beneath you. “I’m just… busy. Very busy. So if you’ll excuse me—”

“Busy doing what?!” the president yelled, their voice reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. “You’re supposed to be working, not—what are you even doing right now?!”

Crowe’s lips twitched, and you could see the exact moment the mischief sparked in his eyes. He looked down at you, his gaze dark and heated, and then he smirked. 

Uh oh. 

“Jericho—” you started, your voice a warning, but he cut you off with a deep, hungry kiss. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your head spin. The kiss was demanding, almost possessive, and you couldn’t help but melt into it, your hands tangling in his hair as he muffled your sounds. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged, and he gave you a wicked grin that made your stomach flip.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I need you to be loud for this.”

Before you could respond, he turned his attention back to the phone, his smirk widening as he brought it to his ear. “What am I doing?” he repeated, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Oh, you know. Just… multitasking.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and then the president’s voice came through, louder and more incredulous than before. “Multitasking?! What does that even mean?!”

Crowe’s grin turned downright devilish, and you could feel the way his body vibrated with suppressed laughter. “This,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, and then he thrust deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur and your breath catch. 

You couldn’t help it—you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure shot through you like a lightning bolt.

“Jericho!” you cried out, your voice breaking on his name, and he smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he turned his attention back to the phone.

“You hear that?” he said, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “I’m busy fucking at the moment. Raw and deep. Something you’ll never get with those ugly-ass clothes of yours.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth falling open as you stared at him. 

Did he really just say that? 

To the student council president? 

Your Crowe??

But before you could say anything, Crowe hung up and tossed the phone onto the desk, the device skidding across the surface before coming to a stop near the edge. “Jericho!” you hissed, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You did not just say that!” 

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. “What?” he said, pulling back just enough to grin at you. 

“It’s true, plus you wanted this,” Crowe murmured, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down to capture your nipple between his teeth. He bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp, before soothing the sting with his tongue, sucking and teasing until you were squirming beneath him.

His deep blue eyes locked onto yours, “There’s something undeniably addictive about stepping out of line,” he admitted, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “Maybe getting drunk was worth it. Especially fucking you at the end.”

You laughed breathlessly, the sound catching in your throat as he thrust into you again, his cock hitting that deep, sensitive spot that made your toes curl. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with a relentless intensity that left you breathless. 

Every movement was deliberate, every stroke designed to drive you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building in your body, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer, desperate for more. “Crowe,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold on. “I’m close—”

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, and it was all you needed to tip over the edge. Your body trembled as pleasure washed over you in waves, your walls clenching around his cock as you fell apart. Crowe didn’t let up, continuing ramming his hips into yours as he chased his own release, his breath hot against your neck as he let out a low, guttural groan.

When he finally came, it was with a force that left you both shaking. His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep, his body collapsing against yours as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His breath was ragged, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, and you could feel the way his heart raced against your chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The room was quiet, save for the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing, the sound of your hearts still racing in sync. Crowe’s body was warm and heavy against yours, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You could feel the way his fingers absently traced patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and lingering like he was memorizing every inch of you.

And then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and the look he gave you—God, it made your chest ache. His gaze was dark, full of something raw and unguarded, a mix of affection and possessiveness that made your stomach flip. It was the kind of look that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough but tender, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“But what a way to go, right?” you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your touch.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his lips soft and lingering. It wasn’t the hungry, desperate kiss from before—this was something slower, sweeter, like he was savoring the taste of you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Besides, my assistant wanted attention, and as the boss, I’m happy to provide.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. “You’re such an idiot,” you said, your voice fond.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing against yours in a way that made your breath hitch. “But I’m your idiot.”

And then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he traced every curve, every dip like he was trying to commit you to memory. “Forever yours,” he murmured against your lips, the words so soft they were almost lost in the space between you.

You laughed as you kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. “So, what are you going to do now that you’ve probably been fired from the student council?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.

Crowe shrugged, a smirk spreading across his face. 

“Whatever my new boss tells me to do,” he said, his lips brushing against your palm as he kissed it. His eyes met yours, and the look he gave you was pure mischief. “And right now, you’re telling me to stay right here.” You grinned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss. 

Good answer, assistant.

[satorusugurugurl]

Stuck in The Middle

Summary: After being cramped in a hot car between your coworkers Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, you learn a very personal detail about their lives, their sex lives to be in fact!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Word Count: 3,031

Warning: Masturbation, threesome, oral sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, Geto’s bangs 🥵

A/N: Someone, totally not me. *bombastic side eye at me reflection* Has been reading/looking at tons of SatoSugu artwork. Again totally not me! This was not my brain worm working against me. . .yeah. . .it was. . .🪱

“Satoru, please, you're on my last nerve.”

“Oh, why? Because I'm breathing? So sorry, I need to breathe, your highness!”

“No, it's because you keep rolling the window up and down! It's hot, and you're letting all the cold air out!”

“Okay, so you tell me how to preoccupy my time? My phone is dead, we're stuck in traffic, and I'm starving!” Satoru turned to glare at his best friend. “If someone hadn't nearly thrown up after swallowing that curse, we could be back at the hotel!”

“I will sic’ one of my curses on you while we're inside the car if you keep testing me!”

“P-Please don't.”

Both Satoru and Suguru seized up, looking down at you. You had been so damn quiet they forgot you were there. You were smashed between the two of them, struggling to breathe. You didn't want to be here. You wanted to go on your own mission. But Yaga had insisted your curse technique for talismans and veils was ideal for this mission.

And your boss wasn't wrong! The three of you kicked major ass, got the job done within a day, and would be staying the night in Chiba before heading back to Tokyo in the morning. That was if you made it to the hotel without Satoru and Suguru killing each other.

Since you left Tokyo, the two best friends have been fighting and arguing. Like they were both on edge, you thought that maybe it was your presence intruding on their space. But they were both civil with you; to each other, it was a different story. They bickered like an old married couple. That was fine at first, but now that they talked about fighting each other? The two strongest sorcerers you knew, yeah, you wouldn’t let that happen.

You sighed in relief as they pulled away, giving you space to breathe. “Oh, Y/N, sorry you're so quiet I almost forgot you were here.” Satoru placed his forearm on your head, leaning in closer to Suguru. “Don't worry about me; I can take Suguru.” Suguru sighed loud enough for the both of you to hear.

“She doesn't want us to fight.”

“Well, not everybody gets what they want.” The words come out like silk as you jerk your head to the side. “Hey!” You don't even have a chance to admire the pout on Satoru as your head collides with Suguru’s shoulder.

“S-Sorry.” This is the only word you can begin to muster as Suguru glances down at you. He gives you a soft, gentle smile, bangs shifting as he shakes his head. A gesture to let you know that you were okay. His eyes slowly open to glare daggers at the other man.

Satoru sighs, rolling his eyes as he turns his attention back out the window. His leg bounces up and down so fast it's vibrating the chair. At least he isn't rolling the window up and down anymore. Maybe the peace would last through traffic. Maybe God would grant you that singular gift.

But God was cruel because the peaceful silence lasted all but thirty minutes. Enough time to get you through the nerve-wracking traffic just as the assistant supervisor pulled up to your hotel. They were the first to get out, rushing to grab Gojo’s luggage from the back. You wanted to join them! To help, but alas, you were still pinned between the two taller men. They were still glaring daggers at the other, waiting to see which would back down first.

There was far too much testosterone in the air for your liking. So you wiggled your way past them, reaching for the door handle. If you had to crawl over their laps to escape to freedom, so be it. A sacrifice you were willing to make! Just as you were getting ready to crawl over Suguru’s lap, Satoru moved.

You let out a little oof as Satoru pressed his whole body against you. You inadvertently fell over onto Suguru’s lap. The dark-haired man’s hands shot up, his thighs tensing at you suddenly collapsing onto him. Before you had a chance to get off or move, you gasped, cheeks flush as Satoru pressed his hips against your ass, poking Suguru in the cheek very aggressively with his pointer finger.

”Does somebody have an upset tummy after swallowing that curse?” The mocking tone of Satoru’s voice nearly makes Suguru grow inaudible. However, it was loud and clear from where you were! Seeing that your face was pressed firmly against his thighs.

Suguru's hand reached up, grabbing Satoru by the front of his jacket, yanking him closer to his face. Which had him pressing his crotch harder against your ass; it felt good. One of your hands flies up to stifle the moan that threatens to escape your mouth as Satoru tries pulling away from his very grumpy best friend.

“Do you have a death wish, Satoru?!”

“No, but I still have your underwear from last week.”

“Yeah, well, I still have your virginity!”

“Mmmph.” You whine, and your hand doesn’t muffle the noise this time.

Both Satoru and Suguru freeze. Their eyes slowly drift towards your body. One hand is gripping Geto’s pants while the other covers your mouth. Your ass is perfectly propped up, right against Satoru. Neither of them can deny how hot you look sprawled out in front of them like this. They exchange a look with each other, while at the same time, you feel Gojo’s cock throb against your ass while Geto’s twitches against your cheek.

Their eyes practically burn holes through your skin, muscles twitching like predators about to pounce. You needed to move fast! Grabbing the handle to the door, you throw it open, crawling over Suguru, hitting the hard pavement with a thump that makes your ears ring. Two large hands grab your jacket, trying to hoist you off the ground and back into the car. Luckily, you’re able to shimmy out of it before you’re caught. You scramble to your feet, bolting for the hotel, ignoring the shouts behind you.

When you’re secure in your room, you plop onto the ground, gasping for air as you stare at the multicolored carpet in shock. Suguru and Satoru were fucking!? Oh God, why did they send you on this mission? It was bad enough having to be stuck between the two of them all day. Now you know details about their very personal and very intimate lives, what the hell were they going to do to you!?

”Stupid Y/N! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” You scolded yourself as you scrubbed your hands over your face. “Stupid body! Is it too much to ask for a not so reactive body!?” You screamed to the heavens, pushing yourself off the ground as you began pacing, biting your thumb as your eyes darted to the wall separating you and Gojo's room. “I-I’ll just act like I never heard it! Yeah, I don’t know who happened to Take the Gojo Satoru’s virginity.”

It was Geto, his one and only best friend, Geto Suguru.

Your mind kept stating that fact all evening. While you took a shower, ordered room service, and as you currently laid in bed. Scowling at the ceiling in frustration, you're tossed and turned. You were trying to think of anything else other than Satoru and Suguru.

Like how nice and comfy your bed was! How would Satoru look pushed into it? The moon was beautiful! Satoru and Suguru would look pretty fucking in the moonlight. Was the heater on? No, it was just you, wanting to be in the middle, to taste and feel each other, their bodies flush against you, like earlier in the car, only with less clothes on.

“Stop it!” you shouted, getting out of bed. “You can't fantasize about your coworkers like this! They said it by accident. Not on purpose!”

Deciding that sleep wasn't an option, you walked towards the bathroom to grab a glass of water. “S-Suguru~” A whiny moan behind the wall had you freezing in your tracks. “Ahh~ s-Sugu~!” you turned your head slowly, eyeing the wall.

“Satoru~”

God hated you. It was apparent that you were being punished for some unknown sin. You pressed your thighs together, staring at the wall for a long moment. Listening to the soft grunts and groans from the two men on the other side of the wall. The bed creaked, enticing you to step closer, to listen to their moans. Your body moved, inching closer to the wall. But before you could you froze. No, this was wrong! You shouldn't be eavesdropping! You should leave as this had nothing to do with you! Before you could turn to go, a sharp inhale caught your attention.

“S-She was so pretty~” Satoru cried out, “ah! I w-wanna touch her.”

“Yeah~ she's so pretty. I would love to have her and you at the same time.” A breathless whine. “Oooh, you twitched, Satoru. You like that idea~.”

You liked that idea.

Forgetting all morals, you strode forward, slowly dropping to your knees and pressing your ear against the wall. “Y-Yeah~ like it~” The bed creaked fast, squeaking under the weight of whatever the duo was doing.

“She’d look pretty stuffed between us~ stuck in the middle.”

You felt your pussy twitch, a silent plea for you to relieve the burning heat building inside you. “Fuck.” A tiny whine sounded in the back of your throat as you slid your hand inside your shorts, rubbing your clit. You imagined being stuck between them. The smell of musk, clean linen, and earthy wood. Put them together, and god imagining their scent lingering on your skin could almost make you cum. “Haaah~” you cry out a little too loud, but you're losing yourself in the fantasy that you don't even notice the creaking of the bed has stopped. “Fuck~”

“I wanna kiss her~” Satoru groans out.

“I wanna kiss her too, on that pretty clit.” Suguru added.

“Yes ~ yeah, I-I want that too.” Your fingers pressed harder against yourself.

“I wanna fuck her while she sucks you off. Same position as when we were in the car.”

“Yeah~ she’d look so pretty choking on me while you fuck her.”

God, they were so lewd! It had you crying out softly, legs shaking as you whimpered loudly.“Fuck!” You cried out, rubbing your swollen clit faster, mouth dropping open at your quickened pace. “Oooh fuck.” Touching yourself is just what you needed. Your fingers were inches from sliding inside, your tight heat. Soon, you’d feel sweet relief.

Knock, Knock, knock.

Three quick taps hit the wall right where your ear was. Hurriedly, you pull away, staring at the wall in shock. A chuckle sounds from the other side of the wall before you hear footsteps heading across the floor, their door creaking open before the same quick knocks sound from your door. Ooooh fuck.

With shaky legs, you stand, heading to the door, slowly opening it. You inhaled sharply as a large hand pressed against it, forcing it open more. Suguru slowly leaned down, his face flushed, his hair a complete mess, and his lips swollen. His sudden closeness had you stepping further into your room.

His eyes took in your own flushed face, darting your legs that you clenched. “So Y/N,” he stepped inside your room, gently grabbing your chin, “you gonna keep playing with yourself? Or do you wanna pick up where we left off in the car?” You failed to find the words, stuttering and stumbling over your traitorous tongue. Suguru smiled gently, tilting his head to the side, waiting patiently for your answer.

Going next door to join them was insane, right? Yes. Were you going to do it? Fucking absolutely.

“Y-Yeah—-I wanna pick up where we left off.”

“Good girl.” Ever so slowly, Suguru brought your fingers to his mouth. His eyes trailed over them, still wet with your slick. “Come on.” He opened his mouth, kissed swollen lips wrapping around your fingers, sucking on them sinfully.

“Holy shit!” You cursed as he swirled his tongue around them.

When he could no longer taste your sweet, tangy essence, he pulled off with a pop. His tongue lolled out, swiping at the corner of his mouth. “We don't want to keep Satoru waiting.”

Everything was a blur, shutting your door and entering their Satoru’s room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back as he slowly grinned—a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Awe~ you actually came.” Satoru patted the side of the bed, his erection straining against his boxers. “Come sit, sit, noisy girl.”

You plopped down next to Satoru, swallowing as the two men looked over you. “Satoru, she told me she wasn't to pick up where we left off.” The white-haired man perked up, blue eyes glancing at you as he turned.

“You do?”

“Yes.” There wasn't a second of hesitation as you nodded. “Yes, I do!”

“Okay, well, in that case.” Sitting on his knees, Satoru whistled happily as he pulled you up onto your knees with him. “Get into position.” He turned your body so your back was turned towards him.

For a split second, you were face to face with Suguru, sitting at the head of the bed. He winked at you before you were pushed down to present your ass to Satoru from behind. A tiny gasp sounded from your throat as Suguru squeezed at the bulge in his sweats that you were face to face with. A small wet spot formed where his tip was leaking pre-cum against the gray fabric.

“Are you sure you're okay with this?” Thick, long fingers played with the elastic of your pajama shorts.

“Mhmm, I'm positive.”

With a final approval of consent, cold air hit your bare ass as your shorts were yanked down. Hissing at the sudden chill, you focused on Suguru’s hand. It was squeezing the bulge harder; the faintest groans rumbled in his chest. Your hands trailed over his thighs, his muscles twitching as you grabbed his waistband.

“Can I give you a hand?”

Suguru shook his head. “No, you may not.” His words stung, a pout forming on your lips. “You may, however, use your mouth.” You beamed up at him, tugging his pants down, freeing his massive erection that bobbed in the air.

“Oooh, it's so pretty.” Gently grabbing his shaft, you stroked it. “Thank you, Suguru.”

While you took Suguru’s cock in your mouth Satoru slapped your ass from behind, spreading your cheeks, looking at your dripping cunt with a needy groan. “Fuck, she's soaked. Did you get off on hearing us dry-humping Y/N?” You gave a little ‘mhm!’ around Suguru’s cock. “Oooh, what a little perv,” Satoru growled, smacking your ass harder.

“No, she's a good girl.” Sweet sighs left Suguru’s mouth as you peeked up at him. “Such a good girl, look at you sucking my cock~ so good.” One of his hands gently pressed your head, urging you to take more of him, while the other rested behind his head. “Fuck, Satoru, her mouth feels so good.”

You were taking more of Suguru’s cock into your throat when you felt Satoru rubbing the head of his cock over your entrance. Your eyes rolled back as you moaned, the tip of his cock back and forth over your slick folds. He hummed, locking his bottom lip with a smirk. “Yeah, down here feels good too~ she's so wet.” Hot, velvety skin slid up. “So wet I might slip inside.” Your eyes widened as his tip pressed past your tight entrance. “Oops~”

“Y/N~ did Satoru slip inside like he said he would?” You moaned in response, deep-throating Suguru as far as you could, gagging over his length. “Fuuck~ you like it? Being stuffed like this~? Your mouth and your pussy are being put to good use.” your eyes water as he gagged more, Suguru pushing you down to his base. Your nose brushing against trimmed black pubes.

“Nnngh fuck, she's twitching like crazy. She likes it~ no, she loves this~!” Suddenly, you were filled to the brim as Satoru slammed into you, gritting his teeth.

Body twitching, you shut your eyes tight, focusing on breathing as best as possible through your nose. But fuck, it was hard to concentrate as Satoru’s hips began rutting against you at a slow and steady pace. Your moans and gags muffled together as Suguru gently thrusts his hips up into your mouth, a whine.

Both men looked at you for a long moment, watching drool running out of the corners of your mouth and how you began rocking back against Satoru’s clock, begging for more. Their eyes locked, gleaming with a mixture of lust and pure, unfiltered need before Suguru leaned over, kissing Satoru.

His sudden movement had his cock pushing further down your throat. You gagged, pulling back to breathe. “Ah! Ah, fuck!” you cried out, grabbing Suguru’s cock in your hand and stroking him as Satoru began thrusting harder. His grunts slipped into Suguru’s mouth as their tongues melded together. You glanced up, watching as Suguru cupped Satoru’s face in both hands, deepening the kiss as his hips thrust into your hand.

Satoru looked like he was struggling to keep up, hips bucking madly against your ass while his tongue moved against Suguru’s in a way that you knew he liked. There was no fumbling around, just two insanely hot guys making out with you in the middle. Breaking the kiss, you watched Suguru gasp for air, his hair even more messy before he grabbed you by the hair, spanking your head up.

“Enjoying the show?” You whined as you nodded; Satoru was now hitting your g-spot head-on. “Ooh, you getting close?”

“Yeah, s-she—ngh fuck!” Skin slapped against the skin as Satoru leans forward, trailing kisses up your spine. “She's so tight, so fucking tight, she's gonna cum, gonna cum and milk me~! Fuck!”

You jerked your hand faster over Suguru’s spit-slicked cock. Your eyes glaze over as Satoru whimpers over your skin. The sight of the two of you slowly unraveling has Suguru tilting his head back with a snarl. The two of you made the cutest whines and whimpers as the overwhelming tension of a building orgasm twisted in both your cores. He wasn't going to last, not at all.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum.” Suguru yelled, body doubling over, his hand gripping your hair. “O-Open wide~”

“S-Sugu—Suguru!” Satoru watched as his best friend jerked himself madly over your tongue before he shoved his cock into your mouth. “Y-Yeah, fill her mouth, give her that cum.”

Suguru does precisely that; you moan as his cum fills your mouth, thick and salty with just a hint of sweetness to it. He doesn't stop; Suguru just keeps thrusting, moaning, and grunting as he pushes all his cum into your mouth, only stopping when he feels you swallowing around his softening cock. When he looks up from the top of your head, he sees Satoru’s face scrunch up. Eyebrows knitted together as his hips jerk madly against your ass.

“Oh fuck me~ fuck me I'm cummin’ haa ha fuck!” As ropes of cum paint your insides, Suguru quickly reaches down, rubbing your clit as you pull off his twitching cock.

“C-cumming!” Your hoarse voice called out, your hands gripping Suguru’s shirt to steady yourself. “S-Satoru—Sugu—c-cumm—”

“Aaahh fuck!” Satoru grunts out, head falling against your shoulder as you scream, squirting all over him.

He keeps fucking into you, working you both through the waves of your orgasms, pushing you both to the border of oversensitivity. It isn't until you are both trembling that Suguru pulls his hand back, chuckling weakly as his two spent lovers collapse on the bed. He's half tempted to get up, to grab a warm towel to clean all of you off, but he doesn't.

Not when Satoru gently presses his middle and index finger against your chin, turning your head toward him. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” He leans forward, kissing you softly. You return his kiss, moaning against his lips as he repositions your bodies. You sprawled out under him as he stayed slotted between your legs.

Satoru only breaks the kiss when he feels Suguru climb behind him. He doesn't get to ask what he’s doing because Suguru pushes his head down, encouraging him to kiss you more. Satoru keeps kissing you, eyes going wide as he feels the wet tip of Suguru’s cock pressing against his stretched and lubed hole.

“That’s it, keep kissing Y/N Satoru~ it's my turn to enjoy the show~!”

[anon-sect]

Can you turn me (a nerd) into my bully (the gassiest jock frat boys) fart absorbing underwear?

Picture source: @conradsbeautifulmen

Kevin had been doing Henry's homework for the past three semesters, on the sake of not being a human punching bag at their dorm room. Henry was athletic jock that joined the fraternity last semester. He viewed Kevin as annoying initially. But it was when he saw how smart he was, he used him to do his homework for him. He made sure to room with him each semester for that purpose.

One day, Kevin had enough of his bully jock roommate bossing him around and doing his homework. It was true he wasn't as muscular as his jock roommate, but he could at least stand up to him for once. Maybe he would stop if he did it just one time. So, he purposely decided not to finish a paper for Henry that was actually due the next morning.

"Where is my assignment, nerd?" Henry walked into the dorm room after a gym session. He looked seriously at his nerd roommate. He needed that paper to turn into class in the morning. "I need another A just like you always do." He added.

Kevin looked him in the eyes. "I didn't finish it. You will have to do it on your own." He spoke in a defiant tone to let Henry know he was done being his toy.

"What was that you said?" Henry asked back, thinking the nerd was trying to tell a joke. "I didn't think I heard you right."

"I am not going to finish it or do anymore of your homework. Get someone else to do it." Kevin spoke back, standing his ground.

"I suggest you get to finishing it or you will be sorry. There are worse fates than being a human punching bag." Heny threatened as he pulled out his phone. He recently downloaded the TF Pro app to his phone. He wanted to see if it was true that any cell phone could be used to repurpose objects or people into something else.

Kevin refused to be bullied into obeying his jock roommate. "I won't do it." He spoke even more defiantly than before.

Henry pointed his phone at Kevin and hit the flash option. With one flash, he saw his nerd roommate become a nice new pair of Calvin Klein underwear. He picked up the underwear off the floor and examined them. "Very nice underwear. I told you there are worse fates than being a punching bag. Now you get to be up close and personal with my ass, nerd." He spoke to his underwear with a devious smile on his face.

Kevin was immobilized and had no voice. From what Henry said, he knew what he was now. He was literally underwear. He would rather be a punching bag. He also discovered that his face was in the rear instead of the front of the underwear. He watched in horror as he saw Henry slide his legs through and slide him up around his waist. His face was directly up close to his ass.

Henry put on some shorts and sat down to play a quick game. He remembered that he had Mexican for lunch earlier. He wasn't gassy at the gym, but he could feel it now. He let out a fart that smelled foul. He waved in front of his nose because of the smell. He then thought about Kevin. It must be ten times worse for him. He laughed at that thought.

Kevin had no way to move or get away. The foul stench coming from Henry butt was so disgusting and foul. With his face being at the rear, he felt the full force of it. Several more gaseous farts followed as Henry continued to sit on his face and game. The stench was so horrible up close that he would have gagged everything out of his stomach if he had a human body.

After two hours, Henry decided to finish the paper that was started. Before he would, he pulled down his underwear. "Since you didn't do as I asked, your punishment will be to be my underwear for the next two years till I graduate. I will decide then whether to release you or keep you. I hope you enjoy your view." He laughed as he got started to finish up his assignment.

Kevin figured his bully jock roommate would not let him go so soon. He really didn't want to be stuck this way forever. He hoped that he would change him back soon than that.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 16

So... in my defense I was really sick yesterday and accidentally scheduled the post for 10:17am and snuck in chapter 16. And I didn't even realize it until the other chapter had several likes, comments, and reblogs.

So I'm posting this now as a sort "Sorry I fucked up! Enjoy an extra chapter on me!" type thing!

In this we have Steve's no good, horrible, rotten bad day and the end of Act 2.

Also? Cliffhanger!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

~

Steve was feeling all the stares from both his fellow employees and the customers. He felt like shrinking in on himself every time it happened. It was like they couldn’t figure out what was so wrong with him that his dad would chase him out of town. Because most of the town didn’t know.

Clint Harrington had seen to that. Oh, his buddies knew, his wife’s sewing circle and club ladies knew, but the lessers? Nah, they only heard rumors. And whoo boy did Steve hear some wild ones.

Like that he had been caught in an orgy, or that he been dealing drugs out of the pool house or even that he had been caught with an underaged girl.

Thankfully most of the people didn’t believe that one one bit. But it was near thing and if Steve got his hands on Hank Tippets he was going to wring the man’s neck for that rumor.

It was Robin’s day off, and while usually the boss had them work together, Steve was with three other kids.

Three kids who had been slacking all day, making Steve handle the rush and refilling both the ice cream and toppings, and generally just being asses of themselves.

He was on his last nerve.

“Okay, guys!” Steve huffed putting his hands on his hips. “I’m all for slacking, but I am not the only capable of getting out the ice cream. It’s someone else’s turn!”

The two girls rolled their eyes but did what they were told. The boy on the other hand refused to budge.

“Just because you’re older,” he huffed, grabbing a handful of M&Ms and just shoving them in his face, “doesn’t mean you get to boss us around, man. Go back to whatever bridge you crawled out of.”

Steve’s lip curled. “That’s gross.” He rolled his eyes and put one hand on his hip. “And besides I didn’t crawl out from under a bridge, you did. Look at you. You’re hair is greasy, you smell like you haven’t bathed in years, and you have a stain on your shorts I don’t even want to think of what that is.”

“It’s chocolate,” the kid said with a sneer. “So if you aren’t living under a bridge then where are you living?”

Alarm bells went off in Steve’s head. “The only address anyone needs is my PO Box where to send my paycheck.” He shrugged. “Other than that, why do you care? What are you the Feds?”

The kid rolled his eyes at that and walked away. Steve shook his head. He just had to keep his head down and his mouth shut until he found something else.

Suddenly both girls were giggling and shushing each other.

“Hey, Steve can you come here for a moment?” the one called out. “I think the door to the freezer is stuck.”

Steve sighed and went to the back area, but as soon as he opened the door, a bucket of warm, melted strawberry ice cream fell on top of him. It hit the side of his head, knocking the hat off and clattered to the ground. He was covered head to toe in a gooey, sticky mess. It was in his hair and in his shoes and his socks were drenched.

Suddenly laughter filled his ears as he realized what had happened. This had been their plan all day. To get him annoyed enough that he would just barge through and get it dumped on him. He felt like fucking Sissy Spacek in ‘Carrie’.

Hot tears welled up as he tore off apron, stomping on the stupid hat and storming out of there. All the to calls of telling to come back, that it was all a joke, that he needed to lighten up.

He dashed off to his car, leaving behind a trial of melted ice cream. He tried to put the key in the door, but his hands shook too bad. He was forced to sit next to the car as he sobbed.

A man came up to him, waving his hands and shouting. “You there! Get away from that car! That mess will ruin the paint job!”

Steve looked up at him in shock. “But it’s my car!” he protested and showed him the keys. “See?”

“You’ve clearly stolen this car!” the man bellowed. “I’m going to call the police!” He made a grab for the keys but Steve was faster. They wrestled for them.

“Get off me!” he cried. “Help!”

Suddenly the man was being pulled off of Steve and the sense of relief he felt when he heard Hopper’s growling voice asking what the hell was going on, was palpable.

“This boy stole this car!” the man howled, still trying to get to Steve and take the key.

Hopper, who was dressed for work, leaned down to look closely at him. “Harrington? Is that you under all that goop?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, lifting his tear stained face up at the police chief. “My coworkers dumped old and melted ice cream on me and I was just trying to go home.”

Hopper sighed. He shook the man he pulled off of Steve. “That’s his car and if you don’t stop your screaming I’m taking you in for assault and attempted theft.”

The man’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to get away from Steve and Hopper.

Hopper turned back to Steve. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you into your car so you can go home and clean off.” He took the keys from Steve and unlocked the door. “Now drive real careful, all right? Don’t want you in an accident because you’re too emotional to drive.”

Steve nodded. He got to his feet and drove off, clearly being mindful of his state of mind, taking time to do things he wouldn’t normally think about.

Now to go raise fucking Cain with the manager of Scoops Ahoy.

~

The kids were still doubled over with laughter when Hopper came storming into the store.

“You kid!” he barked causing all of them to stop laughing and stand up straight. He peered at the name tag. “Kyle. Get a mop and a bucket and you mop every inch of the mall that has even one drop of that pink goop.”

Kyle opened his mouth to argue but closed it when Hopper glared at him. He ran to grab the mop and bucket and started with mess in front of the store.

“You two,” Hopper growled, “Close the store now. This the scene of a crime. An assault. I will also need the number to the owner or manager. And I mean I want it yesterday.”

The first girl whose name tag read Mary hurried to pull the front gate closed most of the way. Enough to show they were closed, but open enough so Kyle could get back in.

The other girl crossed her arms and scowled at Hopper. Her name tag said Linda. “No one’s been assaulted. We’ve been here the whole time, we would have seen something like that.”

The gate rattled as Kyle forced his way back in with the bucket and mop. Hopper looked over his shoulder.

“Good,” he huffed in annoyance, “you’re all here. That means I don’t have to repeat myself. I’m referring to the assault on Steve Harrington. Dropping a bucket of that size, filled with melted ice cream could have seriously hurt him. What would you lot have done if the bucket had his his head dead on and knocked him unconscious?”

Kyle scoffed. “Like that could happen. Not!”

“Yeah, kid,” Hopper growled, “you a cop or firefighter or even EMT? You some Doogie Howser or some shit? Because if you’re not any of that then you don’t get to tell me what’s possible or not.”

Kyle gulped and looked away as the girls eyes went wide.

“We weren’t trying to hurt him,” Mary insisted. “We were only trying to humiliate him a little. I mean have you seen that fancy car of his. He doesn’t need this job. We do.”

“It doesn’t matter why he’s working here,” Hopper said gruffly. “He was hired to do the fucking job, just leave him alone. You didn’t even have to like him. Just. Not that.”

Hopper called the manager and he was over in a heartbeat. He spotted the gate down first and then splattered mess everywhere.

“What the hell has happened here?” the man shrieked. He spotted Hopper and first he went deathly pale and then he went bright red. “I want to know the meaning of all this!” He yanked the gate up and slipped inside.

Hopper walked up to him. “Mr. Bauman, I’m Chief Hopper and three of your employees set up a bucket trap filled with bad strawberry ice cream, causing it dump all over a fourth employee’s head. A Steve Harrington. I am taking the three kids in for questioning and if I feel it’s serious enough, pressing charges on Harrington’s behalf.”

Murray straightened his back and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Now see here. You have no proof they did anything of the sort. Just Steve’s word.”

Hopper advanced on him, like a panther seeking its prey, but Murray didn’t even flinch. “You’ve got cameras in his place right?”

Suddenly Linda was running for the manager’s office, but Hopper’s voice cracked out like a whip. “You touch that tape and I will absolutely haul your ass in for tampering with evidence.”

Linda skidded to a stop and Murray stared at her agape. “What the honest fuck?”

“I’m gonna take that as an admission of guilt,” Hopper said, narrowing his eyes at her.

Linda ducked her head and slowly walked back to stand next to Mary and Kyle, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I’ll look at the tape and bring it over to the sheriff’s station,” Murray vowed. He turned the three stooges. “And if I find anything on that tape that even so much as hints you did what Chief Hopper is suggesting. Don’t bother coming back into work. Because you’re fired. And I’ll make sure no one in this mall will hire you.”

Hopper nodded at Murray and then turned to the kids. “Now I don’t have enough handcuffs for all of ya, but I’m about to get really creative.”

~

Steve came home and just stripped his uniform off and just face planted into the bed. He didn’t care about his hair or that he was still covered goop. He just wanted to bury himself under the blankets and never emerge.

He must have fallen asleep because he woken up by Robin on the phone.

“No, Mom,” she hissed. “I don’t care what you say. I’m not going back to working at Scoops. Not after what they did to Steve. And I’m not quitting the Corroded Coffin job. He needs me.”

She paused for a moment. “Nope there is nothing you can do to change my mind. Look there’s another call coming through. Chief Hopper said he’d call with more information.”

Robin slammed the phone down and muttered, “Oh yeah, I’m so grounded. Worth it, though.” The phone rang immediately and she picked it up. “Chief Hopper. No, he’s still sleeping. I would be too after after everything he’s gone through.”

She listened for awhile, putting in the appropriate hum where required.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him,” she said. “I think he’s waking up. Did you want to him? Not a problem. Thank you.”

Steve gave up all pretense of sleep and sat up, rubbing his eyes. His arm was still sticky and gross but he didn’t care.

“I’d tell you to cover up,” Robin said with a grimace, gesturing to all of him, “but you don’t have to.”

He looked down at himself and realized that he had fallen asleep on the covers in just his underwear and socks. “Oh. Sorry.” He pulled a pillow over his junk and stared up at her.

“So as you could probably guess, that was Chief Hopper,” she said. “He said to tell you that he gave each of the perpetrators a little scare down at the station and made their parents come get them. The dude that tried to assault you about your car, was picked up later for erratic driving and given a ticket. Sgt. Callahan pegged him as the guy because he still had ice cream all down the front of his expensive suit and tie.”

“Good,” Steve said dryly. “Bastard. I was literally sobbing my guts out and he was more concerned with the paint job.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “Karma bit his ass hard.”

She sat down next to him and put her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about what happened. I know it’s not my fault or anything, but it really sucks that they did that to you.”

“Thanks Robs,” he murmured.

She stood back up. “I’ve told everyone to leave you alone for a couple of days so when you’re ready to see people again, reach out okay?”

He nodded as she walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. She turned back. “Just one more thing. Hopper says he told Joyce about the bullying and she has said she’ll back off about the job now. So there’s at least that silver lining.”

“Yeah.”

~

Steve wasn’t sure how long he laid in bed, but it was obviously enough for a welfare check up from his friends on the staff.

This time it was only Bob and Rosa, but they both looked concerned.

“There is gunk everywhere,” Rosa huffed and waved her hand over his room. “The bed sheets stink and you are wallowing, mi amor.”

“You’ve got to at least shower,” Bob said with a note of distress in voice. “Give Rosa time to clean the room, change the bedding.”

Steve shook his head. There was no need to get out of bed ever again.

Then the door of the hotel room swung open and Bob and Rosa turned.

“Just who are you that you can just be walking in here?!” she bellowed, rounding on the stranger with her duster.

The man raised his hands up in surrender. “I’m Eddie Munson. I pay for the room.”

End of Act 2

~

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Oops! When I took people off the list, I forgot to add the new people on!

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

[goaskangel]

bookie!

journalist!reader x business-man!hakari

cw...NSFW, slight manipulation, mention of intox, use of "mister" "sir" "doll", dumification, degradation, all the usual smut stuff LOL

word count...4.8k

a/n...this is my first fic ive posted publicly EEEK lowk nervy but i've read like 2 good hakari fics on this mf website and i js figured i might as well do it myself. my writing here IS NOT MY BEST, i plan to indulge into how i usually write. smut is a little harder for me to write so be patient AND NICE PLZ. mdni!please understand what kind of media you are consuming and be smart about it.

just the way hakari presented himself, it felt as if even if you didn’t suspect anything from him, it was obvious he was a secretive and cocky man. from how he dressed with his constant change between pimpy-fur coats and vulgar tanks with his ever-changing colored hair between purples, blacks, and blondes, it was no surprise he must’ve lied his way to the top. 

and even with this assumption, you couldn’t deny the offer of living with him and your company's team. not necessarily living with him but staying in a private luxury hotel, and sure, maybe your job here wasn’t very important as a journalist but your boss insisted on you attending. 

what kind of moron would pass on the opportunity of possibly breaking through one of japan’s wealthiest and slyest business men anyway?

something about interviews but mostly projects, maybe even a documentary went in your ear and out the other when your boss spoke to you about the expectations on this “trip.”

after being stuck on a reserved bus, you finally manage to push through and make it to a not very deserted place. matter of fact it was right in front of a busy street in the busiest city. you stretched your legs, cracked a few fingers, and headed to the entrance of the tall—what seemed to be marbled—hotel. if you could even call it that. seemed like a resort more than anything. you were told your bags full of equipment for work and clothes for the three day project would be handled by security. the front of the building were two big guards protecting any outsiders. pretty confidential for just a few days. it stays on brand with hakari’s whole attitude, a whole ass hotel in the city only allowing a few people with specific identification. 

inside it looked like everybody from every corporate office in town had been messily dragged in.  heavy steel tables were set randomly with even heavier bags and briefcases on top, open with papers and documents spilling out. 

the man himself was sitting at one of the sturdy desks, his head down.

before you noticed that he decided to go purple, left his black blazer on the shoulders of the chair he sat on, you watched as his hand shook carefully on a paper given to him by the lady standing nearby. 

his hot pink eyes dart back and forth across the page. you assume he was looking for another place to sign because he handed it right back to her after examining. hakari returns back to a binded notebook, the pen still in his fingers. he scribbles words down vigorously. part of you wonders what he’s got going on. another part wonders where your room will be. 

you observe the rest of the lobby. you glance at your boss finally coming through security, the dumb, happy guy starts a conversation with almost everyone as he came. he calls hakari over as if they’ve known each other since the dawn of time, and he follows. they greet one another and you go blank on the rest until your name is called. quickly, you turn to face the men again and walk towards them.

"if the interview goes well—which i'm sure it will—perhaps the documentary could follow up.” your boss explains, still turnt to hakari.

“mhm oh yeah man i’m sure of it, yep.” he agrees, mooning. his white button up hugging him perfectly. 

scrunched up sleeves, pen marks on his forearms. a few buttons undone from the neck. 

“this young lady right here is the foundation of the writing department.”

“oh yeah. so i’ve read.” 

he reaches a hand out, “took you a while to say hi.” 

“you seemed busy, signing shit n’ whatnot.” you smile politely and firmly shake his hand. he cheeses a toothy grin, blue and silver gems shine back at you. 

“pardon her words, man. you know how writers are—can write page upon pages yet their mind goes blank when they have a chance to speak—hah.” your boss shines his own nervous smile. 

“ya, know what they say about business men, can talk for hours and hours, spill what seems to be almost everything, and still have secrets.” he darts his eyes to yours before closing and laughing richly with the older man. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

you spend the rest of the night cozying up into your hotel room and lazily journaling down ideas, even scraping up an idea against hakari. you stretch your arms after tossing your notebook shut, you glance over at the alarm on the desk,

11:24 P.M. 

it would be a good time to grab a snack, now that everyone should be asleep. at least you hope so as you walk out in casual clothes. 

you toss the room’s card from hand to hand and pass quiet rooms until turning left to the snack bar. you were told earlier that food would be available for the company whenever, so you figured it must be open now too, with all the staff asleep or at their posts. 

there was an incredible aroma of columbian brew with a dash of vanilla dancing with something hot, something fresh out of the oven. you’re greeted with his strong back. shaped tightly, almost too tight, was a simple white tank. on caramel skin, his wide shoulders flexed as he took a small spoon into his mug, tossing sugar packets and singles of liquid creamers into a trash bin. but it doesn’t really phase you. what were the chances of somebody being here? let alone hakari. it’s ironic and mostly awkward. 

you could’ve left but the pastry before you was calling your name. how awkward could it really be?

you walk towards the counter he was just at, he who was walking back to a two-chaired table. 

“it’s almost midnight.” he speaks and you freeze as if you’ve been caught. obviously, you haven’t, so you quickly grabbed a floral napkin and the pastry. 

“writers stay up late, i know that. but they’re usually alone.”

“well how was i supposed to know somebody else was gonna be up? it is almost midnight.”

“you’re the one writing stories about me and talking shit, i’d assume you’d know everything about me.” he grins as he pulls a chair out, sitting in it and slowly stirring his coffee. steam swirls up from the cup. “take a seat.” 

you walk to him and pull the other chair out, sitting quietly. you break apart the food in your hands and eat it piece by piece, examining the table subtly. 

he’d been sitting there for a while; papers closed a binder with a few pens spilt around. an empty chip bag, a few crumbs near the bottom of the coffee cup, his hands warming up around it. 

his hands were nice.

you swallow casually and look back at him. “you read my stuff? which one of your little employees do you have search for works written about you, huh?” 

“i find ‘em myself, ‘nd you're lucky i don’t report them. can’t have nasty stuff circulating around me, whether if it’s true or not.” 

“—or should i call them workers instead?” you ignore him. 

“your writing is admirable.” 

something about that made you lose track of what you were saying. 

you lay back in your chair and mumble an okay. 

you watch as he takes a sip of his sugared coffee, the steam cupping his face gently and flowing up. 

“so when do you sleep?” 

“i’ll go in a couple,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “schedule’s got all fucked ever since i got here. my manager—and don’t tell her i said this—doesn’t understand the concept of time, or maybe she’s fucking with me. how can i get three hours of paperwork done, meetings between each pile, ‘nd make phone calls back to back, but can’t stay up late?” 

“damn, you’ve even got your sleep schedule sorted?” 

“gotta sneak out here like some goddamn teenager. it’s no big deal, she’s knocked out at 10. jus’ gotta keep kissing her ass and thank her for taking such good care of me. she won’t suspect a thing.” 

you giggle at the irony, “might as well be your girlfriend.” 

“god, more like my mom.” you can see the outline of his tongue grazing his teeth as he grins. probably feeling the gems on his smile, you cross your legs at the view. 

funny and handsome. 

speaking of closing your thighs—you remember you have to get back to your room. 

“we’ve got just three days,” you say as you stand from your chair, “i’m sure we’ll have to work our asses off tomorrow.” hakari looks up at you.

“hmm nobody tell you wha’s happening either?” 

you shake your head and carefully bite the inside of your lip. 

“m’kay. have a good rest of your night, then.” he nods back down and sips his coffee. his tone indicated he practically knew you weren’t sleeping immediately. to enjoy the rest of your night. 

“yeah, i’ll make sure of it. goodnight.” 

as happy as you were to receive a half-vacation, half-business trip at a hotel – the benefits of not having to wake up early just to drive almost an hour to work everyday, the entire company just being outside, your hands would not suffice. you thought to yourself earlier, how great it’d be to stay in a nice, cool room and wind down from a long day. keeping dirty fantasies in your head and just when you thought the tight, small circles on your heat could master an orgasm. but the thought of him kept interrupting. 

a hand crawling up your neck and the other circling underneath your panties. closing your eyes as you concentrated on silver-haired men kissing your breasts, guys who stunk of cigarettes and coffee making out with your clit, god anybody willing to run their hands on your body. you jolt at the sudden twitch of your cunt, your back arching slightly. you groan. the man you’ve been practically stalking and have to work with is now appearing in your head while you masturbate. you switch the bedside lamp off and take off-white sheets over yourself. 

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on the second day, you pass new people while walking down narrow hallways. each person looking more tired than the one before. you notice just how many people could fill up the lobby and snack bar. as enticing the syrup from breakfast smelled, you keep your distance from everybody else. carefully, you lick the inner of your lips and taste the lipgloss you applied earlier. 

now popping your lips, backing up slowly, still examining the room until you feel what seems to be a pillar or wall behind you. 

“hey… you got a light?” behind you. tall, peeping over you – was that a fur coat? hakari watches everybody else almost as intently as you were. 

you stutter before reaching into your coat’s pocket, “yeah.” he takes it and quickly lights the now-appeared-cigarette of his mouth. 

“a smoke for breakfast? that can’t be healthy.” you cross your arms as he flips the lighter in the air. 

“it wouldn’t have been, hun, we had breakfast this morning already. don't you remember?” he exhales smoke that passes your jaw, making you shudder. 

“here, sounds like you need it.” he says the last part through his teeth, pinching the end of the cig and lowering it to your mouth. you glare to your side and lean in to wrap your lips around it, inhaling. you pull away and spew smoke out much more discreetly. he takes another, blowing it out, licking his lips, “tastes like bubblegum.” 

after set-ups and mic-checks in steel stools and numerous questions, you’re sitting in front of a laid-back hakari. his legs man-spread and his hands fixing his hair every other second. a very specific rage comes back to you. the same anger that you felt staying up to post blogs about complicated, but evident-filled, theories and what you truly think is the truth about the man sitting in front of you. the feeling is nostalgic. your nerves are overfilled with different emotions – since when could a man controlling so many industries, controlling so many people and still handle an underground fight club while acting like a semi-normal person? but normal people don’t wear fur-fucking-coats on the regular, let alone keep illegal ranges where people fight like bears just to be bet on like horses. 

two cups of steaming coffee are placed in the high-wooden table between you and hakari. 

“this part of the interview will be audio-presented. the second part will be videotaped.” the host of the section stands above the recorder, the rest of the crew standing around or still finishing breakfast. “etiquette for the tape is pretty simple – ‘ms and mr’ is usually set and the rest is self-explanitory.” 

you nod kindly and look at the man, meeting his eyes, ones that perhaps never left you. 

easy, almost-boring questions are asked but it hadn’t prepared you for what was going to come. the questions slowly make less and less connection and stay focused on hakari. “ethicality is mentioned within businesses and is no exception to your work, ms l/n.” before being asked the repetitive question, the topic being how many times can we make hakari look like a god in one tape, you interrupt the host. 

“morals are nowhere to be found in such work. there’s – again – no sense.” now slouched, hakari responds, “tell me, when searching for a job that pays well, were you interested in the pay or how many hours you had to work? ‘s there something you w’na say about being able to survive or how comfortable you are?” 

“sometimes it just boggles me to think about how one person needs more than one business. is it for fun, mister?”

“is what for fun, girl?” 

“is being a con-man to violent people and making them believe knocking each other’s teeth out will help for fun?” 

the host stutters and gets shushed, “well, you’re very right. that wouldn’t be ethical at all.” he smiles very faintly. too faintly for you to lash out and not make it seem like you’re crazy. 

“untruthful about being a bookie and fight-promoter. does gachinko ring a bell?”

“any more questions? how about all my employees' salaries? wanna know my salary? how’s about ‘you busy after this?’” 

the recorder falls off the foldable table after being shaken, “for the love of god.” your boss yells and stops. scrunching his fat nose and pinching the bridge. “that was the fourth time. i just… you know what, we’ll continue tomorrow morning. kinji you’ve got a meeting we’ve, i’ve, been trying to hold off but it seems like everybody’s in the mood for a break.” he walks to the exit of the lobby, followed by some of his crew. hakari gets up, exhaling and cracking his fingers and wrists. 

“almost as good as your writing. but writers always gotta fuck up while speaking.” he picks up the recorder from the ground and tosses it to the full cups of coffee. 

“are they going to post it?” 

he shakes his head. 

“then what?” 

“might do it all again tomorrow. a little more strict, too. it’s not like it was a bad tape either. just like you know, i can’t let shit spread around about me. i would never allow it.”  

you scoff and watch him walk off, cursing under your breath.

it’s the evening when he comes back, bringing a few drunk men through the guards. you nod your head back and forth between your open laptop and the men that find their wobbly way to the lounge's couches. you tune out their slurred talk and how hakari’s joking gets belly-laughs from them. he cackles with them, clapping his hands bluntly. he sighs, tears in his eyes, as he walks past the random suitcases and desks spread-about. 

you type away at your slightly dull keys, clumsily taking your gel-pen and drabbling a note down. 

“workin’ hard, i see.” you feel a heavy hand land on your left shoulder and glance over to the other side of the desk, hakari’s ringed-fingers tapping away at the steel. 

“what’re you writing down…” he mumbles and leans over obnoxiously. you lean back in your chair, looking at him looking at your notes. 

“god, are you drunk? didn’t you just have a meeting?” 

“drunk? nah, i don’t get drunk.” 

“i can smell the whiskey from your breath.” 

“ah-ha, you knew i drank whiskey, huh. looks like even an overworked girl like you knows how to have fun, too.” he looks at you with literal joy in his pupils. face tampered with blush while smiling like a hyena. “anyway,” he stands back up, the grip on your shoulder falling to your bare-arm. “even your handwriting is nice.” 

“uh-huh…” you press your thighs together, feeling the cold metal of his jewelry on your skin. his hand so big compared to your arm. part of you hopes his long gaze is down your blouse. 

it is.

“ya look good.” he speaks through the rasp in his throat but all you hear is a mutter, he gives your arm a squeeze before patting it and walking toward the corridor of rooms. 

you let out a shaky sigh and feel yourself burn up, staring at your yellow-notepad. hakari strides to his room, the last room of the hallway, stretching his arms. he takes a gold card out and shoves it into the slot. 

he lets out a serene moan when his back hits the bed. tossing his keys, phone, and whatever junk out of his pockets onto the nightstand. his large coat following. he groans and kicks off his shoes. something still bothering him. he reaches his hands down to his belt and unravels it, throwing it down. unbuttoning and zipping to comfort the ache below his stomach.

god, how hard could a guy get from one conversation? his slit brows raise as he grins, taking his weeping cock and holding the base.

thinking about all the things you’d say, 

you’re so vulgar. not enough action recently, huh? what stress’ll do to ya…

“yeah, baby, stress.” he takes his other hand and taps the underside of his cock in his palm. closing his eyes and imagining your sweet self between his legs, those same tits in his view. your pink tongue lolling out for him. “finally shut that smart-ass mouth up… use her for something fuckin’ useful.” he groans, stroking himself. 

what makes him throb is how dumb you’d gotten when his hands were on you. how fucking sweet and quiet you went when his fingers stroked your arm, weren’t you exposing him just a couple of hours ago? what a desperate girl. he swears out as he jerks spurts of come onto his clothed shirt. “yeah, hmph god, yeah, that’s good..” he pants like a dog, eyes going heavy. 

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another day passes and you haven’t come. guilt swats your hand away everytime you try, anyway. you start to get sick of the syrup and eggs roaming the air. you sit at the same spot from last evening and observe the room.

half of your company is eating breakfast or still passed out on the couch. the others, probably asleep or dealing with tech. your boss walks towards you and places a cup of coffee down in front of you. 

“we oughta work on you, huh? hah!” he stirs wood in his own cup. 

“you’re not hungover? i’m surprised you’re up this early.” 

“gotta stay professional, ya know…i only had one shot. maybe a couple. this coffee’s really good, drink some.”

“right because drinks on the second day of a work-trip is highly professional.”

“hey, come on.” he frowns and drinks a sip of his obviously too hot roast. “where is everybody? hell, where’s kinji?” he drifts off to a new group of people near the snackbar. 

the lobby fills again with the occasional technical difficulty, yet no hakari to be found. you wish you could throw it off and be so disconnected that you didn’t even realize the star wasn’t here like some of your colleagues, but you kept your eyes on that same corridor. the loud bitch from the room on the tallest floor went through your ear and out the other. you didn’t even realize the fly that was constantly buzzing had been trying to get your attention. 

“do you know where kinji is?” she was beautiful but still his assistant, loud and fussy like a bad mom. if she didn’t know where he was, how were you supposed to know? you put on a concerned look with a little smile, “might be in his room.” you get up and begin walking to the hallway, how the hell did they not check his fucking room? you swear your eyes roll so far to the back of your head, that if you didn’t have ears to hear the bitch’s loud heels clacking, you could’ve seen her behind you. you turn to the last door on the right and knock, remembering how many men had to carry luggage upon luggage inside. 

“hello? mister, we’re waiting on you.” you knock faster than time. “hakari?” the door swings open and your hand is met with another. before you can say anything, he shushes you and looks around, pulling you into his room and says, “give me a’minute. take a seat.” he leaves. by seat he probably refers to his bed, the entire room cluttered by stuff. you sit on the edge of his bed and sigh, taking a moment to collect what just happened.  

he was shirtless. the bathroom door being open and light on explains why, he’d taken a shower. the mirror was still foggy and the towel hung on the door’s hanger. there was a faint smell of vanilla and something floral. you would’ve been pissed to be in a messy room like this but you figured it was better than being out with everybody else. 

the door opens again and a calm hakari walks in, closing the door and locking it. 

his hair is damp but you only notice how he’s clothed in a towel. one that hangs low at his hips. 

“everybody’s waiting, and you’re not even dressed yet.” 

“s’fine, y/n. i bought us some time. these people, they’ll listen to whatever i say.” he says with a smile, and you look back at him with confusion.

“but the interview…?” your mouth drops gently when his hand comes to hold your face. 

he sighs and looks up and away. your legs are shut and you swallow the sudden pool of saliva in your mouth as your eyes are fixated on his sharp, shaved jawline and how his adam’s apple flexes as he speaks. “this job’s real tough, i know it is, ‘nd you want a break. doesn’t everyone?” he looks back down at you, his eyes filled with what seems to be.. lust? you furrow your eyebrows and nod slowly. he carefully puts some hair behind your ear and leans down to whisper against your skin, “w’na be a good girl and take some of that stress away from the both of us?” he kisses a part of your jaw, “my good girl?” 

oh god. 

did you write half of your career on this greedy man just for him to be licking your ear? leading a hand to your button-up and slowly undoing the pearly clasps? 

his hand now on your bare leg, going up and up your mid-pencil skirt. you feel yourself get dizzy from the thought of him feeling your lacy panties, holding a hand on his strong shoulder, his skin slightly wet. did you wear them on purpose? you can’t think. he stands back up, his hand slithering and rubbing the back of your neck. breathing heavily, you start to undo the rest of your shirt’s buttons. “yeah, there ya go.” he encourages you until your laced bra is exposed. 

he hooks a finger on the side of your panties and tugs them off, you reach under your skirt and tug the other side. he takes both sides and peels away, “mhhm, always liked a matching set.” your skin burns at embarrassment, not from what he said but how wet the middle of your core was and how drenched the crotch of your panties were. 

“a lil’ kissin’ got you this soaked, huh? you want this? ain’t you just sweet, doll.” he throws it to the corner of the bed and hums when you nod. “s’quiet when you’re needy.” hakari pushes two fingers at your lips just when you thought you could finally say something. “open.” he demands gently and grins when you comply. they find their way to the middle of your mouth and you can’t help but suck softly. “mhm that’s good, suck ‘em good. cost about’a milli’ each, heh.” he takes them out and pushes you slowly onto your back, spreading your legs, holding one up with a burly arm. 

“fuck.” is the only thing you manage to let out when he bunches your skirt up to your waist.

“be quiet f’me now.” he spits a glob onto his two fingers and presses them to your clit. you gasp at the content. 

“so wet.” he mumbles.

circling tight, slippery rounds on your aching bud. the guilty friction you’ve been craving finally went through. a sudden warmth and pleasure take over your pelvis. heat rises to your upper body, your hands slightly shaking and your ears burning, god, what were you doing? you watch and feel his dirty mastered hand bring you shame. your entire career faltered just for your fulfillment, the guilt so heavy, it makes you moan out. 

“huuh, mister – shit, i need it.” you speak whispers breathlessly. 

“yeah? you need it, baby?” he brings his focus to your pathetic expression, pushing and curling two fingers into your cunt. you moan out and watch, feel, as his fingers pump in and out of you. his hands are skilled as they break you open little by little. “sweet girl with a needy cunt, must’ve hit the fuckin’ jackpot.” your clit throbbing as you watch him grope himself and ease his own ache through the white towel. 

“c’mon, please sir.” you tap the side of his waist with your heeled foot. 

“patience, girl.” he pulls his fingers out and pats your vulva a few times before pulling your body close to his. his hand finally, finally pulling down the towel. the thing that kept distracting you from nights of sleep now dripping pre just above your heat. he gives himself a couple of strokes, long and heavy as your body begged, driving yourself closer ‘til your ass was almost off the bed. 

“shh shh.” he rubs his wet tip against your folds as you start begging quietly, your slits sloppily kissing. he groans when your cunt flutters, pushing himself into the first tight muscle.

you writhe at the sudden burn, making you mewl ever-so quietly. 

“be a good girl f’me.” he presses a hand on your lower stomach in comfort before moving his hips forward with no intent of stopping until he’s bottomed out. you moan long whines and grind your body down to try and get more, the stretch already burning. “fuck, goddamn it.” the warmth you bring him is unmatched, all he can think about is how hot you feel.

“fuck me – wan’ more.” you clench down and get a moan out of him. his hands hold down onto your plush thighs as he rocks back and forth into you, your folds swallowing him whole everytime. your throat burns at the way you choke out whimpers, drool seeping from the sides of your plump lips. “what’s your company g’na think of you now, hmm? director of the – fuckin’ writing department– their smart girl’s gotta fuck it all up cause she couldn’t resist some cock.” his hips start to fasten and he keeps a tight grip on your legs, your pretty, fucked out, face stays red. “‘s okay, pretty. you ain’t gotta say nothing, jus’ take it like the dumb girl you are and i’ll forget about all the mean little things you said, mhm?” 

“uh-huh.” your head’s spinning from the grinding he’s now doing, the underside of his cock rubbing back and forth and back and forth on the rough spot inside of you. your thighs tremble as you feel yourself getting close. you get louder and hiccup about how good it is.

“ya – yesyesyes please awh fuck,” your hands groping at the back of your neck and the hard nipples of your breast as you arch your back off of the white sheets, “coming – oh god kin’ i’m gonna come, come. thank you thank you…!” the hard waves of heat and fuzziness take up what seems to be your entire body as you cream all over the base of his cock, hakari still pumping himself inside, riding your release out. “god, fuck, baby. stay still.” eagerly, he takes his hard-on out and jerks himself above your mound before coming straight, hot lines of cum onto your stomach. 

he pants, “you wanna talk to me about my morals?”

“jesus fuck. shut the fuck up.” 

[cheeeeseburger]

Late night shift

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: A Donna and Harvey dynamic? Yes please! English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes. Enjoy!

“Can you transfer me…”

“The last email? Already did.”

“Thank you, dulce. Can you confirm…”

“Your presence at the gala? I already sent both of our RSVP, like last week. Duh.”

“Oh, ok, thanks. Can you bring me a cup of coffee then?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fernando, your latte is already in your office, like usual. I’ve nearly finished mine. I used your card. Thanks for the free drink, I guess.”

He looked at you in admiration. “You truly are amazing; do you know that?” His words shouldn’t have pleased you as much as they did. You should be used to it by now, he thanked God for making you apply to be his assistant multiple times a day. You blew him a kiss, winked and replied as you exited the room: “Oh baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.” If you had looked back behind your shoulder, you would have seen his eyes full of high esteem and something else that would have woken up the butterflies in your tummy.

Ok, maybe calling your much older boss “baby” wasn’t the most professional way to act, but it was just the way things were between you and Fernando. They had always been like this, ever since you had started working as his assistant, three years ago. You had quickly picked up on his habits, and not a week after you had started the job, he had already nicknamed you “dulce”. Everyone around the paddock knew you two as a pair, an item even. If he was somewhere, it was because you told him he had to be there at a specific time, and you were always right next to him. The media loved your dynamic, and your name was always associated with his. If he was the dad of the grid because of his age, then you were the mom simply because you were partners in crime. Even his parents treated you like a daughter in law. Honestly, you looked like an old couple, always bugging the other, but caring deeply for each other.

The thing is, you two were not a couple, not even close. There wasn’t an ounce of romance between you two, sadly. At least, it was sad for your poor, poor heart who jumped every time you were next to him, so basically every minute of the day. Sometimes, you thought he might feel something for you too, like when you were on flights together, and he sat next to you so you could fall asleep on his shoulder, or whenever it was late at night, and he knocked on your door just to ask you if you wanted to order food. He also left a doubt in your mind whenever you were his automatic plus one to any event, and he had a possessive grip on your arm all night, or when he treated you to something you didn’t even remember mentioning to him.

But every time you got your hopes up, he asked you what shirt he should wear for his upcoming date, or which car he should drive to pick a lucky lady. With your heart crushed, you always answered the white one, because it made him look crisp, and you said to drive the Porshe, because the Valkyrie was your favourite, and just like its owner, you wanted to keep it to yourself.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

“Fernando, baby, I won’t be able to attend the gala with you next week. Do you have someone in mind that you’d would like me to contact to be your date?” You dropped this bomb so casually, on a flight between two continents. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, since you were stuck in an enclosed space with him for the next few hours.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean you’re not going with me?” Oh boy, he was pissed. You just continued working on your laptop. “Don’t worry, I can still work as your assistant there even if I’m going with someone else.” You rolled your eyes, which you probably shouldn’t have done, because he looked really irritated now.

“Stop playing with me. You’re going with someone else? Who are you even going with anyway?” Oh, if looks could kill. You regretted being in an airplane even more, because if he did end up killing you, you’d be in international waters, and it would be hell in court. You’d have to find the best lawyer there is. Oh wow. You were thinking about hiring a lawyer for your possible murderer. You were just that good at your job.

“Just some guy who owns shares in Aston Martin. Don’t worry, it’s not a lot.” He just stared at you, and now you were really starting to feel uneasy. “Don’t kill me, please?” You asked sheepishly.

That got him out of his trance. “What?” Ok, maybe you had gotten too far in this murder fantasy. He continued: “Why don’t you want to go with me?”

Bless his heart, he looked sad for a second, but the look of fury came back very quickly. “Fernando, it’s not that I don’t want to go with you, it’s just that I got asked out, and since I’m single, I said yes. It’s nothing personal, really.” You shrugged.

“You want to be with this guy? For life?” He interrogated. You raised your hands in the air: “Woah, woah, buddy. I haven’t even gone out once with him! I’m just considering my options.” You suddenly felt self-conscious. “I don’t want to be single forever, you know. What if I turn forty and I’m still all alone in life?” You started to fan yourself and pretended to faint for a more dramatic effect. That effectively lightened his mood.

“You know that I am over 40 and still single, right?” You stuck your tongue at him, and he tried his hardest not to laugh. “Is it because he’s rich? I am rich too, you know.” It was your turn to be offended. “It’s not because he’s rich! It’s because he asked me out and he seems nice, that’s all! Why aren’t you happy that for once you will not be stuck with me? You have the opportunity to invite whoever you want!”

His mood was like the weather at every Canadian GP: changing in a second. He pinched his nose in frustration. “Dulce, if I’m not going with you, I’m going alone.” God, he was exasperating. You had to remind yourself he was your boss; otherwise much harsher words would have come out of your mouth. You settled for a simple “Fine!” to which he also replied “Fine!”

Nobody was actually fine. The rest of the plane ride was pretty much silent.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

Although you tried not to think about it, your relationship with Fernando was definitely strained after that conversation. You pretended that everything was normal to not raise questions from other people, but you knew something was wrong. He did not kiss you on the cheek like he used to do at least once a day, he dropped the nickname he had for you, and even started to avoid you. You were heartbroken. You did not understand why he was so hurt. You thought you did the right thing by accepting that he was not interested in you like you were in him and moving on, but perhaps not. You felt sick all week until the gala.

Honestly, you were not that interested in your date, but you had to pretend for the night. When he picked you up in his flashy car and he complimented your look, you acted all shy and pleased when really, you didn’t give a shit what he thought about you.

He was right though; you did look gorgeous. Your dress was very flattering on you, it gave you curves in all the right place, and your hair and makeup gave you that old-Hollywood look that is to die for. Also, your boobs really looked good, which is always a confidence booster, right? (A confidence boobster, even?) You always felt beautiful, but tonight, you felt hot. The cameras flashing and the looks you got as you entered the gala confirmed your feeling. Oh, your ego would definitely not fit through the door.

You were sitting alone at a table while your date went to get you something to drink.

 “Already alone, dulce? Even though you’re far from turning forty?”

You looked up at Fernando, and your stupid heart betrayed you by doing a backflip. He looked so fucking good in a suit, it was criminal. He looked like the hero of those mafia romance books that you loved in secret. His white dress shirt made him look very dashing. It made your imagination run wild with fantasies involving you grabbing him by the collar, and wearing nothing but his unbuttoned shirt while he made you breakfast the next morning. Oops.

You flashed your biggest smile at him. “I’m not alone, I have you!” You jumped from your seat to give him a big hug like you always did. Gosh, he smelled so good. You knew his perfume because you were always the one reordering the bottle, but you made a mental note to order a bottle for yourself. Perhaps you could spray it in your underwear drawer? Once again, oops.

“You look beautiful, dulce.”  You gave him a spin so he could really take in how good you looked, and his gaze was full of adoration. He even flushed a little bit. You stared him up and down. “You look good too, baby. I’m glad we went with the black suit.”  He smiled at you. “You have good taste, dulce.” This conversation was the most normal you had all week, ever since the airplane incident.

“I can’t believe you went alone! You’re so stubborn!” You lightly smacked him on the arm when you saw that he truly was unaccompanied. He shrugged and winked at you. “Like I said, it’s you or nothing, amor.” You crossed your arms on your chest, which made your boobs squeeze out of your dress a little, and he definitely peeked at them, but he’s such a gentleman that his eyes were immediately back on yours. You just wanted to scream: Look for as long as you want, baby. Do you want me to remove my dress completely, perhaps? On your bedroom floor, maybe?  You ultimately decided against it.

“Thousand of women are crying all over the world because of you, Fernando. ABBA are currently removing their song Fernando from their catalogue. Do you realize the consequence of your actions?” While you were joking, he suddenly got very serious, and his voice got very deep when he asked “Do you? Do you know why I can't bring anyone that is not you with me?”.

It felt like the air had changed in the room. You were suddenly very hot, and his eyes on you didn’t help with that. You bit you lower lip, and he seemed like he wanted to take you right there, right now. He was giving you his best bedroom eyes. Your legs felt weak as you imagined him fucking you, the noises he would make, the screams he would get out of you. He was definitely the type to talk you through it. The thought made your toes curl. You just knew he would help you clean yourself after because you wouldn’t be able to walk. God help you, if he kept staring at your lips like that, you would have to take him against the wall like a starved woman. Were your panties wet already?

Your moment was interrupted by your date, which you had completely forgotten about. The sexual tension was definitely still there, though. You introduced him sheepishly to Fernando as he gave you your drink. As soon as the two men started talking to each other, you finished your espresso martini in less than three sips.

Fernando and your date seemed like they were in a weird show off competition. Both were trying to intimidate the other. You grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and you downed that, too. There’s no way you would be able to go through this awkward conversation sober. Both guys were acting way too possessively. As soon as Fernando put his hand towards your lower back, your date tried to grab you by the arm, but Fernando just gripped your waist harder. You felt like the favourite doll of two very intense toddlers.

Eventually, thank God, your date was called by someone he knew, and you were once again alone with your boss.

“I don’t think he’s right for you.” Fernando immediately said as soon as he left.

“Gee, okay, dad.” Daddy almost slipped out. Almost.

“I am serious, dulce.” Just like you did frequently these days, you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, from the way that you acted, he’s not going to want to go out with me ever again. Why did you have to act like a protective older brother?” You whined. Actually, you didn’t care if your date never talked to you ever again, but Fernando didn’t have to know that.

“Older brother?” He looked pissed at the words. “He’s way too old for you, anyway.”

“He’s literally your age, Fernando. And you’re not too old for me, are you?” You wanted to stomp the floor because he was getting on your last nerves.

“I think I’m perfect for you, dulce.” What did he say? (Cue the meme)

Once again, your date, which you were slowly starting to despise, interrupted your moment when he got back to your side. To make matters worse, you three were at the same table for the dinner. It was the longest, most awkward meal of your life. You were sitting in the middle, and both guys were fighting for your attention. It could have been flattering, but it was just so fucking annoying. You kept sending apologetic glances to the other people sitting at your table. Fernando abruptly left to go sit at another table. What a child.

Your mood lightened when the atmosphere changed from a formal dinner to a party.

“Do you dance?” you asked your date. “Never”, he replied. You sighed as you watch everyone leave for the dance floor. You loved to dance, and you could not even have this small thing tonight. This night was a complete failure.

Your favourite song started playing. You just wanted to get up and dance with your date like everybody else was doing, but the stupid asshole was apparently to busy playing Candy Crush on his phone. Gosh, could this night be even more horrible? You just wanted to go back home and cry, until you felt a hand pick up yours.

“Come on, amor. I know this is your favourite song. Nobody puts baby in the corner.” He winked and pulled you to the middle of the dancefloor.

You were stunned. Not only did he know your favourite song, but he had also quoted a line from Dirty Dancing, the movie you always watched during airplanes ride. It was your job to know his favourite food, his preferences; but he had gone out of his way to learn your habits and your favourite things. This was the most romantic thing that has ever happened in your life. This only usually happened in movies like Dirty Dancing. You just stood there, not moving, too shocked to do anything.

“What’s wrong, dulce?” Fernando asked, worriedly. Your nickname, the smile he reserved just for you, his lingering gaze, the info he had gathered on you; it all made so much sense now. He wanted you, just like you wanted him.

You grabbed him by the collar like you had wanted to do all night, and you started to kiss him right there, in the middle of the dancefloor. He did not hesitate. He immediately kissed you back and put his arms around your waist.

This was the best kiss you had ever had. Years of wanting him made you desperate like that, and apparently, he was desperate for you, too. He tasted like sugar and spice and everything nice but also like “I’ve wanted to do this all night” and “Wait, no, I’ve wanted to do this for years”. You were in synch; the world could have stopped, and it wouldn’t have changed anything. You didn’t even think for a second about that other guy, nor did you think about people watching you. Most everyone though you were already together anyway.

“Am I dreaming, baby?” you said as you pulled away. He softly cupped your face with his hands.

“No, dulce. I have been dreaming of kissing you, though.” Your heart melted.

“You have?” You asked in a soft voice. He kissed you again, but it was slower this time, more delicate. He wanted you to realize how badly he cared for you and how long he had been dreaming of this. Was this real? You had never felt as adored as you felt at this instant. People were all around you, dancing and enjoying themselves, but it was like you were alone with Fernando, in another world, on another planet.

“Amor. Surely you must know that I care more for you than anyone else. You’ve always been more than my assistant. I’m happy to call you my friend, but I hate it at the same time because I can’t stand the thought of us being just friends.” He caressed your face. The vulnerability in his eyes touched you to your core, and his words send a wave of heat through your body. This was the most romantic thing that has ever happened to you, but also the hottest. He caused some serious butterflies in your tummy.

“Baby, I don’t like us being just friends either,” you replied, your lips only a few centimeters away from his. He stared hard at your swollen mouth and crashed his lips on it. You locked your arms behind his neck, and he put his large hands around your waist to get a better grip. Oh gosh. He had only kissed you, but he had already ruined you for every other guy out there. One thing for sure, your panties were wet already, and from the bulge you felt on your thigh, he was enjoying himself too.

“Dios mio, amor. I should have done this earlier,” he chuckled and looked at the ceiling. This man was turned on. Like, sooooo turned on.

You leaned in even closer to whisper in his ear: “Don’t worry baby, we’re just getting started.” Your lipstick lingering on him, his perfume on you, the heat in your body, it was all overwhelming, so when he asked you “Do you want to get out of here?”, you were quick to answer: “Yes!” and to lead him out of the party.

Fernando was holding you close to him while you two waited for the valet to bring out his car. You were blushing and giggling like a teenage girl because you finally had the man of your dream in your arms. He kept giving you kisses, and it was like he could not believe it was now allowed.

You first saw it out of the corner of you eye. It was a real beauty, and you were in awe of it. The valet got out and gave back the keys of the green Valkyrie to Fernando. You wanted to scream. Surely, you must be in a rom-com. In your wildest dreams, this was the car the picked you up in to go on a date. You were like a kid in a candy store.

Fernando smiled at your enthusiasm. “I know it’s you favourite, dulce.” He opened your car door and you shrieked when you got inside.

“Oh, baby, this is way too good!” You were busy with touching the leather of the seat and admiring the interior. He had taken you on hot laps before, but never in this car. Apparently, he was saving it for a special occasion.

“I’m glad you like it, amor.” He started the car and drove off smoothly into the night. Wow, this guy is good at driving, maybe he should do it professionally or something?

As the air hit your face, you were hit by a wave of happiness. You shouted at the world: “I was made to be doing this!”

The Spaniard put his hand on your thigh and replied in a sensual voice: “Si, amor. You were made for me.”

Fernando drove really fast, but you wanted to get to his place so badly that it was not nearly fast enough. His hand slowly going higher and higher on your thigh was not helping your sudden need for speed.

Finally, you arrived at his place. Like a gentleman, Fernando opened your car door. Unlike a gentleman, his lips immediately crashed on yours. You two danced a frantic tango to get to the door of his place, your mouths never apart for more than a second. Eventually, you managed to get inside.

“I need you so bad, baby. I’ve needed you for years.” You immediately kicked off your high heels and started to remove his suit jacket. Your words must have pleased him, because his hands started exploring your body and he gently bit your lower lip. He pushed you against the wall.

“Oh yeah? Why didn’t you say anything before?” Honestly, why didn’t you? Dumb bitch.

You felt your eyes roll back in your skull when he cupped your boob with one hand and your ass with the other, his mouths still leaving love bites all over your neck.

“I wish I did. I’m so stupid.” The tango was back because you tried to move the action to the bedroom. He obviously knew the layout of his place by heart and so did you, since you had been there many times before, yet none of you seemed to know where it was.

“Amor, you know that I’m never letting you go after that, right? From now on, you’re not just my assistant. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure that everyone knows that.” You crashed into the walls many times as you made your way to his bedroom. Pictures were shaking, just like your legs. The walls of his house trembled, just like your walls did.

He finally managed to lead you to his bedroom, and he put you down on his bed. Fernando laid on top of you and leaned down to your ear: “Say you’re mine, dulce. Tell me you belong to me.”

His weight on your body felt so good, but you were aching for more. You craved any kind of friction to ease the heat between your legs, so you started to rub yourself against the bulge in his pants. It’s not like you didn’t want to answer him, it’s just the way he moved on you that left you speechless. Your toes curled and you started to moan, and although the way he let you move on him like that told you he liked it, this wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Fernando pinned your wrists on the mattress. “I’m not playing anymore, little girl. Tell me you’re mine, or all of this will stop.” You immediately answered him between two moans: “I’m yours, baby. I’ve always been yours, and I always will be.” He grunted like an animal at your words, and you lifted your hips to have more of this delicious friction. He started to make out with your throat while you unbuttoned his white dress shirt as fast as you could. You were tracing lines on his chest with your fingers when he abruptly stopped. “Wait, wait, wait, mi amor. This wasn’t supposed to be like this.” He sat on the bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Was he regretting this already?

He continued, looking pained and disappointed with himself: “I’ve thought about this before. I was suppose to take you on a nice date, then ask you to come home with me. I would’ve driven you around town in your favourite car, then I would make love to you slowly, so you would know how much you mean to me. This feels rushed. I want to take my time with you. At least, I got the Valkyrie part right.” You wanted to swoon after his rambling. He looked so upset, you wanted to cry out of empathy and love for this man. He nicknamed you “dulce”, but really, he was the sweet one.

“Fernando, baby. There’s nothing I would change about this night so far. This is a thousand times better than any date you could have taken me on.” You put your hand on one his cheek.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin things between us. I want to treat you right, because you deserve the world, amor.” If you weren’t certain you loved this man before, now you were.

“Baby, being with you feels better than owning the world. I’ve never been as happy as I am right now, and you couldn’t be more perfect. But if it makes you feel better, we can start again.” He started to calm himself by massaging your calf.

“How, amor?” It was hard to focus, because him sitting on his bed with his dress shirt open was quite the sight to see, but you managed to reply: “Like this.”

Although it pained you, you removed his hand from your body and got up from the bed to exit the bedroom. Confused, he followed you all the way to the doorstep outside.

“What are you doing?” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I had a really nice date with you this evening, Fernando.”

“Ah, I get your little game now.” He laughed and gave you a tender kiss, the one you assumed he used for his first date. You hoped he would never use it ever again. “Me too, dulce. Would you like to come in?”

You gave him a flushed smile. “I would love too, baby.” He took your hand and brought you inside. “Shall I give you a tour?” he asked. You replied: “Oh yes, absolutely. I would especially like to see the bedroom. I hear it’s where you burn all your left-over energy.” He smirked at you playing innocent.

When you got close to his bedroom door, you stopped to give him your second-date kiss. You never kissed with your tongue until after the first date, and he knew that. “This is your famous second-date kiss, yes?” You laughed against his mouth. “Oh yes. And on the third date, I usually sleep with the guy.” His breath hitched, and he brought you inside the room.

“When I first sleep with a woman, I usually start by removing her clothes.” He spun you so your back was facing him. You lifted your hair and he slowly, oh so slowly started to unzip your dress, making sure to let his fingertips linger. This felt like the longest foreplay of your life. When your dress dropped to the floor, you shivered, and he turned you to get a better look at your body.

“Dios mio, amor. You’re so beautiful.” He stared at you in adoration, eyes filled with lust and something that you would not dare to call love, even though that’s what it was.

You flushed and tried to look away, but he lifted your chin with his fingers. “Thank you, baby,” you replied shyly. He removed his already unbuttoned shirt. “I think I’ve taken enough my time, amor.”

“I don’t think I can wait anymore, Fernando. I need you inside of me.” Your words send him into action. He very carefully lifted you to the bed, and he laid you there like a pastry he was about to devour.

“I think you’ll have to be patient for a little while, dulce. I want to treat myself to something sweet.” He dragged you to the edge of the bed and he got down on his knees.  He put your legs over his shoulders, and he got down to eat you. Oh, God. He ate you like a man starved. You were his own personal meal.

His tongue licking you made you scream his name, but what really did it for you was when you saw him touching himself. This man was getting pleasure out of eating you out, and that turned up your arousal to another level.

It wasn’t longue after that you gripped the sheets as hard as you could while you screamed his name. He let your orgasm last by never removing his tongue.

When he got up, shirtless, with a very noticeable bulge, you grabbed him by his belt to bring him back on the bed.

“That was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me, baby. You treat me so good already. But I can’t be patient anymore, I think.” You hurriedly removed his belt and played with the zipper of his pants. He laughed.

“It’s okay, amor. You’ve been a good girl, you deserve this.” Oh. Oh. Since when did you have a thing for praise?

“I’m clean, and I’m on the pill, so you don’t have to wear anything, if you want,” you offered shyly. The enormity of what was going to happen suddenly hit you. Oh God, were you really about to sleep with your boss that you’re kinda in love with?

He let out a possessive growl. “Good, because I don’t want anything between me and you. I need to feel you as you are.” Damn. Were you listening to one of those erotic audiobook or did he really just say that to you?

Fernando once again went on top of you. He adjusted himself and angled his body just right. When you felt the tip inside of you, your eyes immediately rolled to the back of your head. He was so big.

You whined: “Fernando, I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He slowly let himself in you. “You can take it. You always manage to fit things in my schedule. Surely this is nothing to you.” You moaned loudly.

The pain was just too good. “Baby, never putting you in a meeting earlier then 10 in the morning is a thousand times easier than making you fit inside of me.” He chuckled, but as he got more and more deep in you, he started to grunt.

“Amor, don’t get sassy with me now. Take it like a good girl.” You pushed him deeper inside of you by putting your legs around his waist.

“On it, boss.” You usually sounded so confident, but your words were nothing but another cry of pleasure in a sea of moans. You felt your orgasm build up inside of you as he kept pounding into your body. Applying to be his assistant had definitely been the best decision of your life. Who would’ve thought that on top of being paid to travel the world, you would be receiving incredible orgasms on the side?

“Dios mio, mi amor…” Fernando whispered in a low, sensual voice. You shut him up with a fierce kiss.

“Baby, stop saying that. I should be the one to say it, because I’m so fucking close, but I am praying to God that this never ends.” He pounded hard into you.

“Are you thinking about someone else while I’m inside of you? I must be doing something wrong then.” He managed to laugh in between thrusts and grunts.

“I can assure you, boss, you’re doing everything right!” You screamed as your orgasm hit its peak, and you came undone. His thrusts got sloppier as he finished, too. He looked at you and wished that everybody could see him dripping out of you. Not now, but maybe someday, he won’t let anything spill because he’ll be trying his hardest to put a baby in you. For now, this already perfect view would have to do. He took a mental picture.

Fernando rolled off of you and sat against the headboard, breathing heavily. He pulled you in his arms in a tight grip and started playing with your hair. With your swollen lips, the light layer of sweat on his body and both of you tangled in each other, you looked like the cover of the dirtiest romance book you owned.

“Am I allowed to say it now? Because dios mio, amor. That felt incredible.” He sighed in your hair. You blushed, pleased that he had enjoyed himself as much as you did. The man of your dream just rocked your world, and he liked doing it.

“Yes, you are allowed, baby. You gave me two orgasms; you can now say anything you like.” You laughed and turned your head to give him a quick kiss.

“Only two? Dulce, that’s not enough. Do we have anything planned tomorrow?” Your heart jumped in your chest at his use of “we”. It was very endearing an it made your heart ache from happiness, but if he used “nosotros”, you might just come on the spot.

“No baby, we have nothing planned.” As his assistant, you obviously knew his schedule by heart, and tomorrow morning, he was now booked and busy with the task of giving you pleasure all day long. You made a mental note to add it to the calendar.

He sighed in pleasure and closed his eyes. “That’s perfect, amor. I have an idea of what we could do.” His breath slowed down as he fell in a state of deep relaxation.

“Really? Tell me?” You couldn’t help but to shut your eyes. Being in his arms was too comfy.

“First, we’re going to wake up in each other’s arms. After that, I’ll make you scream my name, but I’ll have to put something over your mouth to not wake the neighbors.” You shivered at his perfect fantasy, but he wasn’t done. “After that, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed, to give you energy for what will come next. All afternoon, I’ll take you in every single location in my house, perhaps even outside, to find where you come the quickest. Finally, I’ll take you out for a nice dinner, to show off your hickeys to the world.” Your toes curled. This was even better than your wildest sex dream involving him.

“Sounds like a plan, then.” He locked you in his arms, and you both drifted to a light sleep. You woke up, suddenly realizing something: “Oh no!” Fernando jerked awake. “What? What’s wrong, dulce?”

“I forgot to say bye to my date! Oh no, I’m awful. I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” you replied, genuinely worried. Fernando laid his head on your shoulder, and you felt him shake as he laughed.

“Dios mio, dulce, only you could be worried about making another man feel bad while being in bed with me.” He was howling with laughter.

“What!?I like to be nice!” Fernando chuckled at your sweetness.

“I know, dulce. And I love you for it.” He kissed the top of your head.

Being his assistant was easy, but you were now applying for the position of girlfriend. He hired you on the spot, and let me tell you, you were damn good at the job. The boss was pretty nice, too. Your bonuses now came in the form of "I love you."

Since you were a loyal employee, the position was taken for life.

[waywardnerd67]

Fireworks

Title: Fireworks Summary: When (Y/N)’s BFF invites her to a 4th of July party she would never imagine meeting the man of her dreams… literally. Main Characters: Glen Powell, Reader Pairing: Glen Powell x Reader Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluffy/RPF Word Count: 5376 A/N: Jumping back into the saddle so please forgive all the rough edges.

“Honey, I’m home!”

(Y/N) looked up to see her best friend walking through her front door, “Addison! Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?”

She hugged her hard, missing her BFF more than she realized. A year ago, Addison got the opportunity of a lifetime to be the personal assistant to a Hollywood actor. She had been traveling the world, hanging out on movie sets and living her best life. Meanwhile, (Y/N) was still living in their hometown of Austin, Texas working at the same high school, in the same position for nearly a decade.

“I’m sorry, my boss has had me planning this big Fourth of July party and today is the first day I’ve had time to come see you.”

They both sat down on her couch as (Y/N) paused her millionth rewatch of Supernatural, “How are you planning a party here if he lives in L.A.?”

Addison smiled, “He recently moved back to Austin, so it looks like I will be coming back here as well.”

(Y/N) let out a squeal hugging her friend tightly, “Oh my god, that’s amazing! I mean I know you’re gonna be busy but damn will it be good to have you back here.”

For the next few hours they caught up on each other’s lives or lack of one for (Y/N). They ordered dinner and were getting ready to watch one of their favorite rom-coms when Addison’s phone rang.

“Hey boss, what’s up?”

(Y/N) watched her friend’s face light up and suddenly her body was filled with envy. She was incredibly proud of the life her friend created but it was a reminder of how boring of a life she had. She couldn’t even remember the last thing she had been excited for except for maybe the new Twisters movie coming out later in the month.

“You got it. I will confirm everything and send you an email update.” Addison paused listening, “Yes, I will make sure to bring someone with me. See you tomorrow.”

“From the look on your face I would say you love your job.” Addison nodded with a smile, “I really do. He’s great and nothing like the other Hollywood douchebags. He’s just a good ole Texas boy. Kind of reminds me of Jensen and Jared.”

(Y/N) remembered her best friend's time volunteering at Creation Entertainment Supernatural conventions. She eventually was one of the workers who helped walk the actors to and from ops. Several times she had walked with Jared Padalecki or (Y/N)’s favorite actor, Jensen Ackles. That was how she had met them and found out they were truly just as nice and humble as everyone said they were.

“He wants me to bring someone to his party. What do you say?”

“Me?” She stared at Addison, “Don’t you think you should bring someone more interesting or fun?”

Her friend slipped her arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, “No. There’s no one else I would rather bring than my best friend. Plus, who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone there and hit it off.”

“Yeah. Right.” She scoffed, “The plain Jane school secretary hitting it off with some Hollywood hunk. This is reality and not fanfiction.”

“Please? For me? It would mean the world to me if you came and then I can finally introduce you to my boss.” Addison stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes then smiled, “Fine. Only because I love you.”

“Yay! If you want we can go get you a swimsuit and a new outfit. On me, of course, as a thank you.”

“I’m immediately regretting this decision…” She groaned.

The next day, they spent the day going to lunch and shopping. After one crying session in a dressing room and a slight argument in front of a cashier, (Y/N) arrived back home with three bags worth of stuff. Addison had convinced her to buy a two piece swimsuit. She was always hyper aware of her body even after losing a lot of weight. She was still plus size with killer curves and she was proud of her body. Knowing she was going to be around beautiful actors and models made her notice every little imperfection she had. Staring at the dark green checkered pattern suit made her stomach churn.

“It will be fine, (Y/N). No one is going to notice you anyway.” She murmured to herself.

The morning of July 4th, Addison was at her apartment bright and early, “I’m sorry it’s so early on your day off. My boss wants me at his house early and I figured you wanted to ride over with me.”

(Y/N) yawned, “It’s fine. I have my Monster and should be some form of human like by the time we get there.”

Addison led her out to a brand new Jeep Wrangler that was the same orange as the Longhorns. They threw their stuff in the back and headed off onto highway 290 towards Dripping Springs.

“Please tell me this is his car and not yours.” (Y/N) said as Addison started laughing.

“Yes, it’s his. I still have old faithful who recently hit 200,000 miles and is still purring like a kitten.” Addison turned on her Spotify playlist, “He’s a big Longhorns fan so anything he can get in burnt orange he does.”

One thing (Y/N) loved about living in Austin was the scenery. It had been awhile since she had driven out to Hill Country. The last remaining bluebonnets were holding on strong from a late blooming season mixing with other wildflowers. She couldn’t help to notice they were headed the same direction as Family Business Brewery.

“If we’re going to Family Business and Jensen is going to be there then I need some notice to calm my inner fangirl.”

Addison shook her head, “No, he just lives near there. I know he invited Jensen and Jared’s families but I think they have a convention this weekend.”

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief then continued to admire the scenery around her while they sang to their favorite songs. Soon they were pulling up to a newly built, gated home. The main house was a subtly modern farmhouse with a big wrap around porch. Addison parked in front of the three car garage behind the house and that’s when (Y/N) saw a beautiful red barn straight out of a western movie.

“Wow…” She said, grabbing her things and following her friend to the pool house.

“Make yourself at home, this is where I stay. It’s easier for me to be close by than to have my own place and worry about subletting it.”

(Y/N) found pictures of her best friend in various cities, countries with celebrities she admired. There were also plenty of pictures of them together throughout their friendship including childhood and being roommates at UT-Austin. She looked at one picture of Addison pulled into a big hug from Glen Powell.

“You’ve met Glen Powell and didn’t tell me!” (Y/N) smacked her BFF’s shoulder, “How dare you.”

Addison laughed, “He’s a sweetheart.”

“Talk about good ole Texas boy… by god not that I need another bow legged Texan to love, but whew!” (Y/N) fanned herself.

“Come on, help me organize the food and everything before my boss gets home.”

There were tables set up in the massive backyard with a food buffet large enough to feed an army. (Y/N) found herself enjoying helping Addison get everything ready. She was helping the DJ get set up in the barn when Addison called out to her.

“Hey, my boss is here. I’m going to the main house to help him with something then I’ll be back.”

“Got it boss lady!” (Y/N) laughed as her friend rolled her eyes.

She was putting the last touches of the Firecracker themed tables together when a low, raspy voice came from behind her.

“Nicely done. You must be Addison’s best friend.”

She turned around and froze, “Holy shit, you’re Glen Powell.”

He laughed holding out his hand to her, “Yes, but not the OG Glen. He’s in the house right now. You’re (Y/N), right? Addison talks about you all the time.”

She slipped her hand into his then flinched from the electric current running up her arm. From his wide green eyes, she assumed he felt it too.

“Uh, y-yeah that’s me. Um…” She swallowed hard, “Sorry, my inner fangirl is having a mild heart attack right now.”

His deep, rich laugh blanketed her body in warmth, “Well hopefully your inner fangirl won’t pass out. Calling 911 is not on my list today.”

“I promise, she’ll be fine. Still getting used to my BFF hanging out with celebrities, especially ones that I love.”

The bright smile on his face nearly melted her heart, “Awe, so you love me?”

“Uh… yes, I mean… yes I love your movies and you seem like a really great person.” (Y/N) mentally kicked herself.

Shut up. Stop talking you weirdo.

“Thanks, I try to be a good guy. Main reason why I moved back to Austin. Stay grounded in my home roots. Anyway, I’m looking forward to getting to know you. I better get back to the main house and see what kind of chaos my family is causing for Addison.”

“Oh, okay. Talk to you later.” (Y/N) watched as he walked out of the barn then finally let out a shaky breath.

She immediately went in search of her best friend, finding her near the buffet. She smacked her shoulder several times as Addison tried to defend herself with tongs.

“What the hell (Y/N)!”

“Why didn’t you tell me that Glen Powell was your boss?! A little warning would have been nice so I could prepare myself.”

Addison chuckled, “Damn, I missed you meeting him. I was hoping to see your face.”

She smacked her shoulder again, “Not funny. It was like the first time I met Jensen and my brain short circuited.”

Now Addison was nearly falling down laughing, “Did you word vomit all over him?”

“No! Though I did mention my inner fangirl having a heart attack. Also, the first thing out of my mouth was ‘Holy shit, you’re Glen Powell.”

“Oh my god!” Her friend was rolling in laughter, “God, I wish I had been there for that.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving. I’ve already embarrassed myself and who knows who else will be here for me to embarrass myself in front of.”

(Y/N) started to head towards the front of the house when Addison reached out grabbing her arm.

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry, I should have warned you. Glen only invited a few actors that live around here over. Honestly, I think Zac Levi is the only one confirmed to be coming. Other than that, it’s mostly Glen’s family and friends.”

“Zac Levi?” She stared at her, “Zachary fucking Levi… oh god, I’m out. Me and my inner fangirl cannot handle this.”

Addison ran in front of her, grabbing a hold of her shoulders, “(Y/N), they are just humans like you and me.”

“Humans that are sculpted out of marble by the good lord himself with a good heaping pile of sex god appeal. Not like me. They’re main character energy and I’m one of the background people no one sees.”

“(Y/N) stop. Trust me, stay and hang out with me. Glen said once everything was set up that I was off the rest of the night. That means, it’s you and me hanging out by the pool, eating our weight in BBQ and watching fireworks. With some particularly good eye candy around.”

Addison was looking at her with pleading eyes, “Please stay and find out for yourself that they are normal dudes. Just like when we hung out with Jared and Jensen.”

(Y/N) sighed, “Only because I love you more than life itself and I have no way of getting home.”

Addison pulled her into a hug, “Thank you.”

“Group hug? I want to join!” Before (Y/N) could look up, she was sandwiched between her best friend and a firm body behind her. Instantly she was enveloped in a woodsy smell with a hint of citrus. Glen squeezed them together making both girls laugh.

“Can’t… breathe… Powell.” Addison managed to squeak out as he let go of them.

“Sorry, just wanted to be a part of your little moment.” He joked.

(Y/N) turned around sucking in a breath and trying to keep her jaw from slacking. Standing before her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Which said a lot since up until that point it had been Jensen Ackles who was the most beautiful man in her mind. Glen was wearing a pair of swim trunks with firecrackers all over them that hung low on his hips. His golden skin was glowing beneath the Texas sun and on top of his golden hair was an American flag cowboy hat.

“Ladies, I believe everything is set up and our first wave of guests have arrived. That means, Addison, you are officially off the clock and my last request is for you both to have a great time tonight.”

They looked at one another then saluted Glen saying together, “Yes sir.”

His laughter filled the air, “Your salutes need some work but we can work on that later. Now, go! Get drunk, eat and have fun.”

Addison hooked her arm with (Y/N)’s and they headed back towards the pool. For the first couple of hours, (Y/N) laid out on one of the chairs by the pool. One of the only things she loved about parties was people watching. There was no shortage of people to watch here. Glen’s family was an absolute joy to meet. Currently, his dad was in the pool playing with his grandkids while his mom was sitting on the edge hanging her feet into the water.

(Y/N) watched as Zac Levi walked through the main house with a cooler and a few of his friends. She was surprised to see him pull Addison into a hug then kiss her cheek. She made a mental note to ask her what was up with that later. Sipping on her beer, she watched as a group of guys including Glen and Zac started a game of football. Addison was talking with Glen’s sisters when suddenly there was a shout.

“Watch out!”

Before (Y/N) could look up, she was hit with something hard in her chest. She let out a loud grunt and her beer dumped down the front of her.

“Shit! (Y/N) are you alright?” Glen asked as he and Addison ran up to her.

She groaned, “Fine, just covered in beer.”

“I can show you where you clean up.” Glen said, taking the football that had hit her and tossing it to his brother-in-law.

He held out his hand to her and helped her up from her seat. She looked back at Addison who was smiling like the Cheshire cat. She narrowed her eyes at her friend suddenly smelling a set up and beer… lots of beer.

Glen led her into the main house and up the stairs. They walked into the largest bedroom she had ever seen and immediately knew this had to be his room.

“You can use my bathroom to wash up and I’ll get you some clothes to wear.”

She chuckled, “Um, I’m pretty sure your clothes won’t fit me.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, “I’m sure I can find something or if you prefer to walk around in a towel only then that’s cool too.”

“No! Oh god, no.” She sighed, “Thank you. I appreciate anything you can find for me.”

“You’re welcome.” He walked into his large closet while she went into his master bathroom and shut the door.

Leaning against it, she took a moment to calm her frantic nerves. A week ago, she was home rewatching Top Gun: Maverick and now she was standing in Glen Powell’s bathroom. Quickly, she stripped out of her soiled clothes and swimsuit. She turned on the water of the massive shower and let the hot water beat down on her tense muscles. She heard the door opening and immediately tried to cover herself.

“There’s clothes on my bed for you.”

(Y/N) noticed he had his hand covering his eyes even though he couldn’t see her from where the door was. Her heart skipped from the small gesture.

“T-Thank you. I’ll be back out in a few minutes.”

“Take your time.” He closed the door.

(Y/N) noticed his shampoo was the citrus she had smelled earlier while his body wash was the woods smell. She decided that combination was her new favorite smell. Once she was out of the shower and wrapped in one of his towels she walked out to find his door closed. On the bed was an extra large Longhorns t-shirt and gym shorts. There was also a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs which she was thankful for. However, not having a bra to wear was going to be difficult.

She stepped into his closet and chuckled from all the burnt orange shirts. She found one of his tank tops and slipped it on. She rolled the bottom up beneath her breasts and tied it off with her ponytail. The girls would at least be secured but one good cool wind and her nipples would be on display.

“Maybe it’s time to step up to whiskey.” She muttered as she slipped on the rest of Glen’s clothes.

Opening the door, she found a muscular, tan back standing there like a bodyguard, “Sorry, I just didn’t want anyone walking in here on you. My family is not big on boundaries nor are my niece and nephew.”

She chuckled, “Thanks for keeping watch and for the clothes.”

He turned around and she watched as his eyes traveled the length of her body. Goosebumps spread across her flushed skin. When his eyes came back up to hers they were darker and filled with something that she refused to let herself believe was there.

“Have to say, those look way better on you than on me.”

(Y/N)’s default mode clicked on whenever she received compliments, “I highly doubt that, but thanks. They’re at least more comfortable than my swimsuit. By the way, do you have somewhere I could wash my clothes out?”

“Yeah, give them to me and I’ll put them in the washer. You can head back out to enjoy the party.” She handed him her suit and clothes, “Man, I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in this. I bet it looked great on you.”

He headed down the stairs leaving (Y/N) speechless. Was Glen Powell flirting with her? No way. She was delusional from the alcohol and sun. She headed back outside where she found Addison swimming in the pool with Zac. Seeing them together, she knew she didn’t need to ask if they were together. It was obvious by the way they looked at one another that they were. Once again, (Y/N)’s green eyed monster raged inside of her. Deciding she needed some more time alone, she headed out towards the barn then kept walking to the field behind it.

She was watching a team of guys setting up fireworks for the big display later that night. She could still hear everyone laughing and having fun behind her, suddenly she felt tears falling down her cheeks. She loved her best friend, but it was obvious she didn’t fit into her life anymore. She was hanging out and dating celebrities and traveling the world.

What was she doing? Still working the same job and never allowing anyone to get close to her. She gave up on dating after her one and only boyfriend had cheated on her. Did she want someone in her life? The family and white picket fence? Of course, but the closer to forty she was getting the further away that dream seemed to be getting. Seeing how happy Addison was and how wonderful her life was a harsh reminder of how meaningless her own life was.

“You okay?”

Turning around, she found Glen walking up now wearing a navy tank top and his dark Ray Bans covering his eyes. She quickly wiped away the wayward tears.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a moment.”

He leaned his forearms against the fence, looking out over the field, “I see you found my ‘I need a moment’ spot. I love coming out here and just being. I don’t have to be actor Glen, but just me.”

“I bet that is exhausting.” He nodded as she looked at him from the corner of her eyes, “On behalf of fans everywhere, I appreciate all the hard work you put into your characters. I can’t tell you the number of nights I have watched one of your rom-coms laughing and making my day better.”

He looked down at her with a smile, “Thanks, that means a hell of a lot to me.”

“However, I have to say, I wish they would pair you up with a woman your age. Seeing you make out with a woman ten years younger gives girls like me a complex.” She chuckled.

“How so?” He asked, turning towards her.

She sighed, “You never see a leading woman that is both older and doesn’t have a model’s body. The average size of a woman is 14/16 which is plus size and if I had to guess I bet the majority of rom-com audience is like me. A woman in her late thirties, plus size, single and looking for hope that men like Glen Powell would be interested in her.”

“You don’t think guys like me would be with a woman like you?”

His question was genuine, but made her scoff, “In the movies they aren’t. Why would I believe that in real life? Probably why I’ve been single for over a decade now. It’s easier to fantasize over fictional men or celebrities than putting myself out there to get humiliated.”

He stepped closer to her, his fingers brushing against her cheek and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and his glossy eyes were staring down into hers. She had dreamt of him looking at her in this very way a million times. The way he looked at every leading lady in one of his rom-coms.

“What if I told you that I do find you attractive? That I find you incredibly sexy.”

“I’d say that you’re a great actor.” She tried to look away, but he gently grabbed her chin making her look at him.

“I’m not acting. The moment Addison showed me a picture of the two of you, I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. The way she gushes about you and all the work you do for your students. The difference you’re making in their lives. I couldn’t imagine anything more sexy than a woman who loves to help those who need it.”

(Y/N) stepped away from him, “It’s really nothing special. Yes, I’m there for them and help them in any way I can, but so do a lot of staff. Honestly, there’s nothing special about me. I’m definitely not gorgeous. I mean, you’re around beautiful actresses and models all the time. They’re gorgeous, me not so much.”

“Addison warned me that you usually put yourself down when you receive compliments.” He took a step towards her engaging in an awkward dance as she stepped backwards.

“Warned you? So, this was a set up?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Did she really think you were going to magically fall in love with me and sweep me off my feet. Which by the way, you couldn’t, not literally anyway.”

“I asked her to introduce us. Yes, I found you attractive and after hearing Addison talk about you non-stop in Oklahoma, I wanted to meet you. Addison is not only my assistant but a dear friend and if you’re important to her then you’re important to me as well.”

He closed the distance between them pressing her back against the fence and caging her in with his strong arms on either side of her. He leaned in towards her and she sucked in a breath, holding it in her chest.

“I wasn’t hoping to fall in love or sweep you off your feet. Which I could totally do.” He smirked, “I was hoping to meet the amazing woman Addison loves so much and who happens to be fucking gorgeous.”

“Glen, I…” She let out a trembling breath, “I'm nobody and I don’t do one night stands. Even if it’s with a sexy movie star that I’m sure would give me the orgasm of my life. It’s not me and I don’t see you wanting to settle down with a high school secretary.”

He leaned closer to her. His nose brushing alongside hers and his lips merely an inch from hers. She wanted to look away, but his eyes were mesmerizing.

“Won’t know unless you give me a chance.”

His lips pressed against hers. They were soft and tasted of tequila as he pulled her bottom lips between his teeth. Suddenly, her body felt like it was on fire and she wanted more. Needed more. His large hands fell to her hips and pulled her tighter against him. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing her hands into his soft hair. His sunglasses falling from his head was enough to knock her senses back into place. She pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him gently away.

“We… I… this can’t happen. It’s not happening.” She stammered.

(Y/N) took off back towards the barn as Glen called after her, “(Y/N)! (Y/N), please wait!”

She didn’t stop until she was in the pool house and in Addison’s room with the door shut. Tears immediately sprung to her eyes and she sank to the floor beside her bed. What the hell was she doing? Glen Powell had kissed her. Told her she was gorgeous and yet she was sitting on the floor crying. Why couldn’t she be more impulsive and have one night with a man who was way out of her league? Looking at her reflection in the glass from the sliding door, she sighed.

“Because you catch feelings, (Y/N).” She whispered.

“(Y/N)?” Addison’s voice came through the door, “You alright?”

She opened the door, “Seriously, Glen Powell?”

“Let me explain.”

“Addison, what did you think was going to happen? You couldn’t actually believe this was going to work in any sort of way.”

They sat down on her bed, “I talk about you non-stop with him. I’ve told him all your stories from school with your kiddos. I’ve told him how I’m worried about you being alone all the time and how I wish you could meet a nice guy like him. How proud I am of all you’ve done for your health and how you love your body for what it is.”

(Y/N) placed her head in her hands, “And what, he was like ‘oh I want to meet this chick’?”

“Not his exact words, but yes. When he started planning this party, he asked if there was anyone I would like to invite. I told him Zac and his friends…” She paused looking at her bashfully, “Yeah, I’m kind of seeing Zac Levi.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I could tell that from the lovey-dovey looks you give one another. After my breakdown you can spill all about how that happened.”

Addison nodded, “Anyway, Glen asked if I wanted to invite you. I told him that you’re pretty introverted and didn’t like going to parties. He dropped it, but then when he was having me finalize the list of people I noticed he had added your name at the end of the list. When I asked him about it, all he said was he wanted to meet the amazing best friend I kept talking about.”

“So, you decided to turn it into a set up? Knowing full and well I would never fall for it.”

Her friend turned towards her, “It was never a set up. I warned him how you are. I asked him directly what he was up to. He told me that he found you attractive and wanted to get to know you.” She grabbed her hands, “Honestly (Y/N), I think he’s just a dude who is nervous to ask out a beautiful girl. It’s hard for him to meet anyone who doesn’t see him as only a famous actor and I really think he wants this part of his life to be as normal as possible.”

(Y/N) groaned, “You know this sounds like a fanfic I would read on Tumblr, right?”

Addison laughed, “Oh I’m well aware. However, doesn’t it make you want to see what happens? Usually, the next part would be you going to find him and you two would have a moment of tension that snaps. Then wham, bam, smutty dreams fulfilled.”

“I think I’m going to throw up.” (Y/N) took a couple deep breaths.

“That is not usually in the fanfics. Take the time you need, but please come back out and hang out with us. If anything, I’ll introduce you to Zac and you can fangirl over him.”

“I love you, but get out. I can’t even with you right now.” (Y/N) laughed as Addison hugged her.

Once she was alone again, (Y/N) went into the bathroom to splash cool water on her face. Looking into the mirror, she gave herself a once over. She walked out into the bedroom letting out a surprise yelp when she found Glen sitting on the bed.

“Scared the crap out of me.” She held her chest.

His eyes were focused on the floor, “Sorry. Addison said you were in here.” He stretched his long fingers out over his thighs before looking up at her.

“I wanted to apologize for coming onto you so strong and kissing you. I should have been more of a gentleman about it, not that I regret kissing you because I don’t.”

She sat down next to him, “I don’t either and you don’t need to apologize. It was nice to know I remembered how to kiss a man.”

He chuckled finally looking over at her, “It’s like I’m living out a meet-cute rom-com without a script and it’s terrifying. There’s a fine line between endearing and creepy. I feel like I’m crossing the line into creepy.”

(Y/N)’s hand was trembling but she placed it over his, “You’re not creepy. Addison told me about how you wanted to get to know me. I think it’s been so long since a man has shown any interest in me that I don’t know how to react to it. Let alone that man being someone I have fantasized about being the Leading Man in my own life.”

“Is there any way we could start over? You being you and me being just a normal dude wanting to ask you out?” He laced their fingers together, “Or at least ask you to watch fireworks with me?”

(Y/N) smiled, “I would love to watch fireworks with you… what was your name again?”

His breathtaking smile appeared as he stood up in front of her, “Hi, I’m Glen and you?”

She took his outstretched hand, standing up, “(Y/N), it’s nice to meet you totally normal dude who is definitely not a famous sexy actor.”

He laughed pulling her into his side slipping his arm around her shoulders, “That’s me. Normal dude who is thankful to have a chance to be in the presence of a beautiful woman.”

“Oh jeez, please stop with the compliments. They make me uncomfortable.” She sighed, sliding her arm around his waist.

-----

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[exileart]

EngPort Week Day 2 - Workplace Crush / Teamwork @engportevents

There was that endearing furrow between Afonso’s brows as he focused intently on the report on his desk. Intermittently, he beat a staccato rhythm with his pen in a way that would have annoyed Arthur had it been anyone else. As it was, Arthur couldn’t help but look up from his own work with a fond smile every time he heard that tapping, staring at that slight furrow between the other’s brows, at the slight downturn of his lips and the hint of teeth every time Afonso bit his lip as he was deep in thought.

It was all so very distracting. Afonso was always so very distracting for Arthur.

Finally noticing the gaze on him, Afonso looked up from his work curiously, his brow raised in question. “Do you need something, Arthur? You’ve been staring forever.”

“W-what, no! I haven’t been staring,” Arthur replied, flustered as he looked away. He raised a hand to cover his mouth, hiding his fond smile and spluttering. He cleared his throat as he mastered himself. “I was just lost in thought, that’s all.”

Afonso hummed, trying to suppress a smile but failing spectacularly at it. “Tough case?” He asked, cradling his cheek on his palm as he rested his elbow on his desk. “Perhaps, I can help you after all.”

“Don’t you have your own reports to finish?”

Afonso sighed. “I could use a break from it,” he said. “The captain wouldn’t mind.”

Arthur snorted in amusement even as Afonso stood and walked around to Arthur’s side. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said, looking up at the other. “Have you forgotten what happened last time?”

“That one was hardly my fault,” Afonso replied with a chuckle. He leaned forward, seemingly peering over Arthur’s shoulder to look at the old evidence of a cold case. “Say, Arthur,” Afonso said in a soft voice. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

Arthur’s plans consisted of a quiet night before the telly as he struggled to complete his long unfinished embroidery project, his mind still stuck in the old cases they’ve been revisiting. “I don’t believe so,” he answered. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I thought we could go out,” Afonso answered with a smile, his hand coming to a rest upon Arthur’s shoulder. “Get a drink or something? What do you think?”

“Suppose I–”

“Kirkland! Da Costa!”

Arthur fought the urge to groan and make a disgruntled look as their captain interrupted his answer to Afonso’s question. As their boss approached, Afonso straightened, stepping away from Arthur’s side. “Captain Vargas,” they both said in greeting.

“Do you have plans for the night?”

The two of them shared a glance, and Arthur thought that Afonso’s smile seemed more like a grimace then. “I suppose not,” Arthur answered. “Do you need us for another case?”

“We need everyone on this case,” the older man said, and he did seem apologetic for asking them to stay for overtime. “You can get the files from Francis. They should be in the conference room.”

Afonso sighed, his shoulders slumping as they watched the captain return to his office. “Duty calls, Arthur,” he said as he took his jacket from his desk and shrugged it on. “Let’s go.”

—---

Arthur’s quiet night alone had turned into a tedious night reviewing footage and witness testimonies. Eventually, they narrowed down the suspect’s location into three possible areas. He and Afonso went together to check one of them, and so Arthur supposed, they still got their night together in the end.

They were careful as they combed through the warehouse, watching each other’s backs as they did so. The two of them froze for a moment when they heard a loud sound, wood and metal clattering on the hard ground. After that, they sprung into action, moving towards the sound only to find themselves faced with a cleaning lady and her tools on the ground. She was certainly not the man they were supposed to be looking for, but if there was anyone else in the place, then any hope for stealth was perhaps a loss now.

As Afonso went to help with her things, Arthur’s radio crackled to life, and he took it from his belt to answer. “This is Kirkland spea–”

“Artie!” Alfred’s exuberant voice interrupted him, slightly distorted by the radio. “We got ‘em. Thanks for the help! We’ll meet you back at the station, yeah?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied with an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“That’s that then,” Afonso said as he came back to Arthur’s side, with a casual air as if the two of them had only been out on a stroll in the city. Arthur holstered his gun and checked his watch. He supposed there was still time for strolling and other things if they truly wished to. “Arthur?”

“How is she?”

“It’s fine,” Afonso reassured him. “She was just a little startled.”

Arthur cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “So, about that drink, is the offer still open?”

Afonso looked startled at the subject change, but he recovered quickly. Afonso smiled in a way that had the corners of his eyes crinkling. That smile was just as endearing as the look of concentration he had earlier that day. “For you, Arthur? Always.”

[imtrashraccoon]

I totally didn't have to do a bunch of research for this one or anything... Also, don't kill me for the time it's being posted... (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Nightmare - Veiled

Word Count: 857

Dirk suddenly dropped down next to you and Donovan. He was breathing heavily and clutching his right side. You immediately noticed dust coating his hand and seeping out from the area beneath. He still held his dagger, but it was clear from how he winced with each shift of his body that he had been wounded pretty badly. There were a few nicks and slashes in his studded leather armour, and the red part of his target-shaped soul was still drowning out the faint strip of white.

You attempted to reach for him, barely managing to whisper his name, but the injured assassin gave no indication if he had heard you. Instead, he turned to Donovan and letting out a bitter sounding chuckle.

"sorry, boss... they got me good..." he hissed through gritted teeth.

Oddly, his permanent smile was still wide, almost splitting his face in two despite the dire situation, and you caught a glimpse of a white eyelight in his right socket. It vanished in a second, leaving you questioning what it meant, as you had been under the impression he didn't have eyelights.

Donovan's grip on you tightened by a fraction and he let out a nearly inaudible hum under his breath. With a sigh, he turned to face Dirk fully, shifting you in his arms at the same time and turning you around.

"A shame," he muttered, exhaling heavily. "You've served me well, even to the end..."

The circling beholder let out a chittering laugh, still hovering above the three of you. "Aw, that's whack," he taunted. "I was just starting to get jiggy with it."

No one paid the floating eyeball any mind, although you wished you could whack him square in the jaw with your meteor hammer. Maybe he would actually learn to shut up then?

Donovan took a steadying breath before smoothing out a few tufts of fur on the top of your head. "Seems there's only one thing left to do..." he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to the bridge of your muzzle.

You blinked, feeling a little taken aback by his uncharacteristic change in demeanor. It was like he was just giving up? Since when did he even consider the idea of surrender?

He shifted you in his hold, placing your frail body in Dirk's arms. "Protect them with your life; this is your last order."

The two skeletons shared a somber look before Dirk gave a stiff nod. He held you close to his ribcage, so much so, that you could actually feel the mana running through his body and the thrum of his still unstable soul. His touch wasn't comforting like Donovan's, and his already weakened state meant he had to partially lower you to the ground rather than completely support your weight.

Donovan fished a small potion vial from his robes, handing it to the assassin. Without another word, he turned to face the beholder again, his tendrils forming into sharp points to act as weapons. You wanted to stop him, tell him not to sacrifice his life for yours, but your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth.

"Seriously? What are you going to do, cast a spell?" Balor scoffed, "Your magic has no effect, mage!"

Dirk popped the cork off the healing potion, pressing the vial against your lips and doing his best to encourage you to swallow the liquid. You nearly choked on the harsh flavour, even though you had been expecting it, although you managed to consume most of the potion with Dirk downing the remainder. It wasn't much, but even the small sip you had managed was enough to heal a bit of your HP so you wouldn't immediately fall down.

He tossed the empty bottle away and hooked his hands under your arm pits, slowly dragging you away from Donovan and Balor. He hadn't said a word the whole time, not even a grunt or hiss of pain from the effort of holding you. You couldn't tell if he was as upset as you were or if he was shutting down emotionally.

You couldn't take your eyes off of Donovan as he raised his hand, as if to cast a spell, but what happened next seemed to take place in slow motion. His other hand reached for his collarbone, pulling out an obsidian amulet that was shaped like a dragon from underneath his robes. He snapped the pendant in half and the cavern was suddenly bathed in light.

Balor let out a pained cry and floated backwards, momentarily blinded from the bright light.

A large dark shape emerged from the light, one that had a long neck and four equally long tails. Its skeletal head was crowned with a pair of magnificent horns and a familiar cyan eyelight gleamed in its left eye socket. Its right eye socket was covered by the corruption that coated its body and pockmarked wings.

It was a dragon, but unlike any you had heard of before. You never knew your soulmate had the capability to transform himself so drastically, but he now seemed to dwarf the beholder in size and strength.

[pascaloverx]

FELLINGS — EXO KAI

CHAPTER THREE (+18)

Summary: You and Jongin live wanting what you two can't have. For example, he wants to win over your best friend and you want him.

Warnings: This fanfic will describe some hot romantic moments and use of inappropriate language. In the future there may be both smut and moderate use of violence. Readers are warned. This fanfic will feature some members of EXO as characters but they are not part of a Kpop group in this scenario. This chapter has scenes for adults, minors should not interact.

CHAPTER TWO FINAL CHAPTER

Nearly two weeks later, you and Kai barely talk. It would be a lie to say it's been easy. God, this idiot was more a part of your life than you realized. But this whole situation has been awful. Especially because every day he tries to convince you not to quit the job, not to give up on him. Every day your desk with a bouquet of flowers and a note asking you to reconsider. One of the perks of being Kim Jongin's secretary was that you knew exactly where he would be. Which means avoiding him was easy. And your notice period is almost over anyway, so now it's just a matter of enduring a little longer. Even though it's your last week of work, you're still one of the last ones to leave the building. Like today. Kim Jongin spent the day in meetings outside the company, so you had to handle several things. And now you're standing in front of the elevator, waiting to go home. Until the elevator doors open, and you come face to face with him. Your boss and ex-best friend, the one who recently discovered your involuntary crush on him.

"I think I'll take the stairs." You say, stepping away from the elevator door, but Jongin grabs your arm, and you look at him.

"Can we talk?" Jongin asks, and before you know it, you're already inside the damn elevator. You glare at Jongin angrily, frustrated that you can't avoid him anymore.

"You never struck me as the type of guy who doesn't understand signals. Me avoiding you and not responding to your ridiculous notes accompanied by flowers worth more than my entire salary wasn't enough?" You reply angrily, watching the floors pass by and avoiding looking at Jongin in every way possible.

"And you never struck me as such a passionate person. I mean, you throw at me the fact that you love me and that what Luna and I are doing is stupid, and you don't even give me a chance to try something different." Jongin responds, trying to approach you. You know he wants you to look at him.

"Since I'm basically already fired, I'll tell you something. You think everyone has to give you a chance because you're handsome and rich, but that's not how the world works. You got me into a ridiculous situation, and now you must be feeling guilty. But that changes nothing. The best thing we can do is to get out of each other's lives." You basically overflow with relief after finishing saying everything you think. To the point that you look at Jongin to see his reaction. He seems a bit surprised, and then, as you both lock eyes, the elevator experiences a mechanical failure. The lights go out, and you hear a loud noise.

"Are you okay?" Jongin asks immediately as you stare into the darkness inside the elevator. Before you can respond, the lights inside the elevator come on.

"I'm okay, but you have a cut on your head. Are you feeling alright?" You ask, touching near the small cut on Jongin's head. He mutters a curse when you touch him, and you feel sorry for him.

"Couldn't be better. You're looking at me again." Jongin says, smiling mischievously. You glare at him, disapproving of what he said. What if he's got more than just a cut on his head?

"I'll try to call for emergency assistance. Make sure you don't do anything risky while I make the call." You say, knowing he likes to play the hero sometimes. Unfortunately for both of you, your phone signal isn't working. It's as if fate wants you two to be stuck together. You look at Jongin and mention that he's observing you. He also tries to call for emergency assistance but without success. However, he seems more resigned to the situation than you are.

"I guess this time, you won't be able to escape spending some time with me, sweetheart." Jongin says, taking off his jacket and adjusting his turtleneck shirt in the most sensual way he can. You shake your head, trying to shake off these thoughts.

"And why does it seem like I'm the only one not wanting this to happen? You should be trying your hardest to get out of here, Kim Jongin." You say seriously, settling down beside Jongin, who is leaning against the elevator.

"Maybe it's because for the past two weeks, all I wanted was to be alone with you. And in a rather radical way, that's what's happening." Jongin says, looking at you. You feel embarrassed and shy away from his gaze.

"Why did you want that so badly?" You ask, smiling slightly. Perhaps now you're compelled to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Jongin.

"You told me you loved me. And then, without giving me time to process that, you started pulling away from my life. I spent years seeing you every day. I missed you. Damn it, I even missed your scent. The truth is, being without you is driving me crazy." Jongin says, looking you in the eyes, as if he wants you to see the truth. To see that he's being sincere.

"Kim Jongin, you only miss me because I make your life easier. It's not quite genuine longing." You respond, trying not to feel too affected by what he said. But it does affect you; he manages to ignite a very powerful feeling within you with just a few words.

"That's our biggest problem here. You don't believe me. But you know what, screw it. I love you. Not in the way you love me, but I do. And you matter to me, whether you like it or not." Kai says as he watches you. You're speechless, just looking at him and him looking back at you. Until your eyes land on Kai's lips, and you feel like if you don't do something now, you'll explode. So you push Kai against the elevator and kiss him. An uncontrollable kiss. You didn't even know you could kiss someone with such intensity. The intensity becomes so great that you have to lean on the elevator to keep your balance. Kim Jongin holds you, lifting you up and making you tie your legs to the around him. The kiss doesn't stop, it's almost as if you're thirsty for each other. You lift his shirt and seconds later he's shirtless. He then pulls down your panties. There's a lot of rush, so you barely notice when Kai puts a condom on his dick. But seconds later, he slowly approaches you with his pants open and inserts his dick into you. You let out a drawn out moan as you feel him slowly thrust into you. You nibble on his neck, bringing him closer to you. You're horny so you start to help Jongin with the movements, getting up and down on his lap. He holds the hem of your dress up and presses your ass with his hands. You kiss him again. And again. His lips taste like chocolate. A few more thrusts and you cum. Almost in sync. He gives you a kiss on the mouth as if to end it. You look at him noticing that you guys actually had sex. Before any of you could say anything, like magic, the elevator started working again.

[snakebites-and-ink]

One | Two | Three | Four

CW: Having to hide true self, fear of isolation, it's basically just fluff

Over the days, Whumpee grew more comfortable and felt safer with Caretaker, and the two got to know each other better.

But if it would feel happier in a hive, Caretaker couldn’t just keep it here. They offered to help Whumpee try to find some way back to its hive. But to their surprise, it declined. “I like you,” Whumpee said.

Caretaker was touched, and felt their eyes grow misty with emotion. “Okay. I’d love having you here.”

Caretaker couldn’t stay on vacation forever, but they also thought it would be cruel to leave Whumpee alone, given both its nature and its trauma. They called their boss about having their friend with them at work.

“They wouldn’t get in the way or distract me. In fact, they could help.”

Caretaker paced as they talked.

“You wouldn’t need to pay them or make anything official. They just can’t be alone.”

Whumpee nervously fiddled with its hands. It didn’t want to be alone.

“Okay. Thank you.”

To Whumpee’s great relief, it could accompany Caretaker, and to Caretaker’s great relief, they wouldn’t have to find a new job for this. Caretaker had worked it out so that Whumpee was allowed to come with them to work.

Neither of them were prepared to explain an alien, so they had to make Whumpee look human.

The wings were the easiest to hide: Whumpee just folded them tight against its back. It would have to give them a big stretch after the workday, but it would be fine.

The mandibles weren’t too hard either; Whumpee would just have to keep them tucked under its lips. They would have to be strategic about its lunch though, so that eating little pinches wouldn’t rouse suspicion.

Caretaker gently tipped Whumpee’s chin, looking into its large-pupiled eyes. They murmured, “You’ll need contacts. Even if they believe you’re human, people will think you’re high.”

They stuck little bits of adhesive bandage over its photophores, then used concealer and foundation to make it look like normal skin.

Its legs could be hidden in long pants.

The biggest challenge was shoes. Whumpee was used to having tactile feedback and added grip from its claws. When it tried covering its feet in normal human shoes, it had a hard time keeping its balance. Eventually they cut strategically-placed holes in the bottoms of the shoes. As long as Whumpee didn’t lift its feet too high when walking, it would work.

Whumpee was so glad not to be left alone. It stayed with Caretaker all day and assisted them with little tasks as they worked.

When they got home, it stretched and relaxed, able to show its true self again. Caretaker collapsed on the couch, and Whumpee cuddled up to them.

“Honey, you’re getting makeup on me.”

Whumpee gave a happy twitter. “Okay, I’ll go wipe it off.”

Once its face was clean, it went right back to cuddling. It was so happy it had Caretaker.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Eddie's POV

Eddie woke up screaming and clutching his sides. He was drenched in sweat and trembling all over. Wayne burst into the room, looking panicked as he dropped to Eddie's side.

"Where does it hurt, son?" Wayne asked. "Does it hurt here?"

"No, it's just a bad dream. Just a bad dream," Eddie whimpered. "I think something bad is going to happen, Uncle Wayne."

"It's okay, son, I've got ya," Wayne said and hugged Eddie tightly as Eddie burst into tears. "I'm here."

Eddie could tell it was early in the morning because it looked like Wayne had just gotten home from work. Eddie sniffled and wiped his face as he pulled away from him.

"I'm good, Uncle Wayne," Eddie said.

"You haven't had a nightmare like that since you were little, and your mama started getting sick," Wayne frowned. "You wanna talk about it, son?"

"No, I just want to forget about it," Eddie said.

He tried to wipe the image of Nancy being cornered by her boss, the fear on her face, and then the image of Steve screaming in pain. . .the image of him lying on the floor covered in his own blood. The dream had ended with Eddie being eaten alive, with Nancy and Steve screaming his name. Eddie refused to go back to sleep and decided to get ready for the day. He settled into distracting himself until it was time to go to the festival. He read Lord of the Rings, worked on his campaign, worked on writing his music, and when Wayne left for work, he settled down in front of the television. The images wouldn't go away, however, and he couldn't get the feeling that something was seriously wrong.

The feeling stayed with him even when he showed up at the festival. It was supposed to be an exciting time, but all Eddie felt was fear. They were going to show up, he told himself as he waited by the entrance. Maybe they showed up before him and went in. Eddie started walking around, trying not to panic and let the fear overcome him. As he was looking for them, he saw a figure slumped over between a couple of booths. Eddie approached the figure slowly and nudged him. He didn't move. There was a bullet hole in his chest. This guy was fucking dead.

"Oh, shit," Eddie said.

Fear shot through him, and he was in full on panic mode. He took off and started running around, calling for Steve and Nancy. When he approached the entrance, he spotted Hopper and Joyce Byers. Eddie watched as Joyce approached the Mayor. . . And slugged him in the face?? Eddie didn't wait and took off after them, heading toward a bright yellow car.

"Hey, Chief!" Eddie yelled.

"What? I don't have time for whatever this is, Munson," Hopper said.

"Well, first off, did you know that there's a dead guy over there?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, we're dealing with it, kid," Hopper sighed.

"Also, where are Steve and Nancy? They were supposed to meet me here, and I got this weird feeling that something fucked up is going on here," Eddie said.

"Look, we're dealing with that, too. Don't worry about it. We'll let you know when we find them. There's nothing to worry about, kid," Hopper said.

"So, I don't have to worry about Nancy being chased by a flesh monster made from her former boss or Steve being tortured in a Russian underground bunker?" Eddie asked.

Hopper and Joyce stared at him before sharing a look with each other. Yeah, it seems like his dream wasn't so crazy after all.

"We don't have time for this!" A balding man yelled.

"Get in," Hopper finally decided.

Eddie hopped into the car, sitting himself next to the balding man, and then they took off.

"How did you know about the Russians?" Hopper asked Eddie.

"Well, this is going to sound weird, but I kind of had this dream last night," Eddie said. "Nancy was being chased, Steve was being tortured and drugged, then it sort of moved forward. I was in this place that looked a lot like Hawkins, except it was covered in vines, and there was this floating dust or some shit. I was on the ground with vines wrapped around my throat, and then these bat like creatures were eating me alive," Eddie said.

"Jesus," the balding man muttered.

Hopper and Joyce stared at each other again.

"Okay, that dream isn't so crazy?" Eddie asked. "Does that place exist?"

"We call it the Upside Down," Joyce said. "Well, the kids do."

"Steve’s kids? The ones he babysits all the time?" Eddie asked. "He brags about them a lot."

"They're good kids," Joyce said smiling.

"They're shitheads," Hopper said, smiling fondly.

"He calls them that too," Eddie said with a grin. "Affectionately."

"So, have you had dreams like this before?" Joyce asked.

"A few times. Once, when I was six and my mama started getting sick. She wanted to keep it from me, but then I had a dream that she was dying, and then she did," Eddie said softly.

"I'm sorry, that must have been rough," Joyce said sympathetically.

"It was," Eddie said. "A couple of years ago, I dreamed that your son got trapped in the Upside Down. I thought it was just a dream because it was all over the news about him at the time, and then last October, I dreamed that there were these tunnels under Hawkins with fucked up looking dogs who's face opened up."

"You didn't have to go to a bunch of doctors when you were a kid, did you?" Hopper asked.

"Well, there was this experimental program my dad put me through to treat my asthma that I apparently didn't have. Honestly, he was only in it for the money. I did see a bunch of doctors, but they told me I didn't qualify for it, which makes sense because I didn't have asthma," Eddie said, and they shared another look. "What?"

They both proceeded to explain to him about a program called MK Ultra where a man called Dr. Brenner experimented on children, giving them powers.

"It's possible that he didn't think you had any," Joyce said. "Especially if you didn't tell them about the dreams."

"Damn," Eddie muttered. "By the way, who the hell is this guy?"

"Murray Bauman," the balding guy introduced.

"I heard about you," Eddie said, narrowing his eyes at him.

"All good things from Nancy Wheeler, I hope," Murray said sarcastically.

"No, I don't like you," Eddie said and glared at him.

"And what did Nancy say about me?" Murray rolled his eyes.

"Well, I believe a creepy asshole who likes to put his nose where it doesn't belong are the words she used to describe you," Eddie said, and Hopper snorted.

They pulled up to the Starcourt Mall a few minutes later and walked into find quite a scene. Steve and Nancy were surrounded by a bunch of kids. A young girl was in the middle, and something shot out of the open wound in her leg. It landed at Hopper's feet, and he squished the slug like creature under his shoe. Steve and Nancy looked at Eddie in surprise.

"Eddie?!"

He shot forward and pulled them both into a hug. They immediately hugged him back tightly.

"Are you the guy who almost killed Steve and Nancy in the freezer?" A curly haired boy asked, his hands on his hips.

"And this must be Dustin," Eddie grinned as he pulled away from the hug.

"You know about me?" Dustin asked.

"Steve only talks about you all of the time, you and his other precious kiddos," Eddie said teasingly.

"He does?!" Dustin asked and beamed.

"What's this about killing Steve and Nancy in a freezer?" A redheaded girl asked.

"Eddie, what are you doing here?" Nancy asked.

"That's a little bit of a weird story," Eddie said.

He glanced over at Hopper, who was tending to the young girl's leg. Turns out it was his daughter, El. The redheaded girl was Max, the pale gangly boy was Nancy's brother Mike, there was Lucas who was dating Max, and Eddie remembered Will from that time in the music store. Will remembered him, too.

"So, you dreamed about us being in danger?" Nancy asked Eddie.

"Yeah, I suppose it's because you two have become very important to me over the last few weeks," Eddie blushed.

"Aw, Nance, I think he's saying we're his best friends," Steve teased.

"Aww," Nancy cooed and pinched Eddie's cheek.

"Excuse me, that title belongs to Jeff," Eddie said.

"Then what are we to you?" Nancy asked.

"You know, you can have more than one best friend," Dustin said, saving Eddie from answering the question.

It was then that remembered the first aid kit in his pocket. He pulled it out and walked over to Hopper, Joyce, and El. He opened it.

"Do you guys need anything in here?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, yes, thank you," Joyce said, pulling out some ointments and bandages.

"You just had that in your pocket?" Hopper asked.

"I'm a professional klutz," Eddie said seriously, and Hopper snorted. "His name is Princess Nigel."

It was El's turn to laugh, showing her dimples, and Eddie flashed his dimples right back at her. El furrowed her brows at him.

"Are you my brother?" El asked.

"You do sort of look alike," Joyce said in amusement.

"We do!" Eddie laughed. "I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if I did have brothers and sisters out there. My dad used to cheat on my mom all the time, even when she was sick. He wasn't very clever with the names he came up to tell the ladies with either. Overheard my uncle yelling at my dad about it. Al Munster was one of them. Allan Smith. Andrew Rich. He actually used Eddie once! I don't know why he bothered. Everyone knew who Al Munson was."

"Did you say Andrew Rich?" Hopper asked.

"Yeah, why?" Eddie asked.

"Because that's the name of El's father," Hopper said.

Eddie stared at him for a moment before looking back at El. He laughed and slapped his knee.

"Well, it looks like I am your brother, after all," Eddie said with a smile, and El held out her arms, grinning. "Ooh, a hug for big brother Eddie?"

Eddie moved forward and hugged his little sister. His little sister. This is not how he expected this evening to go. As he pulled back from the hug, El played with his vest.

"Bitchin," El muttered.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Eddie laughed and ruffled her hair. It seemed like having a sister would be cool. He smiled as he wondered over to take care of Steve.

"I have a sister," Eddie declared as he worked on cleaning Steve’s wounds.

"We heard," Nancy said in amusement.

"So, this is your first time with all of this, too?" Robin asked as she leaned over his shoulder to watch him work.

"Yeah," Eddie said.

"How are you not freaking out?" Robin asked.

"Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I'm freaking out on the inside," Eddie replied.

"Well, you should know that Steve Harrington is actually my new best friend, so you better do a good job, Dr. Munson," Robin said.

"Haha! Dr. Munson! Good one, like that would ever happen," Eddie scoffed.

"Okay, Nurse Munson then," Robin said, and he glared at her. "Candy Striper Munson?"

The best he could do was clean the wounds and spread some antibiotics over them. They would need more tending to later. He hated seeing Steve like this, and judging from the way Nancy was clinging to him, she was worried too. They all gathered around the tables to listen to Hopper go over the plan on how to destroy the machine that was opening a gate to the Upside Down. Of course, Hopper wanted to be the hero and go in there alone. Murray and Joyce wouldn't let him, though. Hopper couldn't navigate his way through without Dustin's help, but he didn't want to put the kid through any more danger. So, Dustin would need to be taken to Mount Weathertop to Cerebro. For a split moment, Eddie thought Lord of the Rings and the X-Men were real, too, until Steve explained that it was a radio thing that Dustin had built. Steve and Robin would be taking him while Eddie went with the others to take El to Murray's bunker.

"This is fucking crazy," Eddie mumbled shakily as he hugged Steve tightly.

"Everything's going to be okay. We'll be right back," Steve muttered softly.

"Don't say that. They sat that in horror films and then they. . . Well, they don't fucking come back," Eddie said.

"That's a horror film, not real life, Eds," Steve snorted softly.

"Well, this fucking feels like a horror film," Eddie said.

He pulled away and looked over to find Nancy hugging Jonathan. He couldn't help the sharp twist of jealousy that fueled his stomach. Jonathan was staying with them, so why was Nancy hugging him? He looked over and saw that Steve looked just as jealous as he was. Steve quickly covered it up when Nancy walked over to them.

"What was that about?" Eddie asked.

"I was thanking him for saving my life," Nancy replied.

"Oh, well, thank God for that, Ace," Eddie said.

"Ace?" Nancy asked.

"Like ace reporter. I thought it would be a cute nickname," Eddie said.

"It is cute," Nancy blushed and then she looked at Steve. "Stay safe."

"You too," Steve said.

Steve and Nancy hugged tightly. Eddie watched with Nancy as Steve walked out of the mall with Robin, Erica, and Dustin. Eddie let El have her moment with her father before approaching them.

"Take care of your sister," Hopper said, nudging his fist against Eddie's shoulder.

"Will do," Eddie said, saluting him and then turning his back to El. "Hop on, no sister of mine is hopping around on that ankle."

El giggled, wrapping her arms and legs around Eddie. He skipped over to Mike and Nancy, El laughing the whole way.

"Mike! I have a brother! This is Eddie," El grinned. "Eddie, this is my boyfriend, Mike."

"We're back together?" Mike asked in confusion.

"Oh. Right. I dumped your ass," El muttered.

"Why did you dump his ass?" Eddie asked.

"He lied about his Nana being sick, but she was not sick at all," El explained.

"Her dad threatened me!" Mike exclaimed.

"It probably had something to do with the fact that you were sticking your tongue down his daughter's throat all the time," Nancy said. "Even I thought it was a bit much."

"Dude, of course, her dad threatened you. That was a test, and you failed. Is she not worth fighting for?" Eddie asked mockingly.

"Yeah, Mike, am I not worth fighting for?" El asked and Mike scowled at Eddie.

"I'm fucking with you, dude, it's none of my business," Eddie said. "Although, I'd rather you actually use your words to get to know my sister."

"You've only known her for like a few minutes," Mike scrunched up his nose.

"And I would throw down my life for her," Eddie said, holding his head held high.

"Do not do that," El said seriously. "Promise?"

"Yeah, kiddo, I promise," Eddie said softly. "After all of this, you can tell me all about being an older sibling, Ace."

"It's annoying mostly," Nancy said teasingly, and Mike scowled at her.

It got kind of scary after that. They tried to escape in Nancy's mom's car, but a part was missing. El tried to flip the destroyed car in the mall to the part they needed, the very car she used as a bowling ball earlier to knock down a bunch of Russians. Eddie's sister was a badass, and she was also exhausted. Of course, that's when mind flayer possessed Billy Hargrove showed up along with the flesh monster. Nancy emptied a gun that she looted from a Russian on Billy's incoming car, which was hot, by the way, but then Steve came out of nowhere in the bright yellow car. He plowed into Billy's blue one, looking just as hot as Nancy did. Once back inside, Eddie did everything he could do to protect the kids from Billy himself while the others worked above them to destroy the Mind Flayer's flesh monster with fireworks. Of course, the other man had supernatural strength and kicked Eddie's ass with each punch. Once Billy got his hands wrapped around his throat, it was lights out for Eddie. Literally. When he woke up, his own blood had pooled into his mouth, and he turned over to cough it up. He saw Max crying over her stepbrother's body, and Eddie cursed. He hated the guy, but that kid shouldn't have had to see that. He felt hands on his back. He turned to find Steve and Nancy looming above him.

"Did we - did the machine get destroyed?" Eddie croaked.

"Yeah," Nancy said sadly, her eyes filled with tears.

"Who - who else died?" Eddie asked as they helped him up.

"Hopper," Steve said, his own eyes filling up with tears.

It was like a punch to the stomach, and suddenly, all of his interactions with Hopper came into focus. One of the rare adults who looked at him and didn't see his old man. The last words he had said to Eddie played over and over again in his mind. Take care of your sister.

"El," Eddie gasped.

He pushed past both of them and past two soldiers, carrying a gurney to wheel Billy's body out. Eddie stumbled into the parking lot filled with large military like vehicles and helicopters. He spotted El clinging to Joyce, and the woman pulled away to point El towards Eddie. She sobbed and started limping towards him. Eddie met her halfway and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Her body shook with sobs as she cried into his chest, and he couldn't help but think of the day his mother died. It wasn't his father who comforted him but his Uncle Wayne, and he remembered him holding him just like this at Lizzie's funeral. Eddie cupped the back of El's head just like Wayne did for him. Joyce suddenly came up to him.

"Eddie, your uncle is here," Joyce said softly.

Just as she said that, Wayne approached them, looking frantic.

"I was at work, and I had this funny feeling, so I left to check on you. That's when I saw the helicopters heading here. Who the hell did this to you?" Wayne asked.

"That's a long story," Eddie said. "But first. . .El, this is our uncle Wayne. Uncle Wayne, this is my half-sister, El."

"There's no doubt that she is," Wayne said, smiling softly. "Is she okay?"

"Her adopted father, Chief Hopper, he died in the fire trying to get us out," Eddie said.

"You are hurt," El realized, pulling back to look at him. "Hospital."

"No, sweetheart, I think I'm good," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I don't think Nancy or Robin is going to take no for an answer," Steve said, coming up behind him. "The guy up there said not to worry about the hospital bills. Apparently, they've got it covered."

"I go with you," El said firmly.

"Are you sure about that, sweetheart?" Eddie asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Oh, I got my keys back from the Russians," Steve said, dangling the keys with a smile.

"You got your keys back from the what?" Wayne asked.

"Never mind that, Uncle Wayne!" Eddie exclaimed. "Hospital!"

Wayne, El, and Eddie drove off in Wayne's truck while the others rode in Steve's. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Eddie felt a heavy weight fall upon him as he thought about all that occurred. He never thought that life could get worse than before, but boy, he had sure been wrong. As El fell asleep against his shoulder, he thought how odd it was that life could bring both joy and pain into one's life all at the same time. What was going to happen next?

Chapter Ten

[mid0khan]

Dreamling Week 2024, day 1

First time I participate in something like that, I can't wait to show you what I did for each day! Thanks to @mr-sadman for the prompts ^^

Prompt: Indulgence

Title: Just a Weekend

Summary: Dream and Hob had a fight. They will have to talk it through (and Dream can learn that the world won't end if he isn't workign 24/7, as a treat). (1,781 words, no TW)

Read on AO3:

It had all started with a stupid fight.

Look, Hob knew that Morpheus had responsibilities, and pretty important ones. He knew, when they started dating, that they wouldn’t see each other as often as they could if they were both humans. He knew Dream was doing his best, but his duties kept him away from the Waking World more often than not, and Hob couldn’t spend too much time in the Dreaming either (Morpheus had explained something about body modifications and compatibility with the Waking World, Hob didn’t understand everything but he had understood the result of him staying too long in his boyfriend’s kingdom would be Very Bad).

Still, their anniversary was just around the corner and Hob had wanted to make it really special; which is why he had asked Morpheus if maybe he could spend a whole week-end in the Waking World, or at least be there when Hob would be awake. Which Morpheus had interpreted as Hob trying to keep him from his function. Hob had tried to fix the misunderstanding but had quickly grown frustrated with Dream and it had soon escalated to a full-blown screaming match. Morpheus had stormed off in a dramatic cloud of sand, and Hob had spent the rest of the afternoon angrily sweeping his living room so it wouldn’t look like an indoor desert anymore.

It had happened three days ago. Hob’s anger had run its course, and now he only felt disappointed. And a bit worried, since Morpheus hadn’t come back since their fight.

Okay, maybe a lot worried. It all felt a bit too much like 1889 for his comfort.

Which is why he almost cried in relief when Matthew knocked on his window this evening.

Hob rushed to open the window and let the soaking wet raven inside. He barely had time to greet his friend than Matthew was flapping an accusatory wing at him, spraying him in the process.

 “I know it’s none of my business, except I’m the one who had to work in a fucking hurricane because the Boss has spent the last days in a terrible mood so it is in fact my business. What happened?”

Hob sighed. “We had a fight.”

“No shit,” Matthew deadpanned. Hob glared at him. “Sorry sorry. What did you fight about?”

“I asked him to stay a few days in the Waking World for our anniversary. It’s next week. But he took that as me trying to keep him from his work, and he got all defensive, and I grew frustrated, and we ended up screaming at each other…”

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight. Everyone in the Dreaming has been miserable for the last three days and finding a dry place in the realm has become Mission: Impossible because you guys couldn’t talk to each other?” Hob winced apologetically, and the raven let out an indignant caw. “You better fix this Gadling.”

“I can’t fix it alone you know; it takes two to make a couple.”

“I know but I’m not risking to anger a being with cosmical power who’s already in a bad mood.”

“Fair,” Hob sighed. “Listen, I’d like to fix it, I don’t like it when we’re angry at each other, but I can’t do anything if he refuses to see me.”

“That’s it. When you’re asleep tonight I’m dragging you to the castle and you two will talk it through like adults.”

 “What happened to not angering a being of cosmical power?”

“You’ll be the one facing him, not me,” Matthew shrugged.

“You’re such a good friend,” Hob teased.

“Don’t worry, you can’t die,” the raven retorted. Hob rolled his eyes and Matthew stuck his tongue out at him good-naturedly.

When Hob fell asleep this night, he barely had time to register what his dream was about before the raven pulled him into the Dreaming’s throne room. Hob cursed as he was immediately drenched, rain falling from the ceiling in literal waterfalls. Outside, he could hear the wind screaming, rattling the painted windows in their frames.

“I thought you were exaggerating when you said a hurricane!” Hob yelled to be heard against the storm as Matthew dragged him out of the room.

According to the raven, Morpheus had spent the last three days sulking in his quarters. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining in the hallways of the castle, so they manage to travel through the corridors without too much discomfort; it wasn’t dry though, as water was seeping from the walls, pooling on the tiles in puddles that Hob had to avoid carefully lest he ended up with wet feet.

“I’m surprised Mervyn’s crew isn’t fixing the castle,” he commented as they passed waterlogged paintings.

“The whole maintenance force has been mobilised in the library,” Matthew answered. “Water everywhere! I had never seen Lucienne so angry; the Boss is in for an earful when everything’s back to normal.”

When they finally arrived in front of Morpheus’ quarters, Hob’s feet were wet anyway. Matthew left him in front of the black door with a last “good luck” before flying away. Hob took a fortifying breath before entering his boyfriend’s bedroom.

Hob knew the place; him and Dream had spent some (very memorable) nights there together, so he didn’t take time to admire the finely sculpted furniture, the high ceilings, or the sheets so dark they would have made Anish Kapoor cry. He quickly scanned the room, and when he didn’t find Morpheus, he crossed the bedroom toward its balcony.

Just as he had expected, Dream was there, standing in the rain, wearing a robe so thin it was almost see-through, the wet material sticking to his skin.

“Morpheus?” Hob called, and the Endless flinched. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay in the rain like that.”

“I can’t get sick,” Dream answered. Yet he walked back inside the room, which Hob took like a small victory. Every time the immortal saw his beloved in his own realm, he was baffled anew by how otherworldly the Endless looked there. He did too in the Waking World, to some degree, but it was nothing compared to how Dream looked in his home. His body was slimmer, taller, more emaciated and more muscular at the same time, his skin so white it was almost luminous. His eyes, usually an impossible shade of blue, were completely black with swirling nebulas in place of a pupil. He was beautiful. He was always beautiful. Hob loved every aspect of him.

“I missed you,” he said softy. Dream answered with a pout, but a smile creeped on his lips all the same.

“…I missed you too.”

“Can we talk about our fight?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know, but we will have to do it at some point.”

“I know,” Morpheus sighed. He sat on his bed, hugging his legs against his chest nervously. “Let us talk then.”

“Can I sit next to you?” When Dream nodded, Hob climbed on the bed with him. He tentatively took Morpheus’ hand in his own, and when the Endless didn’t push him away, he squeezed it lightly. He knew how hard those discussions always were for Dream.

“Are you angry at me?”

“I was a bit at first. I’m not anymore.” Morpheus let out a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry for screaming at you, love. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I apologize for leaving abruptly. And for the sand. It was spiteful of me.”

“You’re all forgiven. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it again, though. I was worried.”

“I will try my best.” They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Hob softly rubbing circles on Dream’s hand with his thumb. “… There is something else I should apologize for,” the Endless eventually whispered, avoiding Hob’s confused look. “I am entirely responsible for our argument.”

“That’s not true, I could have explained myself better…”

“I understood what you were trying to say perfectly well the first time, I just pretended not to.”

“If you didn’t want to spend the weekend with me you could have simply said so,” Hob said, hoping he didn’t sound too hurt by the idea.

“But I want to!”

“Then why did you-” The immortal realized he had raised his voice, and stopped, forcing himself to take a few calming breaths. “Love, I need you to explain why you did that.”

Morpheus’ form shrunk as he turned away from Hob without letting go of his hand.

“It was… easier to blame you rather than myself.”

Hob softened. Dream had made a lot of progress since they had started dating when it came to talking about his feelings, but he still struggled often. It didn’t help that he had literal eons of issues to unpack.

“What do you blame yourself for?”

“I shouldn’t want to be away for so long. I already left my realm for a whole century-”

“Against your will,” Hob chimed in.

“-and now I want to leave again? Spend two whole days in the Waking World?” Morpheus continued like he hadn’t hear him. “I was made to serve my function. I shouldn’t want to do anything else.”

“Dream, we talked about this. You’re allowed to want things outside of your job.”

“It’s not my job, it’s-”

“I know; that’s not the important part of what I was saying. Let’s try something else: your siblings, do they like things outside of their function?”

“Destiny doesn’t.”

“And he looks absolutely miserable if you ask me. What about Death?”

“… She likes apples?”

“Does it make her bad at what she does?”

“Of course not! She accomplishes her duties admirably,” Dream exclaimed, turning back toward Hob. The immortal took his face in his hands, trying to be the most convincing he could be.

“See? It’s okay to have likes and wants outside of your function.”

“But leaving for two days? What if something happens and I’m not there?”

“I’m sure Lucienne can manage. And Matthew can come fetch you if you’re absolutely needed here.” Morpheus still seemed doubtful. Hob sighed. “It’s okay if you don’t think leaving for to days is a good idea. But I want you to understand that you can let yourself have things sometimes. Constantly depriving yourself is not good for you, and it won’t make you better at your work.”

“It is a habit that will be hard to break.”

“I know. But I’ll be here to help you.”

“… I think I would like to spend the weekend with you. But I will come back to the Dreaming when you will sleep, just to make sure everything is alright.”

Hob smiled. “Sounds perfect love.”

Outside, the sun shone for the first time in three days.

[drunkonaheistinspace]

three almost kisses and the one time nothing could interrupt

originally published: December 3rd, 2023

Pairing: Illinois x gn!Reader

Rating: General Audience

Tags: fluff, friendship, first kiss, slight angst

1

When Illinois proudly announced that the two of you would be attending an auction again, flashbacks from last time hit you like a tsunami. Luckily for you, you were informed of his plans two weeks in advance and not hours in advance like last time, giving you plenty of time to prepare.

The first thing you did was insist that you wear your outfit from last time and he didn't have to buy you a new one. You accidentally found out how much he paid for it, which nearly gave you a heart attack. The only reason you still had it was Illinois's argument that it was a birthday present and you didn't want to be rude. And yes, you even kept the overpriced ring that could possibly be an ancient relic. The second was to find out more information about the auction. This time it was about a deceased collector whose collection is being liquidated so that the family can pay off the mountain of debt that the deceased had left them. It looks like you might even find it this time as the deceased specialized in ancient artifacts and judging by the thumbnails were the kind of artifacts you're after.

The sight of Illinois in a suit was something you could never get used to. It was just wrong. But it gave you the opportunity to tie his bow tie, which in turn gave you an excuse to get close to him. "Let's go over the rules again," you said as you straightened the bow tie. "Why are we going to the auction?" Illinois sighed. "To find potential pieces for my collection." "What don't we do?" "Do not purchase artifacts of unknown and/or questionable origin." "And?" "And don't give my partner any gifts that cost me more than fifty dollars." The fifty dollars was still a compromise. You wanted to go lower than ten bucks, after all he was still your boss and after all he was obligated to pay you and he paid you well above average, which is why you didn't see the point of expensive gifts. But he insisted that there should be at least fifty. He referred to this as a bonus for excellent work performance.

A look out of the window told you that the limousine had already arrived and was now waiting for you. You went to grab your coat, but Illinois grabbed your arm. You looked at him in surprise. “After the auction...would you like to go out for dinner afterward? It doesn't have to be expensive! We can also just make a detour to McDonald's and get something there.” A gentle smile graced your face. Illinois was always so cute when he was shy. This was a side of him that only you got to see. "I'd love to have dinner with you." You stood in absolute silence for a moment, looking at each other before Illinois slowly walked towards you and leaned towards you. You closed your eyes in anticipation but your lips didn't touch. Instead, you were startled by loud impatient horns. "The limo is waiting," you said, heart racing, and grabbed your coat. "Yeah, we should go now," he agreed, running his fingers through his hair.

In the end, the auction was canceled because two idiots broke in and took a large part of the collection. Instead, you spent the night in the parking lot behind a McDonald's watching the stars while sharing a helping of chicken nuggets.

2

You had asked Illinois for a single day at the beach several times in the past. Just to relax. Well, your wish has finally been granted after a long time, but unfortunately not in the way you would like. Yes, you just found yourself on a beach at sunset, but instead of sipping colorful cocktails and enjoying the view, you were stuck on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere with a treasure map that made no sense.

"I give up! The map is useless!" you called to your boss who had climbed up one of the palm trees hoping to get a better view of the island. You, on the other hand, had the map in your hand and tried to make sense of the scribble. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you there," Illinois admitted while clambering down the palm tree. "I'm not even sure if we're on the right island anymore." You sit down on the sand and bury your face in your hands. The adventurer sat next to you and fanned the cool air with his hat. "At least we can enjoy the sunset." With a sigh, you looked up and you had to admit that the sunset here was particularly beautiful. At least there was a nice moment you could share with Illinois. "We should take a vacation and just go somewhere that isn't dangerous," you murmur as you rest your head on his shoulder. Illinois said nothing and just silently took your hand and gently squeezed it.

You just sat there and watched the sunset without saying a word. You couldn't remember who turned around first, but suddenly you were looking at each other and your faces got closer and closer. Your lips were only a few millimeters from touching. You were just a head movement away from what you both longed for. At the same time, a cannonball hit the water just meters in front of you, drenching you both in seawater. You looked up in surprise and saw a ship on the horizon.

"Please tell me that's not who I think it is," you moaned in annoyance and frustration. "Captain Magnum," Illinois confirmed. "Maybe we should flee inland before he actually hits us." As if on cue, you saw another cannonball being fired and you ran into the dense jungle hoping to escape the pirate.

3

You ran through the dark maze-like corridors. You've been running for quite a while and you're not exactly sure where you are right now. Everything looks the same and the fear that you've been going in circles the whole time overcomes you. The worst thing about the whole thing, however, was the fact that you didn't even know who you were running from or where exactly you were going. The day started out so harmless.

It was a beautiful summer day and you and Illinois were “on vacation” so to speak. Maybe vacation wasn't the right word. It was much more of a break between adventures because your plane broke down and your flight was delayed by two days. You were in no hurry and instead chose to take this as a sign that you really needed some time off. This included sitting in cute little cafes, drinking coffee and talking about possible new goals. Buy new work boots. Arguing with Illi about why you don't need a 200 euro jacket. In the end you decided to visit an art exhibition.

The exhibition included several different pieces by well-known local artists. You didn't know any of them, but that didn't stop you from marveling at the countless works. Illinois seemed to feel the same way because he would stand in front of a work for a long time complementing both the composition and the technique and all you could do was listen in silence and marvel at how much this man knew about art.

Then it happened. Illinois was laughing. Everything was good. Everything was wonderful. Then he noticed something in the distance. His laughter stopped. His smile vanished. He looked like he had seen a demon. Then everything happened quickly. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the exit, but something forced him to change direction and you ran deeper into the gallery. You couldn't see who or what was doing this to Illinois, but you were sure of one thing. You've never seen him so scared. Eventually he drags you through a door with a staircase leading down. Once you got to the bottom you saw two hallways and Illinois turned to you with a worried look.

"Listen to me. We have to split up! He's most likely after me and I doubt he'll hurt you as long as you stay away from me!" "But-" you tried to protest, but he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you. "No buts! For once, I want you to listen to me and do what I tell you. This is solely for your good.” He removed his finger and instead took your face in his hands. “We will find each other again. I promise it." You wanted to protest again, but the look in his eyes tells you that he won't accept any complaints. You took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I trust you." He gave you one final affirmative smile before you walked in different directions.

And so you found yourself in the endless dark labyrinth that sucked every hope out of you with every passing second. Your legs hurt from running and you were exhausted, but you couldn't afford a break. Not unless you knew where the adventurer was. Every step you took felt like you were pulling a heavy load behind you, and a tightness that settled in your chest heralded the onset of a panic attack. It was difficult for you to see in the dimly lit hallways and you felt like it was getting darker with every step. How much time has passed since you broke up?

You turned a corner and instead of finding another endless corridor ahead of you, you ran into what you initially thought was a wall. Only the wall was warm, muscular and difficult to breathe. Two strong hands rested on your shoulders, providing the necessary support that kept you from collapsing like a cheap folding chair on a hot summer afternoon. "Thank God! You're fine!" did you hear the living Adonis statue say You were too exhausted to say anything. Instead, the hands moved away from your shoulders and you were pulled into a tight hug. "I know I have some explaining to do, and I'll do it once we get out of here," Illinois still held you tight, afraid someone would pull you away from him. “I promise you that we will then be a month – no, two months! oh you know what Let's take the rest of the year off and just relax!" The support that the adventurer gave you finally let you relax and catch your breath. Over time, your mind became clearer and the hallway you are in became brighter. You take a deep breath. The familiar smell of leather and linen gave you another piece of security. Your limbs were heavy as lead, but you somehow managed to raise your arm and squeeze Illinois' biceps, after which he released you.

You didn't realize your vision was blurry until you tried to look the adventurer in the face. You feel his warm hands on your cheeks and a light pressure on your forehead. You blink a few times and as your vision cleared you noticed his forehead was pressed against yours. His eyes were closed, his sun-tanned skin was glistening with sweat, and you could smell the faint whiff of coffee on his breath. "I promise nothing will happen to you," he whispered more to himself than to you. “You survived until now. You survived longer than anyone else." He opened his eyes. "You mean too much to me to let him take you away." You stared into each other's eyes for a long time. The corridor was long forgotten. All your senses were taken over by him. The warmth radiating from him. The smell of him clouding your mind like a potent drug. His breath on your face. His eyes that looked straight into your soul. It was like a spell that you couldn't break.

Slowly he closed his eyes again and tilted his head. His lips were only a few millimeters from yours. You inhale his breath and close your eyes. This was the moment. But before you could lean forward and fully surrender to the spell, a door next to you was violently thrown open. You both jumped aside in shock and panic. Was the door here all along? "There you are!" exclaimed Wilford. You both looked at him in horror, but neither of you was able to say or do anything. “You two are extremely late for your interview! Well, come on in!" Wilford grabbed you both by the wrist and yanked you through the door.

You didn't talk about what happened in the corridor. Neither of you could.

+1

It's mid-August. The sky was painted yellow and pink from the setting sun. Illinois kept his promise. Since the Gallery incident, you've stayed away from adventures and settled in a small town. He gave you you room to breath by giving you a small house on the outskirts of town. Under normal circumstances you would insist on getting an apartment, but since the incident you just needed some alone time. Time to think. Time to understand your own feelings. His house wasn't far. A few minutes walk. He gave you a key. You were welcome at any time. And yet you haven't seen each other in two months.

Those two months were the first time you could really think. Overthink. Losing yourself in your own mind. You realized three things: 1. The carpet in your living room was exceptionally soft and perfect for staring at the ceiling for hours. 2. You miss the smell of leather and canvas. 3. Illinois' entire existence was like a siren song and you struggled every day to resist it.

You only now realized that you had been under his spell since the first time you met and every time you tried to leave, you somehow found a way back to him. You had lost your heart and it was now part of his collection. The only thing that stopped him from possessing both your body and your soul was a single kiss.

One kiss and there will be no turning back.

A kiss to seal the deal.

A kiss to become his holy grail.

Every time you opened your front door and looked out, you could see his house. So far and yet so close. There was nothing standing in your way except your own pride and sanity. But today you were weak.

You didn't bother putting on shoes. You looked up at the sky and noticed that the colorful play of colors from before was replaced by dark rain clouds. You felt the first drops on your face and closed your eyes. It didn't take long for the light drizzle to turn into a storm. The rain soaked your clothes and your hair was wet and stuck to your face. This was the perfect weather.

Your legs moved of their own accord, carrying you down the street until you stood in front of his house. Lightning and thunder joined the rain and the wind became more ruthless. But you didn't care. Three steps and you were standing at his door. You take three deep breaths. You knock on the door three times.

You heard the footsteps behind the door. Your heart was racing and you felt the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You heard the door unlock and you held your breath. The door swung open and you took the first step. Illinois didn't have time to react as your arms wrapped around his neck and cold lips pressed against his. He stumbled backwards until his back was pressed against a wall. Only when he realized it was you kissing him did he allow himself to close his eyes and return the kiss. Only when he wrapped his arms around you and felt how wet your clothes were did he force himself to break the kiss. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away. You were surprised at his sudden abruptness, but the sight that greeted you made every bit of anger in you fade away. His otherwise perfect hair hung over his face, his cheeks red, his lips swollen and his eyes dark. You wanted to lunge at him once more and steal another kiss, but his grip was iron, keeping you at arm's length.

“What happened?” he asked, struggling to keep you at a safe distance. “Why are you wet?” “I couldn’t take it anymore,” you replied while breathing heavily. "I need to see you, feel you, you..." “And that’s why you walked through the rain?” He looked you up and down again. “And that barefoot?!” You rolled your eyes. “How dare I walk barefoot in the rain! This is worse than the time I had to jump off a cliff into the sea! Or the time I had to fight a mutant killer bunny!” Now it was Illinois who rolled his eyes.

You felt his grip on your shoulders loosen and you took the opportunity to approach him again. He didn't do anything to stop you and so you wrapped your arms around him again and hid your face in his neck. Strong arms wrapped around your wet form, pushing you closer to him. “I want to be more than your partner,” you whisper into his skin. In response, he kissed you on the temple. “Were you thinking about a spring wedding or would you prefer fall?” You gave him a light kick to the leg. “Not so fast, my dear! We haven’t seen each other for two months and we have to make up for that time first.” “Whatever you want, treasure!”

[jinksyweirdo]

Day 7: Personal OW Aus.

OW Aus. Definitely 🤩. I only have like 1-5 Aus -3-". Sooo, summary on each of them ;3;

1 ) AIB X OW

In case some of you don't know AIB; AIB/Alice in Borderland is a live action/anime/manga series that people have to play games for their lives. It's like Squid Game but the only award is Visa (aka, the amount of days that you can live without playing a game.) Each game has a difficulty level and suit based on the card the player is playing.

Heart = Emotional and psychological test.

Spades = Psychical

Diamond = Intelligence and Logic test.

Clubs = Teamwork

In this small au of mine, the group sadly had to go through the games to live on. They survived three games but unfortunately, their moments were short lived when they played a Hearts game. The difficulty level was Nine as they only played the game because Iggy needed more days on his visa. In the game, they were with eight other people and uh it didn't end well. Let's just say that Iggy was the only one who walked out that night along with three other players.

I thought of this crossover AU a while back after rewatching the series that I was planning to make a video based off of but never got the chance to due to a lot of work and stuff. BUT I did draw this cringe ahh sketch angst of it :3

(Did I mention that one of the other players killed Genzou out of greed-)

2 ) Spy! Au

I talked about my thoughts of this personal au of mine, and how I think each character fits into the roles.

The story is mostly about a Loser Rookie agent (Iggy) getting sent out to grab a mysterious package without further information. Unfortunately, it led to Iggy's life being endangered as the package has something that every gang is out to get. How is Genzou involved? Heh.

Uhm. Sooo, due to Genzou being a framed-ex agent turned Mercenary, etc, etc, he was also tasked to get the package by some anonymous user. ;3;

Enough about the lovey doveys!

Orlam and Gidget had made an alliance due to the supplies that both have to offer. Orlam needs the tech as Gidget needs weapons and Intel about certain people.

Now onto Bucks and Hunar. Those two were school sweethearts but since Bucks has become a Hit-woman, Hunar feared the safety of Saydie, which led the two to have a break into their relationship. Obviously, Hunar lets Saydie see Bucks whenever it's safe...but that's rarely.

3 ) Anomaly AU

Honestly, this is like a SPOOKY MONTH 👹 au but mostly after a tragic news about disappearances happening everywhere and theories about a lab accidentally letting loose these creatures that can shape shift into anything or anyone.

One night, due to Iggy hearing noises in his house for two weeks, he had messaged Genzou about it and didn't feel safe. After minutes that flew by and Genzou hadn't answered his message. Fortunately, Iggy would hear Genzou knocking on his front door, calling for him. Or so he thought.

I might try and make a comic strip about this AU in October or maybe a few days from now but other than that, this AU is heavily inspired by Mandela Catalogue, The Winter land, Arcadia and Orlakis (hopefully I wrote that name right 😅).

This AU has been stuck in my head for weeks...🫩

4 ) Cyber AU;

This Cyber au often comes across my mind.

Especially when thinking about Gidgly (imsorry I don't know the ship name for Gidget x Iggy-). We have Gidget, a detective who always does the case alone, especially one case that they kept to themselves after the murder of their lover - Ignatius -.

In this lovely AU, Iggy was a scientist working at a lab organisation called Zeus Corporation (yes, yes, a rich ass name). However due to an 'incident', Iggy had 'died' along with three scientists in it. Gidget driven by grief, would often get out late at night, searching for answers.

Unfortunately, their boss had assigned Gidget to a partner. An android that's a replica of Iggy, sent by an anonymous person. And Yada Yada, still a wip.

5 ) Our Nightmare (OOGA BOOGA)

It's literally just a twisted version of Our Wonderland. Simply, the white rabbit, the deceiver of Children, lures kids in, so that the others can take the children's lives to feed their mother. The end. Yes. Iggy is the White Rabbit in this AU.

Tbh, me and a friend of mine bicker about Iggy being corrupted/evil in this AU. I think that Iggy would be this emotional + psychological manipulative villain, one that uses a child's naivety and innocence to his advantage. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing. But Rabbit skin instead. So. Yeah. .-3-