#and yet I’m supposed to go and sit in a room with my coworkers and boss and cosplay as a normal human

[tyrianlynch]

Tomorrow I have to roleplay as a mentally healthy able bodied grown up for 8 hours straight, pray for me

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

[wonysugar]

working in retail 101 | ahn yujin

synopsis : what happens when a floor manager flirts with a floor clerk during an accidental, overnight lock-in inside the store? well, not anything professional, that’s for sure.

pairing : clerk!gpyujin x floormanager!femreader

genre : smut, kinda fluff towards the end too? coworkers trope, kinnndaaa boss x employee?? idk but THEY’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE DATING!

tags : so! lot to unpack here lol, superstore au, yes that sitcom netflix show SUE ME, references to the show, you don’t have to watch the show to read this but it’d be better if you knew what i was talking aboutgiejdks, naturally all characters work at cloud 9!girlpenis!yujin, handjobs, teasing, oral sex (yuj receiving), missionary sex, marking up, sub!yujin, she’s hung halp, dom!reader, implied puppy play, jonah!coded yujin, so yes she’s a loser, amy!coded reader, dina!coded gaeul, cheyenne!coded wonyoung, glenn!coded jiwon, although she isn’t really mentioned ueueueue, garrett!coded rei!

warnings : mentions of alcohol!

word count : 5,1k (excluding texting ofc!)

a/n : THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC YET?? kinda not proofread so sorry for that but HAIII omg okay so this took me such a long while to write i’m SORRYY</333 i started it while i was in the PRIME of my superstore hyperfixation and ??? IT’S SUCH A FUNNY SHOW I DEFINITELY RECOMMEND IT OMG did i mention this was a superstore au— [GUNSHOTS] as for my other drafts, they’re being worked on as we speak!! i really hope you enjoy reading this and thank you for your time! :]

also. IF ANY OTHER SUPERSTORE ENJOYERS ARE READING THIS PLEASEEE INVADE MY INBOX IMMEDIATELY I BEGGG

yujin.

that was all that preoccupied your thoughts, just her stupid face plaguing your mind like it was some sort of virus on a computer.

you needed yujin, there was no way around it. it was impossible to focus on your job when all you could think about was her, you needed her right here and right now.

and that’s exactly what you were gonna get.

after making sure that none of your coworkers were watching you flee the department you were in charge of, you quickly rushed towards the photo lab, or as everybody in the workplace liked to call it, ‘the bang room’. you walked in, slowly closed the door on your way and immediately pulled out your phone, leaning on the table and grinning to yourself as you typed up a text to send her.

running.

..running?

visualizing her just running across the store made you uncontrollably giggle at your screen in amusement.

cute, you thought to yourself. nobody else you knew would go out of their way to run across a department store as an employee to get head, and you’d normally take that text as a hyperbole, but knowing yujin? well, she was known to be very literal in everything she said. if she’d one day tell you that she had bigger fish to fry, that’s probably because she was indeed at home, frying bigger fish on a pan. (and she’d probably even send you pictures of the bigger fish in question, because why wouldn’t she?)

barely 30 seconds had passed after her last message when you turned off your phone, slid it into one of your back pockets and waited patiently. looking around at the familiar environment, you thought of various ways you two could use it this time. on your last encounter with yujin, she laid you down on the same counter that the printer sits on and proceeded to dick you down there! another time, you thought that grabbing the professional camera that’s usually used for passport or id pictures on the metal shelf next to the table and recording yujin as you rode her cock was an amazing idea! and, it was.

so much so that you still have the videos saved onto your phone!

you didn’t know that reminiscing about all of these past occurrences again would worsen your original predicament, but it did; you needed yujin to show up as soon as possible. now more than ever. 

then, suddenly, as if your prayers were magically answered, you heard rapid and loud footsteps outside the lab, followed by a familiar voice exclaiming the words “oh shit—“ before being cut off by the sound of numerous heavy boxes falling on the ground, the thud of that person’s body immediately following. worried, you got up from your seat, the door swinging open before you even had the chance to take a step towards it.

a panting yujin is what greeted you, her chest heaving up and down.

she looked at you, and you looked back at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. her eyes were nervous, darting around occasionally, looking like this was the first time you would’ve ever sucked her dick in the photo lab. 

oh she definitely fell on her way here.

“…hi?” you said, amused by the thought.

“hello!” she responded, still short of breath, smiling stupidly. 

still preoccupied by the alarming amount of boxes toppled over behind her, you tried looking over her shoulder, wanting to confirm your theory. she reacted by immediately leaning onto that side of the door frame, attempting to hide her accident from your curious sight by acting casual. that gesture alone made you especially notice how messy her short hair looked, how the ‘ahn yujin’ name tag she had pinned to her blue cloud 9 vest seemed to be abnormally tilted to the left, as well as… how weirdly scratched her glasses looked..?

it, unfortunately for her, didn’t take long at all for you to connect the dots.

yup. she fell. 

“yujin— did you slip on your way here?”

she immediately started laughing nervously in response, her eyes darting around as she pushed up her glasses and cleared her throat, hand running through her soft short hair, “…what?! noo… who do you think i am? that’d just be clumsy of me..” she kept laughing, that is, until she mumbled under her breath, 

“i did jog a little bit and didn’t seem to notice the wet sign that was on the floor but it’s just a tiny little scratch probably, nothing too bad aha i’ll clean it up later before the other managers sees it— a-anywho!” 

so you were correct in believing her, she did run across the store just to get in here quickly. and, as expected of her clumsy person, she apparently also slipped and fell in the process.

you giggled at her. god, what an idiot, you thought.

your favorite idiot.

“you know you could’ve just walked here, right?” you told her, slowly walking towards her as you cheekily smiled. “we’re not in a rush.”

while you did so, yujin took the opportunity to finally lock the door properly behind her, not even looking back at it. she stared at you, then at your lips, then right back up at your eyes. “well— i did tell gaeul that i was gonna stock up the fridge after cleaning the spilled yogurt..” 

her hand scratched the back of her head nervously, “and.. i-i kind of was in a rush, i mean, you texted me...”

you chuckled, simply thinking that she was being sappy. that is, until she nervously bit her lip and motioned with her eyes for you to look down at her. “i couldn’t have anyone see me like this… so—“

your gaze was met with the incredibly visible hard-on she had. no seriously, it poked right through her denim jeans, anybody with average, functioning eyes could effortlessly see it, especially under the new, very bright lights that were recently installed by the electricians. you scoffed, incredibly amused by the sight, she got a boner from those innocent texts alone? that was a first, no wonder why she looked so keen to get here.

in her defense, it had been a long while since the two of you were last in this room alone. hell, it’d been a long while since the two of you even said actual words to each other, period. you guys aren’t friends or anything, you only ever text her whenever it’s work or sex related and there’s still barely any conversation then, let alone when you spoke to her in person.

therefore, the boner wasn’t completely unexpected, but it was still enough to heavily flatter you. then, you felt your ego get even more stroked when you remembered that… she didn’t know much about you at all, yet she got this worked up over texts like that from you? a simple coworker she knew and fucked from time to time?

i mean, you probably wouldn’t even remember what her last name is without looking at her nametag; in other words, you know absolutely nothing about her either! okay yeah, you know that she would always stumble on her own words when talking to customers, and that she has a tendency to always pick at her nametag that’s on the left side of her vest using her right hand. you also know that she always pushes her glasses up whenever she’s nervous and that she is overall incredibly handsome and that you catch yourself staring at her from any department you’re tasked in managing very often, but apart from that? you truly don’t know much.

she’s nothing more than just an inferior at work, to you. an acquaintance, at most, but that’s about it.

this whole approximately-twice-per-month ‘meet me in the photo lab’ ritual you two have going on wouldn’t have even existed if it wasn’t for that one time that the corporate team accidentally locked all of you in the store for the night. seriously, what else was there to do? every employee there (including yourself) took the opportunity to get drunk out of their minds to pass the time and.. honestly? yujin just looked that good that night. you couldn’t help but feel the desire to drag her to the photo lab and figure out what she tastes like, despite it being strictly forbidden to be having any sort of sexual or romantic relationship with your inferior.

the both of you were anything-but-sober, very hot individuals, and she’d caught your attention for the longest time prior to that moment, too, something stupid was bound to happen in the heat of the moment!

“photo lab, in five.” was what you quietly slurred into her ear that night, holding the biggest, most cliché, red, beer-filled solo cup ever. since the others were too busy drinking and playing ‘never have i ever’ in a certain corner of the store, nobody particularly noticed you two. she, in response, could only turn her head to face you properly with her eyebrows slightly raised, clearly taken aback by your sudden and unexpected boldness, whilst also subconsciously taking in all of your intricate facial features all at once. it’s not like she didn’t know what ‘photo lab’ entailed, everyone that worked at cloud 9 for more than a week did. maybe you were joking, she thought, perhaps you said that just to get a reaction out of her. saying that she was confused in the moment would be a big understatement, especially when she watched you get up from your seat and make your way to the spot in question.

yujin’s not stupid at all, she knew you were drunk as shit, the manner that you stumbled on your words, the way your hand sat on her thigh, the slight tint of blush on your cheeks and nose quickly gave it away. she also figured that it was most probably a very bad idea to actually follow you into that room, considering that you’re her manager, and all..

did she still do it, though? of course, of course she did. because despite everything, despite all of the ‘this is so wrong’ and ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ she managed to get out of her,

she was equally as intoxicated that night, and it’s not like she even had it in her to pass up your invitation whether she was sober or not; as much as yujin tried to remain professional around you and not pursue anything outside of work, she always deemed you as intriguing, and she had thought about you in such a way occasionally. that being said, she was willing to accept the consequences that came with potentially having sex with you that night.

those feelings only got stronger when you eventually showed her what she’d been missing out on for all those months in one singular night. anything she’d have hoped for, you exceeded in.

as it turns out, drunken people don't always make the worst decisions after all! since, yknow.. you haven’t gotten caught by anybody yet, and hopefully never will. the only consequence she really had to deal with afterwards was you contacting her throughout random times of her shifts whenever you felt like sucking dick.

and that’s a perfectly fine outcome for both you and her.

but, that hasn’t happened in a long time, not until now, at least. hence the situation you were both put in now.

“should’ve texted you earlier, by the looks of it, hm?” teasing, you approached her, both of you now face to face. your eyes trained on her crotch, you pressed your palm onto it before looking up at her again. yujin pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose, then looked away from you in response to the intimacy, embarrassed.

you got to properly look at her features again. her eyes were still just as soft and fragile as when you saw them for the first time, staring back into yours with careful anticipation.

“m-maybe..” was what she mumbled under her breath, trying her hardest not to let out an accidental whimper from the slight friction she felt down there (which she failed to do), her thighs slightly clenched together. 

“did anybody see you walk in?” you asked.

“n-no! the only one near was wonyoung, i believe. and she was on her phone, as per usual..” reassured, you giggled at her usual nervousness, then, after keeping your eyes on her nervous lips for a few moments and licking your own in anticipation, you closed the minimal amount of distance between you two and made them meet after what felt like an eternity.

and once you did, she immediately got used to the familiar feeling and melted into the sensation of your embrace.

after such a long time of not being able to touch her like this, you felt like your hands glided on her entire body by themselves, feeling up the curve of her back and waist as you kissed her. she did the same, only this time more eager than your gentle movements, as one of her hands ‘accidentally’ grazed your ass.

one thing about yujin: she will always love your ass.

the only audible thing in the photo lab was her lips intertwining with yours, the kiss was undeniably messy, and while it might’ve been able to be heard from outside, you just couldn’t seem to care; at that moment, you just wanted to feel her body against yours, to pull her in closer than physically even possible. that’s what happens when you don’t get to have each other for a long time, after all.

“i missed you—“ she pulled away for a quick moment and whispered, pouting in a puppyish manner. her arms set around your waist and holding you, her fingers tugged onto your vest in desperation as you kept rubbing your hand on her clothed hard-on. 

“i know you did.” you whispered back, taking the opportunity to delicately unzip her jeans with the same hand you teased her with before going back into the kiss, this time, more longingly than ever. you did want to tell her how much you missed her too, but you refrained from doing so.

you had way better things to waste your time on.

your lips still on hers, she whimpered against the kiss. knowing her, she was wordlessly begging for you to do something about the raging boner you gave her. and knowing yourself, you wouldn’t give into her desires so easily, not until she used her words like a big girl. in other words, you wanted to see how desperate she would get.

smiling to yourself, you slowly slid your hand up from her crotch to her abs, you only kept tracing your finger on them, teasing her further.

“god, please—” her breath hitched, breaking the tense silence, the one that was occasionally filled with the sound of your lips uniting with hers. she whined even more, feeling her hard cock rubbing against the fabric of her already zipped down denim pants.

“please what, baby? you know i can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what it is you want.” you looked up innocently, now staring into her hooded eyes. she, in response, exhaled in anticipation, looking right back at you with her eyebrows slightly upturned. you knew exactly what she wanted, that much is obvious to her.

of course, she knew it wouldn’t be so easy, she knew she needed to work for it.

“i want you to t-touch me..” she desperately bucked her hips into your palm as a pitiful attempt at satisfying her crave for friction. “please..” was what she added afterwards, wearing her trademark puppy eyes whilst she pleaded.

“good girl.” you hummed, already getting familiar with the sound of her begging again. you planted a small kiss onto her lips and another onto her neck before getting down on your knees in front of her.

you looked up at her as you unbuttoned her jeans, your eyes locking with hers whilst you slowly pulled down her pants. once those as well as her boxers were completely off, leaving with nothing but her pretty dick springing up at you, you left lazy kisses all over her lower stomach and sides. 

you kept kissing her all over, giving attention to her inner thighs and hips, purposefully giving attention everywhere except where she specifically asked to be touched, watching out for any kind of reaction from her end.

and when you eventually got what you wanted, oh you were way more than satisfied.

“you’re so m-mean y/n.. please..” yujin whined quietly, too embarrassed to even look you in the eye anymore, hers all glossy with hot, desperate tears threatening to spill if this carried on any further. her dick said all of the words that couldn’t come out of her mouth through its slight movement, twitching and practically throbbing before you, aching to be taken care of.

she needed to feel your warm mouth around her, hell, just feeling the light graze of your touch against her aching cock would be enough; at least, that’s what it felt like, she was sure she’d go insane if you didn’t give her just that. if she could, she’d grab the back of your head and fuck your throat like she likes it, unapologetic and more than ready to make you swallow all of her thick load.

she knew she couldn’t, of course, she was very much aware that she needed permission to remotely even touch you, which, unfortunately for her, just contributed to arousing her even more.

taking pity on her, “i’m sorry for teasing, baby, you’re just so cute when you beg..” you admitted, smiling to yourself and running your hand up and down her thigh, before adding on, “you’ve been so needy, so good for me.. and just for that, i’ll take good care of you now, okay?”

just like that, her eyes were back on yours, this time wider and more excited, it’s like you could see her invisible puppy ears standing up in anticipation. she nodded at your words, her gaze still wet and pathetic with tears. 

it didn’t take long for you to finally wrap your hand around her hard shaft, stroking it up and down ever so slowly, to which the girl whose penis you were jerking off let out a heavy sigh of relief. your thumb brushed the slit of her tip, rubbing all of the precum that came out of it all over the surface of her cock, making her shudder. then, after what felt like an eternity of you teasing her, you eventually took all of her length all at once, holding your hair up. 

“ahh— y/n.. fuck..“ desperate moans escaped yujin’s mouth as you sucked her off, using all of her willpower attempting to not hold up your hair for you and ram herself into your mouth. 

she really wanted to, though, and you know her like you know the back of your hand, so that wasn’t hard to figure out. it’s obvious, especially with how her nails seemed to dig into her own skin due to how desperate she was to touch you. 

you saw that, and took pity on her; gently grabbing one of her hands and putting it on your hair, you nonverbally gave her the desired permission to finally touch you, and to guide your head however she wanted to.

mumbling quiet and desperate ‘thank you’s, she nestled her fingers in between your strands of hair for maximum comfort. unconscious about it, she dug her nails into your scalp slightly. it didn’t take long until she proceeded to finally move your head in a repetitive, back and forth motion.

“y/n..” she groaned after a while of having you suck her off, looking down at you and using all of her willpower to be as quiet as possible, but alas, “i can’t hold it in.. i’m sorry i— i need to cum.. so badly—”

no matter how hard she tried to keep it contained, she simply couldn’t: she moaned, finally shooting her long anticipated load into your throat, the warm and thick substance coating the entirety of the inside of your mouth. 

you weren’t done with her, of course, especially not after that.

now, you weren’t usually one to be into anything considered similar to ‘vanilla sex’, you always liked experimenting and trying different things, especially if it was yujin. however, you felt like keeping it simple today, your only objective being to orgasm from the girl’s, still very hard, cock.

therefore, what better way to do that than some good old missionary on the photo lab table? 

after making out with you and leaving marks all over your neck and visible parts of your collarbone, she ended up on top of your laying body, both your clothing and hers mostly still on. 

being positioned like this was the only time where she felt like she had power over you, and not vice-versa. it was the only time where she felt like she could do anything she wanted to you without any consequences, and she looked forward to it every single time. of course, she still thoroughly enjoys having you order her around, whether it’s for work or not, however, she also liked having a role switch every once in a while.

keeping her balance with one of the hands she has on the table, positioned right next to your head, she proceeded to take off the glasses from her face and set them somewhere near. you quickly stopped her by gently grabbing onto her wrist, which caught her attention. wide-eyed, she asked, “yeah?”

“don’t take them off.”

“...excuse me–”

“keep your stupid glasses on this time,” she was already committed to the action of putting them back on after you indicated that you wanted her to, but you decided to justify further, just for good measure, “i’ve always wondered what’d it look like for you to wear them while you fuck me.” 

and when she thought she couldn’t possibly be any more turned on and eager to fuck you, you proved her wrong with just that small, simple sentence.

she quickly pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose before leaning back into you, kissing you again, this time more eagerly. soon enough, she pulled away and started fucking you with slow, gentle thrusts, listening out for any sounds that came out of your pretty lips, gaze going back and forth between admiring how pleasure quickly contorted your beautiful face and watching how her dick disappeared into you.

the longer that went on, the harder it got to contain the noises that threatened to leave your already agape mouth, especially with how fast yujin’s pace got progressively faster.

“f-fuck yujin..” you whined, watching the girl on top of you lose herself as she thrusted the entirety of her length into your core. she looked at you through the lenses of her glasses as you whimpered sweet praises, leaving hungry, desperate kisses all over your lips, neck and even collarbone, marking you up even more.

soon enough, all of this turned into a constant cycle; all of a sudden, you realized that you wouldn’t actually mind staying that way for hours and hours on end. who knew that yujin could make hooking up on a shift for around the hundredth time still be so fun?

she eventually planted one last kiss on your lips before making you cum, your walls clenching all around her cock, which, of course, turned her on so much that she had to pull out to jerk off and help herself reach her own climax, in one last long moan.

lightheaded from the consecutive orgasms she’s put herself through, she laid there after you thoroughly licked her coated-in-cum dominant hand, as to remove any evidence of you two being ever here. her body rested on yours and her head comfortably nestled in the crook of your neck as she cuddled up to you, enjoying your body warmth. you panted, matching the rhythm of her own breathing, otherwise a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. 

that is, until her phone obnoxiously rang in one of her jean pockets, breaking said silence and catching the both of you by surprise. 

sitting up in a hurry, she quickly digs into said pocket and pulls out her cellular device, wasting no time to look at the caller and straight up just answers it, in case of an emergency. she puts it up to her ear before speaking up, clearly nervous, “..hello?”

silence. you stare at her with anticipation and curiosity, studying her facial expressions and looking out for any hint of bad news. thankfully, that never happened, as her eyes instead lit up in surprise.

“oh! yes, hello..”

“uh huh,” she added, nodding along to the words only she heard from the tiny phone speaker placed against her ear, “4 pm? yes! of course, i-i’ll be there. thank you so much.” 

she quickled fixed her posture and ended the call soon after saying that, turning back at you with a pleased and surprised expression.

“who was that?” you asked, curiosity eating at you.

“target.” she watched as your expression switched to a puzzled one, therefore explained further, “they called me to see if i was free for an interview later.”

“interview?” you repeated, making sure you heard her correctly, she nodded. “you applied to places recently?” is what you added.

she gave you another nod, this time reluctant, fixing her glasses and messy short hair, “i mean, nothing against cloud 9 or anything! i like working here and i love you guys, a lot! i simply just wanted a change of pace, i guess.. p-plus they might not even hire me, it’s not like i was expecting them to even call me back in the first place, so—” 

“hey,” you placed before she could stumble on another one of her words, wearing a sympathetic smile, “don’t worry about ‘not repping’ cloud 9 or whatever, it’s not like you sold your soul to jiwon when coming here. you’ll kill it there!” you joked, before continuing, “plus, you can always come back if things ever don’t work out; whatever happens, i’m rooting for you, we all are.” 

“even if you’re working for the rival company.” were your last words before leaving a kiss on her cheek and standing back up on your two feet, fixing yourself up. the sudden skin contact combined with the banter earned a shy giggle from yujin.

it was somewhat a ridiculous situation, feeling guilty for leaving your coworkers and going for another job, yujin didn’t know why she felt like this over trivial things such as this one. yet, you comforted her, despite how stupid it might seem. it’s only natural since you, out of all people, are the first person to know how much of a nervous wreck she is and how sensitive she always is to this kind of stuff, that was her charm, after all.

she appreciated you way more than she’d like to outwardly admit.

so, while you’re making your way to the door, getting ready to go to the break room to grab your things from your locker and clock out for the day, she calls out to you, “hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you maybe free, afterwards? y-yknow since our shifts both end at 2:30pm i was thinking we could maybe go grab a coffee together before my job interview and stuff but it’s like, totally fine if you already have plans or whatever—“

you smiled, flattered by the invitation. after all, today would mark the last day that you’re considered her ‘superior’, so you found it cute that she’d ask so soon. quite frankly, you were very tempted, this time having no obstacles in your way. who wouldn’t wanna go out on a date with the cute, charming girl who usually works at the dairy section? well, used to.

“sure, i would love tha—“

“ahem ahem.” you were cut off by the staticky sound of the words coming from the intercom, immediately recognizing the familiar and soft-spoken voice of your coworker, rei, “attention, dear shoppers of cloud 9, just a heads up to please proceed to not feel concerned about the following message, as it is destined to our staff, and our staff only, please and thank you. happy shopping!”

you and the puppy-like girl looked at each other in confusion, only to be thrown off guard by the same voice again, this time sounding more impatient. 

“now.. y/n, yujin, i know you can hear me; come out of that damn photo lab before i personally drag you out of there myself oh my god y’all aren’t slick, we all know what you do in there, you’re not fooling anybody. also, what happened to keeping it classy? what happened to doing this at home? not only that but it’s been like— an hour and a customer has been trying to get some passport photos done but you hoes— two, you two have been at it for forever. next time, if you’re gonna do this, make sure to at least keep it short and not have it last a whole decade.” 

then, you heard the intercom turn off.

yujin’s face went completely red as she listened to that, now not at all wanting to walk out of said photo lab. you cleared your throat, your whole body invaded with nothing but embarrassment as uncomfortable silence filled the space between you and the other girl. 

then, once you heard the intercom turn on again, it felt like your worst nightmare coming back to life for round two.

except this time, it didn’t come for you.

“oh and yujin, gaeul wanted me to tell—“ rei’s voice blasted through the speaker again before being obnoxiously interrupted by what sounded like gaeul’s voice, who was audibly angry and annoyed.

“yujin if you don’t get your ass back in the dairy section right now and clean that god damned spilled yogurt i’ll personally make sure that jiwon gets your next paycheck cut off by fifty percent, don’t test me. it reeks, yujin, reeks. oh and as for you, wonyoung, get off that damn phone before i—”

then, the intercom turned off again, which was probably rei’s doing, to both yujin, and probably wonyoung’s relief. 

you simply giggled, watching as she took off her name tag in an embarrassed manner, yknow, as to not be recognized by the customers she’d meet on her way to the row she had to clean. then, you cleared your throat, earning her attention before leaving. 

“meet me outside when you’re done?” you smiled.

she returned that same smile, immediately having forgotten the misery that was waiting for her outside that door, visibly excited.

“yeah, i’ll be there.”

[leonw4nter]

(Second) Prettiest Fairy Princess

Dad!DI!Leon x F!Reader

“Say ‘bye’ to momma!” Leon beams as he holds his daughter, Aurora– or Rory, as you two lovingly call her.

“Bye momma!” the little girl in his arms beam. One hand wound around his neck and the other raised up, a tiny hand waving at you.

You say your own share of byes too, pressing a kiss to your 4 year-old’s cheek before giving Leon his own kiss to his lightly chapped yet still pink lips. You get in the Uber Leon picked up for you, shutting the door and heading to the mall where you will be having a girls’ day with Helena and Hunnigan, your former coworkers. Despite retiring because you were going to become a mother, you still stayed close with the two.

As soon as the car is no longer in his sight, he heads back into your shared home. Rory asks to be put back down so Leon does as she wants, bending down with a slight groan and making sure she’s standing upright before he lets go and bends back up, another groan escaping his mouth along with the faint pops of joints. My age is definitely catching up with me now, he thinks to himself though he doesn’t mind if it’s you he’ll be aging with.

“Daddy! I want to play!” Rory excitedly says as she takes Leon’s hand with her tiny ones and drags him to the stairs, heading for the direction of her room.

“Alright, alright, kiddo. Let’s head up, no?” he asks with a pleased smile. There’s dishes waiting in the sink and laundry waiting to be folded but they all could wait if it means spending some time making his daughter smile. The sight of his daughter’s grin and the gold wedding band that flashes a bright gold beam whenever the sunlight hits it is something his former self didn’t think he could ever experience. Back in ‘98, he was certain that the farthest length of meeting the greatest love in his life and starting a family would stop at dreams and wishful thinking but he was wrong.

He didn’t even realize they had reached the top of the stairs as he almost trips, engrossed in the sweet monologue he had going on in that head of his. His daughter’s tiny arms push him into the pastel yellow and pink room before shutting the door and proceeding to yank out tutus and tiaras from a toy basket.

“Sit.” she sternly says as she points to the carpeted ground right beneath Leon’s feet. Not one to disobey a lady’s orders, he promptly sits down with crossed legs and looks at her with genuine interest. Not too long after, Leon is dolled up to look the part of “a pretty princess for a tea party but you’re only the second prettiest because I’m the first one”, which earns a small laugh from him. Even to himself, he's second to everything because he always keeps his girls at first.

Rory hands him a small mirror so Leon can see the sparkly splash of pink, green and orange on his eyelids as well as the most pink blush he’s ever seen. His lips are the brightest shade of red ever making him look real goofy but if it means making his daughter’s day, he doesn’t mind; she’s the princess and he’s just the jester (and the occasional knight in shining armor). She swiftly puts her own play make-up on, her own lids smeared with different sparkly shades of pink and her lips in the same red shade as Leon’s.

“Your highness, let me get the tea and cookies.” she says in a wonky British accent.

“Alright, my beautiful princess.” Leon says, though he doesn’t put on a fake accent.

“Daddy, no! You’re supposed to also say ‘and please give me the sugar plum tea’! Again!” she says with a hand to the hip, dropping the accent.

“Okay,” he softly mutters with an amused smile. She definitely got the sass from her mother. “Alright, my beautiful princess, please give me the sugar plum tea!” he repeats.

She smiles brightly and excitedly announces that it’s coming right up. She walks out of the room, occasionally coming back in to take some more cups, plates, spoons, and bowls. Wait? Bowls? The princess is putting her heart and soul into this so-called “sugar plum tea”. Because the princess was brought up with manners and polite etiquette, she served Leon some cookies and cakes as he waited, along with a Beanie Baby that her uncle Chris got her (insisting it’s a snack, providing no further explanations). Playing along, he loudly made chomping sounds while she walked out of the room and busied herself with the tea. After a few minutes, she walks back inside with a tea pot and tiny cups filled with water.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, madame. My chef ahem is new to the kitchen so I had to tell him how to prepare tea the princess way,” she apologizes as she sets the cup in front of Leon with a complementary saucer.

With a sharp eye, he looks at the water and sees that there isn’t anything floating on the water; the water doesn’t look cloudy too and it’s impossible for her to have gone downstairs and taken water from the dog’s bowl so he deemed it safe to drink. After all, she did exert some effort into actually “making” the tea. He hooks his fingers in the loop of the tea cup, making sure to emulate the sticking out pinky finger just like Rory is doing before taking a sip. “The water doesn’t have an odd taste. Okay, she definitely wasn’t fooling around,” Leon quietly observes. He gives her a bright smile, complimenting the tea and calling it “the most delightful beverage to ever tickle my taste buds, a true drink fit for the prettiest princesses in this kingdom”, which prompts the little girl in front of him to giggle and start complimenting the “chef” who prepared the “tea” (the “chef” is, in fact, the Djungelskog that Leon got for you when you were 6 months into the pregnancy and very much emotional every time you saw the bear at IKEA’s window or online site). Apparently the chef is French and has worked with Barney and the Little Einsteins, according to her. This entire moment is too silly and wholesome so Leon decides to take a selfie, making a mental note to send this to you later on.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The tea party carried on for a few more minutes until she got drowsy, prompting Leon to get up and carry her over to her bed. Grabbing a few sheets of wipes, he removes the eyeshadow and lipstick on her face before unclipping some clips from her hair and taking her tutu off. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep and Leon picks the toys up, pouring the water out of the pots and cups and wiping them dry before putting them back in the basket. He takes this chance to finally get back at the chores waiting for him but not before he sends the picture to you. Opening the app and choosing the contact named “my Y/N”, he sends a short message asking how you are and detailing the sweet playtime he had with your daughter along with the picture. After an hour or two, he finally finishes doing the chores– even sweeping the floors and polishing the dining table, as well as bathing the dog. He gets in the shower and freshens up, remembering the tender moment hours ago and finding himself smiling wider each time.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s now quarter to 6 and Leon finishes setting up dinner just as the bell rings. He practically skips to the door, his face lighting up with joy when he sees you. He takes your bag and slings it over his shoulder, undoing the strap of your sandals and asking about how your day went. As you step out of them, he takes the heels and places it on the shoe cabinet and puts your bag on the couch. Rory jumps off of the couch, excitedly walking over to you and hugs your legs with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. She tells you about her and her dad’s day, tiny hand gently holding your wrist as she leads you to the dining table for dinner. You were just about to reach over a piece of food and cut it up into smaller pieces for her when Leon places a hand on yours, telling you that he’ll do it.

“C’mon honey, you were out walking all day. Just sit and have dinner, I’ll do it this time,” he softly says. You don’t argue against him, letting him do the cutting. Rory does all the talking, which you are thankful for since your social battery is nearly drained.

Dinner tasted amazing as usual and now your entire family is in the living room, watching The Little Prince on the TV. What Coco does to Leon, The Little Prince does to you; you’ve never finished the movie without shedding a few tears and laying on Leon’s shoulder for some comfort. Though you both know it’s a movie that has you reduced to tears, you still choose to put it on because not only is it genuinely good, it’s a movie Rory loves. While waiting for the movie to finally load, a question pops up in your mind.

“Sweetie, where’d you get the water for your tea from?” you ask. Leon doesn’t mind, probably guessing that she got it from the water bottle you forgot to bring downstairs in the morning.

“I got it from the fish tank!” she beams. Your smile swiftly drops and your head turns to Leon; you swear you’ve never seen the color drain that fast from his face. The movie finally loads but Leon feels slightly off, the food in his stomach making him feel a little odd. He’s that weak for his little girl; he’s a seasoned agent trained to read people by their mannerisms but his daughter’s devious giggling made it past his normally highly-perceptive gaze.

NOTE - I whipped this fic up right after @agent-dessis-posts asked me if I write dad!Leon and I immediately got that burst of motivation. There was this book called "Make A Wish" that I read around mid-November and the dad matched ID/DI!Leon's description so the whole time I just pictured that version of Leon whilst reading and it was AMAZING (the dad in the book is a single dad to a nine year old which made it even more amazing for me). Anyways, you guys seem to really like my fics which I appreicate a lot so thank you so much!!! I'll post the directory to my blog soon, I'm just making things look cuter :)

The heart dividers are from @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[leclercsloveletter]

CL16 | friends or not (pt 2)

Summary: You love Charles, but he keeps you treading on the line between friends and strangers. The humiliation and frustration finally got to you.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem reader

Words count: 2060

Warning: Google translated French

Author's note: Thank you for your support on my first ever fic here! I’m so shock everyone wanted a part 2 so I stayed up til 4AM for this🫶

Life without Charles is just normal life 90% of the time, other than the fact that you allow yourself to see other people. You wish it was easy to indulge in others after him.

Charles lingers as the silent architect of your thoughts, he made a home in your gut and sucked you dry of the ability to spare anyone else half the intimacy you gave him. The touch of others only serves as a poignant reminder of the electrifying chemistry your body once had with him. So when Lando's rough hand rests on your waist, it weighs like an anvil, sinking you onto the floor of the FIA's gala.

Going out with your somewhat ex's coworker isn't the brightest idea, but Monaco is a small place. Once you get roped up into the circle of drivers and their little games, it's hard to get out with your dignity intact. Besides, Lando was one that you can confidently rely on. He was there and he was listening when Charles decided you weren't worthy of his time. Maybe he was waiting for you to break so he could come in, and snatch you up like a vulture for himself, it doesn't matter anymore.

"Darling, are you alright?"

"Yea I'm good Lando, I'm just dreading a bit"

You appreciate Lando breaking the flow of conversation just to check up on you. He let out a sigh before holding you closer

"Y/n, it's okay. I asked so he would be seated at the other end of the table. I know we aren't a committed item yet and it's not in my position to say this but, be mine for tonight, please?"

He held one of your hands in his, giving it a small kiss. He was so kind, so charming, so convincing that you smile back and nod. Lando leans in for a quick kiss that you reciprocate, ignoring every fibre in your body that's screaming from someone's gaze at the other end of the room.

Charles's and your body are in tune in a mysterious way, so when he walks into the gala with his new girl, the air in your lungs thickens into syrup. With his crisp suit, new haircut, and a girl he seems to care more about, Charles looks like a vessel of the Charlie that once had you. Except for the cufflinks you gave him when he won in F2, you wonder if his girl knew. But you already promised Lando that you would be his for tonight, to give him the undivided attention that anyone deserves from their partner. So you lean in closer to him and let his words flow through your head.

Time passes, the alcohol kicks into your system has dulled out and now waiting to be excreted. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom, someone was in there too.

"Oh hey, you're Lando's girlfriend?"

She was beautiful, elegant, and kind. In a red dress that hugged her body exactly where she wanted it to be, her posture so proper it put ballerinas to shame. A girl worthy of Charles's time.

"That's me, I'm Y/n L/n. I see you with Leclerc?"

"Yeah, I'm Charlotte, nice to meet you."

You shake hands, and although you both look well groomed, nails and hair freshly done, you can't help but feel humiliated by her. You both exchange some words and follow each other on Instagram before she returns to her table and you find a stall to sit in silence. Jealousy is a fitting word, humbled is one too, there were so many noises buzzing through your head at once. You need a smoke before going back into that room.

Paris is cold at night, the jacket hung loosely on your shoulders was supposed to be nothing more than a decoration so you shivered when pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. You shoot Lando a text so he knows you're fine and just need a break from the event, he replies with "Gotcha darling, stay warm" and a cutesy emoji, you feel bad for him.

"Still haven't quit smoking Y/n?"

Oh that voice, the voice that makes you want to drop everything to punch him in the face and then kiss him through the blood.

"I think I'll be committed to it until it takes me out, Charles."

"So, how's life?"

The 3 words take you right back to that night in Monte Carlo, it wasn't that long ago, but in your misery, it felt like the previous life.

"Doin' pretty well, got me a cute boy. Doing my master's degree right now, new job, new car, what a life."

"You miss me so much you swoop down to date my friend Y/n?"

"Bold of you to assume everything is about you."

You replied sharply, the embers of the cigarette gazing at your fingertips before you threw it over the balcony you were standing on. The audacity he has is astonishing sometimes, you turn to him

"My life before was all about you, everything I did was for you. Now? I want nothing to do with you Leclerc, I'm sorry that your coworker likes me and he actually cares for me when you weren't around."

Charles was frozen to the ground, he didn't expect such an outburst, not that he would ever. You look at him for a moment, stunned that after everything, all the changes and pain you went through, he made no progress. You walk past him to go back inside, not without putting a hand on his shoulder with a sigh

"Charlotte seems nice, treat her well."

-

Lando was shocked when you told him you're moving to Milan to finish up your last year of master's. He was borderline begging for you to stay despite the whole non-committed thing you guys have. It's funny how you ran away from a situationship to have a new one that lasted more than a year, at least this one was healthier.

"Lando hun, I'm sorry. But I can't stay in Monaco for now, I need something else just for a moment. I'll keep in contact yeah? I'll update you on Pierre and Yuki too."

You hold him tight, there are no tears but only a shared understanding that you both won't work out and mostly, he knew you need to get away from Charles. Neither you nor Lando can live under that shadow, it's merciful that you let each other be. Even when you have to deny the attraction you held for the driver. Packing was easy enough, with boxes of stuff already being shipped to Italy and pictures of Pierre unpacking and messing with your decors in the new flat have been sent.

Your phone buzzes menacingly

"I heard you're moving to Milan, safe trip."

"Thank you, Charles, will tell Pierre you said hi."

Even in moments like this, he taunted you. He's everywhere in your apartment, at the same time, left nothing behind but you. You know when the plane lands in Milan, it will be a true new life. Maybe fate will let you live there, somewhere in Sicily or Naples sipping on limoncello and wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

"Motherfucker, Pierre you didn't tell me Milan was going to be hot as hell?!"

"I thought you checked the weather?! Don't blame me?!"

Banter with Pierre flows smoothly, if there is someone who complimented your insanity, it's Pierre. It's scary how he also possessed the ability to read you like a book, Frenchmen have superpowers you guessed. What you didn't expect however was sitting on the balcony of your new apartment over a glass of wine while he questioned your motive for moving to Milan.

"I know you won't just move here if you still can tolerate his existence Y/n. What was the final straw?"

"There was none, Pierre, it's just nothing was working out and I need a change-"

"Ferme ta gueule Y/n, I knew you both too well for you to think I would believe that"

You pull your legs up to your chest, getting cozy on the beanbag before chugging the whole glass of wine. Pierre has been out of the loop so you told him everything, the catch-up dinner when you broke it off with him, the gala where you both brought someone new and that balcony conversation. Even the little ones like him acting so nonchalantly and saying hi to you on the street or the "safe trip" text. Pierre listens without judgement, although if you add your own hesitancy in there, you would deserve every colourful insult he could think of.

"And do you wanna know the funniest thing is? He never realised where he went wrong, he never truly understood why or how. I'm the villain in his story because I broke his heart. Meanwhile, he shattered my fucking entire existence."

"Do you still love him then?"

"I do Pierre, with every breathing moment."

-

You have to go see Monza, Pierre and Yuki basically dragged you there despite your objection of "I will support you at home on TV". So now you're walking around in the hospitality area, munching on some rather good croissants. Pierre shot you a text to come down to the paddock which you reluctantly agree to.

"Come down with us!! @ AlphaTauri paddock right now."

The AlphaTauri paddock is a bit of a walk away, so naturally, you passed by the Ferrari's. Seeing his face plastered on the paddock wasn't a fun experience but it's fine you said. Until the actual model of those pictures caught you off guard.

"Hey"

Every cell on your body screams the fire you thought you diminished lit up like the Olympic torch. You turn around to see Charles in his race suit, painfully beautiful and surprisingly alone.

"Hi Charles, I'm on my way to Yuki and Pierre. Good luck for today."

Before you can leave, he grabs your arm and you let him pull you back. For the first time, he actually tried to hang on to you.

"Uh, I'm free tonight, I want to talk but over dinner of course. Will you?"

Saying no to Charles Leclerc is like forcing you to shoot an elderly lady in the head. It's impossible and unnatural for you to even consider denying him of anything. And it didn't help when he added

"S'il vous plaît?"

Charles was never one to ask you for something with "please". Your body was always given in a heated clash of tongue and teeth, your soul is even worse. But something shook in you, Charles saying "please" like he's begging for you to spare him your time. The time that you deserved.

"Alright, usual time?"

"Usual time"

He won in Monza that day.

-

"So, how's life?"

Same question, every time, like clockwork. But this time you're in Monza, next to some random canal reflecting the city on its ever-moving water.

"I'm sorry"

"You what?"

Charles' words stunned you. You don't know how to feel, isn't this what you were waiting for? Him to be sorry so you can run back into his arms and love him once more?

"I'm sorry for being hot and cold, I'm sorry for leading you on Y/n. I'm sorry for not seeing your side and wasting your youth. I always wanted us but I was stupid to fuck it up. So please-"

"Stop right there."

Charles looks up in shock, his eyes are almost brimming with tears. You release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Thank you for apologising, I don't forgive you, Charlie. I don't think I can. So if you're asking me to leave it all behind and act like you didn't throw me down the trenches then don't. However..."

Your heart beats so loudly, that you can feel the blood rushing and the fire coursing through your veins.

"I believe in redemption. So hi, my name is Y/n L/n"

You give out a hand for him to shake, vision starting to blur from tears. Charles stares at your outreaching hand for a moment before grabbing it with speed and strength, as if you would regret it any moment.

"Hi, I'm Charles, Charles Leclerc."

"Like the F1 driver? I think we will be great friends then"

Monza never shines brighter, maybe even more than Monte Carlo.

"I hope so too"

Tag list for this fic: @janeholt3

[cr4yolaas]

the night shift — an accident

prologue | masterlist | day 2

now playing: 춤 by damdamgugu

his phone flashes on as soon as he turns it off. the buzzing next to his head is all too repetitive, as if urging him to pick it up, just this once.

so he does.

he’s met with the familiar tune of the store doors closing and the clinking of glass before he can register who the person on the other side of the line is. he glances at the contact, her name plainly typed out with “(coworker)” beside it, both an indication and a reminder.

her words are slurred and her voice muffled by what he assumes to be her sweater, and in the syllables he can barely make out she calls out for a name he doesn’t quite recognize. “jus’ one more ride, please- it’ll be the last, i promise,” she mumbles. he doesn’t respond — he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to respond.

he knows it’s not meant for him (and that she’s far too inebriated to realize that). so, reasonably, he hangs up. the white noise dissipates and kageyama is met with silence.

it’s debilitating, almost, the moral conflict she’s presented him with. he doesn’t want to get up, too comfortable in the depths of his blankets and the darkness of his room. but something tugs at him to go, just in case, to see if she’d still be there waiting. he thinks it’s the nostalgia speaking — the years spent being called upon, being asked for by coaches and teammates and unfamiliar faces; he wonders how he discarded it so easily.

the air conditioning hums on, and kageyama is cold again. the ceiling starts to disappear from his vision. he isn’t sure if it’s right to go.

but he wants to.

——

snow piles up on the windows and around the door. he stands outside with an old sweater and scarf he found in the back of his closet, a habitual action he can’t find the origin of. the sign still reads “open,” despite it being an hour past closing, something that he would scold her for if not for the situation he’s faced with now.

the door jingles open, and in response, she mumbles the customary greeting (far from coherently). her arms cushion her head atop the counter with a collection of newly opened glasses circling her figure. the door to the storage room is cracked open, and the dots connect in his head instantly.

he doesn’t think about it, though. as if on instinct, he moves to clear the bottles and wipe down the space around her, all too naturally. when he’s done, he kneels beside her, her head at eye-level with his. he’s never seen her up close, he realizes. now, with her face deep in slumber and turned towards him, he can see the tiny blemishes and marks riddled on her skin. he can see the shape of her nose clearly, and he can see the length of her lashes. he wonders, in all their almost-year of working together, how he never noticed any of it. he doesn’t know why he yearns to know more.

his attempts to nudge her awake are futile, save for the few sleepy mumbles she releases with each push and tap. it’s exhausting to try any longer, he thinks, so he reaches for the scarf in his lap and opens it around her neck.

but much to his demise, that ghost of a touch is the trigger for her consciousness.

her eyes flitter open, slowly. she doesn’t move to sit up immediately, seemingly yet to process the scene. when she does, however, she nearly jumps.

“oh, fuck,” she all but yelps, and the sound makes him flinch, as well. the scarf falls to the floor behind her and his hands remain stagnant in the air. he can almost feel her breaths, heavy and cold and laced with hints of lychee-flavored beer. he doesn’t know what to do.

“i’m sorry,” he speaks first. an apology feels right.

she shakes her head fervently. “no, no, i’m sorry. what are you doing here?”

he stands up from his spot on the ground to grab the scarf. “you called me.”

he can see the realization flicker behind her eyes, as if recollecting the few moments before she passed out. warmth spreads through her face instantaneously. “oh my god, i’m so, so sorry,” she half-laughs, half-grimaces.

kageyama pays no mind to her endless apologies and instead motions to the sweater he brought, carefully folded and placed on the counter beside her. “you mentioned you were cold,” he states matter-of-factly, and he can’t see that it does little to help her embarrassment. what he can see are the goosebumps lining up on her arms from the short sleeve she dons. he wants to make fun of her, almost, because a t-shirt in the core of winter is akin to self-sacrifice. the remark falls flat on his tongue when he watches her scramble to collect her things and head towards the door alone.

“thank you, i’m sorry, bye-”

“it’s fine. i’ll walk you home.”

she pauses. then turns. then smiles. it’s warm.

“are you sure?” she questions, seemingly too afraid to bother him but not so afraid to turn down the offer easily, given it’s far too late in the night to walk alone. it’s probably the most they’ve ever spoken since meeting. he nods and hands her the sweater. she shimmies into it and the upturn of her lips only grows at the newfound comfort.

like routine, the lights shut off gradually and the sign at the door now reads “closed” (as it should have about an hour and a half ago). they walk into the cold of the night, the gentle breeze brushing against their faces. but this time, they follow the same path.

kageyama is silent, for the most part, because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. on the other hand, she’s nearly bursting with energy, the alcohol still lingering, accompanied by the unfamiliar (yet cozy) scent of his sweater. the silliest things on the street earn a giggle from her — a child’s drawing trashed on the side, a malfunctioning streetlight, a comedy show blasting from the top floor of an apartment complex — but she lessens it little by little when she realizes how unreceptive he is. her first thought is that he’s irritated by the inconvenience, and that alone makes her want to shrivel up. but her second thought is that he’s just far too introverted to hold a conversation, and she decides that sounds more comfortable.

what she doesn’t know is that he’s too busy fighting with his own rationality. he thinks back to the open storage room, the almost-full pack of bottles she’d opened, and he tries to decipher why he doesn’t want to question it. he was taught to report every suspicious action he saw, even when it was his own peers, but something pulls him far, far away from that decision.

they approach the door to her apartment, and as soon as they come to a stop, she unleashes another set of apologies, alongside a promise to treat him for his troubles after their next shift. he nods again, this time with intent.

ᡣ𐭩 kags pining moment. he’s had a small work crush on her for the longest time but he doesnt really realize it

ᡣ𐭩 sho loves doing group activities w the roommates bc he knows he can get really busy at times. usually its always cooking or baking but they never complain

ᡣ𐭩 he also never fails to bring up his disdain for kags choosing not to go pro after hs. he is a hater in the truest sense

ᡣ𐭩 kenma and kuroo are obvs yn’s support system but they worry for her so much sometimes. bc of that kenma gets kinda mean but he means well

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama gave yn his old hs team hoodie and didnt notice the entire time

ᡣ𐭩 she also never ended up wearing the scarf so he was kinda awkwardly holding it the whole time

ᡣ𐭩 also yachi is going to be such an instigator in this smau <3

ᡣ𐭩 idk !! im already kinda insecure about this chapter but idrc 😄

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @cupidsblonde @winniethepooh-lover

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 18

An: Thanks for your patience, March is a really busy month for me! The tension is building and I can't wait for the next part (19 is looking steamy).

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 2800

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.

I think of all the phone calls I’ve made throughout my life. The hundreds of hours I’ve spent talking to friends and family. Sharing the exciting news of getting into college with my childhood best friend who moved away in elementary school. Gossiping with my favourite coworker about an awful shift when she didn’t open with me in the morning. Listening closer to hear the whispers of shared secrets between the few people I really care about. Talking late into the night about that one person I couldn’t scrub from my mind. The conversation slowly dying down but neither of us ready to hang up. Neither of us ready for the silence after the line goes dead.  The relief of hearing their voice after days or weeks of nothing. All those conversations flicker through my mind as I stare at the landline sitting on Captain Price’s desk. It’s a clunky, faded, black thing with a rubber coil attaching the receiver to the phone and the numbers on the keys have long since rubbed off.

I’m not prepared to hear his voice. After learning all I know about him, I don’t think it’ll sound the same. There’s no way the man I’m about to speak to is the one I’ve known my whole life.

Soap was supposed to be here. Then five minutes ago, he was called out to demolitions by another sergeant who said it was “urgent”. I wasn’t sure what his specialty was until recently and after getting to know him better, it makes perfect sense. He spends almost every waking moment out there, yet won’t tell me what they’re doing. Whenever I ask, he sits up straighter and has to suppress his smile, but I don’t miss the excitement in his eyes when he says it’s classified.

Right now I’d rather be there with Soap than sat in front of Price and Ghost and some scrawny man with equipment hooked to that damn phone. I’d rather be almost anywhere than here.

The script crinkles in my hand. The Captain already gave the go-ahead. Now it’s all on me. I feel Ghost’s eyes on me. I want to find some comfort in them, but just can’t. After he left, he told Price about the mole. He had to, I get it, but I also can’t help the feeling that nothing I say will stay between us.

I wish I was back in his room, lying on top of the covers and reading his copy of Huckleberry Finn knowing that no one could get to me. Only Simon.

And then the phone is in my hand, pressed against my ear: ringing once, twice. And then it stops. Shuffling sounds fill the other line. Then, I hear his voice. That voice that softens when it speaks to me. That has always been so understanding. That ordered those men to mercilessly take the lives of innocent civilians praying for salvation.

“Y/n?” he asks, almost unsure – like the possibility of talking to me might just be too good to be true.

“Hi,” the word dad almost slips from my lips, but I know if it does, I won’t be able to keep it together. My hands don’t feel attached to my body. Like somewhere in the numb space of my forearms, they were simply disconnected. My mouth is dry and I eye the script, but can’t get the words to come into focus.

“Are you okay? Have they hurt you? Are you eating?” there’s just something to his voice, that I can’t quite pin down. Something disingenuous. Like he’s only playing the role of a concerned parent. When I meet Ghost’s eyes, I know he hears it too. He nods, urging me to speak.

“I’m fine,” my voice is strangely even. “They said I could see you again. That they’d make a trade,” the rest of my body disconnects from my mind and suddenly I’m standing beside Ghost watching myself talk on the phone. The hope in my voice is real. The girl on the phone is going to go home safely to her dad. And it sounds like she genuinely believes every word she’s saying.

“Oh my sweet girl,” he croons. “I want nothing more. Your mother and I have been worried sick.”

“Mom?” I latch onto the hopeful word. “Is she there with you?”

“No, but she’s somewhere safe, being guarded by some of our best. You’ll get to see her soon,” he purposely leaves out her location, unknowing of 141’s extensive intel.

“Dad, I-I,” just like in the script, Price audibly warns me we’re short on time. An intentional move to add more pressure to our conversation. My father will have heard him in the background. “They said I can’t talk much longer,” my tone is rushed and worried. I see a small smile tug on the corner of Price’s mouth. I’m convincing.

“Hey,” he says. “Soon enough we’ll have all the time in the world,” the ultranationalist who snuck into my room said he was displeased that I leaked the ambush info, but you’d never pick up on that while listening to him on the phone. He hides his cruelty so well. Even knowing what he’s capable of now, the man I’m speaking to just doesn’t sound like the type. “But y/n, I’m going to need to know what they want from us first. Okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble like a scared child. I smooth out the script across my thighs and read off their demands. I recite the names of five men. Two of their leaders and three of 141’s soldiers who were taken prisoner at one point or another. Neither my father nor my uncles are on the list. There’s no way they’d trade one of themselves for me. Even I know that.

“Those are the men they want?” I hear a newfound tension in his voice as he shifts in his seat.

“That’s what they told me to say,” my eyes are glued to the paper. If I look at Ghost or Price now, I’ll lose my concentration.

He sighs deeply, “I’ll need a few days little bird, those are some top dogs. But I’m going to get you out, don’t you worry.”

I sniffle as though this is too much. Like hearing his voice made me realize how much I miss him and now I might cry. “Love you,” my voice cracks.

“Love you too darling,” the line goes silent for just a moment. “I’ll be in touch,” with these words, his voice significantly deepens. He’ll be in touch. He has his ways of contacting me despite 141’s precautions. I should expect a shadowy visitor very soon.

Then he hangs up. I place the phone back on the mount. Horror creeps its way up my shoulders and I know I’m back in my own body.

“Well done,” Price congratulates me. He’s surprised I did so well. I don’t come off as the type of person to perform well under pressure – I normally don’t – yet the phone call was almost flawless.

“Thank you,” I attempt a small smile, but inside, I feel awful. Dirty. Blindsided. I can’t believe that is the same man I’ve known my entire life. Sinking betrayal anchors my bones to the depths of the Mariana Trench. The immense pressure makes my head feel as though it’s about to implode upon itself. But along with the shame I now carry because of our kinship, there’s also molten anger stirring within my core, threatening to erupt.

“Thank you, Sergeant, you’re dismissed,” Price turns to the man who recorded the call and waits for him to leave. Ghost hasn’t said a word almost this entire time. Yet he closely watches the man leave with his equipment as suspicious as ever. He doesn’t trust a soul. Especially now. “Within the next few days, your little friend will pay another visit. We’ve installed another camera outside your door and tapped the room. Tell him the truth, just like he asked, we don’t need to aggravate them further, but it is essential he doesn’t think you snitched again,” Price’s tone has turned serious. He understands the gravity of the situation.

The ultranationalist could decide to kill me if he thinks I snitched again. He would certainly order the execution of my friends back home. While Price doesn’t care about them, he needs me alive. They won’t have the opportunity to ambush the Ultranationalists without me alive for a supposed exchange.

“Any questions?” he asks. For once, I have none.

“No sir.”

“Right. Ghost, your request is approved. Take the afternoon to complete it. Return her to her quarters before 1800,” he nods once toward the lieutenant. And then we’re off.

I don’t know why, but I expected him to say something as we navigate the halls. However, like usual, Ghost is completely stoic.

When we first met, I was always silently instructed to walk in front of him. Ghost was suspicious of me. Despite being cleared by intel, part of him still considered the possibility that I could be an Ultranationalist. By walking behind me he eliminated any chance of a surprise attack. His analytical eyes would trail up and down my frame trying to decipher any hidden motives. He’d take note of the length of my stride. How I hold my head, my shoulders. How my hands fidgeted and I picked at my nails and then my cuticles once they were too short.

Something has changed since then. A lot has changed.

Now I walk beside him. Close, but not close enough that our arms brush. Not close enough to attract suspicion. He no longer glares at me like I could turn on him at any moment. There’s so much more depth to his eyes when they steal small glances my way. Sometimes – like now as we walk along the sparsely populated halls - I feel him step closer so we’re almost touching, the heat of each other’s body is just noticeable, before he reminds himself that someone could come across us at any moment. Then, after a brief moment of indulgence, he once again shifts away to a more professional distance. I sense the same kind of longing pulses through his veins as mine.

My thoughts are interrupted as we continue to walk past my room.

“Aren’t you dropping me off?” the confusion is evident in my voice as my pace slows. Ghost turns to look at me while keeping his pace.

“No. We’re training,” he says. Training? Is this the request Price mentioned earlier? What kind of training is he referring to? What is Ghost planning?

“We are?”

“Affirmative,” he confirms. His long legs are hard to keep up to as they stride with purpose.

“What kind of training?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” Ghost says. And if I’m not mistaken, I almost detect a hint of teasing in his voice.

Yet, Ghost doesn’t take me to a gym or shooting range, instead, he leads me right back to his quarters.

“Is this a joke?” suspicion is evident in my voice. I hesitate as he waits for me to enter first.

“Negative,” the curt response is typical. He isn’t about to volunteer any additional information.

“What could we possibly train for in your room?” my mind involuntarily wanders to a variety of things, but none that will help with the exchange. As I make eye contact with him, my cheeks flush almost immediately. Ghost’s gaze is strong and unwavering. He knows exactly where my thoughts have drifted.

“I’ll show you,” he motions to the door. A small ball of nervous energy forms in my lower stomach. The type that has no place being here right now. The type that’ll get me into trouble. “First, I want to know your thoughts on the phone call?”

“I don’t want to think about the phone call,” I say as I leave him behind in the hall. Once inside, he takes his vest off and hangs it on the back of the door. Facing away from me, he slips off the skull mask and quickly replaces it with a plain black balaclava. My whole body freezes at the sight. I can’t believe he just took it off in front of me. His hair is darker than I thought it’d be. The strands are a stark contrast against his fair eyelashes. He wears it clean cut like most men in the military, short on the sides and more forgiving on top. But it’s overall longer than I imagined. My mind drifts to what it would feel like to run my fingers through the delicate strands. To gently trace my nails along his scalp. To roughly grasp him by the hair as he–

“It’s not often Price congratulates someone on their performance,” Ghost’s head tilts as he gauges my response. I don’t speak, my mind still stuck on the fact he took his mask off in front of me, even if I couldn’t see his face. “You were almost as good there as you were during the interrogations,” he continues. Heat creeps up my neck. I don’t know if it’s a feeling of flattery or embarrassment.

“I’m not good at it. It feels like I’m not even there,” like the actions aren’t even my own. It’s a dangerous feeling. How far can a person go when they don’t feel responsible for their actions? How far could I go?

“But you know you are?” his tone becomes mildly concerned. Does he think I’m slipping from reality?

“I know I am. It’s just easier to separate myself from what I’m doing,” I think out loud, my voice slowly fading toward the end of my sentence. Maybe it’s my brain’s way of protecting myself?

“Y/n, if it’s too much let me know,” Ghost says seriously as a gloved hand reaches out and touches my chin. It has been too much since the moment they kidnapped me. But now all I can do now is figure out how to survive until the exchange is over. “For this too.”

The second half of his sentence catches my attention.

“And what is ‘this?’” what does he keep alluding to?

Ghost’s delicate hand on my chin leaves as he reaches for something strapped to his belt. The gloved hand unsheathes a steel knife. He flips it around and offers the handle to me. I hesitantly take it from him, all the while closely watching his eyes. There’s a glint to them. Something troublesome. At this point, his intentions could be anything.

“What’s your safe word?” his husky voice is suddenly a lot lower as he takes a step backward and squares his shoulders. There’s an ambiguous spark in his eyes. One that’s about to catch fire. I can almost smell the damp, smouldering smoke in the air.

“Safe word?” my breath catches in my throat and I try to force a swallow. I choke back a nervous laugh.  He’s joking, right? The knife feels unnatural in my hand.

“Think of one, sweetheart,” he rasps. There’s that damn name again. The one that makes it so fucking hard to think. My mind snags on it like a loose thread to a nail, pulling every thought out of order. Only he can mend me.

“Um, I don’t – Soap, I guess?” his call sign comes to mind first.

“Not Soap. Something different,” his head juts to the side with disapproval.

“Okay. Fine. Pizza then,” I’m still confused as to why he wants me to have a safe word.

“Pizza,” Ghost repeats to himself, burning it to memory. He takes another step back and I almost feel myself relaxing. My shoulders don’t feel so tense. The knife is no longer so heavy. I glance down at the mean little thing in my hand. I wonder how many people have died by this blade?

Ghost doesn’t wait for my eyes to return to his. From the edge of my peripheral, something large lunges at me. He’s incredibly fast. Just a flash of movement in the dim light. Fear hasn’t had the chance to take over yet. Instinct kicks in and I jump back out of the way, just narrowly escaping his first attempt at grabbing me. But there’s nowhere to go. The room is small and he’s closer to the door than I am. He wants me to fight. He’s forcing me to.

“The fuck are you doing?” I angrily spit at him as I corner myself between the dresser and wall, knife still in hand.

Ghost looks as terrifying as ever as he shifts to face me once more. His intimidating frame takes up the entire walkway between the bed and dresser. Those thick shoulders heave along with his chest as his breathing deepens. His gloved hands stay open at his sides, eager to grab at me again. Ghost’s sharp eyes look darker than before. He is completely locked in on me.

There is no escaping what comes next.

Pt 19:

[wandalfnation]

A Simple Favour

Pairing: Bruce Wayne X Reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Rating: PG

Summary: This is the story of a budding relationship between a man and a woman. A woman who owes a very dangerous man a very, very big favour. 

Warnings: Nothing so far!

Gotham city. One of the biggest cities in the world. Every second a million different things were happening. Both good and bad. You? You’re almost sprinting down the street as your hand is gripping your hat to keep it on your head. 

You surely look a mess, with your fly away hairs, the steady trickle of sweat running down your forehead and your mislaid clothes. Yet, the second you run into the cafe, his eyes light up. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile as he stands up from the small table, waving you over. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Bruce. You know how hectic work can be.” You’re in the middle of hurriedly apologising when he places his hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t waiting long.” 

You let out a breath, taking a second to gather yourself as you sit in the seat he held out for you. Sitting back down, he pours you a glass of water. 

“Was it Richard again?”

“Yep,” your words sound more like a groan. “I don’t know what he has against me, it’s like he has a vendetta or something.”

Bruce chuckles, sipping at his own glass. The two of you had met around a year ago at a fundraiser. You’d been loitering around the buffet table when he walked in. You hadn’t been paying attention as everyone’s eyes were drawn to the door. You did, however, hear the murmurs going around the room. 

“Gosh, Bruce Wayne with another woman! Will he ever settle down?”

“Late, as always.”

“You know, I heard he’s going broke! Apparently he gives too much away to charity.”

You’d never seen The Bruce Wayne before but he wasn’t difficult to pick out from the crowd. What, with two Russian models hanging off his arms and a cocky, know it all, smirk plastered on his face, you would’ve recognised him from 100 miles away. 

You wish you could say he glanced into your eyes and you instantly knew he was not what he seemed. That he was putting on a playboy persona. But, he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t glance your way once, not even when he came over to grab something from the table. It was like you didn’t exist. 

Luckily for you, these gatherings had never been your thing. You’d come and stayed for an appropriate amount of time, so it was soon after that you were heading for the exit. 

Saying a quick goodbye to your coworkers, you left through the grand doors. Only, you were halfway down the grand steps when you realised you’d left your purse at the buffet. You resist the urge to smack yourself in the face, how could you be so forgetful?

Turning around, you were about to run up the steps when you ran directly into something. 

Well, someone. 

You felt your breath catch in your throat, as your eye trailed up the wide chest to the blue eyes staring down at you. 

Realising it was Bruce Wayne, you jump back and instantly start to apologise. Now was not the time to get on the bad side of Gotham’s most powerful man! 

“I’m so so sorry, I should’ve been looking where I was going. But I left my purse in there and was so caught up in my th-“

In your rushed words, you’d missed the twitching of Bruce’s lips. 

“Don’t worry, in all honesty it was my fault. I apologise.”

His words catch you off guard. Wasn’t he supposed to be some obnoxious prick? 

Blinking a few times, you direct your eyes down to your shoes. “I-It’s okay.”

There’s a moment of silence but for some reason, it doesn’t feel awkward. 

“So, I’ve been to a lot of these things and have never run into you before.” He says, stepping back slightly. 

“Ah yes, I actually moved here last week. I’m from New York but got the opportunity to come work here for Mr Dwight Halbert.” 

Bruce hums. “Well, I better be going but I hope you settle in well.”

You can’t stop the disappointment from flooding your chest. This is ridiculous, you’ve only just met the guy! So what if he had beautiful eyes? And the most sculptured body you’d ever seen? And a voice that felt like honey?

“Oh, okay. Have a good night Mister Wayne.” You shyly smile, looking away as he turns around and heads down the stairs. 

He just gets to the bottom when he faces you one last time. “I hope to be seeing more of you.”

His words, although simple, leave a smile on your face for days to come. At least you know how he gets all the European models. 

“Y’know, I could totally get him fired.” Bruce says, hiding his smile behind his mug. His words bring you back to the current time, the cafe, your tardiness. 

“If only I didn’t have a moral code.” You sigh, shaking your head. 

Bruce chuckles, handing you a menu. 

Your ‘lunch date’ went well, as usual. After meeting him at the fundraiser, you found yourself randomly bumping into him. Three bus stops, two trains and six aisles later. Places he usually never goes to, but you don’t need to know that. Soon after, he asked you to lunch. Casual, of course. 

You’d been meeting up on a weekly basis since. 

You both order your food and get to chatting. At this point, you feel like you know everything there is to know about Bruce Wayne. Yet, you feel like you’re only scraping the surface. Looking into those eyes, you just knew that there was something underneath. Something that very few people got to see. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a tintsy, tiny, crush on the man. What, with those eyes, muscles and big strong arms? He could be a male model. Then there’s the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles at you. How he gently lays his hand on your back in a crowd, a tiny gesture of public intimacy that makes you feel warm and safe. The way your name rolls off his tongue, like it was made just for him to speak. 

Okay, maybe you’re totally whipped for him. 

You try to stop the tug on your heart as you realise the undeniable truth. He certainly doesn’t like you like that. He merely sees you as a close friend. I mean, after six months of casual lunch meets, he surely would’ve said something if he wanted something more. Right? (models lol)

Lunch comes to an end far too quickly and you’re left already yearning for the next chance you get to see him. Glancing into your handbag, you reach for your purse. That isn’t there. 

“Ah shit,” you sigh, closing your eyes in frustration. “I left my purse at work.”

“That’s okay,” Bruce smiles. “I’ll pay.”

You go to resist but he’s already standing up. “But that means you owe me a favour.”

You suck in a breath as you instantly picture that moment from all those years ago. The green hair, purple suit, manic laughter and the inarguable fear you felt. A shiver runs down your spine as your face drops. For a second, you go white as a sheet. However, you quickly recover. The moment finishes as soon as it starts, as you quickly lift your lips up into a smile. It’s so brief that any normal person would’ve missed it. But not Bruce. 

His eyebrows furrow in worry, as he’s struck off guard. He goes to comfort you when you suddenly stand from your seat.

“T-Thank you Bruce.” You stumble over your first few words but regain your composure swiftly. “I’ll shout lunch next time.” 

“Of course.” 

That’s another thing you like about Bruce. He never makes you feel like less when it comes to money (or anything, really). The first time you met for lunch he tried to pay on your behalf but you denied him, insisting that you were equals and therefore, you could pay for your own meal. He caught on quickly and has happily split the bill with you ever since. You often found yourself forgetting just how loaded he is. He never used his money in a bragging type way and if it weren’t for the expensive cars or luxurious suits, you wouldn’t even know he was the richest man in Gotham. 

After paying the bill, you and Bruce say your goodbye and head off in different directions. It was always bitter when you were forced to part ways but what else could you do? It’s not like you were his girlfriend. You couldn’t just meet him at Wayne Manor and spend the night together.

You’re pulled from your upsetting thoughts when you receive a phone call from an anonymous number. Letting out a quick sign, you pick the phone up and go to speak, when you hear it.

“Hello lovely.”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Stopping your hand from shaking too much, you take in a breath, and try to calm yourself down.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” The question is followed by laughter. A laugh much too dramatic for such a simple joke. If it can even be called that.

“I do have the right number, don’t I?”

You feel a shiver with each syllable. 

“Yes.” You finally get your voice back and reply. “Are you finally using your favour, Joker?” 

[quinns-shadowy-arts]

They'll Be Ok, They're Ok

Day 6 of @steddielovemonth ‘s Steddie Love Month Event!   Rating: Teen  CW: Arguing, Angst Tags:  Arguing, Insults, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending.  WC: 2,028 Prompt: “Love is giving them space when they need it”; submitted by @lihhelsing 

Note: Technically this is late. But it’s only 11ish where I am, and I was swamped with work until after the 12 am EST had already passed. So I’m still going to post this. Also, this has not been edited. So if you see any mistakes, no you didn't. Enjoy!  

Things have been…tense, to say the least. Family video has been packed with asshole customers, more so than usual. Robin has been gone with her parents on a trip, which has left Steve working shifts with Keith. The customers have been getting on Steve's nerves and Keith's been no help. 

The customers yell and fight Steve every step of the way. It's only renting a movie, the customers shouldn’t be so pissed at every turn, if Steve has anything to say about it. Keith has been avoiding doing his job by locking himself in the back room under the guise of “filing inventory reports”. Steve knows better though. He knows that Keith has been sitting around eating cheetos and generally being weird. Every one of these aspects has been pushing Steve to his limit.

Eddie hasn't been faring any better. The guys at the record store have been really getting on his nerves lately. They've been teasing him for anything and everything. This usually isn't a problem; they tease him, he teases back, and it's all good. But their teasing has turned south. It’s gone from light hearted jokes to cutting remarks. So Eddie feels like shit about himself and everything he’s doing. 

This has led to both of them being on edge when they get home. Usually they’re fine with the other one in their space. But today was the tipping point for them both. Eddie’s mumbling around the kitchen is pushing Steve’s final buttons; and Steve’s tense body language and cold glare has ticked Eddie off. 

“Can you just stop?” Steve glares at Eddie. Eddie turns around to look at Steve. He’s standing in the entryway of the kitchen, arms crossed and looking down right bitchy. Eddie shuts the cabinet he was digging through. 

“Stop what, Steve?” Eddie asks. He hasn’t really done anything. They hadn’t said hello or kissed at the door like they usually do. Eddie’s only been in the kitchen and the hallway. Right when he walked in he kicked off his shoes, threw his jacket onto the back of the couch, walked into the kitchen, and started looking around for something to eat. 

“Just, everything” Steve says, he’s still glaring in Eddie’s direction. Eddie leans back against the counter, faking nonchalance.  

“Steve, I haven’t even pissed yet. What the hell have I done to piss you off?” Eddie remarks. This was the wrong thing to say. 

“Fucking- Everything! You come in here, don’t even fucking say hello, and then come in here and start slamming cabinets and shit. You’re muttering under your breath like a mad man and taking out your anger on my nice shit, Eddie!” Steve shouts. His whole body is tense with stress and anger. 

“Well, you didn’t exactly come fucking running to the door, Steve. You could’ve said hello too, y’know!” Eddie shouts back. He’s still leaning against the counter, trying to act like he isn’t as upset as he is. 

“Can you just fucking go sit down and be quiet or something!? I can’t fucking handle your erratic fucking movements today.” Steve yells. He knows that Eddie hasn’t actually done anything to warrant that response. But Steve’s pissed and he really can’t handle any extra movement right now. He just needs some peace and quiet. 

Eddie feels ice shoot down his spine. Not only has his coworkers criticized him all day today, discreetly telling Eddie that he’s too much; Now his boyfriend is too. Steve’s supposed to love him no matter what. He’s supposed to love Eddie and all of his quirks, overwhelming energy included. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Steve? You ‘can’t handle my erratic movements’ today?” Eddie pushes off of the counter and mimes quotations with his fingers,

“Am I too much for you Steve? Am I too much for the great King Steve?” Eddie knows that Steve hates it when anyone calls him that horrible title. Steve has changed, he really has, but Eddie knows that it’ll hurt. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry your highness! Whatever can I do to make it up to you!?” Eddie mocks, clasping his hands together like he’s begging for forgiveness. 

Steve’s mouth pulls tight, forming an angry frown. His face has turned red, his heart hurts. 

“You can give me some fucking space; That’s what you can do, Asshole!” Steve screams, throwing his arms up. 

“Fine!” Eddie yells. He lets his hands fall into fists at his sides. He storms past Steve, shoulder-checking him on his way out. He pushes his feet into his boots, not bothering to tie or zip them up. He rips his jacket off of the couch and storms out of the house, slamming the door behind him. 

Steve stares after him for a minute. He turns around and walks away from the kitchen. 

“He’s fucking ridiculous.” Steve murmurs as he walks into his room. He half haphazardly throws his clothes in random directions as he changes out of his work clothes. Once he’s in some comfortable clothes, he crawls into his bed. His body aches from standing all day. 

Steve stews in his anger for a bit longer, but eventually the adrenaline wears off and he realizes what he’s done. Sure, Eddie called him King Steve, but Steve did start the fight. Eddie really hadn’t done anything to piss Steve off as much as he was. Steve knows how stressed Eddie has been. He’s told Steve about how his coworkers have been getting meaner and meaner lately.  Shit, he doesn’t even know where Eddie has gone. 

“Fuck,” Steve whispers. He wants to go find Eddie, to apologize and reassure Eddie that no, he isn’t too much. But Steve knows how Eddie gets when he’s mad. He needs to go walk it off. He needs space to yell and cry and calm down on his own. So despite everything yelling at Steve to get up and search all of Hawkins for Eddie, he stays put. 

Eddie had gotten into his van and drove off, speeding and breaking traffic laws in order to get away. He knows that he shouldn’t be driving, it’s dangerous to drive when upset. So he pulls off of the main road and onto a smaller dirt road. He follows the trail until he’s at the top of the quarry. He throws his van into park and steps out onto the ground. He walks over the edge and looks out at the water. 

“What a fucking dick. I didn’t even do anything to him, fucking asshole.” Eddie rambles on as he scans the ground. He spots a palm sized rock, smooth but rotund. He picks it up, tosses it slightly up into the air a couple of times before turning his attention back to the water. He winds his arm back and chucks the rock into the quarry. 

He watches as the rock falls into the water, creating a big splash and an almost never ending ripple. He looks back to the ground, looking for more rocks. He collects three more rocks and throws them out into the water. 

After watching the final ripples dissipate, Eddie plops down onto the ground. He sighs out the last of his anger; sadness and a bone deep tiredness takes its place. 

“Am I really too much?” He questions. He sits criss-crossed and picks at the loose threads in his jeans. 

“Ok, I know he started it, but it wasn’t ok to call him ‘King Steve’. He’s changed, you know he’s changed.” Eddie talks to himself, it helps him debrief after particularly hard situations. Or, any situation, if he’s honest. 

“I still love him,” Eddie says, and he does. He really fucking loves Steve. Steve is his favorite person in the world, but what he said really fucking hurt. 

“The question is, does Steve love me?” Eddie questions. Even though Steve had yelled at him and picked the fight, Eddie feels it in his bones that Steve loves him. Steve shows that he loves him every single day. He still shows ways that he loves him even when he’s upset. Like last night, where Steve still made sure Eddie had eaten even though he was exhausted and still upset from work. 

Eddie wants to go find Steve, to apologize and hear him out. He wants to make sure Steve still knows that Eddie loves him, even though they just yelled at each other. 

But Steve asked for space, demanded more like it, but still. Eddie knows that Steve still needs space, Eddie will respect that. He gets up from his spot on the ground and climbs back into his van. He’ll give Steve his space tonight, and in the morning he’ll go over to Steve’s. 

Eddie shifts the gear into reverse and turns around. He pulls back onto the main road, turning to head back to the trailer. They’ll figure it out in the morning. 

Steve wakes up the next day. His blinds are shut, but he can tell it’s later than he normally would be awake based on the illuminated numbers on his alarm clock. He rubs at his eyes, remembering the night before. He needs to go apologize to Eddie. He opts to skip breakfast and go straight over to Eddie’s, after changing of course. 

He rolls out of bed and starts shucking off his pajama pants. He changes into new clothes, a light colored polo with jeans. He slips on his sneakers before stepping into the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and fixes his hair. He doesn’t spend too long styling it, he wants to get over to Eddie’s as soon as possible. 

He jogs down the stairs, pulling on his jacket before pulling the door open. He’s about to step out when, 

“Eddie?” Steve asks. Eddie is standing on his porch, looking up from where he was looking at the pavement. It looks like he was pacing around before Steve had opened the door. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks. He tilts his head slightly as he speaks. 

“I wanted to apologize.” Eddie straightens out to look at Steve. He looks determined, but genuine nonetheless. 

“What, why?” Steve should be the one apologizing, not Eddie. Eddie was right, he really hadn’t done anything wrong. Steve was the one in the wrong. 

“I uh, I called you some hurtful things that I didn’t mean yesterday.” He says. Steve shakes his head,

“Eddie, you don’t need to apologize. You were being pretty accurate, man. I was acting like a total dick. I had a really bad day at work and I took it out on you, which I really shouldn’t have. I said you were too much; You’re not. You’re perfect just the way you are. I’m so sorry, Eddie.” Steve looks into Eddie’s eyes. Eddie softens at Steve’s apology. 

“I’m sorry too, Steve. I didn’t mean it when I called you King Steve. You’ve changed, you’re kind and loving and nothing like King Steve was. You show me that every single day. I just knew that it would hurt you. Which is, really fucked up. I was hurt from you saying that I was too much, but that doesn’t excuse me from hurting you right back.” Eddie says, reaching out to hold onto Steve’s hands. 

Steve smiles softly at Eddie. He holds firmly onto Eddie’s hands and pulls him into the house. Once he shuts the door behind Eddie, Steve pulls him into a tight hug. After a couple of minutes of hugging, Steve pulls away. He looks deeply into Eddie’s eyes, still holding onto his arms. 

He leans forward and kisses Eddie on the lips. Eddie grins into the kiss and Steve smiles right back. They’re less kissing and more just pressing their smiles into each other, but it’s the thought that counts. 

They both hold onto each other, knowing that they’re ok. They forgive each other, and love each other all the same. They’re ok. They’re ok now and they’ll be ok in the future. There are more fights and apologies to come, but they’ll be ok. 

No matter the space between them, no matter the angry shouts and unreasonable arguments; they’ll love each other more and more each day. They’ll be ok, they’re ok.

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 4

Author's Note: Simply enjoy!

Content: When the BAU has their first solid lead on the Denver case, Y/N volunteers to interview the suspect with Luke's help. After gaining a fresh perspective and a new lead, the group decides it's time to examine the personal lives of one of Denver's most important officer's: the police chief.

Warnings: General anxiety, brief mentions of Cat Adams, some bickering, sexism and mentions of domestic abuse, brief mentions of drug use and adultery, established relationship, fluff

As I went to follow Luke out of the room, Spencer caught my arm, taking me by surprise. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asked, a hint of anger burning in his eyes. 

“What do you mean, Spencer? I’m doing my job,” I tried to pull my arm away, but he kept me in his solid grasp.

“You haven’t been in an interrogation room since…” he trailed off, letting the silence overtake us. I knew what he was thinking. You haven’t been in an interrogation room since the night you and I took on Cat Adams.

I paused for a moment to take a breath. “I know that, Spencer. Do you think I don’t know that? It’s time for me to stop being afraid and start getting back out there. Besides, this guy is a detective in his own department’s interrogation room, I don’t think he’s going to do anything crazy.” I tried to reassure him, but he kept staring at me with a look that I couldn’t quite read. 

I gently removed his hand from my arm, bringing one of my own up to cup his cheek. “I’m fine, Spence. You said it yourself, I can’t be sidelined.” He met your eyes, and the anger burning there had morphed into genuine concern. 

“I’ll be behind the glass the whole time,” he said quietly, leaning into your touch. 

“I know you will.” With that, I slowly removed my hand from his cheek and followed Luke down the hallway to where he waited outside the interrogation room. Luke opened the door for me, allowing me to slip in first. As I waited for Luke to shut the door, I saw Spencer disappear down the hallway, into a room where he could watch the interrogation behind the protective, one-way glass. 

The door closed with a click and I turned to face the man in front of me. Up close, the forty-something year old Jason Andrews was no looker. His slicked back dark hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. His teeth were an odd shade of something yellow, and I thought I noticed the faint scent of body odor wafting about the room. He was relatively short with an average build, and a suit that was a size too big. Luke and I sat down across from him, as Luke rested his file on the table. I could feel Andrews’ eyes on me, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of my acknowledgement just yet. 

“What’s all this about?” Andrews asked, leaning back in the metal chair he’d been sitting in for nearly an hour. 

“We want to talk about your coworker, Ryan Whittendon,” Luke said. I watched Andrews’ expression for any sign of response, and for a brief moment I thought I saw a hint of malice cross his face. 

He let out a breathy laugh, “What do you wanna know? The kid’s a good guy.” Luke opened the file in front of him, thumbing through some papers. He pulled out the article about Whittendon’s promotion to Head Homicide Detective, setting it in front of Andrews. 

“I want to know what you have to say about this.” Andrews crossed his arms in front of his body, tilting his head to examine the article. 

“What am I supposed to say?” Andrews deadpanned. 

I took the opportunity to speak for the first time. I feigned sympathy. “Whittendon beating you out after all your hard work must have been pretty disappointing, huh?” I offered him an empathetic smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

I could see the smirk forming on Andrews’ face. He turned to Luke. “Well, isn’t she a doll?” Though I couldn’t have seen him behind the one-way glass, I could almost feel Spencer’s eyes boring into the back of my head. I continued my act, twirling a pencil innocently between my fingers. 

Luke chose not to respond, shuffling through the papers again before pulling out the document Emily had shown us minutes before. The number of complaints against Andrews highlighted in neon yellow on the front page. Luke set the paper in front of him, covering up the article about Whittendon. “Are comments like that the reason you have twenty-seven harassment complaints from coworkers?” Luke asked. 

Andrews looked at the file, his smirk replaced by a grimace. He picked up the document for a moment before grunting and setting it back down on the table. “It’s not my fault,” he started, “all these women are just too sensitive to accept good loving from Jason.” His use of the third person almost made me bust out into laughter, but I maintained my persona. I saw Luke’s tough exterior almost crack before he took a deep breath and held on to his tough-guy act. 

“So, it’s not your fault that you weren’t chosen for the promotion? It’s the fault of all those women who just couldn’t see what kind of genuine guy you are?” Luke raised an eyebrow at Andrews. 

“You get me, son,” Andrews smiled. “If they’d loosen up a little bit, this office would be a lot more fun.” 

“Uh-huh,” said Luke. “But like Agent L/N said, it still had to hurt pretty bad when you were passed up for the promotion.” 

Andrews shrugged. “I mean, yeah, it sucked. What are you going to do about it, you know?” I scanned his face for any sign of malice, but found none resting behind his colorless eyes. 

Luke mirrored his shrug. “That’s exactly what we’re here to find out. What did you decide to do about it?” If it was possible, I saw Andrews’ blank stare become even more devoid of thought. There’s no way this guy was smart enough to come up with a scheme of altering files… let alone be our unsub. 

Luke sighed. “Excuse us, Agent L/N and I have to look over something. We’ll be right back.” Luke stood up from the table, walking over to the door and waiting for me to follow. As I rose from my chair, I heard Andrews’ clear his throat. 

“She’s a pretty little thing. I bet she wouldn’t turn me in for trying to have some fun.” I turned to see his dark eyes raking over me. I bit my lip, calculating my response. 

“I’m never opposed to some fun,” I said. Not waiting for his response, I turned quickly and followed Luke out of the room into the area where Spencer waited for us.

“Well, what do we think?” Luke asked. 

I laughed, running my hands over my face and dragging a hand through my hair. “He’s gross. He’s a misogynist. He’s sure as hell not smart enough to be behind all this.” I looked at Spencer, but his eyes remained focused on Andrews in the interrogation room. “What do you think, Spence?”

“I think you’re right,” he said, only glancing away from Andrews to address Luke and I for a brief moment. “He’s not shown any signs that he isn’t telling the truth. If I’m being honest, he just doesn't fit the type, regardless.”

A disappointed silence filled the room as we realized we were no closer to solving the case than we had been before we picked Andrews up. “What a waste of time,” Luke mumbled, plopping down in a chair in the corner of the room. I paced for a moment, wondering how to execute our next moves. A thought hit me. 

“What if I go in there alone,” I started, as Spencer turned towards me with his eyebrows raised, “and see what he has to say about his colleagues?” Spencer and Luke exchanged glances. 

Luke shrugged, gesturing towards the door, “I’ve heard worse plans. Maybe he’ll be more open with you. Be my guest.” I didn’t wait to examine the look on Spencer’s face before I turned and headed out of the room, taking a deep breath before I reentered the interrogation room. 

Andrews’ eyes lit up when I walked in. “Ah, she returns, stunning as ever.” Despite the icky feeling his attention gave me, I offered a flip of my hair and a shy smile in response, sinking down in a chair across from Andrews. 

“Detective Andrews,” I said, raising my voice an octave or two in an attempt to sound as sweet as possible, “we’ve had a lot of trouble with your office lately.” The smirk he wore turned to a confused frown as he uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his chair once again. 

“What do you mean, doll?” he asked, genuinely curious as to what I had to say. 

“Oh, you know,” I twirled a strand of my hair around my fingers, biting at my lips. I hoped whatever I was doing was working. “Just unorganized stuff… messy files… lack of cooperation… you know how it can be,” I shrugged. 

Andrews seemed more serious now, as he lowered his voice. Dropping the nickname, he addressed me by my professional title for the first time. “Agent L/N, I hate to talk bad about my coworkers,”- could have fooled me- “but this office hasn’t been run right in years.” 

I felt myself perk up at the statement. “Care to share?” I asked, leaning forwards to make sure he knew he had my attention. He seemed satisfied by my response, as he leaned forward over the table. 

I could smell the coffee on his breath as he started to speak again. “Off the record,” he shot a glance towards the one-way glass behind me. Andrews looked back at me again, “Chief Graydon never should have been put in charge of this place.”

I leaned back a bit, tapping my pointer finger on the table. “Why’s that?” 

Andrews scoffed. “He can’t control his own household, how’s he supposed to run an entire police department?” I cocked my head to the side, a sign that I expected him to continue. He sighed. “His daughter’s a druggie, his wife has slept with half the guys here, and his son- don’t get me started on Phillip.”

I nodded. It didn't sound like much to go on, but a lead was a lead. “Well, thank you for the information, Detective Andrews. If we need anything else from you, I’ll be sure to let you know.” I offered him a playful smile and a wink, sticking to my persona as I packed up the items on the table. “Sure thing, doll,” the nickname returned. “Oh, and if you ever want to have a little fun, I’d be more than happy to-” before Andrews could finish, the door to the interrogation room swung open. 

Spencer stepped into the room. “Trust me, she doesn’t want to have any fun with you, Detective. If you’ll excuse us,” Spencer’s hand on my lower back guided me out of the room and back to the bullpen of the police station. I felt a mischievous smile creeping on my face as he continued to guide me towards the conference room. 

“What was that, Doctor Reid?” I asked him as we entered the conference room. 

He raised his eyebrows, “You’re telling me you didn’t want me to come save the day.” 

I laughed. “Not particularly, I felt like I was handling myself quite well.” 

“You were-” Spencer’s agreement caught us both off guard. “Maybe I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” 

“So the truth comes out, Doctor,” I smirked at him again, a hint of amusement in my eyes. Spencer rarely displayed jealousy and tried his best to avoid being overly protective, but when he did, I always found it quite entertaining. 

“Really, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying yourself in there.” He walked around the conference room table, taking a seat at the head again. 

I shrugged. “I was, just a little. I forgot what an actress I am.” I sat down in a chair next to him, reaching for his coffee cup and taking a drink for myself. He sighed, covering my free hand which rested on the table with his own. 

He suddenly became very serious. “You did great,” he said. 

I nodded. “Thank you, Spence,” I said quietly. Silence fell over the conference room for a moment before Luke walked into the room, carrying a new folder we hadn’t seen before. 

“What’s that?” Spencer asked. 

Luke held the file up. “This? Funny you’d ask,” he tossed it on to the table, sitting across from me on the other side of Spencer. “This is Chief Graydon’s file.” 

My jaw dropped a bit. “We’ve only been out of the interrogation for five minutes. How did you get that so fast?” Luke looked over my head, nodding in the direction of the police station’s main office. I turned to see Richie, the techie, peeking out from over his cubicle, his thick glasses and messy blonde hair evident over the divider. When he saw us looking at him, he immediately ducked back down. 

“You made the tech analyst pull his boss's file?” Spencer asked. 

Luke shrugged. “What’s the problem? He seemed a bit sketched out at first, but I just told him you wanted the file,” he gestured at me. “After that, he was more than happy to. I think he’s got a little crush on Y/N over here.”

I giggled, leaning back in my chair. Spencer gave me a look laced with warning. “What?” I asked, feigning innocence. “I’ve always liked the nerdy, scrawny type,” I patted Spencer’s thigh as Luke let out a roar of laughter. 

“She’s so right, Spencer,” Luke nodded. A bit of a blush had come over Spencer’s cheeks, as had a playful frown. He rolled his eyes, before rising from his seat. 

“Anyway,” Spencer tried to change the subject, “what’s in the file, Luke?”

Luke set the file on the table, spreading out the papers to allow himself a better look. “Graydon’s had some questionable arrests in the past, but he’s always gotten off clean. He was suspended in ‘04 for a pending domestic case against him, filed by his wife, but those charges mysteriously disappeared.”

It was then I noticed that JJ was standing in the doorway of the conference room. “What is up with the treatment of women by leadership in this office?” she asked, shaking her head incredulously. I nodded in agreement as she pulled the door shut behind her and sat down next to me at the table. Andrews with the verbal harassment, Graydon’s domestic charges… what a lovely bunch. 

“What about his kids? Andrews was pretty adamant that they were a part of the problem.” I asked.

Luke shuffled through the papers. “There’s nothing in here about his kids. If they’ve been in trouble with the law before, Garcia can pull their information.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket before pressing a few buttons, the line rang to life. 

“Penelope Garcia, knows what you want and has got what you need,” Penelope’s voice rang through the conference room. 

“Hey, Garcia. We need to know if you can tell us more about Police Chief Graydon… specifically about his children.” Luke said. 

“If? If I can find anything? Do you even hear yourself?” Penelope’s scoff was evident through the phone.

“I know, I know. If anyone can do it, it’s you,” Luke joked. 

“Give me thirty minutes, I’ll call you back with the rundown.” Her end of the line died once again. Luke wore a small smile, which he tried to hide by running a hand over his mouth. I made a mental note to ask him about his little banter with Penelope later. 

“Until then,” I said, looking around the room, “where are Emily, Rossi, and Matt?”

“Well, let’s see,” JJ started, staring up at the ceiling and counting off team members on her fingers. “Matt and Rossi are at the coroner's office getting updates on the final cause of death for the latest three victims. Last I knew, Emily was going to talk to Whittendon about his original files to see who all would have had access to them prior to their arrival in D.C.”

“I see,” I looked around the room for a clock. “What time is it?” 

Spencer pulled back the sleeve of his suit jacket, checking his watch, “It’s 8:30 a.m.” 

I sighed. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I haven’t eaten real food since noon yesterday.” The three others nodded in agreement. 

“I saw a diner down the street. Do you guys want to grab some breakfast?” Luke asked. 

“Yeah, actually. That sounds really good to me,” JJ said, looking to Spencer and I for our response. I nodded in agreement and Spencer shrugged, as if to say he’d follow us wherever. 

“Awesome,” Luke said. “Don’t worry, it’s my treat.” 

“Whoa,” said JJ, taking a step back in fake shock, “when did you start throwing money around?”

Luke laughed, “When I found Rossi’s wallet in the back seat of the SUV.” He held up the small leather wallet and my jaw dropped. 

“Luke, you can’t use our boss’s credit card to buy us breakfast!” I said with wide eyes. 

“C’mon, this guy’s a millionaire. I don’t think he’s gonna notice $30.” Luke opened the door to the conference room, allowing JJ to walk through first before following her towards the precinct door.

To be continued...

[truecobblepot]

2:26 AM

brew talks: another fic, this time set in pre relationship era🫣. thanks to the one and only @multicolorlou for emotional support and encouraging me to keep making more content (and obviously for giving me more ideas) – ILY POOKIE🥰💗‼️

knocking on the door, followed by the soft ring bell, pulled William Steve out from sleep. he rubbed his face and stood up after a moment going towards the door. on his way he glanced over the clock. 2:26 AM. great. he frowned while opening the door; although his grimace disappeared as soon as he looked down, noticing short woman, soaked wet from the rain. her hair that was previously neatly curled now sticking to her face, hands awkwardly pressed against her sides, small bag on one of her shoulders. her dress also not in the best condition as rain stained it completely, now the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her body. and her glasses fully covered in rain drops - he noticed, as she looked up awkwardly.

“sorry i was, uhh… late for my bus and i didn’t wanted to wait a few hours for another one in the rain and i know only you in the area-“

William Steve frowned, but in a more worried way this time, moving to the side, gently pulling her inside by her shoulder.

“Nela, come on… you’ll get sick.”

she gave him a small, thin smile, quickly coming in. she tried to desperately fix her appearance but dropped the attempt as soon as she felt that her wet hands made her hair look even more messy.

“wait in the living room, i’ll be right back.”

William Steve said softly, still a bit sleepy. She knew her way around his house so well by now. she visited him many times; for coffee, work or to take care of his place when her ‘favourite coworker’ was away.

she stood awkwardly near his couch, not wanting to stain it with her wet clothes. she turned towards him as he came back with a towel, shirt and a pair of dress pants, holding them out towards her.

“go change, you can put your clothes in the dryer until you’ll have to go. maybe they’ll dry a bit until then.” he rubbed his chin, giving her a small smile.

she nodded in return and after kicking off her heels she quickly rushed towards the bathroom, changing into borrowed clothes and leaving her dress to dry. she came back still softly drying her hair with a towel.

“thank you and- i’m sorry, i know it’s late-“

“it’s okay.” he smiled as he interrupted her apology, not even letting her to finish it; leaning against the back of the couch he stood next to. “tea? coffee?”

“tea, please.” she smiled gratefully yet still a bit awkwardly, sitting on the couch as he entered the kitchen to pour the liquid.

“what happened?” he asked as he set down a cup of warm tea in front of her on the coffee table.

“i wanted to leave the party sooner, messed up the time when my bus arrives… and it started to rain.” she explained sipping on the drink.

ah. yes, the party. company party william was supposed to attend before he cancelled last minute. he frowned.

“i thought you weren’t going?” he asked and she just shrugged in response.

“yeah. i thought the party would be better, but it was a bit too much… and i got bored halfway through so-“

“i’m sorry it didn’t turned out how you expected it to.” he sat down in the chair next to her.

“that’s okay… i don’t like parties and people mindlessly drinking all night anyway…” she scoffed at the memory of their mutual coworkers tonight. William Steve just continued to frown.

“so… why did you go in the first place?” he asked in further confusion.

“well- you were supposed to be there too.” she looked up at him.

“oh. ohh.” his expression softened as he straightened form his hunched position. finally realising.

“yeah…” she smiled awkwardly and looked down again at her tea before taking another sip.

“i’m sorry. i should’ve told you.”

“no, that’s okay.” she shrugged, smiling softly. “i should go soon-“

“no, that’s—“ he stood up before she did, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her on the couch. “—that’s okay, i’ll get bed ready for you. it’s already late, have some sleep and I’ll drive you back home in the morning… alright?” he looked down at her, slightly hunched to her level.

she smiled, nodding a bit as she leaned back against the couch, cup of tea in her hands.

“alright.”

William Steve nodded, already going upstairs to change sheets for her.

“hey Steve?” she called after him, stopping him for a moment as he turned around before reaching the stairs. “thank you. i mean it.”

he just smiled warmly at her before turning around to go prepare the bed for her, leaving her with a soft smile on her face as she thanked herself for going to that damn party after all.

[hxney-lemcn]

Too Cute <3 — Alex [Adult World] x gn! reader

summary: Just some workplace fluff with Alex <;3

tw: none

a/n: Prompts are highlighted and from here.

wc: 0.6k

Master List

Another day, another shift. Something the world doesn’t talk about enough is what happens when you try, and fail. All my life, I wanted a good job with decent pay, I tried my hardest in highschool, and even graduated college! Yet all that hard work seemed to be down the drain. I made connections, I applied to jobs, and it was always “Thank you for applying, but you’re not what we’re looking for”. It was even like that for entry level jobs! And I had previous experience! It was infuriating. If I didn’t get money soon, I’d be out on the streets.

Which led me to my current prediction. I worked at a porn shop. Which wasn’t as terrible as it sounds. Yeah, some of the customers were weird, but at least your coworker and manager, Alex, was there to make you forget that you were technically even working. With good pay, and a good environment, I suppose I didn’t have much to complain about. Yeah, it was embarrassing to tell people where I worked, and I tried to avoid the topic, but like I said, the pay was good. I suppose only having to pay two workers meant you could treat them better.

I let out a sigh of boredom as I scrolled through my social media. My head darted up at the sound of a door opening, smiling softly as a familiar man with fluffy brown hair came out of the back room. Alex was carrying a box and set it on the ground with a huff. Must be new videos that came in. 

“Want any help?” I asked, not wanting to sit around while he does all the work. 

Alex pretended to think for a second before saying, “Youuuuuu could clean the bathroom before we close.”

I frowned, staring at him with pleading eyes, but his puppy dog eyes were more powerful and I spoke without thinking, “You’re lucky that you’re cute.”

I got up from my stool and put my phone in my pocket, but before I could make my way to the closet Alex replied, “Wait, you think I’m cute?” 

I felt myself freeze, not even realizing that I said that outloud. I bit my lip, trying to think of a way I could play this cool. Glancing back at him, I tried to give him the most natural smile I could muster.

“Yeah, who wouldn’t?” I asked with a shrug, continuing to the closet to grab the cleaning supplies. As I cleaned the bathroom, I was internally screaming at myself. Did I just make things weird? I mean yeah, we’re friends, but he’s also my manager. I took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm myself down. I’ll just act like nothing happened, and maybe everything will be fine. Yeah, that’s totally what’s going to happen. 

It took me a bit to clean the bathroom. I tried to ignore the nausea that filled me at every unsanitary thing I had to clean. I forgot all about the little predicament that happened before. The need to leave that bathroom was the only thing filling my mind. I took in a deep breath as I exited the bathroom, Alex counting the register came into view. 

“I can’t believe you made me do that,” I groaned, acting like I didn’t do that every close shift. 

“You’ll live,” Alex laughed lightly, taking a glance at me before finishing the count. I tossed the bucket, gloves, and cleaning supplies back into the closet. 

“I suppose it isn’t that bad here,” I said, locking the front door. I turned back to face Alex as he put the deposit into an envelope. 

“It’s better with you here,” He replied nonchalantly, sending me one of his heart warming smiles. I felt myself warm at the sentiment and I smiled sheepishly back. “C’mon, let's get out of here.”

This may not be the life I envisioned, but you know what? It’s really not that bad.

[missingcarrion]

Carrion ch 12 watcher

Masterlist

Taglost @tapioca-milktea1978 @neapolitantoebeans

Note: sorry y'all lmao

-

Lights flash red, decorating the white walls in dread and discomfort. Shepherd isn’t sure where everyone is gone, but he steps over puddles of red, sticky and metallic in feeling and smell. Something is terribly wrong and Shepherd looks around, trying to scan for lifeforms, but he finds little, and only distant heat signatures, flailing about between dozens of walls ping his systems. He needs to find Hannah and Aasimar – he needs to make sure they’re okay.

There are distant screams, far deeper into the compound than he’s ever gone, and explosions from levels beneath his feet. Explosions hadn’t been part of the plan, none of this had been. It was supposed to be a relatively quick and easy escape. Get in, distract the compound’s security, get out. But nothing had gone right, Aasimar was caught trying to sabotage a coworker, Hannah had gone radio silent.

“Aasimar?” Shepherd calls out, stumbling through debris as the hall around him crumbles to the ground.

Something clatters and he sees someone stumble out of room. They collapse against the rubble, back pressed against the wall. The person raises their arm and in their hands is a gun, they fire – something thuds in the next room over.

“Aasimar?” Shepherd repeats, and he shuffles forward.

“S – Shep…?” The person’s voice warbles and he realizes it’s Aasimar. “What are you… you were waiting?”

Shepherd eyes him, eyes drifting to the room he’d fallen out of, to the body he’d shot. “Aasimar what did you do?”

There’s a wince, a whimper, a sound of defeat and resignation. “I – I…”

Blood pools from Aasimar’s leg, and he winces. Aasimar’s body is worn, exhausted and his eyes are big and panicked.

“Aasimar, what did you do?” His eyes shift, trailing the blotches of blood that lead away from Aasimar, and into the room he’d stumbled out of. A warbled cry leaves Aasi’s lips, in protest, as if trying to keep Shepherd from going in there.

“Y – You don’t understand… she was gonna…” He whimpers and curls within himself. He reaches for Shepherd.

A body lies in the midst of the debris, blood pooling around their body. The red begins to oxidize the longer it sits there, staining the ground beneath them. The body is familiar, someone he knew, and get the memories are fading. Who had this person been? Shepherd turns to Aasimar, chest full of a sense of betrayal.

“What did you do?” He asks again, and this time he sees Aasimar’s mouth open in reply.

“She betrayed us.” A solemn reply that sees Aasimar hobbling to his feet. “We need to get out of here, fast.”

I’m“Y – You killed her,” he murmurs, and then glanced back at the body, “I don’t remember…. You killed her and erased my memory of her…. Didn’t you?”

“I thought…. I thought it would be for the best, Shep, she… she told everyone. You weren’t going to be erased. They would’ve turned you into a prisoner in your own body and they would’ve made you kill me, they would’ve made you kill every person who ever stood against them.”

Shepherd’s fists clench, anger boils within him. “You. It’s always going to trace back to you. Always about you.”

“W – what? No… I’d… I never meant…” Aasimar hisses and stumbles backwards against the wall. His chest trembles. “Shepherd?”

It happens before he really has to think about it – hand curling around Aasimar’s leg, fingers squeezing tight into the torn flesh. The cries that leave his lips are pitiful and yet he only stops once he deems it fair, and he pulls away with a simple warning, “do not follow me.”

He doesn’t feel like Shepherd. He feels like someone entirely new, someone full of hate. For Aasimar, for the Institute, for everything. But Aasimar is selfish, and his selfishness will have cost him everything.

“S – Shep, p – please,” he whimpers, “I – I’m sorry, p – please don’t leave m – me here!”

Shepherd pauses, some part of him wants to pick him up and run for it, but he can hear the sounds of footfalls – Institute Rats running to find the culprits – to find them. Aasimar is a pitiful sight when Shepherd turns to look at him – tears and blood staining his flesh, but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t. Aasimar has treated him like the Institute had, and Shepherd can’t forgive him for it.

“You don’t get to call me that,” he hisses, “you’re no better than they are, Aasimar. You should get out of here before they find you.”

Shepherd hears nothing in protest from the man, from the doctor who hardly feels like anything but a man with a fancy paper. They were both nothing.

He runs, hoping to make it out before they find him, but agonized screams from behind him make him uncertain of his safety until he reaches the doors they had all planned on going through together. He pauses then, only for a moment, before he escapes into the cold, night air, under the stars he had longed so desperately to see.

______________________________________________

Death was not peaceful. He could feel the rushing of water, except it stained everything red. He could feel his body weakening until even his heart could not support him. He feels the air leave his lungs, the gasp that leaves his body. And all he has to show for it is blood on the pavement of an alley.

He had it all, did he not? He had the world in the palm of his hands and yet he had lost it all. He had left safety for some temporary haven. It was all temporary.

Flesh torn from muscle, from sinew and bone. Meat for the murder of crows, hungry and barking for his final breath. He longs to feed them, some sort of punishment for his failures. An apology to the gods that had abandoned him long ago.

It’s the nothing that hurt the most, what they didn’t do to him that left the most damage. The silence between wounds hurts connects his sinews, raw and red and bleeding. He mourns the person he would’ve been.

His chest rattles, and a wheeze escapes his lips when something presses harsh against his chest. Voices warble around him, until there’s nothing but silence and darkness. It’s… over.

Blood bubbles from between his lips, coagulating against his flesh, drying in horrid streaks as he lays about, forgotten.

[misscorn]

Day 2 - Traffic/Late

It’s midnight where I am so TECHNICALLY it’s day 2 of @sihjrweek lol please enjoy a little bit of what I suppose is post-confession bickering

-

Takano Masamune groaned in irritation as the cars in front of him came to another complete standstill. They couldn’t have moved more than five inches before Takano had to press on the brakes. Again. 

“I told you we should’ve just taken the train to work.” 

That very helpful and not at all annoying comment came from his passenger, Onodera Ritsu, who was currently slouched in his seat with his arms crossed. 

“And now we’re going to show up late together, which is no doubt going to look weird.” Ritsu continued, a pout starting to form on his face. Ritsu was sure that their coworkers were already starting to suspect things and it didn’t help that Masamune practically encouraged it.

“It’ll look less weird if you give me a couple hickies right now.”

Case and point.

“How would that make it look less weird?!”

“Less room for speculation, then they’ll know for sure why we’re late.”

“THAT’S NOT EVEN WHY WE’RE LATE!”

“So loud…” Masamune complained. 

Ritsu decided to ignore this comment, “You’re late because your lazy ass didn’t want to walk to the train station and I’m late because you dragged me into your car with you.”

“Well, at least I can kiss you while we’re stopped like this.” Masamune said.

Ritsu’s hands immediately went up, as if ready to fight him off. “Absolutely not.”

“What? Why? It’s just us.”

“People can still see into the car!”

“Well, if they don’t like what they see then they should have minded their own business in the first place.” Masamune reasoned. “Besides, we might as well do something fun instead of just sitting here and suffering.” 

Ritsu narrowed his eyes as he very, very briefly considered the option before shaking his head. “No, I’m not rewarding you for this stupid decision. Then you’ll start insisting on taking the car all the time.” 

Masamune sighed and parked the car, shutting his eyes. “Fine, then wake me up when we start moving again.”

“No! You don’t get a couple extra minutes of sleep, it’s your fault we’re in traffic in the first place, if anyone should get to nap it’s me.” Ritsu reached over to immediately start poking and pinching Masamune’s arm, simultaneously keeping him awake and getting revenge for all the times Masamune had prodded him. 

Masamune half-heartedly tried to swat his hand away, not opening his eyes yet. “You’re too high strung to nap. You’d never be able to fall asleep, all worried about being late.”

“Don’t say that like it’s unreasonable for me to be worried about being late.” Ritsu huffed.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to fire you over it.”

“You’re not the only person with the power to fire me.”

“I’ll just hold Emerald hostage and threaten to quit.” Masamune said. “If you’re not there then I’m not there. And we all know that place would fall apart without me.”

Ritsu rolled his eyes, he’s such a dramatic and cocky bastard. I can’t believe I willingly spend any time with him. I can’t believe I willingly date him. 

“Well, you still can’t go to sleep, because then I’m here suffering from traffic alone.” Ritsu said.

Masamune sighed, but opened his eyes. “I guess it can’t be helped then. I’ll give you all of my attention to make up for putting you through traffic. Will you forgive me?” He asked, trying not to smirk.

“Shut up.” Ritsu said. “That isn’t what I meant at all. What I meant was that you have to suffer too, so it’s fair.”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

Ritsu gave him such a nasty side eye that Masamune wouldn’t be surprised if Ritsu was trying to telepathically kill him. 

“So, that’s still a no on terms of endearment?” Masamune had tried ‘sweetheart’, ‘dear’, ‘baby’, ‘babe’, and now ‘darling’. The reactions so far were mixed.

“I don’t like dear. It’s what my parents call each other, so it makes me feel old. And I…don’t like it when you use them sarcastically.” Ritsu mumbled that last part, attempting to sink further into his seat, wanting to hide. 

“Ah, I see.” Masamune said, reaching over and managing to coax Ritsu out of crossing his arms so that they could hold hands. “I promise I will only say them sincerely from here on out.”

Ritsu turned red and avoided meeting his eyes, opting to stare out the passenger side window, but he did give Masamune’s hand a squeeze. “And don’t use them at work. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Masamune echoed, trying not to smile at Ritsu’s little attitude.

“And nothing weird!” Ritsu added with urgency, sitting up straighter. “No weird terms of endearment.” 

“Like what?” Masamune asked. 

“I am not giving you ideas.” Ritsu frowned. 

“Damn, I really thought you would fall for that.” Masamune chuckled. “Well, you can call me whatever you want, wherever you want, whenever you want.” 

“I-Is…Is there one you p-prefer?” Ritsu asked. 

Masamune shrugged. “I don’t think so. I guess you’ll just have to try them all and then I’ll decide.” He said. 

“I-I can’t do that!” Ritsu instinctively argued. The thought of calling Masamune one term was enough to make Ritsu want to exit the car - moving or unmoving - but he was willing to work through that feeling of embarrassment in order to make Masamune happy. But calling Masamune a plethora of terms of endearment so that he could pick his favorite?! Ritsu wasn’t sure if he would survive through the process.

“Why not?” Masamune asked. 

“I-It’s just too much!” Ritsu said, once again considering getting out of the car. They were still stopped, so now was a good time, right?

“It’s not that big of a deal, just give it a try.” Masamune said. 

“I don’t even know what to say!”

“You can say anything, you just have to tack a term of endearment on at the beginning or end.” 

“That doesn’t help me at all.” Ritsu lamented. ‘Anything’ was too many choices.

“Ask me what I’m thinking for dinner tonight.” Masamune suggested.

“W-What are you thinking for dinner tonight…h-honey?”

“...pft.”

“STOP LAUGHING AT ME!” Ritsu wretched his hand away to hit Masamune on the arm instead. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, you’re just so shy and nervous about the cutest things, it’s adorable, honestly.” Masamune said, grinning from ear to ear. “But I like honey, honey is good.”

“No, I’m never calling you anything but your name ever again.” Ritsu said, crossing his arms again

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that.” Masamune said, putting a hand on Ritsu’s knee. 

Ritsu just silently scowled, refusing to meet Masamune’s eye. 

“Honey is nice, I promise. But you could try another one if you want.” Masamune said. “And I won’t laugh again.” He added.

“But it’s so embarrassing.” Ritsu moaned miserably. 

“It’ll get less embarrassing the more you get used to it. Should I start calling you cute names more often to get you used to them?”

“God, please don’t.”

“How are you gonna stop me, sweetheart?” Masamune asked and gave Ritsu’s knee a gentle squeeze, purposefully using the name that had made Ritsu turn the brightest pink so far.

Ritsu’s shoulders tensed before he quickly covered his blushing face with his hands. “Please don’t.” he repeated, though this time it came out more as a quick and desperate squeak.

“But I like calling you terms of endearment, baby.”

“I’m begging you.”

“I’ll stop if you call me another pet name, angel.”

“Angel?” Ritsu echoed, his hands lowering just so he could give Masamune an incredulous look.

Masamune laughed a bit. “Don’t like that one?”

Ritsu couldn’t help but to laugh a little too. “No, not at all.”

“Noted,” Masamune said, “but it’s still your turn, sunshine.”

“Fine, fine, if it’ll make you stop, then I guess I can keep trying…babe.”

Masamune’s wide grin returned.

“You’re laughing again.” Ritsu said the moment he caught sight of it, getting defensive.

“I’m not laughing, I’m smiling. It makes me happy to hear you say things like that.” Masamune corrected.

The cars in front of them started to move again and Masamune put the car back in drive. 

“Thank God. Traffic better keep moving, I need to get out of this car.” Ritsu said.

Masamune snorted. “As if that’ll be enough to get away from me.” 

“It’ll at least be enough to get away from this conversation. We won’t have to talk about terms of endearment at work anymore.” Ritsu said, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. 

Of course, once they arrived at work Masamune just had to ask Ritsu for his advice on his author’s choice of terms of endearment between characters.

[ussjellyfish]

I had my first pregnancy check today, and I was excited, and it finally started to feel real, and then it wasn't.  CW miscarriage, abortion

I was pregnant, I suppose in a way I still am, but the embryo stopped developing weeks ago, and my body missed it.

My blood pressure was high because I was nervous, so my very nice doctor did an ultrasound with the little machine, and it looked too small. Doctor was nice about it, but it wasn't going to make it.

So then I have to go sit in the waiting room so they can fit me in to the other ultrasound, and they got me in fairly quickly but damn, that's an experience.

And the ultrasound tech was nice, and didn't say it at first, but embryo stopped three weeks ago, and my body kept it.

Minnesota still has abortion, luckily so I didn't have to go to another state, and embryo is so tiny I can just take the abortion pill.

I got one from my doctor that I took there and for the other one I had to go to target. It wasn't ready, so I wandered aimlessly around, panicked that they wouldn't fill it, and they did.

No problems. $3 with insurance.

I have to wait until tomorrow afternoon, then dissolve it inside my cheek (which is weird) . And it'll probably be a somewhat miserable weekend.

I haven't told my family, but I did tell some coworkers, who are good people, and that will be sad.

I'm also not sure how to grieve this yet. I wanted a baby, but I was so negative about it working, and it didn't. It tried. Its chromosomes probably went wrong.

I'm glad we caught it now and not in three weeks (which is when my next ultrasound would have been).

I'm glad I can just take care of it at home.

And I'm functional, though not really okay. I don't know if I can afford to try again. I don't know if I want to try again.

I don't have to decide today, but it feels like I'm letting go of much more than just this one.

[miss-tc-nova]

The Closing Shift - Vala x Reader

I'm SO SORRY this took so long!!! I have been wracking my brain about this request for WEEKS! I never expected a Vala request to fall into my hands! Honestly, though, I found the right song and then it all kinda hit me. But I hope it's at least a little bit like what you hoped for, anon.

~~~

Premise: Serving a drink to a regular customer before closing

Words: 1,555

Music Inspiration: Still Breathing by Green Day

~~~~~

               Eyes finding the clock, I come to terms with the reality of responsibility. It takes some effort to coerce me from the comfort of my couch, but alas, societal norms dictate that I pretend to be a functioning adult. What a farce.

               Still, I go through the usual routine of pulling on my uniform and scrounging together some pitiful semblance of lunch before heading out the door. It’s much the same when I finally arrive at the homely shop which dares call itself a café. It could actually serve as a storage closet for the unit next door, but I guess they didn’t want to pay for the extra space. With a tiny storage at the back and a miniscule bar at the front, our little place has just enough room to seat some few soulless employees as they wait for their afternoon coffee and ham and cheese croissants before rushing off to their own doldrum lives. C’est la vie.

               The lunch rush comes and goes and my coworker finally clocks out to leave me to my closing shift. Now up to my arms in soapy water and dirty dishes, I hum along to the music from the senile radio in the corner that’s decided not to growl in static all day.

               “Aw, look at you.”

               A soft gasp slips my lips, the glass tumbler making an escape beneath the bubbles. Not entirely eager to test if the water will run red should I reach in, I turn back to the bar.  

               Wire around my heart gives a sharp tug, causing a stutter in my thoughts. There she sits, wearing that all-knowing, demeaning smile, imposing behind sleek glasses. Light shines in long, flowing silver locks like a halo attempting to assuage the mischief her gaze implies.

               But something is off. A hairline cut rests above her eyebrow. A hue of violet mars her soft jawline and a scrape graces her shoulder. In her clothes are tears and stains—a red one on her sleeve leaving me particularly concerned. Even a few strands of hair lie amiss. It’s a wonder I didn’t immediately notice but she certainly isn’t acting any different.

               “Somehow able to make working at a small-time, tedious café look so enjoyable.” Her chin rests atop her hand. “If only you knew the existence outside your small world.”

               This girl—I don’t even know what to say. She’s been a regular of the café for the last few months, always coming in when we’re at our quietest, which usually happens to be when I’m on shift. Clever charm lures me into conversation, often with heckling galore. Though I’ve yet to determine her reason for singling me out, I’d be a liar to deny enjoying her company. Yet, for all her confidence and composure, there’s a hint of something deeper. I’ve never gotten a good look at it, but it feels forbidden so I’ve respected that boundary. Even so, it draws my pity. And I can only assume that it has something to do with her state today.

               I brush off jabs at my naivety. “Are you okay?” I ask, ambling closer. Without missing a beat, my hands fall into line, starting with a mug.

               That subverts her smirk for a second, but only a second. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just a little mishap.”

               “Do you need anything? Like a bandaid or painkillers or something?”

               Her dismissal is light. “No no, I’ll be fine.” Emerald eyes fall to my work, gleaming with hunger. “But I suppose something warm to drink would be nice.”

               Taking her cue, I let a quirk take corner of my mouth. “Oh? Then you’ve certainly come to the right place. And just in time before closing. What’ll you have? Tea? Coffee?”

               Pink lips twist in faux thought. “I don’t know. What do you have on the sweeter side?”

               “A sweet tooth, huh? Well we can mix those up however you like.” I may have embellished pouring the steamed milk a bit to make my point, but her eyes watch with anticipation. “Or we do have juices and milkshakes, but you were looking for something warm, right?”

               “What about hot chocolate?”

               “Hot chocolate?” I reach for the salt and powdered sugar. “Hmm, hot chocolate. No, I don’t think that’s on the menu.”

               “Are you sure?” A slender finger taps at one of the promotional stands. “Says here there’s a special on coffee, tea, and—oh look at that—hot chocolate.”

               “Oooh, that hot chocolate.” Even I can’t contain my smile as I reach for a knife and a fresh bar of white chocolate. “No, you don’t want that. That’s just cocoa powder and hot water. Very bland. Terrible stuff.”

               I never knew I could be so enamored by a simple giggle, but she’s got a grip on that afore mentioned wire.

               “So what kind of hot chocolate would a cocoa aficionado such as yourself recommend?”

               “Aficionado?” Dumping in the chocolate, I give the drink a quick stir. “I think that’s going a bit too far. I simply thought a gorgeous girl like you would be dissatisfied with some cheap chocolate drink.”

               The prettiest shade of pink bleeds across her nose. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

               I let loose a little laughter. A quick flourish of whipped cream and a haphazard sprinkle of the remaining shreds of chocolate top off my creation. With the utmost care, I slide the drink across the counter.

               “For you, I can but humbly offer my best.”

               A thought slithers through my brain at the sight of her first sip, but I shake it away. Instead, the pure, contented smile on those rosy lips as she hums warms my heart. Unlike most clients, who just come for the caffeine fix or quick breakfast, she truly enjoys what I’ve done.

               “Humble seems an ill-suited adjective for something so delightful.” To be praised by her precious words has my pride swelling. “But unlike your ‘bland’ hot chocolate, I know this isn’t on the menu.” She’s got me. “So how did you come up with this?”

               Taking a second to compose my stray thoughts, I give my response some consideration. “Someone taught me when I was little. I used to make these on days when I felt like nothing was right. It never fixed my problems, but at least I knew I still had one small happiness in this world.”

               For once, all deviance leaves her expression and though her eyes are on the sinking remnants of cream, her thoughts are far away. Something I said connected and I’m worried which part that might be.

               My palm rests atop her hand. “Hey.”

               She snaps back to this realm, her eyes finding mine. Lightning traces my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake as I gaze into her glittering, green eyes.

               I dare not raise above a whisper. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

               That flash of vulnerability vanishes though her smile isn’t quite so honest. “I’m still breathing.”

               “Huh?”

               A hand behind my head nearly drags me across the counter. My special mix of hot chocolate never tasted as good as it does on her lips. The velvet feel has me grasping for every bit I can get, but her coy movements string my heart along like a fox and its prey. Slowly but surely, she’s dragging me under and drowning me with everything I crave. Euphoria floods my lungs, stranding my brain in blissful haze. Whatever she asks is hers, as long as I can get just one more hit.  

               Content in my demise, the end comes as a bitter blow, leaving me a hapless wreck wanting more. Soft, genuine happiness fills her expression. But even as her hands cup my face with so much adoration, I can only see just how weak she is in this moment.

               “I used to pity you for your secluded little life. Now I know that ignorance is bliss and I almost envy you. But more than that, I admire you.” Her thumbs trace gentle circles against my skin. “Thank you, for giving me what I needed.”

               A single tear slips along her face. Then a light kiss presses against my forehead and she sets me free.

               Lost in the chaos of the events, I stand straight. By this time, there are no traces of the weakness she bore, but I know now. The wire in my chest tightens as she gives me her signature smirk.

               “So, what do I owe you?”

               Words don’t immediately present themselves. My thoughts are still racing to sort themselves out. I never knew just how much these short, simple encounters meant to me until she laid everything out on the table and then swept it under the rug—like be exposed to the secrets of the universe and then having to pretend it never happened.

               My head shakes. “It’s on the house.”

               “You sure?”

               The answer rasps in my mouth. “Yeah.”

               “I appreciate it.”

               I watch her stand, straightening her clothes. Just as she starts to turn, she pauses.

               “I’m Vala, by the way.”

               My own voice suddenly feels so foreign, but I give her my name.

               Her eyes light up as if I’ve given her another treat.

               “It’s nice to meet you.” A hand rises to bid goodbye. “I’ll see you around.”

               But I never did see her again.