#pajamas and coffee and writing fic in bed are what's on my schedule ^^

[hirazuki]

Day 2! Lots of fun with Kimblee, a surprising amount of people were really excited to see him XD (it's also kind of funny that the building fire that happened next door occurred while I was wearing him >.>)

Met up with a bunch of homunculi for some photos and then hung out at a bar for more photos food; Envy and Greed had a little worm!Envy with them and it was SO CUTE 😭😭😭

And then went as Zenos to the Final Fantasy concert -- I've been to Distant Worlds several times, but this was my first time going to A New World; it was soooo beautiful. The musicians and the conductor were clearly enjoying themselves so much too, their arrangements were gorgeous and their ending piece was hilarious.

I'm so used to seeing FFVII dominating the cosplay scene at these things, but there were so many FFXIV cosplayers at this one! Everyone looked amazing; Fandaniel nearly leaping over the seats once he spotted me way in the back made my evening 😂

[beeslibrarycorner]

Peter Knows Best

Peter Ballard x Reader

Word count: 911

Warnings: none

Plot: Peter doesn't want you staying up late, it ruins your sleep schedule!

Request: Can you write another insomnia/sleep fic for Peter Ballard, the last one was so good. Make it sweet and fluffy, I want to get a cavity from reading it!

A/N: I was asked to do another sleep fic so i'm doing another sleep fic. I'm going to use the setting from The Invisible Touch where Peter and reader escaped to california and reader works at a bookstore.

You took another sip of coffee from your mug, looking at the long list of book orders that you had to submit by Friday morning. You huffed most of it romance novels for middle aged moms. You glanced at the clock, it was around 10:02; which wasn't too late; you had enough time. You had changed into your pajamas a few hours ago and to your knowledge Peter fell asleep on the couch watching some action movie.

“y/n, what are you still doing up” peter said walking into the office and leaning against the desk. “Hey Peter, I still have to fill these book orders for Friday morning, I'll go to bed in a few minutes.” you said looking up at him and he squinted at you. “We both know that's a lie baby you'll probably be in bed by two the earliest. Also it's Tuesday night, you have so much time.” He huffed crossing his arms, you just ignored him going back to work; shaking your head and smiling.

He startled you when he gasped, “Baby coffee makes you stay awake, it's too late for you to be drinking that.” He grabbed the mug and walked out of the office. “Wait don-” you tried before you heard the sound of your coffee being dumped into the kitchen sink. He came back into the office, “Peter why?” you asked, mourning the loss of your coffee. “Because you need to get to sleep, when you stay up late one night you tend to stay up late for the rest of the week and then you get frustrated that you can't go to sleep at a reasonable time.” he explained watching you patiently.

“I know Peter, I'll be in bed in five minutes, I promise.” You swore and Peter knew you weren't going to budge. “Can you atleast sit on the couch with me before I go to bed?” he asked, setting a plan in motion. You sighed when he put his hand out to grab, you gave him your hand and he dragged you to the couch on the other side of the office. He sat you on his lap sideways, his forehead pressing into the side of your head as his one arm held you in place. Peter cooed at you, ”My sweet girl is trying to fight sleep, why?”, his other hand finger walked across your thigh and you looked down; you didn't respond.

“Sweet girl, you're so stubborn, always working so hard; but you need to relax before you work yourself to death.”. He murmured to you lips pressing a kiss to the skin behind your ear. “You're so dramatic Peter” you giggled watching his hand glide up your stomach up , up, up to your shoulder. You were starting to figure out what Peter was planning, he could feel it; he needed to distract you. “Dramatic, me? No way. I think you're thinking of someone else baby.”. That's when you felt his hand move from your shoulder and that's when you figured it out.

You tried to fight him knowing what he was trying to do, grabbing his other wrist that was moving towards the other side of your head. He was trying to use his powers to get you to fall asleep and you weren't going to let him do that, not while you had those book orders to fill. You whined in protest and he shushed you. “Peter I have to fill in a couple orders, I'll be in bed in a few minutes.”, You said as a last attempt.

“You need this baby dont fight me” he said in reply, he knew he was winning. There was a gentle pressure on your arm that was pulling you away from his wrist, there was a soothing pressure at the back of your neck that relaxed you enough to let go of his wrist. “There you go sweetheart atta girl this is for your own good” he said softly holding you closer. He pressed the heel of his palm to the side of your forehead and you whined trying to squirm. “Don't fuss, you need your 8 hours princess.” he cooed, placing a kiss to the side of your head.

You went limp enough that you wouldn't be able to fight him, putting an arm under your knees and one around your back he cradled you close to him; your head resting on his shoulder. You weren't asleep but your body felt so relaxed you couldn't move. He looked down at you smiling and you blinked up at him. “Let's get my sweet little love to bed.” he said as he carried you out of the office and placed you on the bed. He laid on the other side of you, he was about to raise his hand to the side of your head again ready for you to fall asleep fully this time.

“Peter no.” you slurred your speech, your body too relaxed to fight him. He only grinned, “Peter yes.” he murmured, kissing the side of your head and pressing his palm one last time to your forehead. You fell asleep seconds later and Peter smiled. He walked to the office, turned the light off and then got ready for bed, when he was done he turned the bedside table lamp off. Peter pulled you close to him so he could cradle your head against his chest and closed his eyes for the night.

[harryhandstan]

This is my contribution to @meetmeinfleetwood​‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I chose the trope roommates to lovers and the prompt “I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.” This was fun to write thank you for allowing me to participate!

Thank you to my beta readers @tbslenthusiast​, @witch-harry​, and @sunflowers-styles​! Y’all are the best!!

no warnings that I can think of other than alcohol tw // bc of the wine they share!

word count: 2.3k

writing tag | masterlist

It’s 5:45 p.m. when you finally leave work for the day. You should’ve just said to hell with it and went home at 5:30 like you were supposed to, but you were nice enough not to. Too nice you’d been told in the past, but it’s a flaw you’re willing to accept if it gets you a promotion to the position you ultimately dreamed of working when you started there 3 years ago.

After a quick stop to grab a bottle of wine (or two), your car can’t get you home fast enough. It’s Friday and you’re looking forward to spending time doing absolutely nothing for the next two days but curling up in a blanket and watching Christmas movies in the apartment you will essentially be alone in. Your roommate Harry shared the space with you, but kept to himself for the most part. Aside from dinners and movie nights on rare occasions when your schedule lined up, allowing you to spend the evening together.

As if your thoughts summoned him, your phone dinged, indicating a new message. Your eyes dart down to where it sits in the passenger seat, careful to keep your eyes on the car in front of you, waiting patiently for the light to turn red so you can grab your phone to respond.

It’s one simple word, “Home?” so you know he’s either still working or on his own drive home. 

Your reply is just as direct, “Not yet. On my way! Movie night?” 

The light’s green again so you tuck your phone back into your purse, ignoring the next ding until you arrive home. You’re through the door of your apartment and down the hall before you read his message, “Sure. Chinese or pizza?” 

“Chinese! I’ll pick the movie and you pay for dinner?”

“That doesn’t sound fair :(”

“Alright fine, you get home before I’m out of the shower and in my pajamas you can pick the movie..deal?”

“Deal!”

The race is on then, both of you competitive and determined to win. You have a movie in mind that you’ve been dying to watch all day and you don’t want to have to rock-paper-scissors to break the tie like you usually do when the two of you don’t agree on who wins  these little games. 

You’d already shed most of your layers of clothing easily as you moved through the apartment; your boots kicked off by the door, jacket gone and thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, cardigan pulled from your body and tossed on the bed by the time you made it to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long to strip the rest away and to gather a set of pajamas from your well organized drawer before darting across the hall to the shared bathroom.

You know you have at minimum 45 minutes to be done, an hour if he goes to the better Chinese place a little further across town, which he most likely would. You’d been dreaming of ending your week with a bubble bath, but you don’t take the chance now, just hop under the hot spray of the shower, hoping it will have the same relaxing effect. Your eyes are closed as you tilt your head back to wet your hair while one hand fumbles over the bottles to find your shampoo. 

Eyes still closed, you tip the bottle to add a bit to your hand, but you freeze when you open your eyes temporarily to close the bottle and put it back on the shelf. It’s Harry’s shampoo you’ve grabbed instead and for a moment you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how many times you’ve teased him about how expensive his products are. But he would never let you hear the end of it if he came home and you smelled like him. Ultimately you would’ve felt too guilty to waste it, so you work it through and hope he never finds out. Pray that the act washes away just like the suds do when you rinse them from your hair. 

By your hopeful calculations, you still have about 10 minutes left before he arrives by the time you're done in the shower. You decide to give him a fair advantage, venturing into the kitchen to decide which bottle of wine would pair best with dinner. When you make your selection, you pour yourself a glass, settling into a comfy spot on the couch. The black remote taunts you from the small wooden coffee, and you grab it. No harm in getting the movie ready while you wait, right?

You’re 2 glasses deep and 20 minutes into the movie when he arrives, a smirk on his face at the sight of you. Your eyes go wide when you see him. You’re not sure why, there had been many nights he’d found you in the same position, but tonight feels different. You gulp down the sip of wine, too tipsy and unaware that you’re staring. Had his dimples always been that prominent when he smiled? Even without your glasses you could spot that grin that stretched a mile wide across his face.

“Haroldddd..you’re home!”

He hated that nickname, had always despised when other people called him that, but falling from your lips it sounds like a prayer and he would gladly change his name to that if he thought it would make you the least bit happy.

“S’pose I lost, huh? Got the food pretty quickly but stopped to get this,” He holds up a bottle of wine, ironically the very same kind that you’re drinking now, “Shoulda known y’would already have some!”

“Oh good, you got some for yourself..this one’s almost empty..”

“M’not that late, am I?” He chuckles as he makes his way to the counter, looking between you and the bottle.

“Hey..it’s a small bottle! This is only my third glass and I’ve barely even touched it.”

“Rough day?” He’s pulling plates down now and retrieving a glass for himself from the cabinet.

“Rough week. Rough few weeks, really.” You take a few more sips as you watch him prepare a plate of food. You figure he’s just making his own, and you wait patiently for him to finish so you won’t be in the way. But when he makes his way around the counter, he’s holding two plates in his hand and wow you want to jump from your spot and kiss him. You restrain yourself, as hard as it may be, and try to focus on the question he’s asking you.

He holds the plates towards the table and then towards where you sit on the couch, silently wanting to know where you’d prefer to enjoy your meal. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to move closer, knowing how much effort it would take to lift yourself from your warm, comfy spot to go eat at the table.

“Emily still on vacation?” 

“Yes! And she expects us to do double the work while she’s gone! It’s her 3rd vacation this year. I know she’s the boss but..”

“Doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch to you.” He finishes your sentence for you, brow furrowed, upset at even the idea of someone mistreating you in the slightest. 

“Right! Thank you!” 

You hold your hand out to accept the plate he’s made for you, “Got our usual, hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I was just joking earlier about you paying for all of it. I’ll pay you back for my half.”

He’s already shaking his head no, stuffing a bite of food in his mouth, “It was my turn anyway, r‘member? You paid for those tacos we had last week.”

“Right, I did. Forgot about that.”

You watch him devour a few more bites, your eyes darting from your plate to his, “Yours looks better.”

“Huh?”

Maybe it’s the wine making you more bold, you’d normally never complain, “Your plate it just..looks better than mine. Switch with me.”

“It’s literally the same thing..and I’ve already eaten half the noodles off mine.” He looks mildly annoyed at even the suggestion.

“Don’t care..it looks better. Switch.” You realized just how bratty you sound, so you add a quick, “Please?”

He huffs dramatically, switching the plates and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Happy?”

You return his smile, blissfully unaware of his annoyance in your tipsy state, “Very, thank you.”

You both turn your attention to the tv you realize now you had forgotten to pause, so the movie had progressed further, about 30 minutes in now.

His irritation has already faded when he asks, “What are y’making me watch?”

You start to explain the plot but stop mid-bite of your food, “Wait..have you never seen this movie?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t look familiar.”

“Oh we’re definitely starting it over then!” 

“No, ya don’t hafta..”

It’s too late, you’ve already discarded your now mostly empty plate of food, nearly knocking your glass of wine over in your excitement of making him watch one of your favorite movies.

Almost an hour in, you don’t notice that Harry’s eyes have drifted to you. In fact, they’d mostly stayed on you since you’d restarted the movie. Your facial expressions were better to him than any movie; the way your eyes softened at the more heartwarming parts, or when your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ and gasped at parts he was certain you had probably seen at least a dozen times before.

You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically and he doesn’t even flinch, just listens intently when you say, “I love this part..this is the moment.”

His eyes temporarily flash back to the tv then, “The moment?”

“Yeah, you know, the moment. Where the guy looks at the girl and realizes he’s in love.” You sigh deeply, “I always wanted someone to look at me like that.”

Oh, you mean like what’s happening now between us? God he hopes for just a glance from you, a chance to show you that you’re living your own moment now if you’d just look at him. 

It’s tumbling out of his mouth quicker than he can stop it, his mouth working faster than his brain, but it’s a low enough whisper he thinks maybe you won’t hear.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.”

You do hear him, though you don’t believe it at first. Your hand is still resting over your heart, searching his face for any sign of teasing or dishonesty.

“H..did you just..?”

He’s looking down at his hands, fingers fiddling with one of the rings adorning his fingers, nodding before replying, “I did.” 

“How long?”

“Um..since the first week we’ve lived together? That first night we made dinner together and it was a disaster. Thought you were gonna catch the place on fire.” A giggle escapes him at the memory of you, rushing around the kitchen that night, face flushed red and hair a mess.

“That’s my moment? Almost burning our apartment down?”

“That and now, yeah. Just been strugglin’ with the best way to tell you. S’pose the wine’s making me a lil’ more fearless,'' He takes a deep breath, still not able to look at you in case he finds even a hint of rejection on your face, “But I understand if you don’t feel the same..”

“I do.”

His head snaps to look at you then, eyes widening for a second before he composes himself, “Really?”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms across your face at the sight of the thrill in his eyes. There’s a new buzz of elation in the air, but neither of you make a move at first. A pleasant tension fills the space between the two of you.

You break the silence, “So..what do we do now?”

“S’all up to you how fast and how far we take this. M’all in though, ready when you are, love. A cuddle might be nice while we finish the movie, if you’re up f’that.”

“I think I could handle that. I want something else first though.”

He’s trying to read your mind, thinks he knows exactly what it is, but he wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear the words he’s been waiting to hear for what feels like a lifetime now.

“Kiss me, Harry.”

You’ve already turned your body towards him; the movie, the food and the wine all long forgotten. He clears the space between the two of you easily, a hand on the side of your neck to add just enough pressure to pull you towards him.

Your lips crash against his, noses bumping at first but it doesn’t stop you, it only makes you crave him deeper and closer. You press your knees into his thighs, pushing yourself up so that you hover over him, your hair falling around his face. It’s still slightly damp from the shower, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your head now. 

There’s a smug look on his face when he pulls away, a hand still placed on your hip to hold you steady. He’s still breathless when he asks, “Did you use my shampoo?”

When you wake up in his bed the next morning, you question if last night was a mistake. You don’t regret it, not for a second, just wonder if maybe things will be different in the morning light. 

So when you barely touch the plate of eggs and toast he’s made for you for breakfast, he worries you’re having second thoughts about him, that he’s ruined any friendship you’ve already built by rushing into a relationship. 

So when you say, “Did you really mean what you said last night..about loving me?” He visibly relaxes, dropping his shoulders and beaming at you from across his own breakfast plate.

“Oh, darlin’,” He plucks a piece of uneaten toast from your plate, winking at you as he does, “You don’t know the half of it.” 

[aliypop]

Snowball Fight (OC X Frank)

Wordcount: 1,659

Warning: Fluff!

A/N: I know that in NYC it’s beyond snowing so I wanted to write a fic about Yonah and Frank and a snow day inspired by the Fic Balance by @jackie5656 Also prepare to hear more about Felix and Carina!  as you all know Addie Nox and Noa belong to @herosneednotapply

"Mmm... Five more minutes ..." Yonah rolled over, her hand looking for her phone, pushing it off the nightstand. The overt buzzing of her alarm still ringing out the time,

 7:20 am It's time to get up~

7:20 am It's time to get up~

7:20 am It's time to get up~

 7:20 am 

"Shit!" Yonah popped up from her pillow much like Frankenstein's monster, her hair a mess even if she did have her bonnet on. "What..." Frank stirred, pulling his wife closer to keep him warm, "The kids, Fran, they're late for school and, I'm gonna be late for work and..." like bloodwork, there were the sounds of feet making their way to their bedroom. " Your kids are awake." Yonah began to move from under the cover, "Before sunrise, they're your kids." Frank winked,

"I was here first!" 

"No, I was!" 

"No, you weren't!" 

"Was too!"

"Was not!" 

Yonah rubbed her temples, "The Lord grants me little white hairs, but still no patience." she chuckled as Frank smiled back at her, "Aye, you had two kids..." she then turned to face him, her hand on the doorknob, "Yeah but who asked for em." she winked, as the door open there stood Carina and Felix, their pride and joys, still in "Why are they in Pajama's?" she mouth as both kids went to lounge in bed with Frank, 

"Daddy, can we play in the snow?" Carina asked, one front tooth missing. Carina was the baby out of the pair and the daddy's girl. "Did ya ask Mommy?" he whispered. It had just registered. It was a snow day, the thing both Frank and Yonah had been hoping for, for quite some time to spend a day as a family with no ones busy schedules or court dates or, 

"Mommy, can we play in the snow?"  Carina asked, 

"Yeah, can we?" Felix asked, Felix the eldest and the drama queen he took after Yonah in many ways but was already an oblivious flirt like Frank at the tender age of twelve. 

"Yes, but! after breakfast, daddies making pancakes."

"With blueberries right..." Carina glanced at her father.

"If that's what my princess wants, that's what she gets." he kissed her forehead, "Now shoo both of you." he grinned. Frank had loved being a father again, but he loved being a husband. "Someone still owes me a good morning kiss..." he winked, 

"Then come get it..." Yonah teased, sitting in his lap. Frank leaned as Yonah pulled away, "Gotta be quicker than that, Mr. Castle..." she whispered, strong arms wrapped around her waist as his soft lips were on hers, "Was that quick enough for ya, Mrs. Castle.." 

"I don't know. I couldn't tell..." Yonah pulled him in for another, "That'll do for now." she mused, standing up to get dressed, Frank giving her a quick smack on the butt, "We have two hungry little Castiglione's waiting on pancakes." she sang, her ever so contagious smile on her face. 

"It'll be quick..." he winked, oh that wink seductive yet effective like a pokemon attack, "Do you want three children cause that's how you get three children." 

"I mean..." 

"Francis!" she squeaked. 

Breakfast in the Castle house was often hectic, but today it was different Felix and Carina weren't arguing over who got the last pancake. Frank had finally remembered to take the old coffee K-cup out of the Keurig, and Yonah could finally enjoy a cup of tea out of her authentic collectors Batman cup, gifted to her father, Bruce. "Daddy, i'm infactustated with someone!" both Yonah and Frank spitting out their drinks in laughter at their daughter. For a six-year-old, she had quite the vocabulary. "The words infatuated." Felix sighed. Although he was 12, Felix was quite the little Einstein with his nose stuck in a script or a book, sometimes both. " That's what I said... infactustated... " she mumbled, 

"Who's the lucky kid." 

"More like unlucky if they share juice boxes..." 

"Frank..." Yonah mumbled, 

"Go on, sweetheart."  Frank nodded, sipping his black coffee, "Well, it's Nox, he's pretty, and we play laweres at school." she giggled, "You mean the Murdock boy..." Frank asked as she nodded, 

"The one who picks his nose..." 

"He does not!" she glared at her brother. 

"Well, I think he's a good pick for when you're twenty." Frank winked as Carina nodded, "I think so t-" she stopped talking, watching the snowfall. Carina was mesmerized by the smallest of things, just like her mother, who could find good in the smallest of things.

"First ones dressed gets to be on team snowisher!" Frank smirked, 

"Oh, so it's like that..." Yonah grinned at her husband. 

"Like what, sweetheart." he began to play innocent, a hard act for Frank. "I'll just assemble my team." she pulled out her phone,

"You wouldn't..." 

Standing out in the snow were Ezra and Billy, their two kids, Athena and Antonio, along with Noa and Nox, who had been dressed in every snowsuit and coat ever made. While Matt had on his "Not Daredevil"  sweater standing alongside his wife Addie draped in fur. "Sorry, we're late, guys!" Foggy smiled, holding his son Ashton by the hand, "Had to pick this little guy up from Marci's!" 

"Where's Carlos?"Addie commented, 

"Couldn't make it. Claire needed his help with a generator. " 

"So, what are we waiting for?" Ezra asked. 

"Team placement..." Curtis said, walking up the snowy driveway, "Shit... There better be hot chocolate or something after all this cause my ass is freezing..." he chuckled, 

"Uncle Curtis!" Athena ran over,

"Hey, sweetheart!"  

"This means war!" Yonah grinned, "WAR!" thick black leggings, a puffer jacket, three shirts, and a sweatshirt had ran out into the garage. "Mmhmm, you keep talking trash, but me an the kids were gonna win," he smirked, tact boots on. He was serious, "I'm gonna win!"  Yonah grinned, 

"You and what army, sweetheart." 

"This one..." she opened the garage door, 

"Half of them are of my friends..." Frank whispered,

"Oh, I know." she smirked as she heard the sounds of, "UNCLE DICK AND JASON ARE HERE TOO!" Felix gasped, 

"We brought Wayne tech snow blasters for everyone. "

"No, you bought them... I stole the rest." Jason smirked, 

"Alright, on team snowisher, we have Curt, Billy, Ashton, Foggy,  Nox,  Jason, and Carina?" Yonah gasped, pretending to be hurt by both her brother and daughter on Franks team, "And on team Snowvengers, Matt, Felix, Dick, Ezra, Noa, Antonio, and Addie." she smirked, each team having their snow blasters, "

Alright, break for the war room!" Frank smirked. "Alright, we only have 0.08 minutes to scheme, so think-" 

"What's 0.08 minutes?" Carina asked,

" 5 minutes in military time, sweetie. " 

"oh, okay, thanks, uncle Billy." she nodded. The adults had their plans, but so did the kids,  

"Why do we have on war paint!" Foggy asked worriedly he'd pick the wrong team, "Don't worry, just-"  

PLOP!

"Man down..." He chuckled, already face first in the snow. The Snowvengers were good, but they weren't a match for team Snowisher. "Shoot!!!" Carina grinned, leading Nox and Ashton through the hurdles of lumpy snow. "Ready..."

"Aim..." 

"AW SHOOT!" Jason was down. And soon, so was Curtis, laughter filling the air of their backyard. Billy had shot Addie, and Addie had accidentally shot Matt. Ashton surrendered to make a snow angel. All that was left was Billy, Carina, and Frank. While on the other team, It was only Yonah.

 Her team of many gone, 

"Surrender..." Frank asked, 

"Neva..." she grinned, 

"I have no other offer than to use..." Frank pulled Carina in front of him, "You wouldn't ..." Yonah laughed, 

"Oh, I would..." he smirked as Carina chuckled, "Surrender, or nobody gets pushed into the snow..."

"Mhmm... I don't think so." she shot a snowball at Billy, watching as he fell over, "That's freaking cold, Yon!" he shouted, stuffed in the snow. "Wars cold Russo!" she replied, her focus still on Frank,

 "Now either give me the kids or get shot ..."

"I don't think so..." Frank pulled the trigger as the button on the toy got stuck. "Performance issues gets us all eventually." Curtis shook his head."This stupid fuc-" Carina looked up at him, "freaking toy got stuck is all..."  

"Looks like the Marine didn't check his gun..." Addie commented, "It's those crayons and beans." she added as Frank began to get frustrated. He wanted to win, and he wanted it badly. As the trigger loosened, he could feel something cold hit his sweater, "Ooops..." Yonah chuckled, "My finger slipped..." 

"Alright, who wants marshmallows!" Frank asked, pouring them into the cups of Athena, Nox, Ashton, and Carina, the slightly older kids pretending that they were too cool for Marshmallows mostly because they were trying to impress Noa, who had marshmallows whipped cream, and batman sprinkles. 

"Frankie, this is some great hot chocolate," Curtis remarked,

"I'll be sure to thank the chocolatier." he winked at Yonah, pouring cups for Matt, Foggy, and her two brothers. Ezra bopped the whipped cream on Billy's nose. There was a warmth radiating in their home. If you asked Frank, it was because of the Christmas lights still hanging in their upstate New York home, but if you asked Yonah, it was the sleeping children sprawled out on the floor from their sugar highs. 

"Aye, Red, can I talk to ya..." Frank nodded, 

"I guess..."

"Ya, what is it..." Matt asked Ashton Nox and Carina under her Mickey Mouse blanket. "You keep your son of yours away from my Carina Maria Castiligone..." he slightly threatened, "I'll be sure to tell him." he laughed, snow still in his hair, "Good." 

"When he's 16." Matt teased. 

" Frankie, my amore, my honey bun... are you harassing Matt again." hands on her hips, "I would never." he kissed her lips, "Are they kissing again..." Matt asked as Addie came to Matt's rescue, "They're kissing it's the only time he's quiet.." he sassed, 

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt. 1]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Summary:  Struggling with the death of your husband, you find comfort in someone unexpected.

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death 

A/N:  It’s a military AU with the loss of a spouse. This was the only WIP of mine I was really upset to discontinue. Which is why it’s the only one I left up. After some love from my @moonbeambucky​,​ I’m posting the first chapter and we will see how it goes. No, I do not have a posting schedule nor do I know when the next part will be up. No Bucky yet but the next chapter is nothing but Bucky.  It’s still very heavy in the angst but hang tight. It gets better once Bucky comes home. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s breath warmed your skin, making you shiver. “It’s time to wake up, my sweetheart.” 

You pulled the cover over your head, hiding the grin on your face and blocking out the sun along with your husband. Steve’s chuckle made your smile widen enough to make your cheeks hurt. There was a gentle tug to the blanket, and you knew Steve was attempting to tenderly coax you out of bed. You slowly lowered the quilt down to your nose, only letting your eyes peek out, and you find your husband’s gorgeous smile beaming down at you, making your heart flutters from the sight. 

“It’s Saturday, Steven.” 

“Steven?” Steve chuckled and tried to pull the covers off your face yet again. “I’m in that much trouble?” 

You narrowed your eyes and tightened your grip on your blanket. 

“Yes, Steven, you are.” 

Steve settled himself on top of you, leaving the blanket wedged between you, but he pulled it down far enough to see your whole face. He placed a kiss to the tip of your crinkled up nose and smiled at the exaggerated pout you put on. 

“We have brunch with everyone, or did you forget that it was your idea?” 

“I did forget,” You whined quietly. “You know better than to let me plan things when I’m excited, and I’ve had more than two glasses of wine.” 

He only grinned wider at that. Didn’t say a word, and you started to fidget from your own self-consciousness. You hated and loved it when he looked at you like that. It made you fear the day he would stop. Eight years in, and it was still there despite fights over how to load the dishwasher, silly tiffs about money and arguments over what way the toilet paper goes on the holder. 

“What are you going to do when our kids come running in here to wake you up? Are you going to send our sweet babies away?” 

He just had to go there. Steve just had to go and mention sweet moments of babies and cuddles -- Your weakness.  

You relented and finally wrapped your arms around his neck, dipping your fingers into his longer than usual hair. He would have to cut it soon.  Couldn’t be a soldier and have hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. You liked when he let it get long, though. It made him your Steve again. Which sounded ridiculous. He didn’t have long hair and beard when you met, or the night he kissed you for the first time, but it didn’t matter how silly it was. This version was your Steve, and the short-haired, clean-shaven one belonged to the Army. 

“Well, if they are running up here to wake me up because their daddy made me breakfast, I could be convinced to get out bed for some kisses and cuddles.” 

Steve’s sweet laugh made your skin prickle. You wondered if he would let you record it before he left this time or if that was going too far. Probably not. Steve would do just about anything you asked of him, so you couldn’t imagine he would ever tell you no for something that would put your heart at ease while he was gone. 

“Maybe we skip brunch and get started on those babies, hm?” 

You grinned. 

Steve always knew exactly what to say.

“God, I love you, Rogers.” 

Steve’s right hand slipped under the sheet and under the white cotton shirt of his that you were currently using as a pajama, his fingers dug into your ribs making you squirm, and he dipped his head down, barely brushing over your parted lips, he whispered, “And, I love you, baby.” 

Your eyes opened, and you weren’t met with the sight of your husband. It was the same ugly white ceiling you’ve stared at for the past month, the past thirteen months, really.  It’s been a month since everything was finalized. By someone’s good fortune that was not your own, Steve had insisted you buy your house off base so at least you could keep the home you built together. It hadn’t made this last month any easier. Thirty-six days since you got the news and thirty days since you laid Steve to rest. You were supposed to be improving, or so the books and all your friends and family said. You didn’t know how anyone expected you to get better. You could barely put one foot in front of the other, let alone think about moving on with what little bit of a life you had left. 

The sun was hitting the full-length mirror hanging on the far wall at the perfect angle, and you knew it was nearly seven, judging by the position of the glare coming off the glass. You could spend the rest of the day in bed, and you would have every right to. No one would let you get away with wallowing today you had a feeling. Besides, you had to stop by Sarah’s and make sure she was okay. It has been far too long since you checked in on her, and that wasn’t fair to her. She was grieving just as much as you were. So, you forced yourself out of bed, stood on shaky legs, and made the short, dreadfully long walk to your closet.

The red flannel you pulled out of black felt-lined hanger still smelled like Steve. All of his things did, and his scent hung heavy in your room. You pulled it on over your tank top and brought the collar up to your nose, taking in a deep breath. That earthy citrus smell still made your knees a little weak. Eventually, you were going to have to wash his things. You glanced at your bed, the pile of crumpled sheets you would typically insist on making before your day started. What was the point in making them now? No one would see them but you. No one would know if you made your bed or left it a wreck for days on end. 

You should wash them, a voice in your head nagged. 

No, you shouldn’t. 

His pillow is still his pillow, so long as you don’t wash it. Maybe next month. You haven’t been sleeping much as it is, and when you do, you usually fall asleep on the couch so the sheets could stand to go a while longer.

The house was eerily quiet in the mornings. Steve was always the first one up and the last one down. The quiet made those times harder. It was the heavy reminder he was gone, and the weight of that on your chest left you unable to rest. Landing at the bottom of the stairs, you found Sam still fast asleep on the couch with no signs of waking any time soon. He had shown up last night claiming he needed to see you, but you knew Sam was there to check up on you. It had nothing to do with his own grief. Sam became your shadow the moment the funeral ended, and part of you wished he would just go away. 

You wanted everyone to go away and let you grieve in the only way you knew how. 

The coffee pot was empty, and it glared at you the moment you entered the kitchen. As it has been for the last year. Another reminder that Steve was gone and never coming back. When he was home, Steve would set the timer before his run, so by the time you woke up and made your way downstairs, there was always a fresh pot waiting for you. You’ve been making your own coffee since he deployed, and not one morning had it come out right. 

You should have known then something was wrong. 

A large, calloused hand slipped around your waist from behind, and gentle kisses landed on your neck. He shouldn’t be here, and yet, he was. He was late for PT and was surely going to get yelled at the second he arrived. Steve didn’t seem bothered by the thought, or maybe kissing you was really worth it like he claimed.

“I believe you're wearing my favorite shirt,” Steve’s voice rumbled against your skin, and you tried to suppress the shudder it sent through you. 

“What’s yours is mine, Husband.” 

Steve chuckled. 

“How many cups of coffee does that make for you, Wife?” 

“Two,” You said with shaky confidence and a scrunched nose that said you weren’t being entirely truthful.

Steve nuzzled his nose along your jaw, and he roughly whispered in your ear, “Liar. Wanna try that again?” 

“Fine,” you conceded with an eye roll. “This is cup three, but I’m not having any more for the day because you’re here stealing the rest.” Steve smiled fondly and took his travel mug from its spot next to yours. 

“No more until you have some water. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” Steve cupped your jaw with his free hand and tilted your head back to rest on his shoulder. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips and one to your nose. 

“I’ll see you tonight beautiful.” 

“Y/n… Hey…”

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise, baby. When do I ever break my promises to you?” 

“Hey, Y/n.” Sam tried again, more forceful his time. “Are you okay?”

You blinked, finding Sam standing in front of you with a look of concern drawing his brows together. You looked down at the counter where two cups were resting, full of black steaming coffee. You had only meant to pour one cup. Or had you? Sam realized the mistake before you did. The cup was for Steve. He quickly leaned forward and slid the mug towards him. 

"Mind if I get a cup? Didn't sleep great last night." 

A breath of relief.

You nodded and slipped the carafe back where it rested, avoiding Sam’s watchful eyes. 

"...How are you sleeping?" 

"Fine." 

Sam raised a brow. 

"Decent." You reluctantly confessed. "Enough that I can make it through the day."

"And what are you doing... to make it through the day? Have you tried to play?" 

Your eyes shifted to the piano that sat in the den, and you quickly looked away. There was no point in beating around the bush with that one. Someone was coming to look at it at the end of the week, and you were hopeful by the weekend to have it sold. There were some things that you wouldn’t be able to pick back up again, and falling in love and playing the piano was on the top of the list.  There was no reason to pretend. 

"No. I don't--" You shook your head. "It's as if my fingers can't remember the keys. I don't know. Nothing feels right anymore." 

That was normal. Everything you were feeling was perfectly normal, and Sam wanted to tell you that. You knew he did, but he didn’t, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. This was hard enough without feeling like your closest friend was counseling you. 

“It’s not fair.” 

“No, it’s not--” 

“I haven’t washed his pillowcase yet.” You blurted without thinking. “I, uh, I’m scared if I do it will lose his scent, and it won’t be his anymore. Which is stupid. He hasn’t slept on it in over a year. I could easily spray more cologne on the cover like I have been since he left, and it would be the same. It feels different now. Final. Am I going crazy? Because it feels like I am losing it, Sam.” 

“That’s all normal. You’re grieving. It’s normal to not be rational--”

No. That was not what you wanted. 

“I don’t want therapy Sam right now,” You snapped. “I want Sam. My Sam.” 

Sam leaned back against the backing of the barstool and stared at you. Your gaze didn’t waver. You picked at your nails, and your bottom lip was trembling, but you held your gaze steady. Sam knew when to push and when not to. Right now, you were right. You didn’t need him to baby you, to walk on eggshells, and repeat well-rehearsed phrases meant to aid in your recovery like everyone else was doing. You just needed him to listen and tell you your life wasn’t over.” 

“Okay.” 

Sam reached across the counter and cupped a large hand over yours. There weren’t many people you would let see like this, or at all. Since the funeral, you haven’t been getting out much. You were sure Wanda called Sam and tattled on you after your meltdown in the market yesterday. It wasn’t a big deal. Yes, you cried over an apple pie. It was not the first time someone has gotten upset over baked goods. It happened every day, you were sure of that, and no one made a fuss until it happened to a widow. 

Widow. You really hated that word. It was a stupid word, and you refused to use it. However, the incident in the market didn’t help the way people were looking at you, widow, or not. You had thought things would be slightly easier once you talked to Bucky. He’s always had a way of calming you and putting your restless soul at ease. You waited on a call from Bucky, but none came. He hasn’t even sent a letter. That might have been part of the reason for pie-gate 2020. 

At first, you were angry. He was ignoring you? After everything? You lost your husband, the man’s best friend, and Bucky couldn’t be bothered to pick up the damn phone and make sure you were okay? But you realized he was grieving, too. It was different from yours, but it didn’t make it any less real, and he had a right to do it in his own way. Besides, Bucky probably didn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t if it was you because there was nothing anyone could say or do to make this okay. That was when your anger turned to tears, and that moment just happened to be in the bakery, in front of twenty or so people. 

It wasn’t like there was some guidebook on how you should grieve and move on with your life. You wished there was, but there wasn’t a ‘right way’ to navigate this. You had to take one day at a time and handle each moment as it came along. 

“I’ve loved him for most of my life am I supposed to just stop now?”

“No one expects you to stop loving Steve.”  

“It feels that way sometimes,” You mumbled weakly. 

Sam gave your hand a gentle squeeze, but he didn’t say anything else. You needed to sort through what you were feeling on your own, so he was letting you decide what you needed; from him and yourself.  When you finally looked back up, he could tell by the murky waters in your eyes, you were still just as lost as the day Steve left you. Only now, there were expectations for improvement and time limits on how long you were allowed to stay floating in the dark. Even though it had only been thirty-six days, eight hours, and forty-three minutes, everyone was tired. Your friends and family wanted to move on. After all, they didn’t lose their other half. They were tired of being sad, and you were tired of pretending it was okay. 

“How am I supposed to move on without him, and what? Just start over?”

Sam gave you a small smile and tightened his grip on your hand. “I don’t know, but we are all here to help you figure it out.” 

“Not everyone is here,” you grumbled petulantly. 

Bucky didn’t have a choice, but he did. He could have been the one to come home, and while you were not upset with him for sending Sam in his stay, it still hurt. The three of you had been close, and once upon a time, you were closer to Bucky than you were Steve. He was the first person to talk to you when you moved to town, and if it wasn't for Bucky, you never would have met Steve. 

“He will be home at the end of the month and from what he said last night. I think he’s hoping it would be okay for him to stay here.” 

On the one hand, you were relieved to know Bucky was coming home. You needed to see him, to hear his voice tell you that Steve would want you to move on and be happy. On the other, Bucky hadn’t called you. He called Sam instead. That stung. 

“Why?” You slowly pulled your hand back and crossed your arms over your chest, shielding yourself from Bucky’s reasoning and maybe a little bit from Sam, too. “Why does he want to stay here?”

“Well, he didn’t re-enlist, so I think he’s trying to figure out what his next step is and what he’s going to do with the rest of his life and… I think he wants to be close to Steve and maybe to keep an eye on you. You could help each other, you know?”

“Right,” you snorted. 

As if anyone could help you, let alone the friend that left you in the lurch when you needed him most. You didn’t know what Sam was putting in his morning coffee, but Bucky didn’t want to help you do anything. He has made that very clear from the moment Steve died.  

“I doubt he wants to be here with me, and what exactly are we going to help each other do?” 

Sam sighed and shook his head, “Grieve, Y/n. Grieve and move forward.” 

That would be easier said than done.

Previous // Next 

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Four: Supper

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,748

MASTERLIST

~

A sudden loud beep had you shooting upright in bed. You leapt up and put your ear to the door. Rather than sinister noises, you heard the faint humming of a very familiar theme song.

You cracked open the bedroom door, peeking into the kitchen where Spencer was bustling around with a frying pan and a spatula with a focused expression on his face, humming the theme music to Doctor Who under his breath.

It was actually kind of adorable. You pushed open the bedroom door further to get a better look, but the door creaked and Spencer spun around, withdrawing his gun and pointing it square in your face.

“I’m sorry!” you squealed, throwing your hands up in surrender.

He quickly holstered his gun and ran over to you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” you tried to laugh. “A little shaken but I’m okay. Really!” you added after a doubtful look from him.

His eyes were a deep hazel that seemed to peer into your soul. His hands felt good on your shoulders, clutching you tightly in comfort. It had been a while since you’d had, well, any physical contact. He was so tall he had to lean down to level his face with yours.

Suddenly, he seemed to realize how close the two of you were and stepped back, clearing his throat. 

“I was, uh, trying to make dinner.”

“I can see that,” you said playfully, with a glance at the kitchen in disarray.

“Yeah. I’m not the best cook. I can memorize thousands of recipes in minutes but i’ve never seemed to master the execution.”

You hesitated. 

“Thousands of recipes in minutes? What are you a genius?” you laughed.

“Scientifically, yes. An I.Q. score over 160 classifies someone as a genius.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You’re kidding?”

He shook his head, slipping his hands into his pockets and shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Wait so you can read like, a thousand words per minute?”

“Twenty-thousand,” he corrected, stepping back into the kitchen to continue cooking.

“Twenty-thousand!? That’s impossible!”

“Actually, the unconscious brain can process up to eleven million bits of information per second. It’s just a matter of being able to—“

“—to access the information from your subconscious,” you said, cutting him off. “Wow. That’s impressive.”

He looked at you in shock.

“What’s even more impressive is that you finished a sentence for me.”

“Sorry,” you blushed.

“No! No, I mean, not a lot of people can, erm, keep up. When you start college at fourteen, not many people expect you to be smarter than them. Then when they find out how smart you really are, it can be intimidating.”

Your mouth twitched up into a smile. Spencer was impressive, for sure, but he was also entertaining. Not in a make-fun-of kind of way, but he made you laugh. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Supper’s ready!”

You stifled a laugh.

“Supper?”

“What?” he looked over at you, reaching up to get two plates.

“Who says supper? Are you eighty?” you teased. 

“I’m twenty-six!” he said indignantly.

You froze.

“Wait, really?” He nodded. “You’re only twenty-six and you’re a prominent FBI agent? How?”

“Genius I.Q, three Ph.D.’s, and my irresistible charm,” he said, giving a goofy smile.

“Three PhDs? How? I’m getting a PhD and I can barely keep up with the workload!”

“You‘re getting a Ph.D.? That wasn’t in your police report. What’s it in?” he asked as he filled your plates. 

“Actually, I’m working on two.”

“Two!?”

You nodded, happy that you’d been able to shock him.

“Yep. Linguistics and Philosophy. I like Philosophy better but Linguistics is more challenging. The library won't let you into the section with the really good language books without a certain clearance. But I've actually nearly finished my thesis for it. What?” you added, noticing him staring at you.

“You’re working on two doctorates simultaneously?”

“Surprised you’re not the only genius?” you joked, taking your plate from him, then, upon seeing what he’d made, bursting out into laughter. 

“What?” he looked genuinely confused, which only made you laugh harder.

“Bacon?” you said through gasps. “Bacon and pancakes? You are aware it’s—“ you glanced at the clock, “—nine forty at night?”

“Gimme a break!” he said defensively. “It’s the only thing I can cook. The word ‘cook‘ being a generous descriptor.” 

It was better than Doritos and bourbon for dinner, your go to meal. You were just glad you’d had the stuff to make dinner. It would be very awkward trying to explain your unhealthy eating habits to Spencer.

You didn’t have a dining table. Anyway, you usually ate on the couch and watched something on TV. That was normal nowadays right? Whatever. Spencer didn’t seem to mind which was good enough for you.

“So, um,” he said nervously, pulling out a pad of paper and pencil. “There’s a few things I need to go over with you.”

You nodded, remembering the situation you were in.

“Is there anyone you can think of who might have shown a sort of stalking behavior before? They’d be unreliable, constantly late, not being able to stick to a schedule?”

“The only person I know like that is Claire, one of my co-workers, but she’s not a stalker, she's just always late to work. Honestly, the only people I really know are my co-workers, some people from school, and Steve, my friend.”

“The FBI is going to need a list of people you see frequently. If you could put that together as soon as you’re ready. Also, all your credit card information will have to be analyzed, everywhere it’s been used. Whoever accesses your card, even for something as small as a stick of gum, has the opportunity to use that information to find your name, your address, your workplace—”

“Ok. I get it. People I see frequently and my credit card info. Gotta warn you, there’s not much I buy with it other than books and coffee. Then again, there’s the occasional splurge at the mall.”

“Well, the FBI needs all of it.”

You nodded softly, staring at the bacon on your plate. He hadn’t said I need he’d said The FBI needs. You weren’t sure what that meant exactly.

“Do you want to watch something?” he said, gesturing toward the TV. “It might be a good distraction?”

“Yeah,” you put your plate on the coffee table, noticing that you’d barely eaten. “Yeah that sounds good. Could you just put something on? I don’t wanna choose.”

He nodded and picked up the remote.

The only thing he really knew you liked was Doctor Who so he put on a random episode. You let the TV become background noise to your thoughts as you stared off into space.

Spencer was comforting to be around. He helped take your mind off the situation you were in. You looked over at him on the couch, long legs crossed under him. He had taken off his tie and shoes and changed into more casual clothes: a jumper and some jeans. He was absentmindedly fiddling with the throw blanket between you on the couch. 

His hands are so long, you thought. Wait, why were you thinking that? You shouldn’t be thinking about his hands. Or how long they were. Or what they could—

“Are you alright?”

You felt yourself twitch, startled by his sudden acknowledgment. Even more embarrassing, you were sure he’d seen you staring at his hands.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Hey,” he moved closer on the couch, “you don’t have to be sorry. It’s alright to not be okay.”

They were just words, they didn’t help. What did help was the care behind them. He wasn’t just saying it to comfort you, he actually meant it. To him, it really was ok to not be okay.

“Thank you Spencer, that actually helps.”

You glanced at the clock. It was 10:26.

“I should do some schoolwork,” you said, cringing afterward. You didn’t want him to think of you as some school kid.

“Okay!” he chirped happily, standing as you stood like a proper gentleman. “I’ll just be out here. Is it okay if I keep watching?” The episode played on, The Doctor dangling from a rope above London. “I really like this episode,” he said sheepishly.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “I’ll be in my room and please let me know if you need anything, seriously.”

He nodded assent, but you weren’t sure if he actually would. He seemed a little withdrawn, comforting you when you needed but keeping his distance when possible. It’s his job to keep you safe, you reminded yourself. Don’t get excited.

An hour later your eyes watered from the strain of keeping them open. But you were almost done with this paper. Sure, it was due next week but you were on a roll. Using an allusion to the Holocaust to support the point that Hollywood writing is riddled with antisemitism. In the morning, it might not sound as clever, but to your sleep-deprived brain, it was poetry.

A light knock on your door startled you.

“Come in,” you croaked.

Spencer peeked into your room, squinting.

“It’s pitch black in here,” he said, reaching for the light.

You shrieked as the light filled the room, blinding you.

“TOO BRIGHT!” you yelled, slamming your computer shut and throwing your arms over your eyes.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he fumbled with the switch and clicked it off. The room was now shrouded in darkness, neither of you able to see yet.

“Are you there, Spencer?”

“Yeah.”

You were both whispering. Why was it that people whispered in the dark? 

“You should try and get some sleep,” Spencer said. He was becoming more visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. He had changed into a blue set of pajamas. The fabric looked so soft.

“Yeah,” you muttered, moving toward the bed, “Yeah, I’ll do that.” 

Your bed felt scratchy and cold. Just last night getting in bed had been such a relaxing experience. So much had changed in a day.

“I’ll be right in the next room if you need anything,” 

“Hmm,” you hummed.

Spencer padded back out of your room.

The moment before the door closed you thought you heard a very faint, “Good night, Y/N.” But before you could wonder if it had happened or not, you were dropping off into a deep sleep. Knowing that you were safe with Spencer in the next room.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13

[exhaustedfander]

May I request an "not-so-secretly dating/and they were roommates" human au fic with any ship, like none of the others know they even know each other and are surprised that they're together?

Analogical is always a joy to write, and this prompt was a lot of fun. I’d love to hear what you think! 

ao3 link

Word Count: 2,566

As You Wish 

Virgil sits in the darkened living room, scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr when he hears the creaking of floorboards and turns to see Logan standing behind the couch.

“Hey, L,” he greets lazily, smiling as Logan leans to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“It’s late,” Logan comments as if Virgil doesn’t already know that. But he isn’t just saying it to say it, and Virgil knows that too.

“Are you…” Logan trails off, losing his nerve but Virgil smiles.

“Yeah, I’m coming to bed. Don’t get your tie in a twist,” Virgil says with a laugh, setting his phone aside and standing up. Even in the mostly dark room, he can see the relief etched into Logan’s face.

“I – I wasn’t –,” Logan stutters, cutting himself off when Virgil wraps his arms around him, perching his chin on his shoulder.

“You weren’t… what? Going to ask me to come to bed with you?” Logan remains silent and Virgil’s lips curl into a smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“It’s important for you to get an optimal amount of rest,” Logan says quietly, still held tightly in Virgil’s embrace.

“Oh, and that’s the only reason you want me to sleep in your bed, then? Because I’ve got a perfectly good bed in my room,” Virgil says, positive that Logan’s face is breaking out into a blush. “You don’t want to cuddle?”

“Fine,” Logan says tersely, though there’s nothing but fondness in his tone, “I also want you to come with me because I want to… cuddle with you. Are you satisfied with that answer?”

“Oh, extremely,” Virgil says pulling away and leaning down to press another kiss to Logan’s lips. “Lemme go brush my teeth and I’ll be right there.”

Virgil walks into Logan’s bedroom after getting ready for bed, though he isn’t sure if it can just be called Logan’s room anymore. After all, for the past several weeks, Virgil’s been sleeping there, he’s got multiple articles of clothing in Logan’s closet and personal items strewn about the room. He might even dare to call it their room at this point, though maybe just in his head. At least, for now.

That’s how things had started. Virgil’s never had a very healthy sleep schedule. As a result, his insomnia keeps him awake late into the night most of the time, and he’s usually lucky if he got four or so hours. This was something he’d been used to for a long time, something he hadn’t ever expected to change. That was until Virgil had found out about Logan’s fear of storms.

Virgil and Logan had been friends for several years, having met in high school and rooming together in college. They were closer than Virgil had been with anyone; he hadn’t known what it was like, to know someone so well, and in turn, to be known so well. With that being said, Logan had managed to keep this fear under wraps for years, only letting it slip once he let out a loud yelp as lightning crackled outside the window, followed by a clap of thunder.

Virgil recalls how he ran into Logan’s room, afraid that something must’ve happened to him, only to find his friend huddled and trembling on his bed, with his head tucked between his knees. In all of the time that they’d known each other, this was the first time Virgil had ever seen his friend so vulnerable.

Logan had asked him to leave him alone, but Virgil wasn’t that dull. He couldn’t Logan in such a state, regardless of how embarrassed he must’ve been, so he stayed the whole night with him, refusing to leave his side. Virgil’s presence lulled Logan into a state of calm, and for the first time in years, Virgil slept the whole night through.

They did their best to dance around one another, but their apartment was only so big, and their feelings were inescapable. Within a few days, they’d confessed a love that had been budding all the time they’d known each other, a love that was the real reason they continued to live together, despite not really having to. A love that neither of them understood in full, but desperately wanted to learn more about.

They’ve only been dating for a few short weeks now, and so many things are still unsaid, still unknown, but it’s a hopeful kind of mystery, one that Virgil’s happy to explore. Virgil slides into bed beside Logan, immediately pulling him close.

“Don’t forget it’s our turn to host movie night tomorrow,” Virgil reminds Logan, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pausing. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Logan says, hoping Virgil will believe him. A foolish thought, really. Virgil turns over, flicking the bedside lamp back on, no longer allowing Logan’s insecure to be shrouded in darkness.

“Bullshit,” Virgil says sharply, but worry permeates his voice all the same, “You just went all stiff – also, I know you. What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Logan lets a sigh roll past his lips as Virgil stares intently, his chin propped on his arms and eyes studying every aspect of his expression.

“Okay,” Logan says, sighing again because he wasn’t expecting to have this conversation tonight, “I’ve been wondering…”

“Yeah?” Virgil asks, coaxing softly.

“I’ve been wondering… if you think I’m a good boyfriend.” The look that flashes across Virgil’s face is positively incredulous.

“What?! Lo, what kind of question is that? Of course, I think you’re a good boyfriend! I love you.” Virgil’s spine straightens as he bolts into a sitting position.

“I love you too,” Logan says, sitting up too and meeting Virgil’s somewhat frantic gaze, “Very much. It’s just… I’m not sure if I’m doing what’s expected of me.”

“What’s expected of you?” Virgil asks, confused as ever, “Babe, what the hell are you talking about?” Logan reaches for his glasses that are set on the nightstand on, slipping them on with a slightly trembling hand.

“I haven’t taken you on a real date yet.”

“Okay, yeah, but I haven’t taken you on a real date, either,” Virgil counters, “It’s a two-way street. Also, we hang out all the time. We go get coffee or to movies together constantly. I don’t care what we’re doing, as long as I’m spending time with you.” Logan only slightly resents the warmth that blooms in his chest as a result of the sentimental statement. Virgil’s always been exceptionally good at making Logan feel better, but that can’t hinder the fact that self-consciousness has cocooned him.

“I – well, I-I enjoy spending time with you too, obviously,” Logan stutters, his hand settling near his neck reflectively before he remembers he’s in his pajamas, and as a result, void of a tie to straighten, “But it feels like there are things largely expected of me that I haven’t done.” Virgil quirks an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

“I haven’t ever gotten you flowers.” Virgil can’t help it; he lets out a laugh.

“Babe, they die in a couple of days. I don’t need you to buy me flowers.”

“Yes, but, the other day you got me a coffee and a brownie from that bakery I like just because you were ‘thinking of me’,” Logan says.

“I was thinking about you,” Virgil says, “Is that what’s getting you so worked up? A pastry? You get me coffee all the fucking time, L.”

“But- but it’s different now. You’re my boyfriend, and I… I haven’t been doing enough.”

“Oh, Logan,” Virgil coos, a tone of voice that makes Logan feel light and airy, “Baby, no. Is that what you think? That you aren’t doing enough for me?” Virgil asks, taking Logan’s hand in his. Logan does his best to swallow the building lump in his throat.

“I… I suppose,” Logan muttered, shame tinting his words.

“And yet I’m the one with crippling anxiety,” Virgil mutters, half to himself, before squeezing Logan’s hand, “I’m so sorry, babe. I had no idea you felt this way.” Logan averted his eyes.

“You had no reason to. I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but I should’ve known,” Virgil says, his thumb grazing a gentle circular pattern over his boyfriend’s knuckles, “I need you to know that you’re absolutely enough for me. Logan, you’ve been my best friend for years, and I’ve loved you for nearly as long. We’re not exactly taking the convention route here – and that’s okay! We don’t need to go on ‘official’ dates right away. You don’t need to buy me flowers – hold on, do you want me to buy you flowers?” Logan bit his lip, but the blush that infiltrated his face was incrementing all the same.

“Okay, I’m definitely getting you flowers.”

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said, though not unkindly, “I love you, Logan Croft, and I mean that with all my heart.” Logan lets out a deep breath, leaning his head against Virgil’s shoulder, their hands still linked.

“I love you too. Very much. I apologize; I’ve been acting irrationally. It’s just…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Virgil insists, and Logan wants to believe him, “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Silence settles over the pair for a long moment, and Logan is about to turn the lights off and pull the covers back over them before Virgil speaks up again.

“Do you still want to do Movie Night tomorrow? We can reschedule if you want.”

“Yes,” Logan answers, lost in the beautiful rare sight that was Virgil without his makeup (Not to say that the eyeshadow isn’t a good look because really, it is). Logan often can’t believe this wonderful person, so incredible and full of wit and dark humor has chosen him. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone. I know everyone was looking forward.” “They’ll live, if you don’t want to,” Virgil says, his tone not shying away from seriousness, “I mean it, you know. I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” Logan takes a deep breath.

“And you are comfortable, then?” Virgil blinks, confession settling onto his face.

“Huh?”

“You’re comfortable telling our friends about us,” Logan clarifies, “Roman, Remus, Patton, and Janus. You’re alright with telling them?”

“I’m comfortable with whatever you’re comfortable with,” Virgil says simply, “And if you aren’t, then we’ll wait. Okay?”

Logan can’t help but feel surprise wash over him. He supposes he’d expected Virgil, so riddled with anxiety and self-doubt, to have a similar reaction, a similar hesitation. But he isn’t. He seems perfectly fine with telling their friends about the status of their relationship.

It isn’t as though Logan expects a poor reaction. It’s not exactly a secret that Logan and Virgil have feelings for each other and have for some time. But for whatever reason, Logan can’t shake the self-doubt that he isn’t ready, that maybe something’s missing. Virgil is ready, though, and he’s keeping him from that. He doesn’t want to do that, regardless of how irrationally scared he may be.

“Feelings are… a difficult thing,” Logan manages, though his words aren’t quite cooperating with him.

“Yeah, they can be.”

“I don’t always know how to make sense of them,” Logan continues, “Oftentimes, I feel so blindsight by them. And… I’m sorry, for how hesitant I am. And how much of a learning curve loving you has been.”

“You don’t need to keep saying sorry,” Virgil urges. Logan worries his bottom lip, his head still resting on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Be that as it may, I’m glad that I’m learning. I can’t thank you enough for your patience and understanding… We should, uh, continue movie night as scheduled.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“I’m positive,” Logan says (he is by no means positive, but it sounds a lot better than ‘maybe’).

The roommates drift to sleep not long after that, whispering repeated words of love and affirmation. Logan can’t help but feel a little better, despite the self-doubt that’s been eating at him.

In the morning, Virgil wakes to find breakfast prepared for him.

“You’re too sweet, Lo. You didn’t have to,” Virgil says, greeted with a kiss.

“No, but I wanted to.”

Later, when Logan arrives home, he finds a small bouquet of blue flowers sitting on the table addressed to him, and his heart soars.

=+=

By the time that everyone has arrived for movie night, Virgil isn’t too sure what to expect. He’ll give Logan as much space as he needs, just as he said, but Logan’s had an uncharacteristic pep in his step all day long, and it doesn’t seem to be diminishing, even in the company of friends.

“I think we should watch a romance,” Roman declares, earning a groan from his brother.

“UGH – you always want a romance. Where’s the flavor? The blood and guts?” Remus asks, earning a playful swat from Janus that does little to shut him up.

“It’s Logan’s turn to pick a movie out,” Virgil points out, and suddenly all eyes are on the nerd, “It’s your choice, L.” Logan thinks for a moment, eyes scanning the films on the shelf.

“The Princess Bride,” he says, earning a look of surprise from everyone in the room. “What? Is no one interested?”

“It’s not that,” Patton says softly, his shock just as evident as everyone else’s, “It’s just kind of a… surprise, coming from you, teach. That’s all.”

“That’s gotta be the understatement of the century,” Roman declares dramatically, “This nerd, picking such a movie has to be some kind of scientific anomaly or something!”

“Would you all rather we watch something else, then?”

“No,” Virgil cuts in, fondness evident in his voice, “No, that’s the movie you chose. Let’s watch The Princess Bride.” The rest of the group continues to mumble about the surprising choice, but no one raises an issue with it and the movie is popped in and Janus puts some popcorn in the microwave. When the timer beeps, Virgil nudges Logan.

“Hey, L, can you get the popcorn?” Virgil asks and Logan nods. He rises to his feet, before cupping Virgil’s cheeks softly, their lips meeting just briefly before he pulls away.

“As you wish, my starlight.” Virgil breaks out into a blush as he watches Logan retreat into the kitchen and the friend group breaks off into chatter.

“I knew it!” Roman says.

“That’s the worst lie I’ve heard in a while,” Janus snipes, “Let’s be real, Roman, you had no idea.”

“Awww, you guys,” Patton coos at an embarrassed looking Virgil, “Why didn’t you say anything? This is so sweet!”

“The emo nightmare and the nerd are screwing!”

“REMUS!” Several voices screech, but Logan’s riding the wave of emotion far too much to pay much mind to what’s going on in the next room, especially when Virgil sneaks up behind him and wraps him in an embrace, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“You little shit,” Virgil mutters affectionately, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Nice reference.”

“Thank you,” Logan says, turning around in his arms with a bright smile.

Logan knows he still has a long way to go in terms of understanding his emotions and acclimating to being in a relationship, but he’s sure this is a good start. Virgil thinks so too, kissing him in the kitchen until Remus walks in and wolf-whistles and the movie begins. Logan and Virgil hold each other the whole way through, their smiles unwavering.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@maryann-draws

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! I’d be happy to add folks! 

[lordseochangbin]

The1: Seo Changbin

FLUFF and ANGST

a/n: since its my one year on tumblr i really wanted to write a changbin fic hehe so @0325stay and i worked together on this beauty <3 thank you for helping me write this 

You were finally leaving. Your hard work paid off and now you were on your way to working with one of the biggest companies in the music industry, JYP. It was time to make a name for yourself as a producer.

The company was kind enough to pay for all of your expenses for this work trip and now you were seated in first class, wine glass in hand in your own private room on this flight. Making you even more excited to work for them and see what they have to offer.

9 hours later, you were woken up by the flight attendant to tell you that you were about to land and outside, you were welcomed by the thin clouds that separated the sky and the beautiful city down below.

Though it was night time, you were in awe at the sight of the colourful city lights, and the lit up buildings. You weren’t used to this. This was your first time flying alone internationally.

The plane landed smoothly and you grabbed your stuff and exited the aircraft. Making sure you thanked everyone on that flight and when you felt that Seoul air hit your face, you knew you made it. This was the start of your career.

It was a while before you could grab all your luggage and go through the gates, but when you did, it was packed and you had a hard time finding your ride.

You searched and searched, until you finally found the sign. A big poster that had your name on it with JYP Entertainment’s logo that was being held by a man that was just waving it around, hoping that someone would approach him.

“Hi! I’m Y/N… I’m guessing you’re my ride?”

The man looked at you up and down and then put the poster down. He gave you a warm smile and extended his hand out to you as he introduced himself.

“I’m Changbin and yeah I am. JYP sent me over to take you to the hotel and I brought you some dinner as well.”

Changbin took the heavy bags from your arms and guided you all the way to the car. You got in the front seat and whipped out your camera. Excited to see the views during this ride and capture every moment since you knew this was only temporary.

He started driving through the quiet roads then into the busy cities where you were surprised to see the city still so alive at 2am. People were singing, laughing, dancing, just hanging out with friends under the bright lights.

Click, click, click. That’s all Changbin heard throughout the ride. He was confused since he thought you were going to live here, but he didn’t want to bother you with all these questions. There was something about you that just immediately caught his attention, but he didn’t know what it was.

Maybe it was the way you found everything so fascinating, or maybe it was just because this was one of the very few times he was going to be around someone who was from a different country. He didn’t know just yet.

When you two finally reached the hotel, he hopped out and grabbed your bags. Checking you in under the company’s card and then bringing up your bags to your room. Also handing you your dinner and then saying his goodbyes.

“Good night. I’ll be back by lunch to pick you up for work… Sweet dreams”

But before he shut the door, he asked one more question.

“What’s your number? You know, so I can call or text you before I pick you up.”

You exchanged numbers and then he shot you a smile on his way out. You already knew you two were going to get along, there was just something about him.

The morning came and you slept like a baby because of how tired you felt from travelling. You were only awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. It was Changbin. You overslept and now you had a little less than an hour to freshen up.

You rushed yourself. All your clothes were already scattered, your bathroom was a mess, and you were starving at this point. You ended up hitting corners of furniture from trying to hurry your process up.

Knock knock, the door went. Your hair was a mess and you were only finished with half of your outfit. It was your banana pajama pants paired with some cute shirt you found. Along with one shoe on. You opened the door and you found Changbin just waiting there with coffee in his hand and a small breakfast bun he picked up along the way. 

“Well…good morning.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes when he saw you rushing with your frizzy hair and half done outfit but, he sat down comfortably on the chair and just talked to you about your schedule today. From the meeting, to the company tour, then the meeting of the groups, and then to the actual work that was to be started.

You didn’t hear most of it though since you were too busy panicking about how you were going to present yourself today. You just started babbling about your thoughts and Changbin just listened. He found it cute how you babbled when you were nervous and the bed head hair just made his day.

He handed you the coffee and the breakfast bun, telling you to hurry up and then threw the company employee pass at you as you both drove off for work.

Once you both reached the company, Changbin introduced you to everyone, but they all seemed way too busy to notice you fully. You didn’t mind though, you knew they were all busy with promotions and they needed to perfect everything they did.

Changbin gave you a tour of the company, and little by little, you found himself opening up to you. At first, he seemed like a snob, but when you got to know him, he was like a bubbly little kid that was always trying to play. He went from trying to act tough and in charge to skipping down the halls of JYP saying hi to everyone he knew.

Then after a long day of meeting most people and looking through all the rooms, it was time to start work officially. Changbin opened the door to a dainty size studio, just enough room to fit one. You thought he was going to leave you once he dropped you off, but he pulled up a chair and sat down real close to you.

“Aren’t you going to leave?”

He rested his chin on his hand and shook his head. He just told you he was curious with how you do your work. So, you started setting up your program, linking all the pads, and finding the right channels to use. You worked fast for someone who didn’t have much experience working professionally and Changbin was impressed with you.

You just did your thing while he sat and vibed on the side. You barely noticed him while working, but Changbin noticed every small detail about you. From the way you found the rhythm and beat you wanted just by tapping your foot and fingers furiously, to the way you smiled to yourself after finding the right tones.

He sat back and enjoyed how you worked and was thinking about if he should ask the boss if he could work with you on this track. And to his luck, he got the boss’ approval to work with you and was assigned to be your guide for your whole stay.

From there, Changbin would come pick you up every morning, drop you off every night, bring you food whenever you asked, or just randomly throughout the day. Every single day, he’d bring a surprise. Whether it was a small treat from the street food vendors, or a little toy he thought you’d like. Changbin was always handing it over with a smile, and after a week, he was already giving you hugs like you two had been friends forever.

On your days off, he would still be there for you even when he didn’t need to be. He’d send you a good morning text then ask you what your plans were for the day because he wanted to personally take you around the cities. Sometimes even bringing his group along, but then telling them to leave because they got too annoying.

Changbin took you to see the regular tourist spots and paid for everything, even though you told him no. The man wouldn’t let you pay at all. Even when he took you to his favorite shopping mall, everything you touched, Changbin would pay for it. Not even looking at the price. You got kind of mad at that, but he would always say “It’s okay, we’re friends. Let me treat you.”

That’s how your first 3 weeks in South Korea went. You were with Changbin for almost 24 hours a day, just working side by side, and him not leaving your side at all. The only time he’d leave was for rehearsal, but then he’d come straight back to you. All sweaty and tired, but he kept his bubbly self around you and talked to you like you’ve been close all your life.

He’d tease you non-stop, he’d hug you whenever he got the chance or even just place his head on your shoulder while he watched you work. Changbin was slowly attaching himself to you, slowly taking a liking to you, but he wouldn’t admit it just yet. He just kept it quiet and tried to see if his feelings were real and if you felt the same way.

At the studio, Changbin stared at his phone while you worked on the last track of the album. The occasional deep breaths and sighs showed your tiredness, and he knew it was about time for a break. He knew how badly deadlines could get to a producer’s head, so he wanted to take you to the one place he always found himself on times like this.

“Y/N?” He said behind your ear, slowly taking off your headphones making you turn your head to face him. 

“What’s up?” You replied, but before you got an answer, Changbin heard nothing of your protests, grabbed your hand, turned off your computer, and dragged you out of the studio. 

“Changbin!! What are you doing? I just started-” 

“And we’ll finish it tonight...Right now, you need a break, and I know just where to take you” 

You simply rolled your eyes as a smirk grew on Changbin’s face. Of course he knew where to take you. At this point, it seemed like he knew everything about you. 

As Changbin drove you to the spot, you watched the city lights light up and took photos again. You wanted to keep everything in memory knowing that this was only temporary. The city, the studio, Changbin. All of it would be over soon. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your attention as his hand met yours. “Do you mind grabbing the bag from the back, we’re almost there” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity of Changbin’s plans. Where was he taking you? The guy was full of surprises. 

Outside, you heard the sounds of a peaceful river along with the sounds of jet skis rushing against the water. You turned your head to be welcomed by the calming sight of the Han River.

You weren’t able to take your eyes off the beautiful view and you just stood there in amazement while Changbin held your hand to lead you to the spot he was taking you to. You couldn’t help but admire the bright bridge that stretched out ahead of you leading to the beautiful city of Seoul. 

The night sky was filled with the large moon and clouds that had planes flying through. It casted over the two of you and as the perfect weather chilled in, you and Changbin set a blanket to sit on. 

“This is beautiful” You mentioned,  making Changbin smile as he watched you cherish the moment. Again, he heard the clicks of your camera and just giggled at every picture you took. 

“Changbin! 1 ,2, 3 Smile!”

He smiled as bright as he could and gave you multiple poses so you could remember him in every way. You probably took over 10 pictures of him and when you went to show him his pictures, Changbin scooted closer to you and threw an arm over your shoulder. He wasn’t looking at the pictures, he was only looking at you.

His heart raced just by sitting beside you and listening to you talk about something you were so passionate about. Everything you did now was just adorable in his eyes and he was hoping that this feeling would never stop.

“Changbin, aren’t these nice?”

Changbin heard nothing and kept looking over at you. He was finally admitting to himself that he was catching feelings for  you. There was no view- even in a place like this- that could top the beauty that he saw in you.

When you noticed he hadn’t responded, you turned and waved your hands in front of him.

“Changbin? Helloooo” You giggled as his eyes grew wider. “Yeah, yeah let me grab the drinks” He coughed out, grabbing the bag from the car. 

“Were you admiring the view?” You asked, propping yourself with your elbows as you laid back. 

“Yeah, yeah totally” Changbin replied, though the only view he found himself admiring was you. 

Handing you a drink, Changbin sat by you before asking “Are you still stressed about tomorrow? The evaluations?”

You sat up next to him before grabbing your drink and taking a sip. “A little, I mean everything’s still not finished and I only have tonight but I definitely needed some fresh air… thank you Changbin” 

“It’s no big deal I mean really-” 

“No Changbin, thank you for everything.” You interrupted, laying your head on his shoulder. 

Changbin must be crazy. Could you hear the constant thumping of his heart or was that just him? 

As you two finished the drinks, break time was over and the two of you made your way back to the studio. You were now filled with a sudden confidence and faith in the success of your album and Changbin was now a man that had a heart for you and only you now. 

Once the two of you were back at the studio, it was time to work again. Changbin stayed on his phone ready to help while you buried yourself in the unfinished tracks. 

Time passed by quickly as you got your tasks finished one by one, and the small snores heard from behind you made it evident that Changbin had fallen asleep, honestly you would’ve as well. Everyday, for the past few weeks, Changbin had stayed with you until he dropped you off at night, despite his busy schedule and you could never wrap your head around why. 

With a click of your mouse, everything was finally saved on a flash drive. Your first album was completed… You did it.

You squealed in excitement. Jumping up from your seat and shaking Changbin’s shoulders to wake him up. 

“Changbin! Changbin I finished it!” You exclaimed in excitement as Changbin got up. 

“You finished it!” Changbin repeated after you, also jumping up and down with you. You pulled Changbin into your arms and held him close to show him how grateful you were for all his support. 

“I seriously couldn’t have done this without you”

Changbin looked into your eyes full of joy. You seemed so happy in the moment and he was happy for you too, but then it was like his emotions took over his body. He couldn’t help but to smile, close his eyes, and lean in closer to you. 

You just watched him as he closed his eyes and watched  his lips only a few inches away from yours. In a panic, you whispered his name hoping to catch his attention but, he only leaned in closer and his lips slightly brushed against yours, but you stepped back in time. 

“Um..” You let out, the tension in the room increasing as Changbin opened his eyes. 

“Y/n I-”

“I have to go… prepare for tomorrow’s evaluation. I’ll see you tomorrow, get a good night’s sleep and all” You quickly said as you gathered your things and left the room. 

Changbin didn’t plan on getting a good night’s sleep. In fact, he couldn’t sleep at all. He couldn’t believe that he just tried to kiss you and now he was tossing and turning in bed.

The sound of your alarm made you leap out of bed and head to your closet. Today was the day. It was time to show off your hard work. Your muscles tensed at the fact that you were finally presenting your work to a line of producers and managers. 

After getting ready, you waited outside for Changbin. It seemed like the perfect day, as if nothing could go wrong. That was until Changbin showed up and you suddenly remembered last night. 

He pulled up in front and when you sat down inside, you both could feel the awkward tension between you two and to try to relieve that tension, you said hey, but he said hey at the same time too. Only making the awkwardness visible between you two.

You looked at him hoping he would say something more but he never did and that’s how it went the entire drive. Just pure awkward silence.

Once the two of you arrived, you got out of the car, hoping he would come along, but he didn’t. “You’re not coming?” You asked. 

“Nah, I’ll wait for you. Good luck” He said as he stopped the engine and started playing with his phone. 

You said thanks and took a deep breath as you saw Changbin go back on his phone. This was the only time Changbin wasn’t going to be beside you when you were playing music and you didn’t know how to feel except nervous and uneasy.

As you walked into the room, you felt multiple pairs of eyes follow you to the stage.With a press of a button, your new album started playing and to your surprise, everyone seemed to enjoy it and you finally got a pass to release it. Your hard work paid off and you felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulder.

But with that pass, you knew that it was the end of your stay. In the contract, it stated that when you got your pass to release your music, it was time to go home. The only problem was that you didn’t know how to tell Changbin since the flight was already booked and your stuff had to be packed by tonight. 

In a hurry, you ran to Changbin’s car, only to see that he had already fallen asleep, so you opened the door and woke him up. 

“Hey! They said my music was good and-” 

“Congrats!” Changbin said, already starting the car and getting ready to leave. 

“Wait why are we in such a hurry?” You asked. 

“I’m a little busy with promotions tomorrow so I have to practice tonight, is that okay?” He asked. 

You were hoping the two of you could celebrate tonight, but if he was busy with promotions he probably didn’t care about you leaving tomorrow anyways.

“Yeah.. that’s fine” You said before getting an email about your ticket home. 

“Alright, I promise to see you tomorrow, then we could celebrate. I knew you could do it, so tomorrow, just wait for me, okay?”

Changbin leaned over to give you a hug, not knowing that it was going to be the last one he would be able to give you for a while. He smiled and you two did your special handshake and then he drove off after dropping you off at the hotel.

You quickly went up and packed your things. Sort of wishing that your last night would’ve been spent with Changbin, but that was okay. You two spent so much time together during your stay, he almost forgot to go to rehearsals some days. 

Even though he wasn’t here, you were still pretty happy about your music being released soon. You couldn't wait to go home and see your friends and family because you knew they’d be proud of you. 

“Hey Mom,” You said on the phone. “Yeah! They said I can come back tomorrow… I can’t wait to see you too.. okay I’ll be safe.. bye” 

The next day, Changbin had coffee and a roll in hand. He felt bad that he couldn’t be with you yesterday so he wanted to make up for it even though he was busy with practice today, but once he got in your usual studio, he noticed that all of your things were gone. 

An employee passed by so Changbin decided to ask what happened and that’s when he found out. Your contract was done and you were already heading home and he could do nothing to stop you from leaving.

They mentioned that you were already at the airport, just waiting for your flight and when he heard that, his hands balled up in a fist and he felt his heart drop. He didn’t even get to celebrate with you let alone tell you about how he finally felt about you after these few weeks together.

Changbin quickly rushed through the hall to leave only to be stopped by his members. They were all getting ready to practice one more time so they could perfect everything, but he pushed them to the side because the only thing on his mind right now, was you.

“Yo Changbin where are you going?” The rest of the guys asked him.

“I have to go,” was all he said, nudging them aside.

“Hyung!” Felix called after him. It was no bother, Changbin was already out the door and nowhere to be seen. 

He frantically grabbed his phone from his pocket, wanting to call you and tell you everything that he wanted to say before, but he noticed an airplane fly above him. Changbin still tried calling you and texting you, hoping you were still seated in the airport, but then he noticed he had one unread message left in his notifications.

Y/N: Bye Changbin. Thank you for everything, I’ll see you soon :)

[miikrokkosmos]

assistance || namjoon x reader

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: fluff, angst, idol!namjoon, assistant manager!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: Namjoon oversteps the line of what is appropriate in regards to his professional relationship with you, one of BTS’s assistant managers, and in more ways than one. Not that you could complain, though.

a/n: hey! i promise i will not be regularly leaving notes like this, but just wanted to say hey, i’m a new BTS fic writer, so feel free to say hi (or leave me fic ideas/requests!! i can’t promise to write every request, but i appreciate any inspo!) and this is something i hate to ask, but just wanted to say that i can’t express how much i’d appreciate a reblog if you enjoy this fic! just bc i am a brand new blog and have no other way of getting my stuff out there. thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy, and again, any ideas or criticisms would be so appreciated!! <3

______________________________________________________________________

What on earth was he thinking.

You had no idea what you were taking on when you accepted a job offer in an assistant management position with BigHit. You thought it would be a comfy little job to get your foot in the door of a big entertainment corporation while you continued your grad school studies on the side. You didn’t think your days would be taken up with helping your senior managers assisting a group of energetic young men with the craziest tasks. You didn’t think you’d travel the world, shielding the band from overzealous fans at airports, or that you’d be waking up at 5 am to help figure out scheduling issues with the other managers. And you certainly didn’t think you’d catch the eye and attention of one Kim Namjoon.

The interactions had started out simple enough. The time he overhead you instructing the other managers about the members’ particular favourite coffee orders, and he made it clear he was impressed with your attention to detail after working with them for only a small amount of time. When he shyly grinned the time you jumped in front of him at the airport when a fan’s reaching hand came a little too close to his jacket. The day he called you over to play Mario Kart with him and the boys while they were waiting their turn to perform somewhere, because he noticed you standing in the corner, not privy to the conversations of the older male managers who always seemed to subconsciously you leave you out. The day he was panicking, searching for a book he was reading before a show, and you had found it behind a make-up chair he had been sitting in. He gave you the biggest smile along with a “thank you” as he placed his warm hand on your shoulder, making you madly blush in front of the whole team. And most recently, the day he came over to where you were sitting, unprompted, just to chat with you in between sets. You were busy taking notes and studying for an exam the next day in between requests from the other managers while the boys were performing. He was very interested in what you were studying, but was appalled to see how much work you had due in between tasks and running errands for the team, let alone the massive migraine that was plaguing you as a result. As he was getting called to the stage, he offered to help you study. You were completely taken aback, and all you could muster was a “maybe”.

You initially beat yourself up for not being more accepting of his offer, but you were just so shocked. Why would an idol, who was by far your superior, want to give of his precious free time to help you study? Well, you had a feeling bubbling up inside of you whenever he glanced your way, and you were worried maybe he was feeling the same. Or maybe he was just horny. Which is why you were so hesitant to readily accept his kindness – what would be the point? Nothing could come of it. It wouldn’t be professionally appropriate to take interest in each other’s personal lives, and a “work friends with benefits” certainly wouldn’t be appropriate, not that you were interested in that kind of thing anyway.

Suffice it to say, you were more than a little shocked when you got called into a meeting with your superiors questioning after your personal health and wellbeing, due to a certain Kim Namjoon sending them a detailed email on your behalf speaking of your migraines and overworked schedule, imploring them to be more lax and flexible with you. You had vehemently apologized and promised you were perfectly capable of keeping up with (and grateful for) your work hours, and your headaches were of your own doing for staying up too late during your personal time (you left out the part of how you had to stay up all night just to keep up with your school work on top of your job). And when they not-so-subtly asked why Namjoon of all people was the one to bring the issue up, you hastily told them you had no idea, as you prayed in your head as fervently as possible that they couldn’t see the flush rising on your cheeks.

You left, trying to fight the small part of yourself that was touched by Namjoon worrying about you, and attempting to focus on the fury that was boiling within you for him doing something like that without even consulting you. It could have cost you your job, if the managers above you were any less understanding. The managers’ questions of why Namjoon had contacted them were haunting you. Why did he take that upon himself?

You knew why.

You just wish you didn’t.

______________________________________________________________________

Clad in pajama shorts and a baggy tee, you were slumped in a chair at the desk in your hotel room, working away at the homework on your laptop in an attempt to distract yourself from your feelings about the day’s events as well as those about a certain person. You were snapped out of your stupor when two loud raps sounded at your door. As you stood up to walk to the door, you glanced towards the clock – 1:19 am. Hhmm.

You didn’t glance at the peephole for fear you would stop yourself from opening the door if you knew who was there. Instead, you swung the door wide open, and there he was. Grey sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt, dimples on full display.

“Namjoon-nim,” you stated, more than greeted, mustering as close to a death glare as you could in the tall boy’s direction.

If he noticed the expression on your face, he didn’t show it, and greeted you with a wide grin. “Hi. I was wondering if now would be a good time to help you with some studying? If it’s not too late, of course. I just remember you mentioning you had an exam coming up soon, and…,” his mile-a-minute voice trailing off into an awkward giggle, as he realizes he’s still standing in your doorway, “May I come in?”

You slowly move to the side to make way for him, shutting the door behind you. You lean your back against the door with a loud sigh and put your head in your hands once you lock it.

Namjoon notices your disposition this time, his head quickly snapping towards you at the sound of your loud breathing. “Hey, _____, what’s wrong?”

Your snap your harsh eyes up to meet his soft ones, slowly walking towards him. “Namjoon-nim.”

“Are you stressed about your exam? I promise I will give you all of my time to help you study if you need it. Try not to stress about it so much, you’re a smart woman and -“

“Namjoon.” You stop walking when you are less than a foot apart from his face.

His soft gaze turns concerned. He closes his mouth, and prods you to continue with his eyes, deciding it best to give his words a break.

You do your best to keep your harsh stare steady, but it’s so much harder to do when you’re close enough to brush the fluffy strands of hair out of his eyes if you only lifted your hand. “Namjoon. Why did you have to reach out to the managers? What would possess you to do such a thing?”

His face contorts into an expression both relieved and confused at the same time. “Is that why you’re upset? I talked to them because I want you to take care of yourself. It’s not fair for you to have to be up before us, to bed later than us, giving yourself migraines trying to fit in an education on top of it. I just thought…it would help if I said something.” He looks down to his toes, not daring to meet your gaze.

You’re glad for the lack of eye contact, because you know you wouldn’t be able to seem as serious and angry as you want to if you were to meet his eyes. “I can appreciate all of that Namjoon, but it’s not your job to worry about me. What you did…I could’ve lost my job.”

As his eyes snap up, it becomes your turn to stare into the floor. “You’re not gonna lose your job. You’re too important to BigHit for that to happen.”

You huff a bitter laugh at that and walk around him to sit on the end of your bed, not being able to stand up in his face like you were for a moment longer. “That’s easy for you to say. I’m a lot more replaceable than someone like you are, and you and I both know it.”

“No, _____, I’m serious. They need you. Nobody knows the team like you do.” He walks over until he’s standing in front of you, between your legs. You embarrass yourself by letting out an involuntary gasp at his closeness, leaning back on your elbows on the bed to keep your distance. “I understand that’s not the point right now though. And I am sorry if my actions made you uncomfortable,” he says, kneeling down and taking your hands in his own. His eyes are staring into your own, hoping, pleading to get through to you. “It just hurts to see you struggling in any way. It has to be obvious by now that I care about you, _____” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as he reaches up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, and then leaves his hand resting under your cheek.

You go against your better judgement and give into his touch as he leans closer, leaving you no choice but to meet him half way and let him press his plush lips to yours. You both lean backward onto the bed until he is hovering over you, and for a small moment you let yourself revel in the feeling that you didn’t dare let yourself dream about before. But the butterflies in your stomach soon turn into a knot, all of your suppressed fears and feelings coming to a head until you feel tears rolling out of your eyes and onto Namjoon’s face. You’re embarrassed but you can’t stop the tears from coming, gently pushing on Namjoon’s chest to get him off of you. Once he realizes the situation he quickly backs away until he’s sitting at your side on the bed, gingerly placing his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry, _____.”

His unnecessary apology just makes you sob all the more. “We can’t do this,” you say almost as much to yourself as you do to him. You let your head hang, hugging yourself into a ball as you continue to weep.

Namjoon looks around himself, unsure of the best way to help the situation. Still keeping his hands to himself, he leans his head closer to your own lowly-hanging one to be at eye level. “I’m sorry, _____, please try to relax.”

You snap your head up quickly to stare into his eyes, your own (y/e/c) eyes full of hot tears. “Joon.” His gaze softens, perhaps even turns a little sad, at the sound of the nickname. “We can’t do this, Joon. We can’t get attached.”

Getting his bravery back, Namjoon lets his hands rise up to hesitantly cup both of your cheeks and hold your head in place. “It’s too late for me, _____. None of this will change anything for me.” He drops his head, his own eyes slightly beginning to swell. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”

A wave of realization washes over you, that this is actually happening, as you gaze sadly at the crying boy in front of you. You reach out a hand to brush gently through his shaggy locks, until you let your hand trail down to under his chin to push up gently so that his eyes meet yours once more. “I’m already attached too,” you admit in a tone so soft, as if speaking any louder would shatter the air around you.

The sadness in Namjoon’s eyes is replaced with a slight glimmer of hope, his eyes shining with a mix of his own tears and a reflection of the dancing city lights shining through the window behind you. But before he can open his mouth and give himself false hope, you gently place a finger over his lips.

“It doesn’t matter though, Joon. They’d never allow anything. You know it. If they found out I’d be transferred away from you at best, fired at worst. Nothing can work.”

“We can be a secret. We can make somethingwork.”

“How? We work together, all day, every day. People would know.”

“_____.” Namjoon breathes out your name, moving one of his hands to behind your back to gently pull you into his side, using his other hand to clasp one of your own tightly. You shudder at the close proximity, still not used to being anywhere near this close to him.

He looks down at you with heavy eyes, choosing his next words carefully. “It’s late. We’re both tired. Can we try to get some sleep and have a real conversation about this in the morning?”

As much as you want to get the pain over with and end the conversation now, you can’t bring yourself to say no when he’s staring down into your eyes with such a pure and sad longing. “Okay.”

You begin to push yourself off of him in order to show him out the door, but he grabs you by the waist and back into his shoulder. In a shaky voice, he pleads, “No. Can I sleep here…please? It’s just…you’re right. Realistically, I don’t know what, if anything,we can work out in the morning. But let’s just have tonight. Together. No one will know and it’s not going to affect or change anything for the worse at this point. If we can’t have every day, let’s just be at peace with each other tonight, as if we’re together. Please. And we can talk and work everything out for real in the morning. Right now I just…need to hold you.”

Any emotional strength you had left has been spent now, and there is nothing else you can do but give in. “Okay.”

Namjoon quirks an eyebrow at you, trying to ease out of his serious mindset for both of your sakes. “Deal?”

“Deal,” you say, nodding at him as you straighten your posture in his embrace. “But we do actually have to sleep. I have to be up in four hours, so I’m going to get ready for bed,” you add, standing up off the bed to head to the bathroom.

“Of course,” he says as he, too, rises. You begin to sift through your suitcase for a suitable pair of pajamas when you notice he has taken his shirt off and thrown it to the floor next to you – his version of “getting ready for bed”. You stop shuffling through your clothes for a moment as you think to yourself, and then grab his shirt from its balled-up position on the floor.

“So,” you drawl out, to get his attention, “If we’re in a relationship for tonight, that means I can wear this, right?” You hold his shirt out into the air in front of you.

His eyes widen, momentarily surprised, but soon a shy little grin overtakes his features. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He nods at you.

“Good,” you say, as you walk into the mini bathroom next to you.

After brushing your teeth and splashing water on your tear-stained face, you hop out of your clothes and into his oversized shirt, comfortably hitting you mid-thigh. You walk out of the bathroom to find him sitting crossed-legged on the bed with the covers pulled all the way back, waiting expectantly for you. His face scrunches into a bashful grin when he sees you clad in just his shirt. “You look so good.”

You loudly scoff at that as you climb into the spot next to him on the bed. “I have no makeup on, my face is puffy from crying…you really are sleep deprived, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes and smiles sweetly at you. Neither one of you move to lie down first, instead just sitting up on the bed, gazing at each other. It really hits you in this moment, the strangeness of it all, sitting on a bed next to someone who is essentially your boss. Yet even in the midst of the strangeness, and the unknowns, you can’t calm the feeling rising inside of you of how rightit all feels. Still, you don’t let yourself linger on that, and find yourself slipping into work mode when you let your mind linger too long on the fact that the man next to you whom you care about deeply is also 1/7thof the reason you have a job and get paid.

You glance down and take note of his attire. “Oh, Namjoon, I’m sorry, you’re still wearing your sweats…do you need me to find you something else to change into? Are you comfortable?” He smiles and puts a hand over yours, about to open his mouth before you cut him off with more of your nervous rambling, “Okay, uh, do you need some water or something before you sleep? Let me go find – “

“_____, stop. You’re not working. It’s just you and me.”

You smile at those words.

“Do you need anything?”

Those were words you were not used to being on the receiving end of. You smile and shake your head gently.

“Okay then,” he says with a grin, reaching down to the foot of the bed in order to bring the blankets up to your waists. You both lie back, and Namjoon turns his body towards yours to bring you closer only to find you a ridiculous amount of space away from him, stiffly staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey, _____,” he coos, and chuckles as you immediately whip your head towards him, “You can come closer, baby.”

Your mouth makes an “oh” shape as you realize how you subconsciously forced yourself to stay so far away, and inch sideways towards him until you are touching the elbow he has himself propped up on, your gaze back to being stuck on the ceiling.

He smirks and leans over until his face is hovering next to your own, and whispers, “Closer.”

This time, you will yourself to turn so your body is on its side facing him, and inch into his body until your face is pressed into his impossibly firm chest. Your wrap your arm around his waist, and he wraps his around yours, protectively pressing into your back, which pushes you until any possible remaining space has been squeezed out from between you. With your head tucked in under his chin and your ankles intertwined, you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt more secure or comforted in your life.

Namjoon presses a soft kiss to your hairline. “Please tell me I’m not the only one noticing how perfectly we fit together,” he breathes out onto your scalp.

You close your eyes and nuzzle into him further at his words, trying to hide your face from him. “Don’t think things like that, Joon. It’ll only make it harder.”

“Hey, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend tonight, remember? That’s a normal thing for someone in a relationship to think about.”

You gently nod under his head. You can’t argue him.

With both of your minds still wide awake, and not wanting to miss a moment of time together in your little bubble, the next hour ticks by quickly spent with you snuggling impossibly closer into each other, Namjoon gently carding his fingers through your hair. “I have insomnia. I’m sorry if I’m keeping you awake,” you whisper to him, worried you are unintentionally keeping him up, as well.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I’m here now. Just focus on my heartbeat.”

Which you do. It’s almost as loud as your own. You listen to the beat until you eventually doze off into the most restful three-hour sleep of your life.

_______________________________________________________________________

When you awaken in the morning, you have to keep yourself from jolting once you realize you’re still wrapped tightly in someone else’s arms, instead of sprawled out across your bed alone like usual. You gently nuzzle back into Namjoon’s hold, carefully trying not to wake him, as you want to make whatever it was that you both were doing last as long as possible.

You enjoy the next few minutes just staring up at his serene, peaceful face, looking absolutely beautiful under the sun’s rays coming through the window washing over his face. A few moments later he stirs, and throws his neck back, stretching out his whole body, yet still refusing to remove his arms from your torso. Eventually he opens his eyes, and breaks out into a wide, soft grin when he notices your doe-eyed expression staring back up at him. You gently rake your fingers through his soft locks for a while, letting each other get lost in the other’s presence.

“This is my favourite way I’ve ever woken up,” you breathe out, hand still entwined in his hair.

Namjoon offers a small smile as he reaches up to extricate your hand and hold it in his own.  He brings it to his chest, his large thumb brushing gently over your fingers. “Could we…do you think we could maybe put off our conversation until we have breakfast? Just so we can at least…eat together, and talk over coffee.” He smiles expectantly at you, knowing you can’t argue with that logic.

“Yeah,” you nod. “That’s a good plan.”

You stretch out to relieve your kinked up body, having not moved since the night before. But as soon as you extricate yourself from his grasp, he whines, making grabby hands to try and get you back. You have no choice but to roll back over, this time your body directly on top of his, with him lying on his back. He wraps his arm around your body once more, and you bury your face into his neck.

“So…when are we making breakfast?” he teases.

“Midnight,” you firmly reply, placing your lips on his collarbone for good measure.

“Okay.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes later you both have no choice but to drag yourselves out of bed and move on with the day. After you get dressed in the bathroom, you walk over to him with his t-shirt in hand and reach it out to him.

“What?”

“Your shirt.”

“Keep it.”

“Namjoon – “

“We still haven’t had our conversation yet, _____. No reason to give it back,” he says, not even attempting to hide the smirk on his face.

You smile up at him, a wistful look in your eye as you place the neatly folded shirt down on the foot of the bed.

You both spend the next half hour trying to make each other toast and omelettes, which ends in you putting Namjoon on coffee duty, since that’s the thing he’s least likely to burn. Seated next to each other at the small table in the hotel room, you enjoy your meal together, deep in conversations about anything other than what your subconsciouses were focused on. Not that either of you could complain. You enjoyed getting to talk about books, art, your hometowns, movies, your pets, and everything you didn’t get to converse about in your usual work environment.

Once you both downed the last of your coffees, the mood turned serious. You turned on your stools to face each other. “I have to leave for a meeting soon,” you said. His eyes turned sad. “Yeah, I have practice soon, too.”

He gently placed a hand behind your neck, slowly you dragging you forward to press his lips to yours once more. You move your mouths against each other with all the passion you felt inside of you, knowing this could very well be your last kiss. With heavy hearts you eventually had to tear apart, and straightened yourselves out in your chairs in preparation for the conversation ahead.

“So, about us…” Namjoon nervously trailed off, not quite sure how to begin such a difficult conversation.

You just stared at him, unsure yourself of what to say. Of what you could say, even. You let your eyes trail to the clock before glancing back over to Namjoon’s eyes, a tiny glint appearing in your own.

“My meeting actually starts very soon.”

Namjoon’s mouth quirks up at the end slightly. “I see.”

“Maybe we should be responsible and go to work, maybe we should put off talking…just a little bit longer.”

“I think that maybe that would be the smart and responsible thing to do, yes.”

“Okay then,” you say, standing up quickly. “Sounds good to me.”

You walk over to the night table to pick up your phone and keys, stopping when you walk by the shirt still sitting on the end of your bed. “Joon, don’t forget your shirt.”

He walks towards you and places his hands on your shoulders. He drops a quick kiss on your forehead. “Keep it,” he says with a wink.

With that, he grabs his own phone off the table behind you and leaves you to finish getting ready for the day. You edge back to sit against the bed, letting a small giggle escape from your lips, not sure the past twelve hours had actually even happened.

What on earth was he thinking.

[itrytowrite-things]

Welcome to Buzzfeed high

Summary: Reader works at Buzzfeed and is filming ‘Following a High School Schedule for 24 Hours’ video with Jazzmyne and Lindsay. Can shane and Y/N keep it professional when Shane is suppose to be her teacher? This fic is based off of this video. 

A/N: Hey guys, so how this is going to work is normal text is the actual scene and bold represents the interview scenes. I couldn’t think of a better way to distinguish between the two if you guys have any ideas please let me know. Sidenote: thanks to @fuckhead-writer for helping me edit this fic 

The small board room erupted with laughter, everyone staring down at the “school” schedule that had just been handed out. Y/N shook her head at the silly thing, already knowing that she would hate almost every second of the day tomorrow.

“Okay here is how the day is going to go,” Allsup said breaking the laughter from the head of the table. He goes into the spiel about how Buzzfeed will be running the video. The three women were prompted to vlog during any moments of the day when a camera was not set up for them. Allsup then started listing how the classes where going to be run. 

“So your going to my teacher huh?” Y/N leaned over whispering into Shane’s ear, bored of Allsup’s rant. Shane tipped back in his chair, smirking slightly. They both found the newest project extremely funny. The list of teacher/student taboo jokes would write themselves tomorrow; making the episode better.

“Okay Shane,” all the attention was turned towards the lanky man as Allsup addressed him directly. “Do you have a lesson plan for tomorrow?” The question hung in the air before Shane cracked a joke. 

“Oh yes! These women better be ready for the rigorous lesson I have planned, really going to make them work.” The group laughed at the comment before Allsup moved on to the next “teacher” asking about their lesson plans. That’s how it went the employees telling their boss that they did have a lesson plan that they were excited for, until it was Janna turns to talk about her lesson. She stood up passing out a paper to the three women that would be portraying the students. 

“I actually have a homework assignment for my students, they will be responsible for reading Act 1 scene 2 of Romeo and Juliet and writing an analysis paper on it.” Y/N’s heart started to beat a little faster. She had been great at English back in high school, but she hadn’t written a paper in ten years. Not to mention her hatred for anything Shakespeare. 

Y/N glanced down at the paper, taking in all the details of the assignment. Settling back down, she noticed the paper only had to be one page; double spaced. How hard could that be? After all the details were written up, the meeting was adjourned with the reminder that the school bus would be picking them up outside of Jazz’s house at 6:50 am. 

Y/N sat in between Jazzmyne and Lindsay, light shining down on the three of them. They were filming the intro before leaving to officially start the challenge with their homework tonight.

“Hi I’m Jazzmyne.” The woman to Y/N’s left introduced herself. 

“I’m Y/N.”

“And I am Lindsay.”

“And we are following a highschool schedule for 24 hours.” The three said at the same time, slightly out of unison. Y/N flashed the schedule to the camera giving a glimpse of what the viewers had to look forward to. 

“We have a set of rules, you disobey the rules you get a strike. Three strikes you get sent to detention.” Jazz explained. 

“The rules are simple: no skipping class, no foul language, no phones out in class without permission, no bad behavior, hall passes are required, follow the dress code, and lastly do not be tardy.” Lindsay said reading from the list they were given. 

“So what I am hearing is, all of us are going to end up in detention by the end of the day?” Y/N joked laughing. The other women soon joined in. Jazzymne stated what rules she would have a problem with before announcing their homework assignment.

“We have to write an essay on Romeo and Juliet. It has to be a page analyzing act 1 scene 2.”

“It’s double spaced right?” Lindsay asked, giving a worried face to the camera. 

“My significant other, K8, is a 9th grade english teacher who teaches Romeo and Juliet.” Jazz mentioned, leaving both of the other women mouth’s in a pout. 

“Well, that’s just not fair.” Y/N stated.  

Y/N sat on the floor with her legs crossed, knees pressed up against the coffee table. Her laptop sat open to an empty word doc, the paper describing her assignment sat next to it. She quickly pulled out the small black camera Buzzfeed had supplied her for vlogging. 

“Okay guys so It’s 9 o’clock at night. I have read the act, understood almost nothing, and now I am going to attempt to write my paper.” The woman talked to the camera before switching it around showing her blank doc. “Shane refuses to help me.” Y/N turned the device again showing her boyfriend slumped on the couch above her, typing on his phone.

“Sorry, have to do it on your own.” He says unapologetically, shrugging his shoulders dramatically for the camera. She shut the viewfinder and placed the camera on the table. Y/N scanned over the requirements of the assignment once again before typing in the doc.

So wrapped up in her work, Y/N didn’t even notice Shane slide off the couch onto the floor. Him reading over her shoulder. He placed a quick kiss to her arm startling her out of her work flow.

“It’s good sweetheart, really good.” Shane wraps his extremely long arms around the small woman, smiling as she continues typing.

“Thanks bub.” She said taking her left hand off of the keys, and nessiling it in his floppy brown hair. He smiled happily pushing his head into her hand. Kissing at her neck, a laugh escaped her diaphragm. 

“Shane. Stop. Have to. Finish my paper.” She let out in between giggles. 

“Mmh or you could blow it off like a real high school student.” He suggests looking down at the clock on her laptop. It flashed 10:39 in the lower right hand corner. Y/N turned her head, looking into his golden brown eyes. The puppy dog look that was displayed on them melted her heart. Causing a smile to appear on her face, she pressed her lips against Shane’s for a short kiss. She was reluctant to pull away. 

“I am almost done babe, go play some video games or something. I promise ten more minutes and I will be finished.” Shane let out a pout, kissing her again before standing up. His long legs unfolded as he stands, them cracking slightly, producing another laugh from Y/N. 

She was a woman of her word. Less than ten minutes later, she closed her laptop, happy with her paper. Y/N looked up at Shane, he had changed into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white tee. He looked comfortable. his thumbs lazily moving across the Xbox controller. She stood in front of him, smiling down at him. Shane raised his head to peer up at her, pausing his game. She crawled into his lap, watching as he returned her smile with one equally as kind. 

“So Mr. Madej, what will you be teaching me in class tomorrow?” She asked in a teasing tone, hands wrapped around his neck. He placed a hand on her back, the other to her hip as his thumb rubbed her hipbone like the controller, lazy and soft.

“Mmh can’t tell you that princess, now can I? That’s just not fair to my other students.” His voice was a soft whisper as he spoke. She stuck her tongue out at him, giving him a kiss before laying her head in the crock of his neck, feeling suddenly tired in his warm embrace.   

 “Well let’s get you to bed little lady. Big day tomorrow, first day of school.” Shane stood up, as Y/N clung to his body sleepily. Legs wrapping around his slender waist as he carried her to bed. 

Her arm shot out immediatly, shutting off the stupid alarm. One of the perks of working at Buzzfeed, is they normally have pretty slack business hours. Which meant the women normally strolled in at 10, but not today. Her alarm was set for 5:50 last night and it did not disappoint, going off at 5:50 am on the dot. Y/N  tugged on the string of her lamp. Rolling over, she was met with Shane’s bareback. She moved closer to him, craving his warmth. As soon as her body was press against his, Shane was turning around. 

“Got to get up sweetheart, suppose to be vlogging.” Sitting up, he kissed her on the forehead before getting out of bed and walking into the master bathroom they share. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. 

The vlog camera was held above her as she laid back down into the bed, head resting on her pillow. 

“It’s currently 5:58,” she said and held up her phone showing the time “This freaking sucks, I don’t want to get out of bed.” She snuggled closer into her pillow before switching the camera off and getting out of bed.  

“It was the worst part.” Y/N claimed, pouting at the camera. Jazz and Lindsay nodded in agreement 

“Like I remember pulling all nighters or staying up until 4 am doing school work in highschool and waking up at 6. I have no idea how I did that, I only stayed up until like 11:30 the night before and it took everything out of me to get out of bed in the morning.” Y/N explained herself. 

“Exactly! Damn teenageers are ruthless.” Jazzmyne added. 

“Yeah, I certainly don’t miss that part of school.” Lindsay said making the final statement. 

It wasn’t until 6:48 when Y/N pulled out the camera again. She was in her car outside of Jazzmyne’s house. She huffed lightly, straightening out her baby blue jean jacket. It was over a black band tee paired with black ripped jeans. She decided to dress like she did in highschool going back to her edgy roots. 

“So It’s 6:48. The bus gets here at 6:50 and I am just now arriving at Jazz’s house, so that’s my morning. Oh there’s Lindsay. Glad we all don’t have our shit together.” She turned the camera showing Lindsay pointing her camera at Y/N. They both gave an unenthusiastic wave to the other person’s camera. Before stepping out of her car, Y/N turned her camera off shuffling over towards Lindsay to get in the frame of her camera. 

“So running late as well?” Lindsay poses the question with a laugh, Y/N just nodded her head laughing as well. 

“If we are running behind, I can’t imagine what Jazz is like.” Y/N said adding fuel to their laughter. 

“The bus was suppose to leave at 6:51. I didn’t walk out of my house until 6:53.” Jazz rolled her head with statement, her black frame sunglasses sliding down her face. 

“Thankfully the bus was still there. Normally that would not happen.” Lindsey butted in.  

“Actually I made really good friends with my bus drivers, they would have waited for me.” The woman on the left clapped back.  

“Of course you did. I can see it now, ‘Oh Jazzmyne, I love her let me just give a little honk’.” Y/N pushed her palm against the air to stimulate a horn. The three women busted out laughing knowing that’s exactly what happened. 

Allsup was standing outside of the office in a suit, his hands held behind his back looking strikingly like a real principal. Y/N so desperately want to laugh at the man pacing in front of the door. The three women dropped their heads as they passed him on their way into the building, each mumbling their own version of ‘Hello Principal Allsup’.

Buzzfeed had went all out for this video, even going as far as making a little hallway lined with lockers with posters hanging around them promoting fake clubs and plays. Each woman chose a locker and placed their gym clothes in it along with anything extra they didn’t need. The women stared at each other after they closed their lockers.

“Okay well I have to go do morning announcements.” The blonde said sipping what Y/N assumed was water through a pink straw. 

“Okay, see you in first hour.” Jazz said throwing her backpack over her shoulder and heading towards stage 8 for their first class of the day. Y/N gave a small wave to Lindsay before following behind Jazz. 

“Our schedule starts with history with Mr. Madej.” Lindsay points out while waving the schedule back and forth in front of the camera. She turned to wiggle her eyebrows at Y/N. Y/N felt a small blush heat up her face. 

“We know that will be your favorite class.” Jazz said and bumped shoulders with the woman teasingly. 

“What can I say, I like history.” She retaliated, shrugging her shoulders. 

First hour was with Shane, and Y/N couldn’t help but be excited to see him. They typically get to commute to work together. She missed that time they normally got to share together, so she was eager to see him.

“This is so cute.” Jazz said gesturing to the tiny classroom that Buzzfeed had set up in stage 8. It truly was cute, a little chalkboard was set up in front of the room, a world map drawn on it in chalk. There was a table with three red chairs in front of the board. A small circular table sat next to the board, a water bottle and book placed on it. Then there was Shane. He leaned over the tiny table reading the book. 

That’s what Y/N eyes trained on, she couldn’t focus on anything else. Shane was dressed professionally, wearing a white and navy blue striped button down paired with a red tie. It made his torso look long and lean. His lengthy legs were covered by black skinny jeans held up by a brown belt. He looked so handsome. Her eyes couldn’t focus on anything else, her mouth felt dry looking at him. 

“Good morning.” Shane Mr. Madej said as the two women entered the room. He nodded softly, watching as they took their seats next to each other. Jazz sat in the middle seat as Y/N took the one closest to the wall. 

“You look spiffy.” Jazz said from her seat.

“Oh thank you.” Shane replied looking down at his outfit, tugging at his tie. Y/N nodded her head in agreement. Words not really working out for her at the moment. They sat in silence for a moment before the speaker crackled from somewhere in the room. Allsup’s voice filled the room. 

“Goodmorning Buzzfeed High! Hope you all have a fun day, but remember to have fun, you have to follow the rules.” Shane pointed up in the air at the word ‘follow’ and back to the two women at the word ‘rules’. Y/N and Jazz laughed pointing a finger back at him. There was silence as the mic was passed to Lindsay. 

“Please stand for the pledge of Allegiance.” Her voice boomed. 

“Here we go I was waiting for that.” Shane smiled pointing towards the small American flag that he had taped up on a bookshelf. Y/N smiled at his pride for the tiny flag. The announcements carried on with Lindsay stumbling through the lunch menu. 

“What the hell? These announcements suck.” Jazz laughed. The mic was passed back to principle Allsup. 

“Let’s go corgi’s, go get them, woof woof!” And that was the end of morning announcements. 

Lindsay soon joined the other two women in history, taking her seat next to Jazz. She placed her bag on the floor getting comfortable for the lesson. 

“How’s everyone doing this morning?” Mr.Madej asked clapping his large hands together. 

“Well you know, it’s early.” Jazzmyne mumbled back at him. 

“I am gonna see if I can switch this board around.” He pushed the board forward trying to flip it to the other side. He unfortunately didn’t pull it forward enough, causing it to smack against the wall. The sound echoed throughout the room. She tried to hold it in, she really did, but Y/N couldn’t fight back the bubbling laughter that flowed out of her. Shane’s head snapped back to the woman, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“You think that’s funny Miss.Y/L/N?” 

“Yes.” She gasped, barely getting it out among the fits of laughter. Shane stared her down, trying to be serious but he couldn’t help but laugh back. Everything about Y/N was contagious, so it wasn’t a surprise when only laughter filled the room. 

“Mr. Madej was a cool teacher.” Jazz stated, Lindsay nodding her head in agreement. 

“It was a nice way to start off the day.” The blonde said. 

“He was hot.” Y/N said dryly, like him being hot was a fact not a statement. The other woman burst out laughing. 

“He just had a great way of connecting with us, having fun.” Lindsay added trying to get the conversation back on topic, but failed as the next thing out of Y/N mouth was:

“I really wish I could have connected with him a little more if you know what I mean” She gave a wink to the camera and a smirk to go along with it. 

Y/N blanked out as Shane started his lesson. Her focus was on the way Shane moved around the chalkboard, scribbling his messy handwriting in orange chalk. She watched his lips move, he was talking about something history related she was sure of that, but she didn’t exactly know what. 

“Miss. Y/L/N are you okay?” His voice snapped her out of her trance. 

“Yes sorry just a bit distracted.” 

“And what is distracting you?”

“You are, with those tight jeans and perfect lips.” She teased back at him, Lindsay snickered at the comment.

“That’s highly inappropriate Miss. Y/L/N.”

“I believe that falls under bad behavior Mr. Madej.” Jazz points out smirking at Y/N. Her eyes widening back at the short haired woman. 

“I am afraid I have to agree, sorry that’s a strike.” Y/N’s face was priceless as her mouth hung open, her eyes so wide they might explode out from her. 

Jazz tried to talk, but the laughter was too much. She and Lindsay both hunched over with their laughter. Y/N on the other hand, sat in the middle, fake fuming for the sake of good entertainment. 

“Okay sorry,” Jazzmyne said finally calming herself down “So Y/N got a strike for flirting with a teacher.” 

“I really thought it would be Jazz to get a strike for being inappropriate, but here comes Y/N talking about Mr. Madej’s tight jeans and perfect lips.” Both women laughed at the reintroduction of Y/N words. 

“He really should have been filtered.” She crossed her arms over her chest a pout coming out on her lips. 

“But the best part was a second later she got another strike because she flicked him off when she thought he wasn’t looking.” The women were almost on the floor at that point. 

The bell rang dismissing the women to the next class which was Englsih with Ms.Macatangay. The women underestimated the time they had to get to this class, causing them to have to run up the stairs nearly dying on the way. They luckily made it just in the nick of time. They were forced to read their homework assignments in class, which made Y/N feel like she was actually back in highschool, anxiety racing through her. However, she recited it without a hitch.

Before the women knew it, it was time for P.E. They had survived physics and Spanish and they were on their way to grab their gym clothes out of their lockers. Buzzfeed had made cute little gym shirt they were black and read “Buzzfeed 2019 highschool athletic department” in white. The women were also granted other classmates in this class. Of course among those classmates was the famous Ryan Bergara. Through the two years of dating Shane, Y/N and Ryan had became somewhat close. Bonding over their shared love for the tall boy like man. So it was natural when he dropped down next to her on the floor.

“Ten minutes into P.E and Jazz gets called out for talking.” Lindsay says. 

“All I said was she was thick.” She defended herself. 

“Which I think is unfair that I got a strike for that.” Y/N chimed in. 

“That was different, I didn’t tell her to her face that she had perfect lips.” Y/N face heated up as she smirked. 

The dodgeball game started with a whistle. It was Y/N and Jazzmyne on one team and Lindsay and Ryan on the other. Y/N’s team lost the first game prompting Ryan to trash talk to her about her crappy throwing skills. Which was not a good idea because now she was out of blood. She waited for the whistle, foot touching the back wall, staring daggers at Ryan. She used her foot to push off as soon as the whistle sounded. Y/N quickly grabbed a blue ball, aiming it straight at Ryan.

“This is for trying to steal my boyfriend Bergara!” She shouted, ball flying out of her hand hitting Ryan right in the gut. He played up the pain for the camera hobbling over towards the sidelines grumbling about how Shane was his first. Her team ended up winning the second and third game. 

Lunch was the worst, the food was cold. It also didn’t help that everyone else in the office was eating chipotle. Y/N was over the day at that point. She was hungry, tired, and her brain ached from all the knowledge that had been thrown at her. She grumbled her way back up the stairs for 6th hour which was math.

“I walked in thinking it was pre-cal, but it was trig I never took that class in highschool.” Lindsay complained. 

“Same.” 

“I took it, but I didn’t remember anything.” Y/N stated, her enthusiasm slipping. 

Y/N sat through the class, head in her hands trying to understand what Mr. St.Juste was writing on the board. She might have been the only one to take the class in highschool, but it didn’t make the subject any less alien to her. Luckily they all passed and were on their way to their last class, home ec with Mrs. Mcclenny. They were making Tamagoyaki, a japanese style omelette. It was delicious which was amazing because Y/N was starving. A huge sigh left all three women lips as the final bell rang. 

“It was exhausting and I never want to do it again.” Y/N stated bluntly. 

“Yeah, teenagers deal with a lot of shit and we should appreciate them more.” Lindsay said. 

“Exactly, well that was following a highschool schedule. We are going to go home and sleep for five years.” Jazz said. 

“Bye!” All three said in unison waving at the camera. 

Y/N was slowly grabbing things out of her locker when Shane creeped up and leant against the locker next to hers. Looking like a stereotypical jock from a teen movie. He smiled, watching as her slumped body packed up her things. 

“Need help with that beautiful?” She smiled as his voice put some energy back into her. 

“Do you flirt with all your students Mr.Madej?” She asked walking away from him. He followed after her, a cheeky smirk played on his face. They dropped the subject on their walk to the car. 

“I am so tired Shane, today was fun but awful.” She groaned resting her hand against the handle of the car. 

“Well, let me take you home and make it better princess.” A smug grin crossed his face. 

“I don’t think so asshole, you gave me two strikes.” She held up two fingers before sliding into the car, Shanes grin fell as he too got in the car 

“You’re joking right?” He asked hopefully. 

“I don’t know, get me home and we’ll see.” The grin returned as he started the car. I guess sleep could wait a little longer. 

[mentallyinwalmart]

"It’s 1AM and I’m studying for finals and you’re my roommate’s friend who just crawled through my window." Cressworth

HI LET ME PREFACE THIS WITH: THIS IS THE GREATEST ASK I COULDVE I M A G I N E D

I owe you my life for giving me the opportunity to write something so fun, anon ❤️😍💓🤪🥰💛

Okay, here we go…

—

‘What are the differences between ethos, pathos, and logos’

I read the flash card again, hoping this time it triggers some memory. But it doesn’t. I look at the clock on Ileana’s desk and curse.

One fifteen am. One fifteen am and Ileana still isn’t back from Daci’s.

As if on queu, my phone buzzes on my desk. I cross the room and read the message from my roomate, explaining that she will not be returning this evening. I sigh, dropping my phone back on the desk.

I love Daci, and I love illy even more. But tonight I could’ve used someone to help me with studying for this damned English final.

I could cut a man up and stitch his corpse back together in my sleep, but apparently I can’t pass a fucking Literature 201 class.

Rustling outside my window calls my attention, but I don’t bother crossing the room. Ileana and I live on the first floor, and it’s common for us to hear the skittering of small animals on these warm spring nights when we leave the windows open.

I turn back to the notecards abaondoned on my desk, scooping them back. I flip the one that had me stumped to the back of the pile and pull up the next card.

‘What are the principle stages of the hero’s journey?’

I throw the card on the floor with a loud curse,

“God damnit!”

I collapse into my desk chair, leaning back as I bury my face in my hands. This is my fault, I got myself into this situation by half assing my final essay and making it so that, unless I get an A on this final, I’ll get a B in the class. And there goes grad school.

I groan.

But suddenly, my problems seem a lot less pressing as I hear a scratching at the window above Ileana’s bed. Someone is visible, sillouhetted in moonlight, trying to Jimmy the screen off the frame.

Someone was trying to break in.

My heart races as I scramble for something, anything, that might be used as a weapon. I grab my forensic textbook off of the desk and hold it up, edging towards the window.

The screen is off, and someone is half through the window.

“One more move and I’ll call the police.”

I flip on the switch that lights Ileana’s half of our room.

The unidentifiable figure gasps and momentarily loses grip on the frame, falling straight into Ileana’s bed below the sill. I cross the room in an instant, book raised and ready to strike, but then I catch sight of who is lying in my roomates bed.

“Thomas?!” I demand, staring down at my roomate’s girlfriend’s brother who is sprawled across Ileana’s bed. Book still held high, I brave another question. “What the HELL are you doing coming through the window?”

“I can explain!” He sits up, but flinches as I adjust my grip on the book, “please put down the book?”

He looks me up and down, taking in my pajama shorts and thin t shirt. I give him a whithering look before lowering the book, but still hold on to it tightly in case he makes any quick moves.

“You had better start talking Cresswell.”

“Right! Sorry!” He says, returning his eyes to my face, “well I’m not allowed in the girls halls after nine, and it’s well after nine.” He gestures to the clock. “Ileana was supposed to be in tonight, I was just going to slip in, then go up to the fourth floor to Daci’s room to help her study.”

He speaks so mater-of-factly, as if this is simple and I am a fool for not putting it together myself. I realize this is clearly not the first time and my jaw drops.

“You-You’ve done this before?!” I sputter, dropping the book in my shock.

“I— well, yes.” He says, sheepishly looking at the floor.

I smack my forehead with my palm and turn away from him.

“But only when you weren’t home!” He says, “I really didn’t know you’d be here, I thought the light on was Ileana.”

I laugh, wether from fatigue or the fact that the events of the last five minutes are truly unbeliebavle I’m not sure.

“Really, Audrey Rose, I’m so sorry.” He stumbles over his words, righting himself on the mattress before running a hand through his touseled hair. “I’ll just, I’ll just be going.” He gets up and moves towards my door, but I put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“I really wouldn’t” I say, and he raises an eyebrow, “Ileana is spending the night at your sisters, so I’m assuming they aren’t going to want to be interrupted by anyone. Least of all you.”

“Ah Jeez.” He says, scratching the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry, I should’ve texted her.” I raise my brows, shooting him a look, “right! I shouldn’t have come in your window at all.”

But I can’t help but laugh once more. If this is any omen of what my day will be like tomorrow, I do not have high hopes for my exam.

“It’s fine, Thomas.” I say, shaking my head. “The adrenaline rush will keep me up way better than the coffee I was drinking so maybe I owe you a thank you.”

For the first time, he surveys my side of the room, taking in my desk covered in open books, highlighters, and pens, flash cards scattered across the floor like confetti.

“Big test?” He raises an eyebrow and I fight the urge to kick him out on the spot. But I swallow my annoyance and meet his gaze.

“Yea. Literature Analysis 201 with Domhoff. Damn class is going to ruin my 4.0”

His next words shock me and I can’t help but widen my eyes as he speaks,

“Want some help studying?”

I pause, contemplating. True enough, I had just wished that I had someone to study with, but it wasn’t my roomates girlfriends brother I had had in mind. But then again, beggars can’t be choosers.

“Alright.” I say, shrugging as I stoop to pick up the cards.

When I stand back up, he’s rolled Ileana’s chair over to my desk, and is pouring over my marked up study guide.

“Wow.” He says, “For someone who sets the curve in forensics, you are really bad at English.”

I smack him on the arm and he raises his hands in surrender. But a question plays at my mind.

“You’re in my forensics lecture?”

He look— almost hurt. But quickly covers his expression with a grin.

“Have been since last quarter. Thanks for noticing.”

I feel a flush cover my cheeks.

“Sorry.” I mumble as I thumb through the cards, but to my surprise, he laughs.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a 200 person lecture and we sit on opposite ends of the hall. I only noticed you because I saw your schedule on the mirror one day” he points to my mirror by the door and I scowl. “Right” He says “sorry, I’ll stop reminding you how often I’ve snuck through your room.”

For the sake of my GPA, I do not let myself get bogged down with the question of how often he was in my room without my knowledge. Instead, I offer him the stack of flash cards.

He quizzes me, taking out the cards I got correctly, and then making me write out the definitions of the cards I didn’t get correct. Then he tests me again and we repeat this system until I have gotten them all.

“But how am I supposed to remember all this tomorrow? It’s in my short term memory now, but what about in five hours when I have my exam?”

He glances at the clock and I can see surprise cross his face as he realizes it’s three am.

“Christ Audrey Rose, you should sleep, especially if your test is at eight.”

I open my mouth to protest but he shakes his head.

“How about this,” he offers, “to pay you back for nearly startling you to death, I’ll meet you in the dining hall at six thirty and we can review for an hour before you have to walk to class.”

I weigh my options, but decide that as annoying, and mildly invasive he was, he had offered good advice for remembering things.

I nod, and extend a hand. He takes it and we shake.

“See you bright and early then Thomas.” I say with a grin.

He returns my grin with one of his own.

“Guess some good can come from home invasion!”

I scowl at him,

“Don’t even think you’re off the hook for that.” I say, but he still grins, standing up and bowing ridiculously in my direction.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He says, moving towards the window, “but you can dream of me.”

“Why you little—”

But before I can get my insult out, he’s hopped out the window and vanished from view.

I sigh as I reattach the screen before crawling into my own bed. Despite my objection, he somehow managed to get into my head, because I do dream of him.

—

again, thank you SOOO much for the ask. I loved this prompt so much :) I actually have another Cressworth College AU coming out soon, so keep your eyes peeled for that 

xx

tag list: @city-of-fae @beasnotebook @schmlip-scribble @lizziehatter @shaewony @nish247 @queenofdorkville 

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics!!

[robinrunsfiction]

Now that Halloween is coming up, can you write a story where the girl (whose name is Tessa) is dating Gerard, and she starts to feel weird one day and it turns out that she’s becoming a demon, and she tries to hide it and control it but it becomes more and more obvious - but G finds himself increasingly attracted to this new version of her?

Author’s Note: Here you go, well before Halloween! I also wanted to make a quick PSA for anyone who might not be aware of a super awesome Chrome browser extension you can install. It’s called InteractiveFics and you can store your name so that when (YN) appears in a story, it automatically adds your name! You can set it up so any variation of YN or Y/N or whatever appears as your name, which is pretty rad! That’s why I tend to do x reader fics instead of specific fics.

That being said, I’ll probably post a YN version of this story separately so everyone can enjoy as well.

You had been so careful when you recited the words. You weresupposed to be opening yourself up for communication with the spirit worldafter your friend's beloved aunt passed away and you wanted to help grant herclosure. This also wasn’t the first time you had done this. You knew thedangers of channeling the other side, but you weren’t worried. You would befine.

But after letting your friend's aunt speak through you, youfelt something else. You tried to let it go, it had to be nothing, you feltfine and didn’t hear anyone else communicating with you. Shortly after yourtearful friend left, your boyfriend Gerard arrived home.

“Tessa, you home?” he called from the door.

“Yea, in here,” you called from the kitchen. He came in andgreeted you warmly with a kiss as he set his stuff down.

“What did you do today?” he asked while pouring himself somecoffee.

“Did a few readings for online clients then a friend stoppedover and I channeled her aunt.”

“How'd it go?” Gerard asked.

“It was fine, no problems at all,” you smiled.

The rest of the night you ate dinner, and laid around withGerard being lazy, it was a good night.

The next morning when your eyes opened, you felt like ashift had taken place deep inside you. You felt empowered and motivated tocause some kind of trouble. You shook your head and strutted toward the shower,leaving Gerard sleeping in bed.

As you peeled off your pajamas and looked in the mirror,nothing looked different, but you were so much more aware of your curves andhow sexy you felt.

You stepped into the shower and got started washing up forthe day. As you ran your shampoo covered hands through your hair, your fingersgrazed against something strange, a rough patch on your scalp. You scrubbed atit a little harder with your nails, and then noticed another patch on the otherside.

You finished washing up and got out of the shower andcleared the steam off the mirror. Parting your wet hair, you looked at yourscalp, but couldn’t manage to find what you had felt.

The next couple days went by without anything out of theordinary going on, other than your newfound burst of self-assurance. Theconfidence in yourself radiated off of you, and Gerard was quick to notice aswell. It was as if a switch had been flipped in you and you had becomeirresistible to him.

The next morning though as you woke up tangled againstGerard's sleeping form, you felt like another shift had taken place in you. Youstill felt confident and sexy, but it also felt like there was a darknessencroaching.

In the shower you started shampooing your hair as normalwhen you realized the spots on your scalp had changed overnight. Now they weresharp buds growing out of the top of your scalp.

“No, no, no!” you said as you quickly rinsed off and went tothe mirror, pulling at your hair until you confirmed what you felt. “Oh fuck!”You muttered, not realizing how loud you were speaking.

“Tessa, you ok?” Gerard called from the other side of thedoor.

“Yea, just cut myself shaving, its ok,” you lied. You sankto the floor, heart pounding in your chest. It all made sense now. A demonsnuck through while you channeled your friend's aunt.

‘And I'm so happy in here, I think I'm gonna stickaround,’ a voice from the back of your mind taunted.

“No! You leave me at once!” you whispered harshly.

‘Your, or should I say our, man, is so hot though, Iwanna stick around. Besides these last few days have been some of the bestyou've ever felt right?’

“Shut up,” you grumbled.

‘That’s it, you know you love what I've done for you. Nowcome on, finish washing that sexy body and then let’s go have some fun withGee!’

“You don’t get to call him that,” you replied as youinvoluntarily got off the ground and back under the spray of the shower.

‘Pretty sure I'm calling the shots now, sweet thing. Nowhurry up.’

~

As you and the demon began to coexist together within you,you did have to admit you still loved the way it made you feel; sexy, confident,ambitious. That did not stop you from scheduling an exorcism with a priest thatyou had met once. You were desperate to get back to normal before Gerardnoticed, but you were too late.

One night you both lay panting, coming down from yet anotherpassionate moment together. You were curled against Gerard’s side as he lithimself a cigarette.

“Tessa, can I ask you something? And please don’t take itthe wrong way,” he asked tentatively.

“Sure,” you asked with your brow furrowed.

“You know I love you, completely and totally with all myheart forever, but this last week you’ve been…”

“Different?”

“Yea,” he answered.

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked looking up at him.

‘If he says yes, we can dump him and go after that sexybrother of his’ the demon taunted, and you bit your tongue to keep fromtelling it off.

“Not at all!” He replied, looking worried that he said the wrongthing. “I love this… sexier side that seems to be coming out, I just want tomake sure you’re ok.”

You chuckled darkly. “Oh, you know, just possessed by anapparently sex crazed demon, but other than that, I’m fine.”

Gerard laughed heartily before putting out the cigarette andgetting out of bed. “That’s a good idea for a comic,” he called as he made hisway into the bathroom.

“Let me know if you need any ideas,” you muttered.

‘So you’re gonna cancel that exorcism?’

“No,” you grumbled

‘But he loves you even more since you let me in, and youtold him, and he doesn’t even mind. Come on, let me stick around, you know I’mkeeping things interesting.’

You actually considered the demon’s words for a moment. “Fine.I’ll cancel it.”

“Cancel what?” Gerard asked as he came back out of thebathroom.

“Exorcism,” you said with a shrug.

Gerard laughed again as he got into bed and pulled youclose. “You’re so funny, sugar. I love you,” he said as he placed a kiss onyour head. For a moment you held your breath, but he missed the small hornsthat had grown sharper in the days since they had emerged. “I could spend foreverlike this, just you and me.”

“Me too,” you replied looking up at him with a smile and he leaneddown and kissed you passionately.

‘Me three.’

[k-spiracy]

Human Error || 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (F)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Action/Adventure, Thriller/Horror, a little salt bae pinch of Mystery

Word Count: 7k

Significant Tags: Killer!Jungkook AU; Assassin!Y/N AU; Enemies to Lovers AU; Mafia!BTS AU; College! AU

Summary: “There was only one way in and out of there, and someone else just occupied the exit.”

Warning:  PLEASE DO NOT READ if you are sensitive to graphic descriptions of dead bodies, or the mention of rape and/or abuse, which is present in a snippet of this chapter.This work is completely fictitious. In no way do I intend to romanticize murder, assassination or any other criminal act. Please do not associate violent themes with BTS or any member. This AU is based off a popular twitter thread from jung_kkuu.

Author’s Note: THIS IS MY FIRST FIC! YAY! Writing this story took me a long time for personal reasons and it took a lot of courage for me to finally post after countless proof reads… Anyways, I hope you like the story! Give Me Feedback!

Chapters: | Index | 01 | 02 || cr.

Death always seemed to work in mysterious ways. Admittedly, that phrase was meant for God, but in your profession, there left no place for heavenly deeds. You could never put yourself anywhere but the middle ground between good and evil, doing what both of those high powers did, which was ending a life. Though their ways may or may not have been painless, life and death were like the difference between a river and a stream, and water is water. 

Your job was what separated those two things and spread them thin beyond the belief that death was strictly a divinity. Humankind was convinced that they are the supreme being, making you a mere pawn to the man-made game of survival, a silent terror in the dead of night; an assassin.

Tonight was one of those late nights, technically the early morning, as it held a quiet promise. The sky was overcast, hiding the little flecks we previously called stars—by now, completely artificial, as humans discovered how to preserve the earth and the universe as we know it, just before the peak of demise.

Echo was your field name, a perfect description of your work: nothing more than the whisper of a cry heard out many miles, many minutes after you’d already left. You were quiet, to say the least. You took your time with every kill, preferring to get to know a person before ending them. Strolling through their house, (be it getting through an upstairs window or simply the front door) looking through their pictures, their life, to try and get an understanding of why they were about to die.

See, you learned never to ask questions, only to take the money even if the person in question did not deserve it. Most times it was better that way. At least, it’s what kept you alive and into the profession.

A small click sounded your success, and an open window after it, as you took a cautious step inside the house. The floors and stairs were wooden, both extremely risky if the house turned out to be pretty old. Though it didn’t seem so, you still wouldn’t take any chances.

You look around. The room you entered was a modern kitchen; grey and barely lit with cool undertones. There was a room to your immediate left with flickers of dim white light portraying someone’s shadow moving back and forth, a stairwell ahead, and a little room to the back right of the kitchen. A cracked doorway at the top of the stairs catches your eye, and the desire to explore consumes you, but you did not plan on him being awake.

You’d always studied your targets, where they go, what they eat, whom they talk to but that was all with the help of social media; phone cameras. This one was scheduled to have been in bed for approximately two hours, thirty minutes and six…seven…eight…seconds ago. Of course, it was nothing you couldn’t handle, but you still felt relieved that you chose the fire escape instead of the front door. 

You gauged the distance between your side and the opposite, calculating the perfect time to cross. The archway of the room was significantly large, but his pattern of walking showed stability. So as soon as he turned his back, you made a run for the other wall and pressed against it.

You carefully poked your head around the corner. Here, you could see the man clearly: pacing back and forth holding a phone to his ear, while speaking in tones of hushed anger. The whispering tipped you off.

Someone else was in the house.

You scanned him and his surroundings, noting an elevated heart rate, (most likely due to anxiety) but otherwise healthy vitals. His profile, Jung Hoseok, age 24, blood type A, standing at 5ft. 11in. was marked for deletion. He was handsome, with brown hair and hooded eyes, and he wore a light green t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. The room, however, had an irregularly placed china cabinet, all of his curtains closed, and bank statements on his coffee table dated from two days ago. Hoseok pauses. You look away. Static fills your ears.

“…saw something.”

Hoseok is coming your way and you have nowhere to hide. His hand grips the crown molding just centimeters away from your head. You hold your breath. He passes you, heading deeper into his kitchen before glancing at the spot where you used to stand. You watch him from the shadows of the staircase, taking notice of something he didn’t. As soon as he turns back into the living room, you see it again, a quick flash of red light speeding by his head.

“Mission comprised.”

Suddenly, a target appears in your line of sight. “Execute and evacuate immediately,” it said, before dissolving into pixels.

You watch Hoseok cautiously. He was already on edge, but now you were too. Your new mission lay at the top of the stairs. Had it not already been your intention, you’d have been worried by the sudden change of course. Nonetheless, you ascended the steps silently. At the top of the stairs, there were three doors: two on either side and one that was already open in front of you. It was your first choice.

As you entered the bedroom, you noticed the open window directly across from you, the wind blowing the curtains however it pleased. There was also someone in the bed, tangled beneath the tousled grey sheets fast asleep. A woman. 

As usual, your curiosity led you to the bedside table on the opposite side where a picture frame stood. Hoseok and the sleeping figure were in it. Upon further inspection of the room, you found nothing particularly incriminating and got ready to leave, when you kicked a metal box. The woman did not move. Your ears strained for minutes in case the man downstairs heard, but there was no response.

Your attention returned to the box. In it, a pistol, two rolls of money, and a questionable substance. It seemed as if both the placement of this box and it’s contents were out of place. Could Hoseok have left it there?

Something didn’t seem right. You recall the tiny blink of red, just before climbing to the second story. Your hand takes on a life of its own, face draining of color. It grabs at the silk sheets and pulls them away, revealing the woman. She rolls toward you at the movement of the sheets, her naked body on full display. She wore a  necklace of bruises, dark in contrast to her otherwise pale white skin. Her hair was matted to her face, her lipstick smeared, and two of her red nails broken. In her previous spot, there was a dark wet stain that explained the glisten on her lower stomach. 

You sweep away the sweaty tendrils from her face. Upon doing so, her profile appears and your target list reduces back down to one. 

You back away, slightly confused; disgusted, to say the least. It wasn’t as if you didn’t feel for her in that pitiful state, but something else was at play. Was this the reason why Hoseok was your target? It did not make sense. His character did not show any signs of malice. Maybe he was just that good of a liar, but everything seemed…staged. 

It had only been seven minutes so far, but the night already seemed so long. You had to get out of there quick. Your hands reach for the blade strapped to your thigh and take it out. 

Creeping down the stairs, you were now prepared to kill. It was quieter than usual, despite the growing static. You wait at the bottom of the stairs for three beats when you hear nothing. Then, you whip around the corner and into the room expecting a struggle, except Hoseok is no longer pacing back and forth, but on the floor with a bullet hole in his head. You reach towards your mask in hopes to scan him, when you hear footsteps approaching. 

Another message appears as you crouch in the small space behind Hoseok’s sectional.  Your targets have been successfully terminated, but that is all the mask can show you: a status of death. It doesn’t know that you didn’t cause it. What it can pick up is your increased heart rate, so the mask alerts a different software to scan the area for possible threats, and sure enough, a heat signature appears on your radar.

The footsteps are a heavy, rhythmic drum against the cold wooden floors, getting intimidatingly closer with every passing second. It seems they are heading for the living room, possibly in search of you. You peek your head over the couch and weigh your options, frantically searching the four walls for any means of escape. You find none. The curtains could not be opened without giving you away, and not only that, but you’d have to jump out the window. You were six stories up.

There was only one way in and out of there, and someone else just occupied the exit. Their gait rang loud in your ears, those vibrations steadily rumbling towards you and then stop abruptly. You cradle your knees closer to your chest. For a second, you realize you stopped breathing and take time to carefully fill your lungs without alerting whomever it was sharing the room. You did not want to take the chance of looking at them, so you wait and listen, tightly gripping your knife. 

The silence is literally mutilating your ability to rationalize. You’ve never been in this situation before, what would the boss think? The head of your organization was a strict woman, she had no tolerance for mistakes. You wonder if she’d be furious at the failure of the mission, most likely demoting you or maybe even worse. 

For the sake of yourself, you decided not to imagine being back out on the streets. And just in time, because the sound of a click and a loud thud knocks you out of your previous thoughts. It has to be a gun, you think, as the long scrape of metal on the wooden floors send goosebumps racing up your arms. The person takes agonizingly slow steps, now in front of the TV, as you can see from their growing shadow. You cling to the blade, your back flush against the couch. A gloved hand reaches over the cushion, and you quickly slam your feet on the wall and push using all of your strength.

The sectional moves back with a bit of difficulty, but the person loses balance and falls forward, landing hard on their stomach. You stand and punch them off the back of the couch, toppling a few throw pillows as you jump over it in pursuit. Their knees give way to Hoseok’s coffee table and you take the chance to immobilize them.

It truly was a gun you heard. An assault rifle, to be exact. The sight of it dropping from the person’s hand while they fell confirmed it, and now, you straddle them with one hand firmly holding their shoulder as the other presses your knife to their throat. You that they must be an assassin, what with the black attire, gun and mask. They struggle in vain, caught under your weight in a near backbend against the low wooden table, as your knees dig hard into their flexed biceps.

“Don’t move!” 

Your voice resonates within the empty condo, echoes returning back to the living room. You feel some semblance of victory as you reach for their…bunny mask? But the sound of a door opening distracts you. Your head turns towards that direction, and the assassin frees their left arm, pushing you off of them in the process. You land on your butt with a grunt. The assassin whips their head towards the sound of multiple footsteps, moving only to swipe their gun and run towards the lone window in Hoseok’s living room. You scramble to get up and chase after them, but the window is open and they are gone. Still, you follow to see how they landed the tall drop, but there is no one to be found outside.

You turn to see people in white gather in the room. Clean-up Crew. Some look at you with the same confusion you wore on your face, as you should’ve been gone by now, but the rest go about their business unbothered. 

One of them walks towards you.

“Y/N, since when did you use guns?” You look up to see your good friend Namjoon inspecting the corpse before casually stepping over it, and then strolling over to your spot by the now-closed window.

“I don’t.” 

You leaned back against the glass with your arms folded, replying without meeting his curious eyes. He takes a place beside you and waits for you to continue to talk as he knew you would, always eager to get out of work, what with his clumsy tendencies.

You sigh. “I was set up.”

“But that’s not possible, the system always—”

“Obviously there is some sort of flaw in the system if someone else was here for the same kill, and me too.” Your mind goes back to the interaction. You could’ve died in that instance but that person, whoever it was, ran away.

“I’m just lucky my gut was right,” you say, pausing for a minute then pressing on. “And my mask, of course.” You remember that you were still wearing it, and with a wave of two fingers to your temple, it turns off. Your mask is holographic. To others, it looks like a pair of red visors—only needed to cover your eyes, since your balaclava does the rest. Without it, The Crew would not have been notified, and you did not want to think about what could’ve happened.

“There must be a logical explanation for all of this.” 

Namjoon was a technical man, even more so than you. He liked to know every possible outcome of a situation, but when something happens that his brain can’t calculate, he desperately searches for a ‘logical explanation’

“Enlighten me,” you quipped, ready to hear what he had in store, all while prepared to correct him at the same time.

He starts with only a breath before you rudely interrupt in a mocking tone. “The system is encrypted! It couldn’t possibly have been hacked and we wouldn’t have sent you out if we knew it was a double kill.” You glanced at him. He was not amused by your goading. “But then, considering that the other person tried to kill me,” you exaggerate a shrug before asking, “What else could it be except..?”

You’re waiting for his answer with an expectant look when he speaks up. “Well—”

A buzzer sound comes from the depths of your throat and Namjoon shoots you a glare. “Whatever you were gonna say, it’s wrong.”

“You didn’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“No, but it’s not one of your crazy ideas.”

Namjoon thinks back to the time he actually considered magic as a factor. From then on, you always took the chance to tease him. He sighs. “I was going to say that it could be an inside job.”

You opened your mouth then closed it. Your mind never leaped beyond the suspicion that it could be a rival organization after you. 

“What, you’re not going to correct me this time?”

“No… No. Actually, that sounds about right.” You turn your attention to the Cleaners, currently scanning the room. A thin blue holographic line makes sure to reach every corner of the room, paying extra attention to Hoseok’s dead body.

Carefully assessing the corpse, you make your way over to it, Namjoon following hastily. “I forgot to mention it, but what happened here?” He was referring to the mess you made. Anyone that walked in could tell there were signs of struggling. His eyes roamed the area, especially lingering over the crooked couch and the rug that bunched up under it. “Was this one hard  to kill, or was it the intruder?” The way he refers to Hoseok like he was never a “he,” but an “it,” makes you cringe. You can’t get over his use of the word intruder either, as if you weren’t one yourself.

“On the contrary,” you sigh, staring into the male’s lifeless eyes. “I didn’t kill him.” 

It does not take a while for Namjoon to put together the pieces. He knows you. He knows that you have never once used guns and how you feel about them, even. You were one of the few killers of your organization to use only one type of weapon, and those were blades. You preferred close range attacks but weren’t picky about tomahawking when needed. If it was a game of skill, you had it, and you’d win. Of course, Namjoon was sure of this, being your friend of three years.

He clears his throat and you look expectantly at him. “Penny for your thoughts?” You were transfixed on the corpse for a while and he started to worry. Silently asking for the one cent payment, you stuck out your hand, to which he responded by patting himself and shrugging when he came up with nothing. 

You giggle at his little display, musing over his exaggerated defeat when he could not find a penny and began to talk despite his lack of remittance. “It’s just that when I came, I had a bad feeling about everything.” Your gloved hand waves in circular motions over the contents of the room. “He was awake. I didn’t listen to myself and leave when I saw what was—” Your eyes widen. 

Upstairs.

You forgot about upstairs.��

“What was your assignment Namjoon?”

He quickly recites everything he read on his tablet before coming over. Your stomach lurches at no mention of the woman upstairs. Come to think of it, none of the Crew was missing. The usual number of only six members were accounted for, which meant that they didn’t even know about her.

You jump out of your rooted position and again, Namjoon trails without question. Your following increases when you tap the shoulder of one of the Cleaners and ask her to come with you upstairs.

The three of you reach the top and head inside the bedroom to see the lady on the bed exactly how you left her upon discovery. The girl excuses herself to go get some equipment to scan the area and you take the chance to inquire more about the mission.

“Did the message say anything specific?”

“Other than the target and his profile, no.” Namjoon stares at the bed. “Why?”

“Only because you guys have been here all of three minutes, and not one person was thorough about clean up like usual.” 

Routine was to wait for the all clear. 

Routine was to search the entire house. 

Routine was to dispose of the body.

It also is to empty the said house of any signs of any previous life, yet there lacked so much as a batted eye towards routine.

Maybe you were a bit impatient about it since they had just gotten there, but something still seemed off and you did not want to let that go.

Both of you waited in silence for the girl to come back. When she did, you asked her to perform a physical report. Moving to the right side of the bed, her arm hovers over the wet spot you had discovered not long ago. She then scans it, and the woman’s body after. The soft hum of her scanner fills the room for about ten seconds before a high-pitched beep is heard. 

“The results show signs of…of uh…” 

When she couldn’t speak without stuttering, you decided to try and fill in the blanks. “Was she raped?” you ask, your voice no louder than a whisper. 

Namjoon shifts uncomfortably at your question and the girl can only nod in response. 

“There's…

“There’s a box on the other side of the bed. I found it and it had some pretty questionable items.” You point in its general vicinity with a lazy wisp of your left arm. 

You seemed both bothered and unfazed by the room’s fourth presence, elucidated by its grim aura. She was rather unfortunate to have worn the dark circle impressed into the skin of her ring finger, binding her to this fate. It ate you alive to know that someone else killed your targets, and this one in particular to a much more morbid extent. Even more so, that you were not able to make it quick and easy. Not that it would have made a difference in terms of death since pain is pain, but at least you would have felt content in knowing that she wasn’t exploited in such a way. By who, you did not know. Her assumed husband, the prime suspect, was already being disposed of. The only other explanation had jumped out of the window before you could catch them.

“I don’t think this man—Jung Hoseok, was whom he led on to be.”

Namjoon had carefully read your expression as you fell deeper into thought at the mention of the box. He didn’t like the look in your eyes. “They usually never are Y/N, and it’s not our job to care.” 

“This pertains to the overall weirdness of the situation,” you conceded, watching the other crew member walk to the box you mentioned, picking it up and surveying that as well.

The latter folded his arms in protest to the ongoing plot inside your head.  He watched you open your mouth to speak, anticipating his further disapproval at your oncoming words as you swiveled towards the doorway.

“I have yet to—”

“Hold it,” Namjoon interrupted. He grabbed your arm mid haste and took you out to the hallway—where you were headed in the first place, but ultimately beaten to the punch. “I think you need to stop.”

You looked at him in disbelief. He towered over you, steady with his hands firmly curled around your shoulders. He continued to stare intently at you and when the passing minutes only held silence, he then spoke. 

“This is our job, so leave it to us.”

You felt defeat for the second time that night. That feeling quickly washed over with frustration and defiance. “if you're  suggesting that I cannot compose myself, Namjoon, I assure you—”

“You can handle yourself, I know.” 

“I have seen many bodies even worse than—”

“I know.” Namjoon, while taking his revenge from earlier, interrupted you for the second time, holding his grip even when you tried to break out of it.

“Then if you know, you should let me go.” you grit your teeth in another vain attempt to smack his arms away.

He contended with your challenging tone, simply by clipping off a sharp no at the edge of his tongue. Both of you stood in the dark hallway, two unmoving forces engrossed in each other’s burning gaze. 

“Come on.” He pulled your arm and started down the stairs, only for you to yank back. 

“Your job is not to scour the house and investigate. That’s what we do here. You came here to kill, and you did not deliver. Staying is not gonna make things better for you at the agency. Just go back, Y/N.

“You get yourself so caught up in everyone else’s life, you don’t even realize you are the one ending it. Aside from the fact that someone was out to get you, this case is no different. But, because the person is still out there, you need to get out of here instead of playing detective and putting a target on your back.”

Sometimes you hated when he was right. You let Namjoon take your hand and the two of you made it back to the first floor. He stopped in front of you to let two workers pass by. They carried Hoseok’s blanketed body on a gurney towards the front door, his left hand swinging off the side to the rhythm of their rough movements.

With your two hands still intertwined, Namjoon takes you the same way as the workers. You followed them into a maintenance elevator and went down six floors. Every corner harbored guards in grey. As for security, they made sure the building was asleep, which meant that any onlooker was oblivious, and all the cameras, if any, were off.  

Once outside, Namjoon stops. “Where is your car? I’ll take you there.”

“I can take myself,” you protested. “Its many blocks away.”

“Which direction?”

You sighed. He was not going to let up. You told him right, the direction of your car, and the two of you started walking again.

The wind was still blowing as softly as it did inside the house. Streetlights were off in your area, courtesy of Clean-up Crew, and the sky was just as dark as it had been the time you climbed into Hoseok’s window. You noted these particular details to distract yourself from Namjoon’s hand, still glued to your own.

He noticed you looking everywhere but him, and swung your arms teasingly. “I hope you aren’t mad at me, your best friend in the whole entire world,” he smiled. 

You shook your head with furrowed brows, more irritated at the killer that bested you only fifteen minutes before. 

“Good,” he said, letting go of your hand. 

At that moment, you realize he hadn’t done any of his work at all, and you were the reason. That made you feel bad for a brief second, but your thoughts rolled back to the other assassin. You were ill-prepared for such an altercation, as you had never encountered one of that nature.  Granted, every mission allows for the possibility of death, but as Namjoon said earlier, this was different. 

I could’ve died. 

“That’s why I’m walking you to your car.”

“What?” You looked up at your friend in confusion before realizing you had said it out loud. 

“Want to talk about it? We seem to have a couple more blocks since I don’t see the car yet.”

You accepted his offer without knowing where to start. Eventually, you told him exactly what happened. He listened, humming every now and then when he understood. When you finished, you waited for his insight.

“Describe them in detail.”

“I—I don't…” You didn’t think much on it since you were focused on survival, but on further assessment, you could remember more than just their clothes. “They were wearing all black, like me, but the shirt was short sleeved and they had ripped jeans on, almost as if the killing was a casual event for them.” Your eyebrows knitted at this thought, but you continued. “They…had a gun, I think it was an XT-97, but they handled it like a pistol.”

“So they’re strong,” he noted. “Height?”

“Tall. Maybe like…six feet? I can’t tell, but now that I think about it, their build was not at all feminine.” 

“Then it’s a guy, right?”

“Must be,” you said, retreating back into the memory once again.

“Don’t move!” 

You planted yourself on top of the figure, your knife digging into his craning neck. You can feel his muscles flex under the black T-shirt, veins bulging out of his forearms as your knees dig deeper into them, your intention being to further weight yourself. You’re ready to slit his throat, angling the blade and leaning close enough to hear his stuttered pants. 

Suddenly, your ears perk up at the sound of footsteps. 

They stop.

“We’re here.”

You stood on the corner of the street, the alleyway separating you from the next block over. No lights shone on your car as it sat in the shadows, and you made sure of that with the small EMP you planted on the asphalt. It acted as a cloaking device, detracting attention and temporarily deactivating streetlights in the perimeter. You picked it up as the two of you sauntered over to the black Tesla.

The car’s light illuminated Namjoon’s face when he leaned over the open door, one hand resting on the roof of the car. You expressed your temporary goodbyes and he shut the door after watching you put on your seatbelt. The ignition switched on at the sound of your voice, shifting to reverse and slowly backing out of the narrow space, careful of Namjoon’s presence.

“One more thing,” you piped up as the car idled on the curb. Namjoon was a little ways off, already on the walk back when he came up to the open passenger window. You motioned for him to get in and he did so without protest.

“He was wearing a really weird mask,” you said, trailing off while setting the autonomous car to drive in the direction of Hoseok’s apartment. 

You realized how distracted you got when you thought about the other assassin. Something about him sent chills up your spine,  yet you were entranced, just by the rise and fall of his chest. The low timbre of Namjoon’s voice pulled you out of the memory, but you could still see two unblinking black eyes staring back so vividly.

“It was a bunny mask. I remember clearly how haunted it made me feel.” 

“That sounds creepy.”

“Yeah, it kinda was.”

The car slowed to a halt and you looked over at Namjoon. He assured you that when he finished, he’d give you all the details on what he found. Then, he got out and walked up to one of the guards casually leaning against the pole of a stop sign. You waited for him to wave you away, and with it, the car drove off into the bare streets of what was now 3 A.M.

“Please input your next destination, otherwise you will be transported to the home marker.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. It would be a long ride from the outskirts of Gwangju. 

Technological advancements created self-driving cars and not long after, highways to accommodate their fast speeds, but even though this triumph sliced time into fractions, you still would have to wait an hour or so until you reached your destination. Knowing it would be so long, you groaned at the sight of your weary reflection in the visor, closing it with a slam. A note that was pinned to it fell into your lap. With light, you skimmed over carefully written cursive, the words of its author flooding the paper with waves of regret. Memories resurface from the depths of your mind and you can’t help but drown in them.

02. 17. 3049 || TWO YEARS EARLIER

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.

.

The smell of rosewood and kimchi is oddly soothing as you sit in the corner booth of the tiny restaurant. It was one of your favorite places to eat, also being one of the oldest and only businesses to evolve with the modernized world. The inside housed a new coffee corner, which you made sure to visit each morning. This morning was quite frigid and the café made up for the bitter weather with its warm drinks, one which you were already on your third order of.

She could be here any minute, you thought, your foot tapping rather impatiently against the tiled floor. You took a sip of your buckwheat tea, cold hands finding purchase in its warmth as your fingers desperately curled around the cup. 

Your eager eyes spot the waiter as she came to me your table, placing down a steaming bowl of naengmyun before smiling and walking away. 

How embarrassing it was for you to be seen waiting on someone else. Across from you, the table was set and empty for what would now be an hour and twenty minutes, and to that, your foot still tapped. Each ring of the bell at the door had you on edge until you saw the strawberry blonde walk in and lock eyes with you from across the way. You scanned her (an impulsive habit of yours) while she shuffled over to the table. You could tell she ran, as her cheeks were nearly beet red, and her breathing quite uneven. Everything you already knew about her appeared next to her figure as she sat down.

“Sorry I’m late,” she huffed, rubbing her cheeks and hunching over. You dismissed her profile with two blinks and smiled at her. 

“No need, I wasn’t waiting long.”

“Is this for me?” She pointed to the bowl of noodles that you pushed over to her side of the table in response. She dug in, mumbling a thank you with a few noodles hanging from her mouth.

You took another sip of your drink.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat. “What did you have planned for today? Anything involving outside? If so, I can order us something warm to take with us…” 

“Actually, our date started half an hour ago,” you teased, looking at the watch on your left hand. “Maybe we can still make the movie if you finish eating in…now.”

The sight of the bewildered look on her face made you burst into laughter. She grumbled as she slurped at her noodles, not appreciating your joke. Still, she asked why you didn’t order, so you lied about already being full, saying you were happy just watching her eat.

You truly had no appetite.

The rest of the day was filled with grins everywhere you went. She begged to stop by a street vendor who, upon the unexpected snowfall, gave away warm treats “on the house.” The two of you rushed to escape the weather and get to her apartment, where she’d put on a movie to replace the one you missed. 

The screen was frozen; paused.

She expressed her dire need to use the bathroom and went, leaving you where she expected you to wait: on her couch in the dim lighting of her living room. It was as she washed her hands, that she noticed you in the mirror standing behind her. There, that her confusion morphed into horror at the sight of the kitchen knife, and there, that her blood was spilled, all over the bathroom floor.

Her name never mattered.

It didn’t to whoever had opted to delete her, to the waiter, and the vendor on the street—both of whom were fellow agents, and it didn’t to the world, now that she was gone.

“Surprise!” 

You walked into the office startled, blood still tainting your boots, the girl still on your mind. She would later be erased, like all others, from your mind with the help of booze.

Maybe a party was just what you needed.

There were streamers lining the walls, balloons covering the ceiling, and a large banner that read “Congrats on 100 Kills!” hanging from either wall. You took a step further, recognizing your colleagues, some nearly foreign to you with large smiles on their faces.

It was odd for you, being celebrated for taking someone’s life. It just never seemed to matter if the right price is paid—low and behold, a large wad of cash lay buried deep in the pocket of your black moto jacket. You continued to approach the middle of the dark room, a cake with sparklers flickering it’s light on to the many bodies gathered around it. They urged you to blow them out and you did, despite being so hesitant.

Immediately, the lights switched on, and scattered claps rumbled into a thunder of applause. Soon after the cake was cut,  people conversed in small groups about the office, quick to stop and congratulate you as you pass by, searching for a friend. But someone else found you before you could reach those doors.

“Guess who?”

You recognized the familiarity of his voice, and, guessing correctly, lifted Namjoon’s hands away from your eyes.

“Hey stranger,” you said, turning to see him beaming at you with those dimples of his. He pulls you in for a tight hug, and without warning,  whisks you off, away from the party.

The music and chatter start to fade as he evades all interrogation while dragging you to the elevator, where the two of you take a ride down to the parking garage. Upon the doors opening, a chirp sounds within the concrete walls, soon muffled by the sound of an engine revving. A black car rolls in front of you, its two doors lifting like the wings of a bird taking flight. You are at a loss for words, stuttering out unfinished questions while the elevator doors continually attempt to close, but can’t with you in the way.

“She wanted to give you this,” Namjoon says, taking your arm and hooking it with his as he walks you up to the slick, black beauty. “A gift for all your hard work.”

Hard work, huh? Your boss seemed to be working harder than you, seeing as how she couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Did she no longer have time to be your friend? Watching your steady decline to less than human from behind the comfort of her locked doors?

It wasn’t fair.

“Wh—Where is—” You struggled to find the words until your questions were answered by the folded yellow note Namjoon hands you.

.

.

.

“Five minutes until the destination is reached.”

“Make a new course for work.”

Neon lights race along the curves of your car as it exits the highway, only a few blocks away from the office. Here, everything was alive, compared to where you were last, the traffic and pedestrians still bustling as if it wasn’t the early hours of the morning. It’s true what they say about the city, that it never sleeps, especially not when you’ve just arrived at the heart of Seoul. During the lively night, it was just another building with big glowing letters, but when the light of day shines on this skyscraper, many recognize it as the number one source of technology and internet in all of Korea: Vortex.

The car door lowers with a slight hiss as you walk up to the building. This was your second home for years now, and as you look up the glass walls, you see a yellow light shine from one of the windows. 

She’s still here.

You go inside, walking straight past the startled front desk manager—tossing him your keys—and to the elevator, where you knowingly lock eyes just as the door close. There were no buttons for where you were going because no ordinary person knew about the sub-levels of the building both above and below its shell structure. That was for the business Vortex conducted behind the scenes; the business in which you thrived.

The office was on one of the very top floors, and as you reach it, you turn to face the back of the elevator and wait for it to open. Had you share the lift with anyone else, they would’ve looked at you crazy, considering no normal employee could exit through the maintenance doors. 

There were no buttons. But of course, that was the purpose of the front desk.

The doors slide open and you walk into the most familiar place you’ve ever known. The cubicles and desks hid the nature of what the assassins really did, but you didn’t have a problem with it since it made you feel a little bit more human.

There were those double doors, the ones you could never reach during the party; the ones made of glass like everything else inside the building. 

Except she wasn’t see through.

“Hey, why are you still here?”

You stood leaning in the doorway, watching her head slowly lift from her desk. You knew the answer to that, so she decided not to respond.

“Something strange happened today while a was making a kill,” you started, waiting for her reaction. She did not provide one so you continued. “You see, I was going after that teacher I’d been following for a while, and when I got to his house, he didn’t look like a teacher.”

“Is that so?” She said dryly, her eyes still glued to the computer.

“Yeah,” you replied, folding your arms. “It is, and you wanna know what else?”

“What?”

“Someone else was there too, like—”

“So what, there was someone else in the house, you take people out even with their families in the same bed, so why would it matter now?” Her voice showed a hint of agitation but you would not back down. Instead, you went up to her and placed your hands flat on the desk with a smack.

Now, you had her attention.

“Because that someone was an assassin. He attacked me and my target. Oh, and my target, ‘the teacher’ didn’t look like he was just a teacher. What do you have to say about that? Maybe the fact that your best friend nearly died could get you to at least look at me!”

Finally, she meets your expectant gaze, only to scoff. After a long silence between the two of you and your fiery stares, she speaks up, instantly changing the subject.

“Do you know what day it is?” 

“Does that even matter right now? There's—”

“Should I, perhaps remind you of the fact that you constantly break the number one rule here? Or should I continue to let you waste my time when you can clearly see how overworked and stressed I am? It’s Monday, Y/N. Three in the morning and here you are.” You wondered what she might be doing up this late, but the papers piling on her desk told you it was work. Which kind, you didn’t know. “We have class today. I hope you don’t oversleep because I won’t be taking notes for you.”

This was the problem with your job. It called for you to be awake at all hours of the night, and though most college students could say the same about their convenience store jobs, yours was more physically exhausting. You opened your mouth to say something in retaliation, as was in your defensive nature, but instead, you said nothing. Maybe it was best for you to deal with it later since you never liked when your two worlds intermingled. On that note, you waved to your tired friend, feeling a bit tired yourself at the sight of her, and headed for the double doors.

“Goodnight, Yoonji.”

« Index || 01 || Following Chapter »

[hoyoungy]

Nothing Personal | Joshua (1/2)

genre: fluff, comedy, mildly suggestive | friends to lovers | ceo!joshua x assistant!reader with slight ceo!seungcheol x reader summary: your boss joshua hong treated the number one rule to separate business from personal too lightly for your liking. word count: 5452 a/n: loosely based off of pepper and tony stark’s relationship in the first iron man???? definitely. it’s not rly friends to lovers but.... what do i tag it as.... your boss can be your friend, right?? anyways, it’s two parts cuz i can’t write a 10k fic thing cuz my head hurts and i want you all to suffer thanks enjoy!!!!

The daily walk up to Joshua Hong’s extravagant home was always a sight to be seen. You always noticed something different each time you arrived and had to commend his attention to every little detail he put into his home. If he hadn’t put such little effort in going to his own damn office on time, you wouldn’t have known the exact layout of his mansion, so you had him to thank for that.

At nine in the morning on the dot, you buzzed the intercom.

“Hello?” a groggy voice muttered.

“Mr. Hong, you’re late,” you teased. “Again…”

Not a second later, Joshua buzzed you in so you could deliver him his favorite breakfast sandwich, cup of coffee, and dry cleaning straight to his decaying body on the couch that never made it to the bed. Through the front door, it was a straight shot to a barely-conscious Joshua still dressed in last night’s suit messily sprawled on the leather cushions.

“Out partying again last night?” you asked, although you already knew the answer.

“What gave it away?” he snorted.

“Your lack of cufflinks.”

“What!?” Joshua jolted up much too quickly for his hungover state to inspect his wrists. Yup, no cufflinks. “Dammit, my Grandma gave me those!”

“Just buy another pair.”

“I can’t just buy another pair! Those had sentimental value…”

Rolling your eyes, you handed a pouty Joshua his coffee. “Iced Americano with the smallest dash of cream, as per usual.”

Joshua tightened his favorite blanket around his shoulders before happily sipping his daily cup. “Ah, perfect. What would I be without you?”

“Dead, probably,” you teased. You set down a large stack of all his paperwork for the day on his fancy coffee table before joining him on the couch with a cup of coffee of your own. “This is everything you need to sign and read over for today, as directed by literally everyone in the office.”

“This is all of it!? God, why is there so much!?”

“Because you keep putting it off until the last minute, which is today, by the way. The deadline for all of this is today.”

“Can you do it for me?” he whined, giving you that childlike pouty face that made you question his authority over you.

“Mr. Hong, I’m not forging your signature.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“Are you bribing me?”

“No, I’m simply giving you a raise for this task only.”

“I… Fine…”

“Really!?”

“Yes, but only because you need to go and get ready for that press conference that’s in, like, an hour.”

“Oh shit, I totally forgot about that!”

“Of course you did…”

Joshua ignored your passive aggressive scolding as he ran up the spiral stairs into one of his many closets. “What should I wear? Are a lot of press attending today?” he yelled from above.

“Mm, how about that dark blue suit? I like that one.”

“I’ll wear it just for you,” he teased lightly. “Suspenders or a belt?”

“Belt. It’s not that big of a deal, you don’t have to be so flashy.”

“But am I really Joshua Hong, CEO if I’m not being flashy?”

“You got me there.”

You didn’t look up from your stack of paper when you heard the clicking of his shoes on the tiles slowly make their way back to you. When the clicking paused, you looked up to see your boss styled and smiling as if he wasn’t about to hurl the contents of his stomach half an hour ago.

“How do I look?” he asked, like he always would when he tried on any outfit.

“Like a CEO,” you replied.

“That’s it?”

“What were you expecting me to say?”

“That I look like the country’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Mr. Hong, you’re going to be late if you don’t leave soon ~”

“Oh, Miss _____,” he sang, plopping down next to you. “Remind me again how long we’ve known each other?”

His light breathing tickled the shell of your ear as he peeked over your shoulder to check your progress on the paperwork. Throughout your years together, you learned to get accustomed to your Boss’s inherent ways of close contact, and peeking over your shoulder was probably his number one preference with you because he adored the way you used to get startled every time. But after a couple of years, his flirty and teasing ways had little-to-no effect on you and you planned to keep it that way.

Someone had to keep it professional between the two of you.

“Almost seven years,” you answered, not losing your focus on the paperwork.

“And yet you still call me Mr. Hong. It’s like I’m your boss, or something.”

“I mean, you are my boss...”

“Yeah, but we’re friends, too, aren’t we? CEOs and their assistants can be friends, especially after so long.”

“That’s not very professional, now is it?”

“I’m not one for professionalism and you know it.” After a rough tousling of your hair, he threw you a quick wink and strutted towards the door. “Have a good day, Miss _____. Like the good friend that I am, I owe you a drink when I come home.”

“If you come home, that is.”

“See, you know me so well! Like a friend would!”

“As your assistant, I literally have to know you well - and he’s out the door…”

After a long sigh and a big gulp of your cold coffee, you went back to tack the stack of papers. You had a long day ahead of you.

You actually finished a lot earlier than you expected. All the business calls you made went accordingly, you scheduled all of Joshua’s meetings and appearances weeks in advance, and even made yourself a nice dinner with all of the food he wouldn’t have eaten.

This definitely wasn’t the first time you’ve spent long hours working in his house alone, but each time you’ve done so, you always questioned if he was ever lonely. You knew your boss was someone who enjoyed having someone else’s company by his side, so living in a mansion with several unoccupied rooms must have added some weight to Joshua’s already-heavy shoulders.

That’s probably why he frequently brought female friends over to occupy his night. But whatever your boss did after hours was his business, not yours.

After tidying up the mess you made and neatly clipping his papers, you were just about ready to leave for the night when your boss came home with a bottle of wine and a long garment covered in wrapping in his hands.

He greeted you with open arms and a foxy grin. “Honey, I’m home ~”

“Don’t calling me that,” you cringed. “You’re coming home alone for once?”

“You make it sound like I bring home a different woman every night.” Joshua chuckled at your accusing expression. “I don’t bring one home every night…”

“Mmhmm. All of the paperwork is on the table, your chores and stuff are done, and so am I, now if you’ll excuse me -”

“Where do you think you’re going? We have a date, remember?” Your boss held you tightly by the shoulders and forced you back into the kitchen so he could fulfill his word on making you a drink.

“Mr. Hong, I’m really tired ~”

“I got you a gift.” He dangled the mysterious piece of something by the coat hanger. “But you’re not allowed to have it until we have our drink.”

“I hope you aren’t always buying your friends stuff so they’d hang out with you.”

“If I’m being honest, you’re my only true friend, so I can spoil you as much as I want. Will you help me pour the wine while I get comfortable?”

You nodded as Joshua ran up to his room to change. He was the first person to introduce and explain to you what a wine decanter was. It was a necessity, he told you, especially for this particular red wine. It wasn’t five dollar Barefoot brand cheap, but it wasn’t worth hundreds of dollars, either. You’ve drank this wine with him so many times that if you were blindfolded and tasted over a dozen different brands, you’d be able to distinguish this brand in a heartbeat.

Minutes later, he came back down in his boyish pajama pants and a white t-shirt, making him look much younger. It reminded you of when you first met fresh-out-of-university Joshua.

You began pouring the wine into glasses that were as big as your head. “You still drink this brand of wine?”

“Of course I do. Doesn’t it bring you back to the good ol’ times?”

“You mean the struggling times?”

“Humbling times, Miss _____, humbling. You think of things so negatively.” He clinked his glass with yours before drinking. “Cheers to you, my friend.”

“To me? Why?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he teased. His grin dropped to an incredulous frown when he saw your confused expression. “Really? You forgot? Again!?”

“Is it the anniversary of when I became your subordinate, or something?”

“No, silly. It’s your birthday.”

“What? No it’s not, I looked at the date like thirty times today, and today is definitely not - oh… Oops.”

Yup, the date on your phone was definitely correct. Today was your birthday, and you completely forgot for like, the seventh year in a row. You were always so busy with work and Joshua that the importance of your own birthday was never high on your priority list. Not like you cared to celebrate it, anyways. And besides, Joshua was always there to celebrate with you.

If there was one thing Joshua never forgot, it was your birthday.

“I guess it is my birthday,” you chuckled. “Is that why you have a gift for me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Can I see it?”

“Close your eyes.”

You excitedly did as you were told. The long sound of an opening zipper was the only sound in his whole mansion. Every year, Joshua Hong gifted you something so extravagant for putting up with his shit for so many years and each year, it got better and better.

“Ok, you can open them.”

With wide eyes, you looked at the gorgeous wine-red floor-length gown in Joshua’s hands. He grinned widely at your twinkling eyes.

“Mr. Hong, it’s really beautiful,” you gasped.

“You like it? I saw it and immediately thought of you.”

“Why of me?”

He simply shrugged. “I think wine-red suits you. It’s sophisticated and sexy, just like you.”

“Please don’t call me sexy.”

“Fine ~”

“Thank you, really. I have the perfect occasion to wear it to, also.”

“Oh?” Joshua’s curiosity was rising.

“The charity gala is this weekend,” you sighed, not at all surprised by his forgetfulness anymore.

“Oh, right!” he giggled. You could tell the wine was already affecting him by the way his cheeks blushed.

“Is this why you didn’t bring someone home today? Because it’s my birthday?”

“Not only that. I actually haven’t brought anyone home lately.”

“Didn’t you bring some model home a couple of days ago?”

Joshua shook his head sheepishly. “I said I did, but only because I need to keep my reputation up.”

“I’m not going to think less of you for not sleeping with someone,” you snorted.

“Yeah, but I don’t sound cool…”

“Do you have a reason for your newfound act of celibacy?”

Joshua watched his wine swirl in his glass. Lately, his late night rendezvous just weren’t the same like when he was younger. Spontaneous sex with a stranger wasn’t fun or pleasurable to him anymore. It almost felt like a job, like he actually had a reputation to keep up. He was a young, rich, and extremely handsome single man who built his company from the ground up, of course he had people crawling to him left and right. But there was always something missing whenever he was screwing someone random.

Could it be that Joshua Hong, CEO and the most eligible bachelor in the country actually wanted to look for a permanent companion?

“I don’t know, to be honest,” he told you. “The sex isn’t that great anymore.”

“Whoa, the Mr. Hong doesn’t think sex is great anymore? Call the press.”

“Very funny. I meant mindless, emotionless sex, not sex in general. Don’t make me sound crazy now.”

“Mr. Hong, are you trying to say you’re looking for love ~?” you teased.

“Oh God, I think I am.” Joshua downed a huge gulp of the wine before grabbing your hands for some more. “Pour some more and don’t stop until I say so.”

“No way, you’ll blackout again, be late for work, and then we’ll have to do this all over again tomorrow!”

“That’s the point, now do as your boss tells you.”

“No.”

“God, I could have you fired, you know.”

“You could, but you won’t.”

“You’re right. No one knows how I like my coffee except for you.”

“Glad to know that’s all I’m good for,” you scoffed, drinking more of your wine.

“You know I appreciate everything you do for me,” Joshua smiled softly. His eyes always twinkled so cutely whenever he drank. It was no wonder he always brought someone home after a night out. You could easily get hypnotized by his eyes alone. “I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else in the world.”

“That’s a lie!” you screeched, nudging his side and laughing loudly as you recalled one of your several million memories with Joshua. “You were so ready to trade me for Seungcheol’s ex-secretary in a heartbeat!”

“I said that one time! One! And if you’re not going to call me by my first name, don’t call Seungcheol by his or else I’ll get jealous.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dreamily. “You better not trade me for someone hotter than me. I didn’t stick by you all these years just to get dumped like that.”

“Sticking by a boring old sap like me was completely your conscious choice. I can’t believe you’re still here next to me, to be honest.” With a lazy hand, he poked your cheek adoringly. “Why are you still with me, by the way?”

“Haven’t I told you this a thousand times already?”

“Yes, but I want to hear it a thousand more.”

You rolled your eyes excessively while trying to ignore the growing grin on your boss’s lips. “Because I believe in what you do, and you’re amazing at it.”

“And that’s why you’re the number one woman in my heart.”

“Ugh, stop it.”

You spent the rest of the night next to Joshua on his fancy kitchen island finishing as much of the wine as you both could. You’ve been drunk before, off of beers and expensive cocktails, but being wine drunk was a totally different experience, especially since it was just you and Joshua alone in his home. Usually the two of you were at some after party or in the club intoxicated together, but in all seven years of knowing him, you’ve never been drunk alone with him, let alone wine drunk.

There was something about the warmth of wine that pulled the two of you closer together.

“Alright, boss,” you started, standing up from your chair clumsily. “It’s time for me to go home.”

“You can’t stay longer?” he pouted.

“No, because you have an early meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Well, you can’t drive home, can you?”

“I’ll just call a cab and get my car next time.”

Before you could get to your jacket, Joshua stumbled to get to it before you did and held it high above your head so you couldn’t reach it. You were way too tipsy to fight back so you hung your head back and let out a loud whine that echoed through his home. His airy laugh joined in afterwards, distracting you from the arm that was snaking around your waist that helped you float towards your boss. You didn’t even blame his arm for pulling you closer to him - that was all your own doing.

“Mr. Hong, what are you doing?” Your voice sounded hoarse and quiet, and Joshua kind of liked it that way.

He wanted to hear you say his name like that again.

Tossing your jacket aside, he wrapped his other arm around you. His half-lidded eyes switched back and forth between your own and your lips, unable to decide which was more enticing.

“Stay,” he whispered, like he was begging you to.

And as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You shouldn’t. It was against all of your morals to do so.

You unwrapped his gentle hands from your waist and gave them a light squeeze. “I’ll see you at the gala, Mr. Hong,” you told him.

“I won’t see you tomorrow?”

“I deserve at least one day off a week, don’t you think?”

“Ah, right. I’m so used to seeing you throughout the week that I always forget. Enjoy your day off, ok?”

“I will.” With careful hands, you took a hold of your new dress. “Thank you again for my birthday gift. I love it a lot.”

Joshua simply nodded, too tired to give you his heart-stopping smile that you adored. It was substituted for one that felt a little lonelier. “I can’t wait to see you in it. You’ll look beautiful.”

“Will you match with me this weekend?”

“Match with you? As in wear red also?” You nodded eagerly. How could he say no to you? “Ok. I’ll go buy a new suit just for you.”

“You don’t have to buy a whole new suit.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to. We’ll be the best looking pair at the gala.”

You bit your bottom lip excitedly and all Joshua could think of was how much he wanted to do the same to you. “I can’t wait! I’ll see you in a couple of days, Mr. Hong.”

“Get home safely.”

“Don’t be late to your meeting tomorrow! I set an alarm and everything!”

When you left him alone, his mind was swimming with a mix between how exhausted he was and how he could only imagine the dirtiest scenarios when you popped up in his head. Quite the normal night for him lately. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you off of his mind, and even alcohol couldn’t make him cloud his detailed imagination. He trudged back into the kitchen, hoping he could finish the wine before he headed to bed.

The next morning, he was still late for his meeting.

Only the finest and the richest were allowed to attend the charity gala and you felt so out of place when you arrived alone. Sure, your dress was beautiful and designer or whatever, but being around the other guests who were much like your boss made you feel so little and almost like you stood out amongst the rest. Joshua told you he had some other business to take care of before arriving, so he told you to go ahead and order however many drinks you needed to calm yourself down and to put it on his tab, which was extremely dangerous because you were extremely tempted to buy out the entire bar.

An hour had passed since the doors opened to the gala and Joshua still wasn’t here.

“God, you really know how to keep a girl waiting, huh, Mr. Hong?” you muttered bitterly to yourself as you aggressively sent text after text to his phone next to the bar.

“He surely knows how to keep anyone waiting,” a familiar voice teased behind you. Turning around, your eyes widened to see the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on, Choi Seungcheol, clad in the blackest suit. “Miss _____,” he greeted.

“Oh, Mr. Choi!” you said enthusiastically. “It’s nice to see you again. You look dashing, as always.”

“Likewise, Princess. I feel like every time I bump into you, you’re always waiting on Mr. Joshua Hong.”

“I’ve spent at least half of my life waiting on him…”

“While you wait, can I join you for a drink?”

Well, of course you said yes.

Seungcheol was so easy to talk to and you always looked forward to a short conversation with him whenever you ran into each other. He was a great listener and actually contributed to the conversation, unlike other men in this industry you’ve encountered, although you often felt like melting under his fiery gaze whenever he looked at you as he listened. He wanted you to make sure that you knew he was attentive to you and you only.

After a few drinks and with little food in your stomach, you already started to feel a bit woozy. “My tolerance isn’t as high as it was several years ago,” you pouted.

“That’s your fault for not keeping up. You have Mr. Joshua and I to thank for building up your tolerance.”

“God, don’t remind me. You guys peer pressured me so much at your private meetings and Mr. Hong threatened to demote me if I said no, what other choice did I have!?”

Seungcheol chuckled lightly. “Hey, we’ve had some good times together, haven’t we?”

“Correction, Mr. Hong and your secretary had some good times together,” you scoffed.

“Ex-secretary,” he corrected. “She was absolutely terrible. My search for my own Miss _____ continues on.”

“Mr. Choi, you flatter me.”

“My offer to you as becoming my assistant is still on the table ~”

“And I’ll always humbly reject.”

“Ugh, Joshua doesn’t deserve you, you know,” he joked.

“Of course I know. Covering for his ass doesn’t get easier as the years go by.”

“I don’t mean to be rude or invasive, but lately I’ve been curious so I have to ask; doesn’t being Joshua’s assistant get in the way of your love life?”

You’ve received this question often, both as a joke and out of genuine curiosity. A healthy mix of your friends, curious women in the same department, and men like Seungcheol would ask you because God, you’ve been so kind and loyal to Joshua much longer than most romantic relationships and it’s a wonder why you don’t have someone to love for yourself. Then again, Joshua was probably literally the number one person in your life at the moment that any other person that tried to capture your heart would be too scared to get in between you two.

And that just fucking sucked for you, didn’t it? It’s not that Joshua forbade you to date or that you weren’t looking for a relationship, but the fact that being glued to Joshua’s side for the past seven years was the reason for your stunted love life made your heart wrench painfully.

But you would never trade being by your boss’s side for some temporary relationship, even if it meant you’d be single forever. You could at least assure yourself that you’d never feel alone if you were by his side.

You downed the remainder of your drink in your glass. “Absolutely, but it’s not his fault.”

“He doesn’t chase away all the scary men that prey after his little assistant?” Seungcheol teased.

“Hey! I am not HIS, ok, I am my own. And no, he doesn’t. My lack of a lovelife is my own doing.”

“Too focused on your work?”

“That’s the typical response, isn’t it?”

“It is. Aren’t you lonely, though?”

“Are you trying to date me, Mr. Choi?”

“You should already know the answer to that,” he said, nudging you playfully.

“I mean… Yes and no. Of course I’d love to be in a relationship or get married one day, but right now, I’m happy with where I am.”

“But you’re not lonely?”

“I’m with Mr. Hong six days out of the week, it’s a bit hard for me to feel lonely. I enjoy his company regardless.”

“Wow, he really doesn’t deserve you.”

“God, I know…”

“Ok, no more relationship talk. Tonight’s supposed to be a fun night! Let’s lighten up the mood.” Stepping away from the bar, Seungcheol held out his hand for you to take. “Will you dance with me?”

“Why Mr. Choi, of course I will.”

Joshua Hong was quite known for arriving fashionably late to any occasion - arriving late and leaving early was what he did best. Dressed in an all-burgundy suit, hair slicked back and ears decked with jewels, he finally walked into the ballroom. He really didn’t want to make you angry just days after your birthday, but he woke up late from his afternoon nap! So now he had to lie and say he had to take care of some other business as he rushed to get ready and now here he was, nearly two hours late.

Joshua scanned the entire ballroom for your red dress. First, he checked the bar. No sign of you there, surprisingly. Then, he checked the tables. He didn’t spot you sitting alone scowling at your phone.

The last place he expected to see you was on the dancefloor in the arms of man that wasn’t him.

He watched you dance casually with a grinning Seungcheol. The conversation you two were having must have been hilarious by the way you threw your head back to laugh at nearly everything he said. You and him danced with a reasonable amount of space in between, so Joshua wasn’t worried about the skinship you both shared. What really bothered him was the way you smiled at Seungcheol.

Joshua had never seen you so genuinely happy and enjoying yourself. You were never like that with him. You always kept things professional.

Annoyed by the scene in front of him, he sauntered over to you, trying to hide his grimacing face. Seungcheol was the first to notice his appearance, but that didn’t make him loosen his grip on you. Joshua didn’t miss the dangerous twinkle in his eyes.

“Mr. Joshua Hong, how nice of you to join us,” Seungcheol greeted.

“Oh, hi. How nice of you to finally join us,” you corrected.

Joshua ignored your scolding. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting something.”

“Not really,” you said, grinning up at Seungcheol. “Just two friends enjoying each other’s company.”

“I didn’t know you two were so close.”

“She looked kind of lonely earlier, so I thought I’d join her.” Seungcheol winked at you.

“How chivalrous of you,” Joshua seethed.

The tension between the two alpha males was making you uncomfortable. Joshua always hated events like these, which was why he always arrived late and stayed by the bar the whole night, and you figured that the lack of alcohol was why he was so grumpy right now. But he was always sort of protective over his little assistant whenever he saw someone take an interest in you. It was annoying to have to remind him every time that you are not just his ‘little assistant’ and that you are a totally capable adult that could flirt around here and there if you wanted to. But to avoid any mess you’d probably have to clean up later, you gave Seungcheol one last smile before dragging a glaring Joshua out to the giant outdoor balcony to cool off.

“It’s beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?” Joshua began once you both reached the edge. By the look of your unimpressed face, Joshua knew you weren’t up for playing games tonight. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. You’re extremely late. You were supposed to speak on the company’s behalf tonight about the donation and you missed it! I had to lie and say someone in the office had to go to the emergency room! What business was so important that you’re two hours late!?”

“I... woke up late from my nap.”

You sighed loudly. “You are a piece of work, Mr. Hong. I literally cannot believe that you graduated from high school and university without being expelled a million times for tardiness.”

“Ah, don’t lecture me so loud, people are looking.”

“And what the hell was that back there with Seungcheol!?”

“There you go again, calling him by his first name.”

“Mr. Hong, I’m serious -”

“Me, too.”

“I -” You paused mid-sentence to calm yourself down from all of the frustration that’s been building up. It wasn’t healthy to be mixing it with alcohol, either. You always hated the way your eyes would tear up from overwhelming amounts of frustration and when Joshua saw the stars reflect in your tired eyes, he thought that maybe he was overreacting just a bit. “What do you want me to say? I was just having fun. It’s not like there was anything going on.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me.”

“Well, maybe if you arrived on time, that could have been you and I having fun, not me and Seung- Mr. Choi.”

For the first time tonight, you saw Joshua smile. “You would have danced with me?”

“If you asked me to, sure.”

“Then let’s dance.”

Joshua stepped away from the edge of the balcony to the middle of the stone floor, waiting for you to join him like some fairytale prince. You looked at him with wide eyes, unable to comprehend how he could ignore all of the staring as he stood alone. Hurriedly, you joined him and tried to pull him back.

“What are you doing!? People are staring!” you hissed.

“Then let them stare. You said you would dance with me if I asked, so here I am asking.”

“There isn’t even any music playing.”

“So? You don’t need music to dance.” With his gentle hands, he took your right hand in his left, and the other caressed the small of your back. “As your boss, I am ordering you to dance with me.”

“Mr. Hong, this is unprofessional, everyone knows I’m your assistant.”

“So what? Stop caring about what other people think of us.” His words held a lighter weight to them than they should have as he swayed with you to the muffled music inside of the ballroom. “I just want to enjoy this moment being here with you. Just a boss and his assistant having fun. We’re having fun, right?”

You nodded silently, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes as you danced to the hushed music. Joshua pulled you in closer and you let him, allowing you to rest your tired head on his shoulders. Closing your eyes, you did as you were told - you didn’t let the stares of all the people bother you and you didn’t care about what they thought. You wanted to stay in this moment with your boss for as long as you could.

“I was right,” he whispered. “You look absolutely breathtaking tonight.”

Without a warning, he pressed the lightest kiss on top of your head. You’ve never felt your heart swell up so big before that you swear you could cry.

You don’t know how long you were dancing out there, but it was after the last song of the night faded into silence and you and Joshua were the last guests still occupying the venue. He was the first to step away from you. With his gentle hands, he lifted your chin up so you would look at him. You were flustered and confused, but you still looked stunning nonetheless.

“Come home with me,” he pleaded.

You nodded.

You and Joshua barely made it through his front door before his lips hungrily attacked your own. Seven whole years the both of you wondered what your lips tasted like and you finally got your answer. He was ready to slip the dress right off and take you right there, but that wouldn’t be romantic or professional for your first time with him, would it? Excitedly, he carried you up to his room and laid you down gently on the softest bed you’ve ever touched. Joshua crawled on top of you and for a while, he just looked at you, drinking in how beautiful your smile was and unable to believe that you were really, finally here with him.

“What?” you asked after a moment of silence.

“Nothing,” he reassured. “I’m just happy that you’re here.”

“Me, too.”

Light kisses trailed from your jawline to your neck until he found that one spot that drove you mad enough to curl your fingers through his hair. His deep moans tickled against your skin and Joshua adored how sensitive you were, all because of him.

He lips paused just above your ear. “Tell me one thing,” he whispered huskily. “What’s my name?”

You swallowed hard. You knew exactly what he was asking for. If it meant that he would continue with what he was doing, then you’ll do as your told.

“Joshua,” you said.

He moaned in approval and his lips continued.

“Good girl.”

[im-basically-logan]

You’re the One

once again thanks Adair for the fic idea. :D More analogical for the soul m’dudes. and thanks Mira for the title huehuheue

Summary: Logan uses a rubber duck to help his planning process. Then one night he loses it. So Virgil decides to make him a gift to cheer him up.

Words: 1,834 Ship: platonic Analogical (but if you squint hard enough it can be romantic lol) TW: None that I can think of Please throw me an ask/message to add a trigger Genre: Fluff @lnfinitum  @living-on-the-virge @crowsketches @nokatai-realm @riverbendover

Logan sat at his desk, quickly writing out drabbles of a new project. There were sticky notes neatly placed along a notebook to the side, although the amount of sticky notes seemed a bit much. His laptop sat in sleep mode set to the side so he had room to write. Everything was in place. And then there was his rubber duck if you took a good look. It was sitting on top of Logan’s laptop as he wrote. He didn’t take baths, it wasn’t Patton’s, but he did talk to it. Inspired rather recently like the nerd he is, Logan had Roman conjure a rubber duck for him so he could explain plans and schedules out loud to it. It was a tactic used by programmers if they ever had an issue with their coding. It seemed like a silly idea, but it worked.

Logan finally stopped writing and neatened out the paper he was writing on in front of him and began explaining the plans out loud to the duck.

“... And that should give us enough time to work with AJ again, which Thomas would enjoy greatly I believe,” he finished explaining, although had to pause a few times to edit out the plans. It was an efficient process, almost like a filter. He was putting his work away when Virgil rose up into his room. He nodded at the other side in greeting, skimming over his work again.

“Hey Logan, I -- is that a duck?” Virgil pointed at the toy with a sweater paw, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Logan seemed like the least likely to have a toy in his room, especially having it around with papers everywhere.

Logan played with his thumbs for a moment before answering, somewhat embarrassed,”Yes… It is. Roman gave it to me.” Virgil gave a confused look, so Logan began to explain why he had it.

“Well… Programmers use rubber ducks to debug their code. It started recently and was expanded to other inanimate objects. They’d explain their code to the object when it didn’t work and what the code was actually supposed to do. It surprisingly helped a lot and has been a technique used by many. Even for people who aren’t coding.” Virgil was oddly soothed as Logan talked. It might’ve been his monotonous voice or just how passionate he was about these things, but nice nonetheless. “So, did you need anything?”

“Uh… no” was all Virgil could say, forgetting what he’d been in the room for. “Have fun with your duck.” He teased lightly, sinking out. Logan huffed at the other, saying a small goodbye as he left. He looked at the ocean of papers on his desk and cleaned them up, putting papers in folders and binders that were organized to his liking and placed his duck near the desk lamp. It was just turning 10 pm, which was great timing on his part. He changed into pajamas and went to bed, waving to Patton as the he visited the rooms as usual.

The next morning Logan had breakfast downstairs with the others in the commons, first pouring himself some coffee. Virgil was drinking his own coffee on the counter, hissing at Roman who was trying to get him down from said counter. Patton laughed at the situation and served the pancakes for the morning. When they all left to do their own things for the day, Logan had gone back up to his room. When he rose up, he was going to resume working on yesterday’s plans when he noticed his duck wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He started digging around his room to find it: Checking under the desk, under the chair, in small boxes, in the drawers, but nothing. He bit his nails anxiously. The duck wasn’t that important… but it was also a very necessary part of his planning process. He decided to do another sweep of the room before giving up, wondering if someone stole it. Probably not.

“Where are you?” He mumbled to himself, squinting behind his desk to see if the yellow toy was anywhere to be found. Nope. As he was searching his trash can, Virgil rose into the room. Logan turned to look at the other, standing up to compose himself.

“Yes, Virgil? Did you need something?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Actually I uh… sorta felt stress from your room… Unless that was just me, I dunno. Um…” Virgil trailed off, hoping Logan would finish for him. And luckily he did.

“I was looking for… the duck. It wasn’t here after breakfast this morning,” Logan answered with a sigh. “I know it’s not a necessity, but it was useful.” Virgil nodded, eyes scanning the room for a moment looking for the duck himself.

“I could help you if you wanted,” Virgil said taking a few steps around the room.

Logan wasn’t expecting Virgil to want to help, but he was grateful nonetheless. “That would be nice of you, Virgil.”

So they searched for about 30 minutes, probably a bit longer than they needed, but still no duck in sight.

“Sorry we couldn’t find your duck, Logan,” Virgil said, looking a little saddened himself.

Logan replied with a shrug,“It’s fine. I must have misplaced it somewhere last night. It will turn up.” Then Virgil got an idea.

“Yeah… Maybe wait a few days and then ask Roman to make you another one?” Virgil suggested. Logan agreed, finally getting out his actual work and then Virgil sunk out to start planning things himself.

Virgil went to Roman’s room first, asking for another duck to be conjured.

“Did Microcrofters lose the other one?” Roman asked as he created another rubber duck and handed it to Virgil. He was surprised Roman just sort of… did it. Either way, he nodded, took the duck, and left to Patton’s room.

“Hey Pat, do you have like… paint or something?” He asked, looking around the glowy room.

“Sure, kiddo! What for?” Patton responded, getting out a small paint set from a drawer.

“Uh… a gift. To Logan.” Virgil gestured to the duck awkwardly with a shrug.

Patton smiled at Virgil, happily giving him the paint supplies. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Virge! Have fun!”

Virgil sunk out after giving Patton a small smile, and went to work in his room. He opened the container of black first, carefully painting a pair of glasses onto the toy. Then he used a dark gray to paint on a little polo. He left it to dry for a few minutes, listening to music in his room to make sure Logan didn’t see the duck yet. He tapped the paint with the back of his finger nail. When nothing came of it he opened a few shades of blue, and attempted to replicate Logan’s tie. He’d seen ducks with little suits on before, but never a polo with glasses if he remembered correctly. Although it looked how he wanted it, he had doubts about Logan actually liking his gift. Letting the paint dry, Virgil closed the paint containers and returned them to Patton and quickly returned to his room.

All of them entered the commons to eat dinner, Roman and Patton keeping up most of the conversation but thankfully not mentioning the duck to Logan. They finished one by one, although Virgil finished his meal first in order to check on his gift.

He entered his room, checking the paint with the back of his finger nail. It wasn’t sticky and there wasn’t any residue rubbed off, perfect. He waited a few minutes for the other’s to finish their meals, maybe about just 5 to 10 minutes, then put his gift in his jacket pocket and sunk into Logan’s room.

The logical trait was working again, the empty space where his duck used to be now noticeable to Virgil. He had his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to look casual.

“Heya, Logan…” He greeted, watching Logan turn around in his chair.

“Salutations, Virgil,” Logan replied, raising his glasses as a sort of “hello”.

“I uh… I... “ Virgil hesitated, playing with the gift in his hands. He eventually took the rubber duck out of his pocket, laying it atop the flattened palm of his hand. “I made… a new duck for you. If you want it.” Logan took it, no discernable expression showing yet. He examined it, then gave Virgil a small smile.

“I appreciate the gift, Virgil,” he said, looking at the duck’s tie similar to his own. “Did you do this yesterday?” Virgil nodded, taken aback from the positive feedback, and smiled back.

“Yeah, I just figured that you’ve helped me a lot before so I should do something y’know?” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Logan placed the duck gently on his computer where the old one was, giving it a little pat on the head.

“You don’t owe me anything, Virgil. But I do appreciate the gift. Thank you.” Logan was about to go back to working when he stood up from his chair and left to get another.

It was another office, rolly chair that you could spin in. He rolled it next his own chair and turned it towards Virgil.

“I know you take comfort in hearing me talk aloud.” He sat down in his own chair, patting the one meant for Virgil. “So… would you like to be my second duck? If you’d like to, of course. You don’t even have to listen, really. Also, not to say you’re an inanimate object but--”

“Chill, Lo. Sure. That sounds nice,” Virgil cut in with a smirk, getting onto the chair to crouch on it.

Logan huffed, but was content with the outcome. “Thank you again for the gift, Virgil.”

Virgil nodded, looking at the actual duck with a small smile. “So, what’chya got for us?” He joked, referring to both him and the toy.

“Well…” Logan began, grabbing his plans. He began explaining and giving suggestions for the future. Sometimes he paused to fix a few things and sometimes Virgil caught caught a mistake or two. After a few minutes of rambling from Logan, Virgil was lulled to sleep to the sound of the other’s voice, laying on his side somehow in the chair. Logan smiled softly at Virgil and stopped talking. He paused to get a blanket for Virgil, then laid it on top of him. He didn’t mind. It was understandable with all the sleep the anxious side didn’t get. He decided to go to sleep himself, putting his papers away and putting his pajamas on. He positioned himself in his chair instead of going to his bed.

Before he passed out, Logan put the rubber duck on near the desk lamp again, he was sure of it. And in the morning, the rubber duck would be sitting on the desk where he left it and Virgil would still be sleeping peacefully in his chair only a few feet away.

[ziloufs]

The slipperiest country

Summary: Dan and Phil in Greece. 

Fluffy, fluff of that time, like 3 months ago or something, where dan and phil went to Greece, and we got some prime flirting between phil and tom daley, plus a vv soft boy, ~~Shirtless~~ dan.

Rating: M (just some spicy mouth to mouth)

Word count: 3370

Read on ao3

AN: finally, after sitting on this pile of trash for 3 months I’ve curated it into something presentable. Im trying to work on my writing, and am working towards making a multi-chaptered fic. (a rlly long one)

Living so close to the mediterranean had its perks, a single plane could fly straight to a beautiful, culture rich country. Blue water, different people, new sights, new sounds. Nothing in Greece was grey and bleak. Dan and phil were looking forward to their “mini couple’s holiday”.

It had been a few weeks of preparation to get ahead of schedule on videos, but phil was working towards something he was definitely going to enjoy. A private vacation with dan; bryony and wirrow would be there too, but having them around was almost second nature; it was going to be a comfortable trip. It was Dan who first proposed the idea of Greece, and unbeknownst to phil, he and Bryony had already started planning things over coffee last week.

“Bry, it’s gonna be great, we can take a private boat out or something,  and then take a tour of the coast.” Dan said through a bite of biscotti. He held the bitten end to gesticulate the rest of his sentence. “And, since you get off work for 5 days next week--”

“It’d be brilliant! We can both take our men on a romantic getaway, away from the grey of London and into the blue of Santorini .” Bryony exclaimed, a grandiose tone in her voice.

Dan grimaced at the label, ‘romantic getaway’, but then started up with laughter. Bry joined in.

“A Romantic getaway indeed... but yeah, i’ll have to check with Phil, as I haven’t exactly told him yet.”

Bryony quirked an eyebrow.

“So this trip is just a ploy for us both to go to Greece alone, and find some hot mediterranean lads?”

This time Dan didn’t grimace. He sputtered out his coffee.

A week later they had all their videos queued, bags packed —that was a lie, Dan still hadn’t put his stuff in order, much to Phil’s dismay —and were getting ready for the early wakeup. Phil was in his pajamas, shirtless, messily combing fingers through his hair. All the while, Dan was admiring the way his back flexed and the smooth outlines of his body. They were way past the point of normal-bedtimes-for-a-six-am-wake-up, but then again, every bedtime for them was at an ungodly hour. Dan tugged at the sheets, crawling under the ten layers of fabric Phil called, “bed spreading”.

“I can’t wait to see you all shirtless tomorrow.” Dan hummed, watching Phil make his way to the bed, sporting a poignant quiff.

“I’m wearing nothing right now though?”

“Yeah, but tomorrow, it’ll be us, and the sun —plus you’ll be wearing those new swimming trunks I bought you.”

Phil made a sour expression.

“You mean the ones that I hate, because they’re too tight on my ass?”

“Yes.” Dan smirked, turning over to Phil who was reaching over to the bedside table. He snuck his hand under the duvet and groped Phil's butt.

“I mean, the trunks are fine, it’s your fault for having a big butt.”

If Dan decided to be a responsible adult, he would go to sleep. But everything was different when he had a Phil in his bed. Phil turned over to face him, fully offended. Dan gave him a peck on the lips to compensate.

“Oi! We have an early start tomorrow.” Phil grabbed dan’s hand. He didn’t want to feel like death in the morning, but fooling around with dan was getting the best of him. Maybe it was the pre-holiday excitement, or the fact that they worked their asses off for the entire last week, minimal intimacy, but Phil was slowly giving way to his desires. Dan dragged a hand up Phil's chest, and tapped it twice along his collar bones.

“Early start, early shmart Philly, I have a better bedtime remedy. Better than scrolling through twitter mentions for half an hour.” Dan cooed. He moved in closer to whisper against Phil's neck. God, it was late and Dan was really warm against him. “And it might involve my mouth.” Phil shivered. Dan looked up at him with soft eyes, his cheeks were blooming. It was still nice to be flirty and coy, even after all this time. The suggestive tones, and the playful groping were apart of the wonderful structure of their relationship. He loved Dan so damn much.

Phil pulled Dan onto himself, and grinned. “Show me then?”

_______________________________________

“Fuck.”

“We slept in.”

“ and I-- I didn’t pack yet.”

“DANnnnnnn!”

_______________________________________

They suffered the consequences of last nights activities, but in Phil’s opinion, (and Dan's by proxy) it was worth it. Last night was the bread basket to his three course meal. Dan was going to be his dinner, and Greece was the chef special; Phil immediately grimaced at the metaphor

Rushing to the taxi, they had only 45 minutes before boarding started, and the airport was 20 minutes away. Phil was feverishly calculating numbers and minutes when they threw all their stuff into the cab. Luckily, they planned on meeting Bryony and Wirrow at Heathrow and would convene in the lobby. Approximately five iphone checks later, 23 minutes had gone by, and dan and phil were bumbling out of the cab. Right near the doors to the lobby, Bry and wirrow were sat on a bench.

“Boys! Where were you?! Wirrow and I have been here for half an hour, and we bought you some coffee, but it’s probably gone cold.”

“You were also the ones who invited us, remember?” Wirrow chimned in.

“Well we uh--” Phil started.

“--I didn’t pack till this morning.” Dan said sheepishly. Bryony shook her head, and hugged them both nonetheless.

“Still glad you actually made it though.” She said. “Knowing you two, it's a miracle you guys arrive on time.”

Dan and phil were getting shit, but honestly, they deserved it. Again Phil thought, totally worth it.

_______________________________________

Contrary to popular belief, they weren't going to fly in business class —especially not with Phil in charge of their budget. It was once Phil who said, “it would be a mockery to purchase more leg room for a 2 hour flight”.

Then, it was nice sometimes. Squeezing into a plane seat, granted with anonymity around other passengers. Phil was able reach for his hand, and it would be hidden within the confines of their seat. These little moments of touch reminded him of who he was, and what he had. He felt lucky.

An hour into the flight, Phil looked up from his laptop, and glanced at dan. He was gazing out of the window. The sky was glowing, and the sun was starting to rise; Dan was very nice to look at. And, if it wasn't for that fact that he didn’t want to disturb Dan’s bubble of serenity, Phil would’ve reached out and pet one of his curls. Dan felt eyes on him. After being around someone for eight years, their little behaviors tended to be routinely. While still staring out into the bright sunrise, Dan blindly reached for phil’s thigh and rested his palm on the warm jean fabric. Phil snuck a look around the passenger cabin, it was habit. Most people were sleeping, others watching films, or gazing out the window much like Dan. Satisfied with the setting, Phil leant close to Dan’s cheek, and gave him a slow kiss. It was risky, but no one had seen and even if they did, the morning-drunkenness would’ve made them second guess their perception.

The kiss intensified the feeling. After breaking away and giving dan another glance, he looked intoxicating now: messy untamed curls, long dark eyelashes, and a face illuminated by the golden sunrise. Without hesitation he kissed him again, and when he pulled back, a little moist patch appeared on Dan’s peach-soft skin.

“What was that for?” Dan turned away from the window, his eyes flitting across the cabin. Dan stopped blushing at unexpected kisses years ago, but sometimes, Phil would catch him at a vulnerable moment, where he would be sleepy, or deep in thought. This was one of those times.

“You looked pretty.” Phil stated plainly. Somehow, in those three words, his tone reflected the illustrious descriptions in his mind. “And now you’re blushing.”

Dan was too tired to make a smart remark, so he just looked away from Phil’s stare, and let his hand on Phil’s thigh, rub softly back and forth.

“Can’t wait to get to the hotel.” Dan sighed. “I want more now, wanna kiss your neck.” He lowered his tone, and now it felt like anyone could listen in if they wanted to. Dan gave a yawn, and leaned back into his seat. Him and Phil had loads of time —that was one of the benefits of having forever with somebody— but sometimes, ‘soon’, or ‘later’ was too long a wait.

“We could go to the toilets?” Phil offered.

Dan practically snorted.

“Youre joking right? I love you, but I thought this thing we had going on, was like, going to be romantic or something.”

“Daniel howell, a romantic!?” Phil guffawed.

“Shut up, you know I’m a sap, plus our legs are too long and spindly to be pretzeled up in a plane’s toilets.”

Phil closed his eyes and rested his head against dan’s shoulder. He hummed in agreement.

_______________________________________

“Bry and I may have gone a little over-board with the accommodation, but…” Dan started.

“So you decided to book a beach-side house with a private pool!? .… and, oh my god! is that a garden terrace?” Wirrow rushed over to the neatly trimmed shrubbery and delicate pink orchids. The four of them wandered the outer property in awe. For a couple days, this was a pretty elaborate set-up.

“And the house comes with two master bedrooms, they’re on opposite sides of the house.” Bryony added. “So you know what that means…”

Phil turned a blind eye, and Dan just groaned. Wirrow was still preoccupied with the somewhat amazing landscaping that had been done to the terrace.

“Bry shut up!” Dan laughed, rushing towards the back entrance of the house. “I’ll lock you out!”

(This “threat” provided the bulk of their exercise on that trip: who could make it to the door first.)

_______________________________________

The first day had been eventful. Touring the local shops, taking a half day boat trip on the coast (which in turn provided some quality cannonball “diving” videos for Phil) and finally, mimosa’s by the pool during the sunset. Both couple’s were situated on the reclined patio chairs, Bryony lying in between Wirrow's legs, and two chairs pushed right next to each other for Phil and Dan. The sky was clear, making a perfect warm gradient of colour and the temperature was dropping, the fleeting warmth of the grecian sun washing over the terrace one last time. They all sipped their fruity beverages in silence; it had been a hot energetic day, now it was cooling, and they could wind-down like respectable adults —that being with an alcoholic beverage, and the one they loved most. As the sun left its final brilliant glow, disappearing beyond the horizon, Bryony and Wirrow stood up with their empty glasses.

“We’re gonna head inside, I won’t lock you guys out, but, I make no promises.” Wirrow said, a slightly drunk and giggling Bryony behind him. Phil looked at Dan, and then to Wirrow.

“That’s okay if you lock us out, I have dan to keep me warm.” Phil leant over the chairs and lazily pulled Dan into his grip. He peppered kisses on his cheek.

“Babe, we better leave them to their own devices, Phil is drunk drunk.” Bryony giggled.

Through the intimate onslaught of Phil, Dan looked up in bemusement.

“Right, and you aren’t?”

“Were not as drunk as you too —On sickening amounts of love, that is.” She sneered. Wirrow laughed in agreement.

“Night guys, Use protection!” they yelled from the house and in turn, Dan gave the finger in the direction of the door. So, maybe Dan wanted to make-out with boyfriend during twilight. The others had gone inside and it was too dark to make out full figures anyways. Their activities were going to stay deliciously ambiguous.

“I love being here with you right now.” Phil was kissing Dan’s neck with him on his lap.  

“Mmm, the entire boat ride I wanted to rip those shorts off of you. I don’t even care that they cost £40--”

Phil paused his ministrations on Dan’s neck, and looked at him wide-eyed.

“Dan!”

This guy, Dan thought.

“What? Also, I didn’t say stop.”

“You’re lucky I’m kind of drunk, and a little bit turned on right now.” Phil threatened, resuming the spot on Dan’s neck where he was sucking the skin lightly. They had five days, enough time for a hickey to fade, as long as he didn’t suck any--

“Harder, Phil.” Dan was really enjoying this, plus he could always wear a scarf.

Everything felt slow and wonderful, even the biting evening air was making their radius of heat, hotter. Dan dragged his fingers through Phil’s sea-water dried hair, and gently guided his face away from his neck.

“My turn.” Dan mirrored phils previous actions, while slowly dragging up Phil’s shirt. The cool night air was making everything stiff.

“Ahh it’s too cold Dan.” He whined, watching as dan pushed his shirt up to his chin, fully exposing his chest and nipples. They were definitely hard, the breeze was light, but any stimulation was enough really.

“Let me try something, and then we can go inside, yeah?” Dan asked. Phil acquiesced, then leaned in for another hot mouthed kiss. Dan ducked his head down to the pink rounds of phil’s nipples, kissing around one, and nipping playfully at the skin. Right against Phil’s chest, he could feel his buzzing heartbeat, and contracting breaths. Hopefully Bry or Wirrow didn’t decide to look out of their window tonight.

“Ahhh, too much, Dan,” Phil felt sensory numb, but he didn’t want it to stop. “We should...go...uhhh.. inside.” he said again, through broken whimpers.

With a mouthful of Phil, Dan feigned ignorance, and instead moved to his other nipple, treating it as equally rough as the last. Phil was a moaning mess.

“Now you’re just being rude, stop teasing.” Phil started.

Dan stopped and looked up at phil with wide eyes and a sultry look. His lips were swollen and slick —truly a sight to see. Even through the haziness of sex, Phil was still keen enough to admire Dan’s mussed up hair, and shining red lips.

“I want this , like right now, but not outside.” Phil chuckled, reaching out to Dan’s eager face and brushing his fingers across his mouth. He let the tip of his index finger slide beyond his lips, and Dan accepted it and sucked. It wasn’t for any particular reason, besides fulfilling his infatuation with Dan’s mouth. Dan hopped off Phil's lap and grabbed his wrist, attempting to help him up from the lawn chair. The chair caught on Phil's foot and resulted in him tripping right into Dan’s arms.

“I didn't think I could actually sweep you of your feet.” He exclaimed, while Phil was just barely holding on, clinging weakly to Dan’s shoulders.

“Fuck...you.” He muttered.

“Yeah, but we have to go inside first. You wanted to, remember?” Dan was snickering, and curving an arm around Phil's waist to lead him to the door.

“I hate you.”

“--Hate you too philly.”

Phil ducked his head to hide his grin.

_______________________________________

That was essentially how the rest of their trip went. Hot skin on skin. New freckles each day. Alcohol by the poolside and banter with friends. It was tranquility.

By the fourth day, phil was approaching poached lobster, peppered with spots, while Dan was insistently pestering him that he needed some sort of night-skin-mask, along with the “spf 200”, unless he “wanted to shed his skin in a horrible sun-frying accident.”

“Why don’t we try this one phil? Argan oil, vitamin E and… soy.” Dan offered, sifting through the entire shelf of various creams and ointments meant to aide burns on the whitest of the white. “You know, I read somewhere that soy cures burns or something, I mean it said--”

“Can’t we just get aloe? That’s good, and like, traditional.” He picked up a green bottle filled with the gelatinous plant product. “And I’m making you massage it in!”

“Fine phil.” Dan said, nudging him in the shoulder. It was a ploy for a free massage wasn’t it,  Dan thought to himself.

_______________________________________

“Y’know I heard somewhere that guys use aloe as ‘male enhancement’.” Phil said nonchalantly, as Dan squeezed the first few globs of aloe vera onto his back. They were in their room at the “villa”, situated on the luxurious white bed sheets that were soon to be dirtied.

“And why were you looking up dick size remedies?” Dan asked, spreading the gel around the most burnt part of phil’s back; the irritation was intensely bright red, and if Dan wasn’t so invested in Phil’s answer, he might have found the colour comical.

“You know I wasn’t!” Phil exclaimed, “I just went on an internet tangent, and may have seen some videos I regret.”

“Flip over I need your chest.” Dan motioned with his hands for Phil to roll. “And of course you weren’t. I’m sure this definitely wasn’t your way to get me to use aloe to wank you off.”

Phil tried to hide a blush. Dan stopped rubbing circles on his chest.

“Wait, you-- you’re not serious are you?”

“...Thats why I wanted to get it at the store,” Phil shied away. “And it’s basically lube.”

Dan moved from sitting back on his heels, to sitting over phil’s thighs, and wiped the excess aloe onto phil’s stomach. He leaned down chest to chest with phil and looked up at him.

“Babe, this is honestly not the weirdest thing we’ve done for sex.” Dan sympathized. Phil just blinked, yet his blush was maintaining. “--Besides, I thought you’d be a bit more jaded to this whole ‘let’s talk about our kinks’ thing.”

“Hey, I am too.” Phil brought his hand to rest in Dan’s curls.

“Right…. Your face is as red as your back.” Dan plopped a kiss of either of Phil’s cheeks.“-- very cute.”

“Just get the aloe.” Phil murmured, lifting his head ever so slightly to meet Dan’s lips. Dan laughed through the kiss.

_______________________________________

It was time to go home, and Dan was hanging upside down on their bed, Phil was across the room, shirtless. From a blurry view, Dan was squinting hard to count the freckles on phils back. He got to 52 before Phil interrupted him.

“Why are you hanging there in silence?”

“Procrastinating.”

“--Leaving this place you mean?”

Dan sighed, and by Phils standards, slid awkwardly out of his position on the bed.

“It’s just, when we go back, we’re going to have to do more work.”

“But it’s our new place, it’ll be nice to go home. ” Phil wandered over to Dan’s space, and put a hand on his shoulder. Dan brought him into a hug and spoke into his shoulder.

“Yeah, but you’re going to be wearing a shirt all the time now.” They swayed quietly in this dancing embrace for a little moment longer, till Phil broke away and planted a kiss on Dan’s forehead. They were looking at each other, enjoy the closeness. Dan leant up to Phil and kissed the corner of his mouth, and then squarely on the lips. He was being a bit petulant, but he really didn’t want to leave.

“As soon as we get home, i’ll do a strip show just for you.” Phil smiled, patting a hand on Dan’s shoulder.

“Phillllll.” dan whined. “I feel like I should be laughing at the idea of you doing a stripshow, but that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Who’ve you been hanging around?”

“Only you.”

He kissed Dan hard.

“Whoa, what was that for?” Dan stepped back from the intensity of the kiss.

“I just remembered that I love you.”

“Philip Lester, a romantic?!” Dan giggled, throwing Phil’s own words right back at him.

"You know I'm a sap."  He loved Dan so damn much.