Could you do a smut of president Loki and fem secretary reader?
Oh yeah... that can certainly be arranged ;)
Presidential Feast
President!Loki x Fem!Secretary!Reader
Description: Things are not all they appear to be in the office of the president's secretary. Though you work diligently at your desk, there is a certain someone who works even harder to get you to come undone completely from below.
A/N: I blacked out and when I woke up, there were two thousand words of Loki smut on my computer screen. Dunno how that happened. Fair warning, this is barely proofread. I'm just amazed I wrote this in one sitting LOL
Word Count: 2k
“...So, if there is any way I could speak to him directly…”
The saccharine smile wears at the corners of your lips. You’ve worn it for hours now, feigning pleasantries, signing papers, redirecting and avoiding pointless or dangerous questions from the press. You were excellent at keeping face, as it were, but even still…
This job was exhausting.
Maybe it was foolish of you to expect people to use their eyes. President Loki was clearly busy in his office, preoccupied as he leafed through stacks and stacks of backlogged paperwork. You could quite clearly see that through the door’s window. Apparently, most of your appointments, scheduled or otherwise, were incapable of seeing the commander in chief hard at work. Why else would they bother you ceaselessly for a chance to speak with him?
At least your superior had a soft spot for you. A new desk made from gorgeous stained mahogany sits before you, polished to almost a mirror-like shine. It feels sinful to rest your elbows upon it as you lean forward and prop your chin on your wrist.
Though, perhaps it’s not nearly so sinful as what happens beneath.
When the president had procured this desk for you, he ensured it was the best in all aspects. Naturally, this included a spacious, enclosed area for you to stretch your legs. The legroom truly was unparalleled and quite comfortable. If you wanted to, you could easily crouch down and fit underneath. After all, that’s exactly what Loki is doing right now.
While you explain for the billionth time today that the president is not available at present, gesturing to the clone that pantomimes reading documents the next room over, the real Loki kneels between your legs and bites softly at your inner thigh. His teeth drag bluntly over the sensitive skin before he sucks on it, marking you under the mini skirt he’s bunched up around your hips.
“He… he’s clearly quite busy--” You inhale sharply when his tongue laves over the dark bruises he’s created upon the canvas of your legs. The man standing in front of you eyes you curiously with an arched brow. Canines dig into your tongue to stifle the moan at the back of your throat. Loki’s breath is hot against your core through the fabric of your underwear. “--and I am not feeling terribly well. If you could just try again tomorrow--”
“I have been attempting to get a hold of him for three weeks now!” the man exclaims as his face grows red. “This policy needs his attention immediately!”
“Sir, if I might remind you, that is not how the American government works. You would be much better off addressing this with your representative in the House, and--ah-!”
With a hand over your mouth, you bite down on your index finger to muffle any further slip-ups. You can feel the smirk on Loki’s lips as they lead feather-light kisses closer and closer to your folds. Fingers curl into a white-knuckled fist as you grip the edge of your desk.
Thankfully, your current “client” is far too focused on his own agenda to pay attention to your strange behavior.
“That’s exactly why I’m here! I called and called, and I think they blocked my number--”
You barely hear what he’s saying even with his frantic gestures and waving his arms. The man is clearly quite animated about whatever it is he’s going on about. It’s hard to focus on that when your senses hone in on the dextrous fingers that hook in the waistband of your undergarments. It’s a bit difficult while you’re sitting down, but he manages to shimmy them down your hips without too much effort on your part.
Thankfully for you, this man seems more than content to ramble on about how important this proposal is and why it should be the first thing on the agenda. So much so that he begins pacing about the room as he talks.
And then Loki’s tongue flattens and paints a fat stripe through your folds. You’re so glad this guy is turned away from you when your eyes roll back and you clamp your hand over your mouth fully. That accursed, talented appendage zigzags and swirls, drawing patterns all along your slit but never quite high enough where you want it most. He drinks of your nectar, feasts on your essence. Your breath comes out in staggered gasps and your brows knit together.
“Are you even listening to me!?” the man practically shouts, startling you and pulling your attention away from the euphoria between your legs. “I swear, the government these days--!”
“Do you wish for me to deal with him, my dear?” you feel more than hear Loki’s words as he whispers them, his cheek pressed lazily against the plush of your thigh while his verdant green eyes gaze up at you. His lips glisten with your slick, and it makes your head spin with desire. It would be so tempting, so easy…
But you snap out of it and shake your head. No, you wish to do this yourself. It’s part of your job, after all, at least in a roundabout way. And if your intuition is correct, really all you’ll need to do is change your approach.
The real challenge is staying focused while Loki gets back to work lapping at your cunt.
“I understand your frustrations, sir,” you practically coo, removing your hand from your face and leaning forward. You bat your long, fake eyelashes up at him. His demeanor changes instantly and you see his shoulders relax. “I really am listening. You were just so passionate about it that I was taken aback.”
“You… yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just such a serious matter, and no one is listening…” he bemoans.
“Such a mischievous little devil,” Loki purrs quietly. Your legs tremble on either side of his head with the effort it takes to keep yourself composed. “You’re playing this poor man like a fiddle, aren’t you? What a cruel mistress…” The nearly inaudible chortle rumbles through his lips and onto your dripping core. It sends a shudder through your entire body and prickles your skin.
You make a show of licking your lips before pinching the bottom one between the tips of your canines. Loki is right--you have this man absolutely captivated.
“Here, sweetheart,” you begin, sliding a sticky note towards him. “I’m sorry there’s nothing more I can do today, but that’s my personal cell. Give me a call tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do for you, okay?” It’s almost sickening putting on a show like this, but it might as well be your calling with how easily he buys it. He’s cradling the piece of paper in his hands like it’s some sort of holy artifact as he thanks you profusely and finally makes his exit from your office.
As soon as the door closes behind him, in fact, you finally exhale the breath you were holding with an airy whimper.
“Mm,” Loki moans into your folds. He rewards you with a flick of his tongue at your clit that leaves you digging your nails into the wood. “What a perfect succubus you make. Tell me…” he begins, teasing a finger at your entrance. “Who did that number belong to? I know you wouldn’t dare give such a lowly creature your actual information.”
“It’s--” You keen and bite your lip when his long finger slowly curls into you. “It was your--fuck--” Loki smiles devilishly as your hips buck into his hand. “--your brother’s cell.” Your cheeks flush and you laugh breathlessly. “I imagine that will be quite… quite the conversation tomorrow…”
An almost evil laugh thrums in his chest. “Gods, but I do love that wonderfully deviant mind of yours,” he praises as he begins thrusting the digit in and out. Kitten licks flutter against your sensitive bud, and your toes curl in your heels.
“And I--” you huff, moving instead to grip the more comfortable arms of your office chair, “I need more of that deviant tongue of yours,” you joke breathily.
He slides a second finger into you and begins pressing against the soft, spongy spot, grinning wickedly when he feels your thighs tense around him. “Making demands of your president? How terribly daring of you.”
Words are beginning to fail you even before his lips encircle your clit. Your chest heaves as you whimper with every breath. He sucks on that pleasurable little bud, timing every curl of his fingers with a practiced swipe of his tongue. Ecstasy builds and bubbles in your core, and you try so desperately to contain the sounds that threaten to spill from your lips. Even if no one is here right now, someone could walk in at any moment. That thought shouldn’t thrill you nearly as much as it does, and you feel Loki chuckle as he suckles on your clit.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he purrs. “The thrill, the danger, chasing such forbidden pleasures…” A low whine sounds in your throat as he continues. “I wonder… what would you do if someone were to discover you like this, in the throes of pleasure?” He slows his fingers, instead thrusting with purpose as your walls quiver around them. “Would you stop me?” He knows your answer when you mewl and tighten around him, but he asks anyway. “Or would the desire only intensify as you ride my tongue and desperately chase your release?”
“Loki, fuck--!” You’re so close, so desperately close, hanging off of the precipice as the pleasure below waits to consume you.
But his fingers still inside you, and the flicks of his tongue that punctuated his words cease entirely. The edge was right there, but now you feel it slipping away from your grasp as a mournful wail rings from you.
“That is President Loki to you,” he corrects you before busying his mouth by biting and sucking at the skin of your thighs. “You will address me properly if you want to continue indulging in this… deviant tongue of mine.”
Your breathing is ragged. Your nails are threatening to rip off the padding of your armrests. “P… President…” Your eyes nearly roll back when his fingers drag slowly through your velvety walls. It’s more, but it’s not enough. Your body trembles. “President Loki, please.”
Immediately you feel his fingers thrusting vigorously in and out of your soaked core. Your moaning returns in full force, potential visitors be damned.
“That’s it. You sound so terribly pretty when you beg for me,” he praises. His tongue finds your clit and swirls feverishly about the bud, and you feel all of the pleasure that had begun to fade return tenfold as you grind shamelessly onto his face. It’s a fire roaring in your belly that licks its flames outwards to tingle at your fingers and toes. Loki moans his own appreciation as he slurps and swallows, smacking lewdly as he drinks up everything you give him. The vibrations push you over the edge as you let out a silent scream, mouth agape as your thighs clamp around his head and you buck wildly against his tongue.
Your body slumps in your chair as you stare, dazed, off at nothing in particular. Your chest heaves with the effort of catching your breath. The orchestrator of your undoing merely smirks, licking delicate stripes up your sensitive folds that make you twitch and whimper from the overstimulation.
“What a beautiful mess you make,” he regards you as his tongue collects your essence from his lips. Before you have the chance to reply, to right yourself, he snaps his fingers and vanishes from his place beneath you.
Well, he doesn’t vanish completely.
No, instead he takes the place of his clone, and when your bliss induced stupor finally allows you to glance over through the window into his office, you see him smiling wickedly and patting his face gingerly with a handkerchief. Perfectly composed, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred while you try desperately to recollect yourself from a mind shattering orgasm.
Summary: Seungmin makes stupid assumptions and tries to fix it after.
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship
Content warnings: 'tis quite angsty, so be careful
Word Count: 2,742
A/N: requested by a lovely anon - hope you like it :3
POV Reader
Your eyes are tired as they take in the time on your computer screen. Past 8pm again. You sigh, burying your head in your hands. “Fuck”, you mutter under your breath, cursing the person who kept you at work this late. Again.
It had been like this ever since he started working with you. Jinho had been hired six weeks ago. You started staying late six weeks ago. To clean up after him, to fix his messes, and to get your own shit done on top of that. “He’s got experience”, your boss had said, “he won’t need much training.” Fuck your boss.
With heavy shoulders, you lift your head again, your unfinished work staring back at you. Just a bit more, maybe 45 minutes, and you’ll be free. The thought of coming home to your boyfriend soothes your frazzled nerves. There is nothing better than curling up in Seungmin’s arms after a day like this. To get the full force of Seungmin’s affection - a privilege only very few people possess.
A chuckle escapes you. It’s so silly how this man can make you smile without even being around. You love him so much. He’s the only reason you’re strong enough to endure Jinho’s incompetence, even if you’re unable to share the burden with him. Determined to finish up quickly, you take a deep breath and get back to work.
♡♥︎♡
The door falls shut behind you as you toe off your shoes. “Minnie?”, you shout, encouraged by the soft warm light streaming from the living room. The sound of fabric shifting fills the quiet, followed by the soft tap-tap-tap of socked feet coming closer. “You’re late”, he says, arms crossed where he stands, “again.” “Sorry”, you mumble, “work was a lot.”
You can’t be more specific. He doesn’t know about Jinho and the extra work he puts on your plate every damn day. It’s not that you don’t trust your boyfriend, it’s just…he has so much to deal with already. Video shoots and dance practice and vocal lessons and magazine interviews and recording sessions. It doesn’t seem fair to you to put your work troubles on top of that. Not when you got it handled.
“Was it?” He sounds skeptical. You nod, hanging up your coat with shaking fingers. You haven’t eaten and it’s coming back to bite you in the ass. “Do we still have leftovers from yesterday?”, you ask when you turn to step towards him. Seungmin shifts on his feet. He seems tense, arms still crossed, eyes wary. “Everything okay, babe?”
He huffs. There’s clearly something he’s not saying, but his eyes wander to your shaking hands. “Go sit down”, he mumbles and stomps off into the kitchen. You end up feeling even more strung out than before you came home. This was supposed to be the antidote to the long, exhausting day you’d just had. What the hell is going on?
Seungmin lets you eat before speaking up again. He’s restless though, shuffling around on the couch beside you, watching you take one bite after an other of the meal he threw in the microwave for you. When you set down your bowl on the coffee table, there’s a strange, charged silence between the two of you. It sends an uncomfortable shiver through your bones.
“So”, he begins, “work?” You try to decipher whatever is going on with him, but his face gives you nothing. “What about it?”, you ask instead. “You’ve been staying late a lot.” “I’ve had a lot to do.” He hums. Pondering. Eyes narrowing.
“It’s like you don’t want to come home anymore.”
The accusation punches the air out of your lungs. How the hell did he come to that conclusion? How could he ever think that you don’t want to be in the only place that brings you peace? Be with the only person that gets your mind to slow down?
“What?!” It’s more of a gasp than a question. He shrugs in a what else am I supposed to think kind of way. “You’re never around anymore, you rarely answer your phone throughout the day. It’s like I’m an afterthought. It’s like your don’t want to be around me anymore.”
Your eyes sting as they meet his. “Minnie”, you whisper, reaching out. He pulls his hand back. “What’s going on, baby?”, you try, confusion and hurt pooling in your stomach. “I feel like you don’t want this anymore”, he says. A beat of heavy silence follows.
And then - “like you don’t want me anymore.”
It takes a moment for you to wrap your mind around what he just said. What he’s implying. The horror of it chills you to the bone. “You think I want to break up?”
It hurts. The realization rips through you like a thunderstorm. There’s sadness at first. How lonely must he have felt with your recent absence? How alienated because you didn’t want to bother him with your troubles? How shut out because you tried to protect him from your issues?
But then the rage comes. Because how dare he think so little of your love for him? Doesn’t he know you at all? How dare he come to conclusions before even talking to you? Haven’t you proven to him time and time again that he’s it for you? How in the hells is it this easy for him to think you’d just cast him aside like that?
“Well, it’s kind of obvious”, he says. He sounds so sad, so broken, but you’re consumed by the unfairness of his assumptions. You can’t do this, can’t feel sympathy for this man in front of you. This man that you love. This man who thinks so little of you - who just decided you’d leave him by pulling away instead of having a conversation. That you’d leave I’m at all.
The insult of it grips you by the throat, heart pumping heavy in your chest. You’ve never felt less seen by anyone, never felt less understood. This was supposed to be the man who knew you better than anyone. The man you opened your heart to, who you showed your scars to, who really knew you. You were supposed to be int his together. But somehow, he decided what your intentions were for you. Without your input, without even asking.
You see red.
“Get out.” Your voice is shaking. It’s a miracle you don’t yell. Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you force yourself to stare him down. “What?” He’s the one confused now, eyebrows raised. “This is my place”, you say, “and if you think I don’t want you anymore, you can get out. You know the way.” You don’t wait for him to move, don’t give him chance to argue either. Instead, you get up, take your bowl to the kitchen and disappear to your room without another word.
The pillow is already soaked, muffling your sobs, when you hear the front door close a few minutes later.
♡♥︎♡
POV Seungmin
You’re not answering.
Not to texts. Not to calls. Not to your front door.
Seungmin’s been trying for 5 days, heart breaking a little more with each failed attempt to talk to you, to explain, to apologize. To make it right. Fix what he broke.
But you’re unavailable to him and he know he’s done that to himself. He came home crying that night, letting Felix hug him until he fell asleep - a situation so rare that Felix alerted Chan, who consequently came over the next day to figure out what had happened. But Seungmin didn’t talk, couldn’t spell it out, couldn’t speak the words. He just cried some more, sobbing into his bed sheets as his worried friends tried to comfort him.
Chan managed to get him a few days off, claiming he’s sick - which in a way, he was. Lovesick. Heartbroken. Locked in his room for 3 days before he showed up at your place, waiting all day for you to not let him in.
And now, 5 days after the fight, he just feels lost. Cursing himself for his own insecurities, for jumping to conclusions, for being too scared to talk about his fears like he should’ve done. He’s out of his depth. All he wants is to be back in your arms, to understand why you’d been so distant lately, because his own assumptions were very obviously wrong.
♡♥︎♡
“Lix?” Seungmin’s fingers play with the hem of his sweater as he stands in his roommate’s bedroom door. The blonde looks up from his phone where he sits on the bed, eyes warm and curious. “What’s up?”, he asks with a soft smile. Seungmin takes a deep breath. “I need your help.” Felix’s eyes light up ever so slightly. “What do you need?”
♡♥︎♡
His hands are sweaty and it’s not because of the steaming cup of tea between his palms. Nervous eyes dart to the clock above the counter of the coffee shop. 3:01pm. You’re late by one minute. They won’t show up, the voice in the back of his head tells him. A shaky breath escapes his lips. He tries to shake it off, the doubt, the fear. Felix said you’d come and he believes it. Or tries to.
At 3:02pm the bell above the door rings. Seungmin’s head snaps up so fast it’s almost dizzying. His heart stops. His mind blanks. There you are, pretty as always, looking around the empty shop. Well, almost empty. Felix sits behind the counter, putting the finishing touches on your favorite drink. He is who your eyes settle on. No words are spoken as Felix pushes the drink over, his signature soft smile on his lips, giving you an encouraging nod before he disappears through the “Staff Only” door in the back.
Seungmin’s eyes track your every move, watching you like a starved man. Like just looking at you can satiate him. He notices the way your fingers curl around the mug, the way you take in the sweet scent of your drink. He watches you brace yourself - deep inhale, long exhale - before your eyes finally meet his. His grip around his own mug tightens, the heat of the porcelain grounding him ever so slightly.
You set down your drink before taking a seat opposite him. The cold weather left a soft blush on your cheeks, along with a cute red nose. Pulling off your beanie leaves your hair just a tad messy. In combination with the warm light from he lamp above your table, it softens up your features in the most mesmerizing way. You’ve never been more beautiful to him.
God, how he’s missed you. He envies your mug when you put your lips to it, taking a careful sip.
The air shifts when you put it back down. “Talk.” Your voice is tight, the hurt still present within. It’s very clear that you only showed up because Felix had begged you to and it’s very nearly impossible to say no to his big round boba eyes. Seungmin was never more thankful to have him as a friend.
“I…”, he starts, but the words die on his tongue. A lump sits in his throat, and he can already feel his eyes sting. No, he has to do this. He needs to do this. Deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.” You just stare at him for a beat, taking another sip of your drink. “Well”, you say eventually, “go ahead then.”
He should’ve know you wouldn’t go easy on him. And you shouldn’t, either. His fingers press against his mug, tips whitening. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before making assumptions”, he says then, forcing a steady voice and only messing up slightly. “I was clearly wrong, and I wish I could take it all back.” Suddenly, a dry sob escapes him without permission. “I’m so sorry, Y/N”.
You take your time to answer, watching the foam on your drink swirl as you move your mug ever so slightly. “How did you even come up with that?” Your voice is so quiet, yet so loud in the empty café. “How could you think I’d do that to you? Leave you like that?” Seungmin can see your eyes redden and it breaks his heart all over again. “Leave you at all?”, you whisper, finally looking up.
He wants to reach out, wants to hold you, reassure you. But he’s not sure he’s allowed to. If you pulled away, he’s not sure he could take it. “You’re so amazing”, he says instead, “so smart and kind and funny. You’re everything. And I’m just…me. And when you pulled away, I thought you’d finally realized it. That I’m not enough for you. That I could never be enough for someone like you.”
Your eyes widen with his words, tears rolling down your pretty pink cheeks. “Oh Minnie”, you say, and the softness of it rips right through Seungmin’s chest, “you’re such an idiot.” “I know.” You chuckle. It’s the best sound he’s ever heard.
But it only lasts a second.
“Didn’t you trust me?” “No, I did. I do. I just…I got so in my head about it all. I talked myself into a spiral and then…I fucked it all up, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” You hum, contemplating, before taking another sip of your drink. He’s glad he chose to rent out the coffee shop. Glad he gave both of you something to do with your hands. With the silence.
When you set your cup down again, he notices a shift in your posture. Back straight, shoulders relaxing. “You really hurt me, Minnie”, you say, “but I’m also sorry for shutting you out. I had a lot on my plate and I didn’t want to burden you with it.” He nods, turning your words over in his mind. Pondering their deeper meaning. “I’m sorry for pulling away”, you add, eyes honest and soft.
A new silence settles between you. This one is a little lighter, almost hopeful. Not quite there yet, though. “I don’t want to lose you”, he admits. You nod, absentmindedly swirling what’s left of your drink in your cup. “Please”, he whispers when you don’t reply. It’s then that he’s finally unable to keep his hand away anymore. He reaches over with one hand, cautiously, still scared you’ll flinch or pull away. His heart is hammering against his rips as his fingers brush yours.
Your eyes snap up at the contact.
“Minnie”, you whisper, not engaging with his touch, but not moving away either. “Let me fix it”, he begs, “please, Y/N.” Fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you consider him. “If I made you feel like your troubles are a burden to me - like you couldn’t talk to me…”, his voice breaks, “please, baby, let me fix it. Let met make it right.”
He can feel his own tears now, unable to stop them. His other hand leaves his mug to reach out to you. “I’ll be better for you”, he whispers, both hands covering yours now, “I can’t lose you, Y/N, please.”
You take a deep, very shaky breath. He feels your fingers flex beneath his palms, and for a split second he’s terrified you’ll pull away. But you don’t . Instead -
“Come here.” You move where you sit on the bench, making space.
Space for him.
Seungmin has never switched seats this fast in his life. He’s beside you in a heartbeat, hands cupping your perfect face, lips crashing into yours without hesitation. He’s so eager, so hungry for you, so relieved that you let him in again. Let him have this second chance.
He’s resistant when you try to pull away, but gives in eventually. “Minnie”, you say once more, a bit out of breath, “I love you.” “I love you, too”, he breathes, “so much.” “We need to talk more.” He hums in agreement, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “I promise.” It’s you who initiates the next kiss. It’s much softer, much more gentle. “Me too.”
Just then, the noise of something heavy hitting the floor disrupts the quiet, followed by a loud “Fuck!” from behind the “Staff Only” door. You chuckle as Seungmin lets out a long, faux-irritated sigh. “We better make sure he didn’t die”, you muse. “He’ll be fine”, Seungmin mumbles, lips brushing yours. “Minnie”, you giggle. He huffs, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Fine, let’s check on the kitty.”
can U make a 1x4 x gn!reader smut Please,,, u don’t know me.
😢I GESS i oill.....here 1x reader (1X4 will use all pronouns)
-
"1X4 X G/N!READER"
"PEACE OFFERING."
You were at a mere 20 HP,one hand grasped over the gashing wound on your shoulder.The rest of your team and the healers were wiped out,blood splattered on the walls and grass of PLANET VOSS.You were hiding in one of the white buildings,leaning against the wall with blood trickling down your twitching arm onto the floor.
You were about to peek out,before 1X4 peeked in,a grin on his zipper-esque mouth.You breathlessly whimpered,shaking your head.
"Wait!Wait,wait,wait,wait!Please don't kill me yet!I..-I've got a peace offering!" You pleaded desperately,turning around and presenting yourself to them.It was a damn stupid idea,but anything that would work,right?You only had a minute left,if you could distract her from killing you for a minute,you could POTENTIALLY win.
At first,they didn't say anything,staring at your injured,weak form.You were expecting a blade to be jabbed into the back of your head,but instead,you felt a hand roughly grab the side of your waist,pushing you against the wall more.His hate-filled eyes glaring at the back of your head,a low,amused chuckle coming from them.
"So desperate.."
It cooed slyly,squeezing your flesh.They roughly rutted their hips against your ass,huffing.One hand reached up to grab the back of your hair,tugging on it.
"So eager to live.."
Her slimy,neon green tentacle-esque genitalia swiped the crevice of your rear,leaving a slick liquid in its path.
"It's almost cute..."
They yanked your head back,a soft grunt coming from you.You offered yourself,and it was too late to back down now.
It growled,the genitalia pulsating warmly,yearning for you and your warmth.Your wounded arm was throbbing with pain,blood coating your whole limb from below the shoulder.
You let out a strained moan as she thrusted deep inside of you without a warning,a raspy groan coming from their mouth.
Its hotness and slick length filled you up,it squirming once your tightness surrounded them.He panted,other hand tightening its grip in your hair.
You stared at the ground,face flushed a bright ruby-red. "H.holy shit.." You hissed through your teeth.
They didn't waste any time and started pounding into you with the tightest vice-like grip on your body ever.The only things that your ears could pick up on were the loud pants and growls coming from her.
Her other hand on your waist snaked up to your throat,holding you tightly there,but not enough to asphyxiate you..yet.
"You feel..so good."
They hissed,hips pistoning in and out of you as their own liquid from their arousal dripped out of your needy back entrance.You could hardly breathe from how rough and fast she was going.Your legs could barely stand still without a few trembles and quivers.
Suddenly,his face leaned forward,biting onto the side of your neck with hot drool dripping down your shoulder.Their thrusts got more frenzied,holding you closer to its hips.Before long,hot loads shot from the slit in their genitalia into you,a high-pitched growl came from her.The liquid drooled from your ass once he pulled out only slightly.
You were about to say somethin else,but the round was over and you won,but at the cost of your dignity.
Howdy! I was wondering if you could write a one shot or head-cannons about Pennywise taking care of a sick reader, under the guise of “you humans can’t take care of yourselves properly”.
Also I love your work and how you write Pennywise <3
OOOOH okay okay yes I love this. And thank you!
Pennywise is incredibly overbearing when it comes to sickness, mainly because he doesn’t actually understand a lot of it. All he knows is he has seen hundreds of people over the years lose their life to hidden ailments. When you start to get sick, it’s one of the first times he feels something even remotely close to anxiousness.
He would hate modern medicine. He would be adamant in curing things ‘naturally’ and assuring that he could provide such a service. (He lives in dirty water mind you)
It takes you a long time to convince him that sometimes actual medicine is better than some home remedies. Depending on how unwell you are it takes a lot of convincing.
He gets very nest-y when you’re unwell. He doesn’t notice that he does it and if you dare point it out he will insist that you’re wrong and that he isn’t doing anything. He scatters around and cleans things away and pads out his bedding and brings you food in oodles. Of course, it takes an even longer time for him to get it through that big massive skull that you do not want to eat remnants of his meals. Still, he’s not going to present you with something gourmet. You’ll get some fruit stolen from the neighbours trees and learn to be happy with it.
You insist that you can take care of yourself but he’s not having a bar of it. Truthfully, he believes if you’re left to your own devices that you’ll kick the can and he’s not sure how such a thing would make him feel. After developing some kind of codependency with him, he’s grown used to your presence and you know that he cares about you in some capacity, you’re just not sure what. He shows it a little more in situations like this where something threatens the livelihood of your peculiar bond.
L o t s of licking. He cleans you like lions do to their cubs, insisting that you wait until the worst of your sickness has passed before you take a shower so that you don’t get cold. If by some miracle you do manage to convince him, he sits on the floor by the tub and waits for you.
He’d also mimic your sickness for attention at any given time when he feels like you’re ignoring him. (He can’t get sick and you and him are both very aware of this fact)
trafalgar law x reader that matches his intellectual freak. he gets giddy bc she listens to his ramblings and vice versa🥹specifically an anthropologist or like archeologist nerd reader! thank u🫶🏻
yes! law needs someone to match his inner, smart, depressed soul ❤️ btw it was years since i took anthropology so i had to do some internet digging to refresh my memory and write this 😂
— pairing: law x anthropologist!reader
one day on the polar tang, you settled into a corner of the mess hall, a hot cup of tea next to you accompanied by a messy stack of books and folders. law wasn’t normally one to seek out conversation, but when he saw a title on the spine of one of your books, he couldn’t help but approach you and ask.
“interested in medicine?” he asked nonchalantly.
not looking up from the textbook you replied, “not medicine itself, but medical procedures.”
“enlighten me.” law challenged, standing in front of the table.
looking up from your texts, you rested your elbow on the table and rested the side of your head on your open palm. “well, this text says,” you replied, flipping the book in front of you, “that way back when, humans would sharpen rocks to create scalpels from the grand line waters because they’re ‘blessed’. a surgical knife with these ‘blessed properties’ supposedly caused successful procedures, not the skill of the doctor or surgeon alone.”
“so you’re saying that the environment was the cause of a person not dying?”
you nodded enthusiastically. “yes.”
“what about now?” he asked. “as in, with current medical technology?”
“well, you’re the doctor. you tell me.” you smiled. “do you think your scalpels and medical tools are blessed?”
law scoffed, pulled the chair back in front of the table, and turned it around so he could sit on it backward, resting his forearms on the backrest.
“i wouldn’t say blessed,” he started, “but i do so happen to be blessed with the skills of being an actual doctor.”
“well then, dr. trafalgar,” you smirked, “enlighten me.”
law raised an eyebrow. “on what?”
“how you can successfully manage surgeries without a blessed scalpel.”
and that invitation was all he needed.
“first of all, how well a scalpel works has nothing to do with superstition but instead with what it’s made of. dull scalpels can cause more damage than good. surgical steel is ideal because it stays sharp.” he started.
“so you’re saying the guys who sharpened the rocks were lucky?” you smirked.
“yes…in a way.” he admitted. “but, were their tools sanitized? that alone can cause infection.”
“of course they did their best to clean them,” you defended. “but these humans had limited resources so mistakes are bound to happen—unintentionally, doctor.” you quickly added.
law blinked and slowly nodded his head. the way you countered his points were seamless. he was finding himself dangerously close to liking this conversation.
“yes, but advancements in what tools are made of make surgery easier and safer. without technique, any tool is useless.” he scooted closer to the table. “may i?” he asked, motioning to the books.
“proceed.” you chuckled.
“if you really want to look into this seriously, i’ll find you a book that doesn’t revolve around superstitions…”
and just like that, hours slipped away and law found himself not only grateful, but enjoying a conversation without someone other than himself.
The man whose life was all about redemption and struggle finally getting to breathe, to settle into the softness of being loved and wanted. Of crafting this routine where he's comforted by the steadiness of each and every moment, of waking up just as early as he always did but this time not to train as a weapon, or to toil for redemption. But to make something for his love, who'll tell him how much he's loved and appreciated as soon as their eyes open for the day.
Grisham whose hands get to stop working tirelessly and instead find the softness of a labour of love as he tilts your chin up to take your lips into a loving kiss.
I think about soft Grisham so much. Like. SO MUCH. Hope you enjoy!
<3 <3 <3
Grisham’s body would never allow him to sleep in, no matter how exhausted he might have been he would always wake at the same time each morning like clockwork. An old habit that refused to die, it had been useful when he had to be up early to ready the trucks. But now Cafe Nouveau had a physical shop, and Grisham wasn’t always needed for the opening shift. So he finally had the luxury of sleeping in. If only he actually could.
It wasn’t all bad, though.
Watching the rise and fall of your chest as you slept soundly–safely–was worth it. Watching your hand sleepily, sluggishly seek his warmth out when he slipped out of bed was worth it. Watching that same hand retract and curling itself around his pillow when you inevitably couldn’t find him was worth it.
There was no greater reward than seeing you in his bed.
Having you in his bed had been an adjustment at first. Let alone having you stay the night in his bed. There was a warmth to it that Grisham had been long a stranger to. A comfort born not from survival but from affection, from promise. Even now as he silently readied himself, the comfort you brought him lingered, fueling another, kinder purpose.
There were simple pleasures in life that Grisham knew would bring a smile to your face. The smell of freshly baked croissants was one of those, and he was more than happy to prepare a batch just for you. Plus, Grisham had come to love baking. The earnest task of creating something from nothing, where failure wasn’t met with disappointment or rejection, where success was met with simple reward rather than expectation of more. His hands took to the task readily, easing into the repetitive motion of kneading bread, or holding steady as he piped out perfectly sized macaron batter onto a baking tray.
There was no pressure to be more. Just to create, with flexibility in mind for the temperature and humidity, the time of year, the quality of ingredients.
Grisham set the oven to warm, he had rolled the croissants last night and only needed to bake them. As he waited, he started the first pot of coffee for the two of you. When he was home he preferred using a Kalosian press. It was quieter, slower, and more hands on than using a machine was.
He thought of you while he worked in silence. Of you slowly making your way out of the bedroom, bleary eyed and just barely awake. Of the cute outfit you’d wear, of the date he’d take you on later that night. As he placed the croissants into the oven he thought of the way you’d look sitting out on the balcony with a cup of coffee cradled in your hands and distracted by whatever drama was happening on the street below (one of the neighbors was having a messy divorce after several sordid love affairs, you and Griselle were invested). His mind drifted towards other topics, but always returned to you.
And as if right on cue, there you were, sleepily wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling your face between his shoulders. He almost didn’t notice you leaving the bedroom.
“Good morning.” He hummed, already pouring your mug of coffee and preparing it just the way you liked it, “Sleep well?”
“You could stay in bed some mornings y’know?” You grumbled, kissing where your face had been before you pulled away, “I wanna wake up next to you.”
“And miss out on getting to spoil you? Perish the thought.” Grisham chimed, opening the balcony door and making sure the patio furniture was cleared off before you sat, “But if you insist. Tomorrow, I promise.”
You accepted his promise. You really thought you’d wake up before him today, surprise him with breakfast for a change. You knew enough about how he baked that you were sure you could manage breakfast… Well, there would always be tomorrow.
Grisham kissed your forehead before he went back inside, humming the tail end of a tune and far too awake for the time of morning. He returned shortly, carrying a wooden tray with both your breakfasts on it plus his coffee and the Kalosian press. He’d cut fruit to pair with the croissants.
It was a quiet and slow morning, and Grisham reveled in that. After everything he’d been through, after every loss, every set back, every rejection… he still had you.
He reached across the small table, cupping your face to thumb away a crumb that sat on the corner of your mouth.
You gave his hands more reason to be gentle, the way Grisham felt that they were maybe always meant to be. And he loved every bit about it.
Sooooo I reached out to the writer I send my FF promt to (in August) and again they never replied. I really want to clarify that I am not mad about. It was a long shot in the dark anyway :)
But since then I stumbled over your page and let us be honest TALENT XD I really love your storys and they always make my day a little brighter. (Especially cause in Germany it is cold, dark and rainy in the Moment)
Soooo I think I will take the chance again to give this promt over to you ^-^
__________________
Imagine a Gala in the hospital. Zayne is one of the faces for the campaign for the charity event. Everything is formal and kinda boring. But over the course of the night he is stumbling over the reader a lot of times. She is funny, loud and honest. She is so out of place but in the best possible way Her backstory is that she was smuggled to the event from her former Coworkers. She worked in a research lab (like as a technical assistant for example) in the cardiology department. Her former chef is also a Doctor and attending the gala with his research grpup. So her 2 former coworkers and good friends helped to get her to the party without an ineventaition. She is having fun and maybee is drinking (cause charity and free booze) and she is stumbling into Zayne, but even when they put there numbers in there phones at the Gala (they are to drunk to do it properly) Maybee the night will end with a kiss to remember (or more if you want) xD so after the hangover and them getting back to there lifes. They realized there mistakes with the numbers. But how do you find your mysterious lover when you forgot his name and one name is not even on the guest list ^-^
Pairing: Zayne X fem!Reader
Summary: To a new year of new beginnings - a new job, and maybe something more.
Word Count: 4,043
A/N: Thank you @januke for having the actual patience of a saint as I worked on this. My goal was for this to come out at New Year's...and it just didn't happen. Thank you for trusting me with your idea, and I hope that I did it justice. Thank you @humanitys-strongest-brat and @lordalastar for beta'ing this piece for me!
A new year - a new start. You had recently received word that you snagged the open research role of your dreams at a new hospital and, because you were lucky enough that you could, wrapped up your current job and allowed yourself a proper two week vacation through the holidays before starting up again.
You were excited, and a little bit terrified.
The one thing you had forgotten, however, was the fact that leaving your place of work did mean that you also missed out on all the holiday invites. Truthfully, it wouldn't have been too much of an issue, except this year your old team was up to receive an award at the annual Linkon Medical Gala for the progress made on finding a cure for protocore syndrome.
But alas…you would have to cheer them on from home.
"But you are part of the team receiving the reward, though! You were the one doing insane hours with some of the blood testing! It's not fair that you don't get to dress up and go with us."
Mable - old coworker and best friend - was refusing to take no as an answer from you.
"Mable, I wasn't invited. You each were given a formal invitation that says it'll be checked at the door!"
"Oh, I don't think that'll really happen, do you? I mean, there's going to be so many people -"
"Yeah, which is why security is tight!" Twisting the phone and clicking on the speaker button, you continued working on wrapping gifts for your family. "I agree, it sucks, but I'm not going to get you or I or anyone else in trouble by trying to sneak in."
There was silence on the other side of the line, a shuffling sound as Mabel grabbed something near her. "Hm…my invite doesn't have a plus one option, or I would proudly bring you in myself."
"And I would proudly go on your arm, but, May, it's okay. I promise! I'm going to see you guys at our annual winter-all-you-can-eat-fest in a few days, anyway! That's more than enough."
That's when you heard it, the hum - the warning that Mable was thinking, and whatever she was conjuring up in her mind that would, inevitably, need someone to clean up the mess in which it left behind.
"Whatever you're thinking, no."
"I'm going to have a plan, babe. You just wait - better buy a pretty dress now before they all sell out."
Rolling your eyes, you placed a piece of tape, finishing the last gift. "Sure, May. Whatever you say."
🎇🥂🥂🎇
It turns out that due to the nature of the invite, no one in your previous team had any additional people they were allowed to bring. However, the lead doctor who ran your department, and attended the gala every year, had a different type of invitation.
And, it turns out, as a man who was and is single by choice, but easily swayed by a bubbly personality that keeps motivation going when staff is constantly toeing the line at burn out levels, was more than willing to have you arrive as his plus one.
Your jaw nearly hit the floor when she told you - honestly your whole group's did. And, in your usual fashion, you all celebrated this achievement with a drink. Or two…or a few.
But it's a celebration - those don't count.
Your headache the next morning would beg to differ.
🎇🥂🥂🎇
Dr. Mayhugh, who, truthfully, was old enough to potentially be your father, was tickled pink leading you into the banquet hall on his arm.
"The hospital needs some new rumors," he had whispered with you conspiratorially. "I've heard the same ones at least three times now - I'm bored."
With a cheer of the plan working, the whole team happily gathered and chatted around the assigned table, enjoying the bounty that this year's Board had provided. The hors d'oeuvres had names you couldn't pronounce with ingredients that made your biweekly paycheck wince in pain.
They were absolutely divine, though - and more than once would pull an embarrassing sound from your throat.
Unfortunately, for you, was the fact that an open bar was also provided. Now, by no means were you an alcoholic, but you were also not one to turn down a free drink. Especially from bar tenders that seemed to have a magic touch in creating cocktails.
You were a smart woman, you could limit yourself, and, currently were doing quite well with your one drink, eyeing the high end crowd that was eating around you. Here, gathered in one place, were some of the smartest minds in all of medicine. And the fact that you were allowed to be a part of this? A core memory you would never forget.
One ear turned toward the table conversation, your eyes danced across the other facility tables, seeing if there was anyone else that you knew. You spotted a handful of techs and a couple of doctors that you had worked with on larger projects - waves and nods were given in kind.
But then, there was him. Young, enchanting, - and positively bored.
He looked like a protagonist from a romance novel - dark hair, a swoon worthy side profile, and what seemed to be that brooding attitude to match.
His eyes remained fairly narrowed at whomever was holding conversation at his table, but, by the looks of it, you wondered if he was going to fall asleep.
Mable was already leaning over to find your line of site. "Oh - the Akso Hospital. They're always getting something, aren't they?"
"Sure….but - who's he?" you asked, trying to make it obvious with your eyes and nothing more. All that earned you was a weird look until Mable was able to figure out why your eyes were jumping back and forth like a cookoo clock.
"The devilishly handsome one in the midnight blue tux?"
With the nod of confirmation, she grinned wickedly. "That, hun, would be Dr. Zayne Li. Never met him in person, but you know Yvette? My old college roommate? She works with him now, and she says that he is somethin' . Legitimately some sort of prodigy of cardiology - the head surgeon at just 28! And somehow still single. Pity."
"He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else."
"Yvette says he's not super sociable. Probably why he's single…If you're looking to switch up your date, I wouldn't waste your time with him," she said with a pat on your back.
With a heated face, you turned your attention back to your own table. "That wasn't what I was looking to do at all."
"Sure, hun. Of course."
Your date, however, had his own conspiratorial opinion. He leaned close before whispering, "Oh, please - switch it up. I can't wait to hear about it from a friend of a friend of a cousin in the break room." He ended his statement with a wink and a chuckle at your gaping mouth.
"Go on - your young, and here to have fun. Just let me know if I am to bring you home at the end of the night or not."
"Dr. M, I came here with you, and I plan to celebrate with you."
With a light pat on your arm, he shook his head. "I beg of you not to."
Before you could respond, however, the host of the evening took to the stage to begin the ceremony.
🎇🥂🥂🎇
The next few hours passed quickly enough with awards, grants, recognitions, and even more awards, before the evening gave way to the socializing aspect. Dinner was served, drink were poured, and poor choices were made out on the oddly small dance floor.
Your hydration choices had been questionable but, finding yourself with an empty glass, you slipped away from your group and back to the bar. Knowing your limits were important, and this would have to be your last one.
But damn if those Lotus Blossom Martinis went down wonderfully smooth.
If anything, they had helped you loosen up. You were feeling good. Confident.
The night was still young, and the world was your clam…or whatever the saying was.
Sauntering up to the bar, you leaned onto the lacquered wood, nearly jumping in surprise by the man sitting at it off to the side. He didn't seem to notice you, eyes locked onto the glass in front of him.
With a quick wave, you flagged down the bartender and made your order. And then, with an inflated confidence, moved even closer to the handsome doctor.
"What are you drinking?"
"Water," he replied firmly.
But the answer had you snickering. "Then why are you at the bar?"
"There typically is less social obligation to talk."
As you waited for your order, you took the next moment to look at him - really, truly look. He was even more handsome up close.
Dark hair trimmed and brushed neatly back, a jawline that could cut glass, and that midnight blue tux had been tailored in such a way that you would have sworn they would had to have sewn him into it before the gala.
He turned, dark brow lifted, and your breath caught under the full weight of his eyes. Green - but not like grass or an emerald. The green of a forest - the sun slipping through the trees. They were so bright that, for a moment, you almost thought that they weren't real.
You couldn't tell if he was eyeing you out of annoyance or something else, and teetering on the edge of too bold, you leaned inward. "And why would the great Dr. Li of … how many awards was it? Three? Prefer silence to conversation?"
"Because I have found that most people at these types of events prefer an audience instead of a conversation."
With a blink, you settled more into your seat, thanking the bartender as he dropped of your drink. "Okay, wow - wasn't expecting you to give a decent answer."
There was a huff of a breath as you took a sip, humming in delight. "Oh? What type of answer were you expecting?"
"I dunno - something with a little more flair? You know, like your ex dancing with your rival."
With a roll of his eyes, he studied your drink sitting on the counter. "This isn't a drama. My life sorely lacks in the necessary parts for your idea."
Another hum came as you studied him, eyes tilted. "Then why stay at all?"
Your heart hiccuped in your throat as those eyes landed on you again. "Look, if you don't like it here, there are so many places you could go to that even someone as non-drama-esque as you would enjoy."
He cleared his throat, straightening his tie again. "My life stays drama free due to my routines. I enjoy certain people, certain places, none which would be open at this point in the evening. My work is unpredictable enough. I'd much rather control what I can."
"No, Zayne, look - you have to live a little!" you exclaimed grabbing his arm to give it a little shake. "I know alll the best places in Linkon - not the ones the brochure tourists get, but the real ones. The holes in the walls with stories. The one where life is lived."
"I enjoy my life just fine."
"Really? Hospital, home, hospital, home, hospital, home, gala - repeat?"
He cleared his throat. "When you put it like that…."
"Gimmie your phone."
"Excuse me?"
Braver than you would be sober, you lifted your manicured hand from his arm and held it out toward him. "Gimmie. Your. Phone."
"Why?" Curiosity piqued, he had already pulled it out of his jacket pocket, but he didn't pass it to you just yet.
You snatched it from him. "I'm gunna be your tour guide. When you decide you want to actually see Linkon, you call me."
It took a blink or two for the screen to be clear enough in front of you from the sudden brightness and movement for you to find the contact section. Then, with a flash of numbers, you added your own and handed it back to him. Reaching for your drink, you flashed a smile, and then turned to walk back to your group. "Enjoy your water!"
For the first time in a good long while, Zayne found himself stunned into silence as he watched your form slip into the crowd. An amused scoff left his mouth, before looking down to the new contact on his device.
'Linkon's Best Tour Guide'
A chuckle escaped him, and the corner of his lips tipped up just so.
Then, deciding he had spent the proper required amount of time at this event, he left.
🎇🥂🥂🎇
The next day started as it always did for him. His alarm went off on his phone.
He went on a run down to the park, through the woods, and back again.
He showered.
He ate breakfast.
He grabbed his laptop to make progress on paperwork he still had for patients at Akso.
And at lunch, he chewed through a carefully balanced meal….and a macaroon.
And as he chewed, his mind wandered. A day off, and he was still working. Still following a schedule although he was not required to.
It was then that he glanced at his phone, and thought of you and your statement.
He doubted that there was really anything new that you could show him, but…something in the tone that you used, the confidence in which you added your number…
Maybe it would be worth finding out.
He didn't stop to think - if he did, he wouldn't follow through with the action - snatching the phone up and opening your contact information.
» I'm thinking of trying something new for dinner. What might you recommend?
There. Simple, professional…easy to brush off as a mistext should you no longer actually be interested.
He blinked at the reply.
Error - Invalid Number. Please enter a correct eleven digit number and try again.
For a moment longer he stared, and then, with a wry smile, pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course - he should have known better. Fate always seemed to have a way to remind him about his roles and responsibilities in this world.
It seemed, unfortunately, they did not include you. His mysterious Cinderella.
He doubted it was on purpose, not with the way you had talked, but it still wasn't much of a balm for his pride.
It was a silly thing to have tried, truly. Carefully, he placed his phone back down, and pulled his laptop forward to continue to work.
🎇🥂🥂🎇
It wasn't nearly as bad as you had anticipated - the hangover. You had gone home clear headed enough the night before with your friends.
Not long after you had forcefully handed your number away, Mable had linked your arm with hers and told you that you would be joining the after party for some decent food.
("And besides," she had said with a nod at your original date who was now talking low and very, very close with a handsome stranger, "I think your date found someone else." Both of you had giggled, and you managed to put on a pout as you left, just to egg on some of the nurses gossiping around you.)
A group of you piled into a taxi, stopping once to order the greasest burger you could find. After much giggles of your too posh dresses and tux in a fast food joint, and comfortably full, you each climbed into a different car to make your way home.
Still, you moved slowly enough - taking a long, hot shower and making a hangover cure tea. Comfy clothes on, and drink in hand, you settled on the couch, clicking through services until you found a show that was more comfort than entertainment.
For a while you watched, mind still a bit groggy, trying your best to run through what needed to be done before you first day of work - tomorrow. With a groan, you fumbled around for your phone, holding the bright screen up to your face - squinting at the numbers.
It was early afternoon, much later than you anticipated. Maybe you would shorten that list of yours to the absolute necessities.
Hours later, as you were more clear minded and packed your bag for the next day, it dawned on you the quietness of your phone. Sure, Mabel had sent pictures in the morning, and you had received a handful of good luck messages, but no new number.
Oh.
Well. That was that, then, wasn't it? You had drunkenly made your shot, and the good doctor was quietly telling you no.
It had been silly of you, really, to expect anything at all from Akso's most wanted bachelor…who was clearly fine with being single.
You groaned, thumping your head against the wall. Liquid courage once more a bit too brazen for your liking. Once more getting yourself hurt.
A soft chime and vibration pulled your attention back to your phone, abandoned on your desk. Too eagerly you reached for it, only to find yourself disappointed again.
Just an email from Akso about your orientation in the morning. 08:00 sharp. Joy.
Bag packed and double checked, and lunch and dinner for the next day in the fridge, you walked around the apartment, turning off the lights and closing blinds.
Silly girl, you were only disappointed because you had built this up in your head. That wasn't fair on Dr. Li.
Which, you realized with a start, would be in the building at some point the same time as you with this new research role.
You fell into bed, face straight into a pillow, and screamed. Fine - this was fine. Akso was a big building - it couldn't be that hard to hide.
🎇🥂🥂🎇
Orientation day.
Despite all that had occurred over the weekend, you had made it. Made it to the first day of your dream role. Taking a deep breath of air before the front doors, you shoved the butterflies in your belly into a box to place in the back of your mind.
So you never got a text. That was fine. You had this. You had people to meet, friends to create. A job to dive into - this would be your focus. Just like it was before.
But as you took a space in the open theater, greeting another new researcher you would be working with, you noticed something odd on the stage. Multiple chairs.
Wasn't this just supposed to be a quick welcome?
As you leaned over to ask, the Chief of Staff walked up to the mic, and as he did, a handful of doctors filled in the chairs behind him.
One in particular with dark hair and forest gold eyes hidden behind glasses.
You brain stuttered along with your jaw - a buzzing taking over your ears as you stared, barely comprehending the greeting.
"Of course, we will take a few minutes to introduce you to the main staff of doctors you will be reporting to. Many of you will be helping with a specific project, but there may be times we have to rotate who is where.
"All of our staff are wonderfully friendly, as you will come to find out, as you will be reporting to them often enough."
Oh, this could not be happening. Reporting to them? Often?
Fate hated you. Simple as that.
The chief mentioned that they would be available for questions at the end of the welcome, should you like to know more about them or a specific project, and you found yourself focused more on figuring out an escape route than the words.
The bathrooms were around the corner. You could leave, right at the end, hide in there for ten..fifteen minutes. That would be long enough right?
Applause brought you back to the room - the man wrapping up with a small bow. The doctors were already moving away from the stage and to the floor, and you hurried to grab your things.
Quickly, you turned to slip through the door, only to crash into a firm chest, hands coming out to steady you.
"I hope you're not running away because of me."
Rubbing your nose from the impact, your body seized at the recognition of the soft tone. Slowly, your eyes lifted up, past white collar, past the chin, and into forest green eyes watching you in clear amusement.
How on earth had he gotten back here so fast?
You stumbled back a professional amount of steps, heart hammering abnormally in your chest. "Dr. Li!"
"You seem surprised to see me here," the tone still light enough you recognized it as a tease. With crossed arms, he took a step forward, and then casually leaned against the wall, still effectively blocking your path.
A cold fear crept up your spine. With a forced, gentle smile, you gave a quick nod. "My apologies, I didn't think you would be at this orientation. Um, if you'll excuse me -"
But he move, body smoothly blocking your path again. The fear was quickly turning into irritation. Still, you fought to maintain your decorum. You were not going to lose your dream job to a drunken mistake.
With a steadying breath, and a bravery from somewhere deep inside you, you locked eyes with him once more. "Dr. Li, you've made it clear my previous actions from this weekend were overstepping, and …" your voice began to trail off as you caught a furrow of dark brows.
"Overstepping?" His hand came up, adjusting his tie, eyes darting away. "I fear there may have been a miscommunication."
With a clearing of his throat, he began. "You see, this weekend I met someone who intrigued me, and was very adamant that they knew more about Linkon than someone who had grown up here most of his life. They were even bold enough to put their number in my phone.
"The next day I couldn't help but dwell on these words, and wonder what hidden placed I had missed. I had decided to text this lively person to ask them out for coffee and to see this list." He looked at you then, sunlight from the window hitting in a way that the gold flecks of his irises stood out. "Imagine my surprise when I got back an error saying the number didn't exist."
Embarrassment sat heavy in your belly, heating you from the inside out. "Oh." It was all you could manage.
Then you caught the slightest movement on the corner of his mouth. The shadow of a hint of a smile. "I'm quite sure I am correct to blame this on inebriation, and not the person's character."
He reached into his pocket, pulled his phone free, and handed it to you, the message he sent still pulled to the top. Voice softer now, he said, "I would still like to learn about these hidden gems of Linkon. If the offer is still on the table."
Biting your lip, you nodded, taking his phone and opening your contact information. Mentally smacking yourself, you sighed at your error - flipping the last two digits around, and then quickly fixed it, handing it back to him.
"It is," you nearly whispered back, grinning sheepishly. "I..I'm sorry."
With a soft chuckle, he shook his head. "There's no need for apologies when it has all worked out." His attention pulled away as another doctor walked up to him, mumbling something low. You watched as his face changed into something more serious, and he nodded.
And then, once more, his full attention was on you. "I am needed elsewhere, it seems. I'm glad we ran into each other again."
You nodded. "Me too."
Once more, that ghost of a smile was present, and then he was turning, quickly following the other doctor out the door.
Your phone buzzed only a moment later.
» Zayne is fine, by the way.
» Maybe you can start this tour of yours with a breakfast place. To celebrate the end of your first shift.
Biting the inside of your cheek to keep you from grinning like a fool, you quickly responded back.
