#if any of u guys are good with computers and know how to fix a software loop

[rivertigo]

my laptop is broken and the geek squad guy said it would be better to just buy a new one

[faeryarchives]

hey chat! (first years x gn! streamer reader!)

summary: random but cutesy moments with your bf and brother ortho while being on air warning: modern au! fluff just fluff and rusty writing 🙂‍↕️ characters: twst nrc first years notes: platonic/familial section for ortho (you being the shroud's sibling) !! recently read some streamer au and it made me yearn and now im dragging you guys with me 😁 + longest one i've written ...

check out the art made by our lovley marj 🤍

divider credit goes to @cafekitsune !! her dividers are rlly cute check it out 🤍

✧.* ace trappola

being a streamer with a clingy boyfriend is really interesting

you are a pretty well known streamer mainly focusing on rpg games and movie reviews

and you also have a pretty good fanbase - they are pretty chill, encouraging and welcoming to newcomers especially in chat (maybe the chat do reflect the streamer)

they are pretty used to the times where you would start your stream with ace in the camera view sitting next to you

the loading screen finally disappeared revealing you on screen waving at the camera. "heya (fandom name) and non-(fandom name), welcome to the stream!" a laugh escaped your lips as the chat start to flood greetings, some were spamming hearts, some are getting creative with their comments and only one stood out to you. (name)clips: our favorite most beautiful wonderful (name) i hope you had a good day! please beware of red haired rats nowadays! and oh hi ace, i guess "oh you are worried for me? sure thing, i will look out for red haired rats, right babe?" "not you again (name)clips, i know you love my partner but they would pick me over you at any day!"

while they always joke around with you and ace, you `can see how they adore your boyfriend as much as they adore you

creates compilation of you and ace during your streams + ace is a regular watcher of your fandom clip channel

@ (name)clips uploaded a new video: when (name) is going crazy but their boyfriend is crazier @ thebestace: @ (username) SEE I TOLD YOU THAT U MISSED THAT ONE SPOT @ (username): i am kicking you out of our minecraft house 😡 NAWT MY FAULT YOU SAID LETS NOT CHECK THAT ANYMORE?

and he sees it all and leave comments (very supportive bf real)

especially when the two of you do streams together specifically horror based games and movie review

"(NAME) WHERE ARE YOU?!" while trying to escape the monster in front of you, ace's character suddenly blurred in and bumped into you. his screams echoing through your headphones. "ace i am literally in front of your character- why are you closing your eyes?!" "I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO LOOK!" "just move to the sid-" before you two could move out of the way, the monster grabbed ace's character and killed him along with his screams leaving you to run away from the scene. "i will live for the both of us!" ilikepringles: LMAO NOT THE CUT OFF SCREAM?! deuce spade 🔧: wow what a normal horror game day with these two cowabunga: never heard someone hit that note so high gloomurai 🔧: what a diva trying to salvage your gameplay (you both didn't save before the encounter), you didn't notice how the door to your room opened only for ace to lean to lean on your side while burying his head into your shoulder. and as if your body was on automatic mode, you leaned your head next to him and hummed. "i hate you." "i love you too, do you want me to finish this game?" "mmmm, we could play it another time with more people..." a dangerous glint appeared in your eyes with both of you letting out evil giggles. epel felmier 🔧: just got chills running down my spine should i be scared (name) (last name) 🔧: oh yes you should be

✧.* deuce spade

now before you even start your streaming life, deuce was the one who helped you with setting up and with the computer troubleshooting

that is why when you experience trouble during your stream, chat would typically expect him to come in your room with snacks for both of you while he fix your computer

while deuce is more on hands on, this man doesn't really understand most of the slangs your chat use that's why sometimes you include him in reading your fandom tweets

"this is a surprise video but we are going to read some of your tweets under my hashtags! and by i meant we, my boyfriend is going to join our stream today!" not even a minute in of scanning through the compilation of your fandom tweets about you, deuce looks so confused. "from @ ieattoes, not gonna lie, i would let mx. (name) (last name) to break my back like a glow stick. i'll stay on my knees for them." the man looked spaced out for a moment before looking directly at the camera with the most worried look you had ever seen. "... first of all, i don't know if i should be concerned with your username or the tweet. second, what the fuc-" "okay, next one!"

deuce is also one of your moderators! and let me tell you how he is so strict with people breaking the rules ESPECIALLY if there were mean comments about you on your chat

while he do want to uphold his running for honors persona, people disrespecting you, your viewers and friends is a different thing

randomuserjvsd: why did they just passed through that chest? its one of the most important things to do in the game? rebeccabot: aren't you that one streamer accused of hacking? fgsvklvbdhsv: LMAO SHIT GAMEPLAY WATCH (name) DRAMA CHANNEL INSTEAD it was a norm for you to receive such comments but who cares? your community knows you well and you know you did nothing wrong but to play the game. "hi to my favorite haters, thank you for viewing my stream! i don't know about you but tuning in live helps me makes money so..." through out the game, you notice how one by one those channel start disappearing in the chat, peaking your interests. "oh my, that is interesting." one and only ace 🔧: LMAO ONE TAP DEUCE STRIKES AGAIN deuce spade🔧: don't worry love, just continue your stream 😊

deuce's mom, dylla, knows about your hobby and fully supports you with it! even sending you some gifts to try on stream and promote them

pretty sure deuce and his mom are one of your biggest supporters in the fan base really - like mother like son (they are leading the fan war whenever someone drags you into a mess)

he knows he is not much of a gamer but man will go lengths for you in the game

(name) (lastname) @(username) guys 🥹 my bf went through multiple domain runs to build his characters and help me with the boss and explore the new areas in fontaine + liyue 🥹 (he suck at playing games) even in star rail so he could understand what i yap about 🥹 879 replies 11.5k retweets 1.2k quotes 90k likes @ thebestace - if my man isn't like this then i eon't want hiim @ (username) - GAY SPOTTED IN REPLIES?!?!?! @ cddiamond - HAPPY PRIDE 🌈🏳️‍🌈 @ jamilviper - congratulations @ spadecued - hey i don't suck that much at games :( @ (username) - remember how you died to a ruin hunter @ spadecued - that was when i start playing the game ??

✧.* jack howl

"... since we ended the game late and some of you don't want to leave yet, why don't we have a quick chat?" while you are having a small talk with your viewers after finishing your nth game run, your chat start to flood the stream at a fast pace ji9star: are my eyes playing me or something just passed through (name's) door? lightray: and it's 3am too... kreideprinz: how can you guys see a shadow when their hallway is so dark? "shadow?" curious, the viewers could only watch as you stood up and peeked out of your room. for a moment, you looked shocked and honestly the chat couldn't do anything anyways but what surprised them when that same shadow patted your head and urged you back inside. https.(name): A HAND?!?!?! (name)luvr: that is actually me scaratoes: stop the delusions ruggie bucchi 🔧: woah a mystery someone 🤭 "don't worry guys, it not a bad ghost. its a friendly neighborhood one! ace can prove it, right?"

being very open and active in your social media account, your viewers didn't expect you to be in a relationship!

sure as the kind of person who is hands on in academics and games, they didn't think you would still have time for a special someone!

its not like they are mad - they are happy !! but more like curious on who is the mystery guy!

"who is the mystery guy?" you stopped in your tracks to look at someone off camera and laughed, not wanting to spill the beans so early. the view count did increased once you reach out of the camera view only to show to the camera that you are holding someone's hand. cater diamond 🔧: oh you crazy 😭 "there is no fun if our mystery person got revealed so early, so why don't we start a game?"

in no time #friendlyneighborhoodghost start trending on twitter (not calling that app as X) - speculations about the mystery person

(name) (lastname) @(username) you guys are funny 😂 how are you so wrong about it? good luck guessing because he is also having fun with all your tweets 🤭 who knows he might be your mutual 1k replies 23.5k retweets 3.5k quotes 400k likes @ (name)clips - HOLY SHHIT WE GOT A CLUE ITS A GUY SPREAD THE WORD! @ (name)luvr - i am that mutual @ https.(name) - sweetie we support you but not with this one @ azulstan - no wait what if oomf is cooking something @ leonakingscholar - how are you two such trolls @ (name)bf 🔒 - whatever they say goes 🫡 @ jackloml 🔒 - ily 😘

its not helping them at all when you laugh at each speculations, because some of them were actually crazy

as if to add insult to injury, the mystery guy would come in your stream fully clothed and would randomly hug you from behind, - his face would always be out of camera's view and you made sure of that

it went on for months and finally, something happened

"... i don't think that was the best ending of the game, we could've save some playable character-" before finishing your insight on the game's ending, jack entered your room, his earphones on and probably just got home from training, not noticing how you were still on stream. "hey love, i am going to cook for our dinner, do you want anything?" at first there was silence, not noticing how you just froze in place and looking at him in shock. jack felt there was something wrong and finally removed his earphone, realizing that you were unmuted and your viewers probably heard it on live. "...oh." livelaughlove(name): THEY BAGGED THE ATHLETE?! jackstan: this is the best day of my life my two fave are together 😭 one and only ace🔧: LMFAO U STUPID ruggie bucchi 🔧: U HAD ONE JOB 😭 now i have to pay leona $20 thee leona kingscholar 🔧: hah told you i'm right "guess the secret is out now, finally!" you rolled your chair away from your chair to come your boyfriend and hug him from behind - proudly showing him on screen. "so yeah, this is our friendly neighborhood ghost! you guys may know him as the athlete but he is pretty active in the fandom too, right?" "i'm not subtle about being yours too, its not my fault no one believes me." scanning through his phone, jack showed a particular twitter account that sent the chat through more frenzy. white beast @(name)luvr told you guys i'm the real deal. love you @ (username) 259 replies 2k retweets 1.5k quotes 50k likes @ (username) - love u too 🤍 @ https.(name) - IT WAS REAL THE ENTIRE TIME? @ (username) - told you guys he was among you 😝

✧.* epel felmier

it was funny how you two first met because it was just on pure accident that you got to team up in a random 5 man team

and the two of you carried your team leading to more duo team up with each other

turns out you have a lot in common too, what a strange coincidence!

and now you live together 🥂

"how did you and epel got together? oh that's such a good question!" you twirled your gaming chair around - huge grin apparent with a mischievous glint in your eyes hayikeva: not the scary vibes all of the sudden 😭 jiminijipity: they were so waiting for this moment to come kandii783: LMAO ON THE OTHER STREAM EPEL JUST GOT SHIVERS "so funny thing! you guys already know how we met through valo and we got to know each other more through discord and collaborations with other streamers. while we only play fps and rpg games on stream, we play some game specifically for two players only!" epel felmier 🔧: ??? epel felmier 🔧: what r u talking abt epel felmier 🔧: R U BACKSTABBING ME?! bokuaka4ever: WHO CALLED HIS ASS HERE? (name)#1fan: what kind of games were you two playing? "oh hi epel, no i am not backstabbing you, it's the opposite - i am sharing how we got to know love! why don't you guys guess what kind of games we play?" teresita: roblox? randomuserh: GEOGUESSER epel felmier 🔧: get that away from me "don't mind him, we almost ruined our relationship fighting about the capital of australia." rook hunt 🔧: I KNOW THE ANSWER!! epel felmier 🔧: what are YOU doing here?! leona kingscholar 🔧: its not like it was a secret, it was obvious afterall mwishxr: WHOA THEE LEONA SPEAKS "hush you two don't spoil the surprise!" as the two streamers appeared on chat, more and more people start to appear too, mostly the familiar ones. ace trappola 🔧: real i have to agree w leona on this one ruggie bucchi 🔧: (2) deuce spade 🔧: (3) jack howl 🔧: wow this is surprising sukisuki: IJBOL DID THE WHOLE GANG TUNED IN TO EXPOSE EPEL? yuriified: this is the real power of friendship epel felmier 🔧: this is not friendship this is BULLYING "alright, i guess if he won't tell then i will - we often play sky: children of light. we play other games like minecraft or stardew valley but epel in this game is so amazing because he is guiding me throughout the game and everything." epel felmier 🔧: ihy 😡 epel felmier 🔧: i am taking tubby with me 😡 sleep outside tonight "wait. no, okay i'm ending the stream" and you really did end the stream on the spot

you apologized with tears that night (no not really)

both of your fandoms know about tubby - your adopted dog/child and he will witness his parents (mostly epel) screaming at random people in game to the point that he will bark along side your screams

but sometimes u have your off days too so there were times where you might have bad game plays -> getting trashtalked by your random teammates

as soon as you peeked at the corner, your character suddenly fell down after getting headshot by the enemy team. frustrated, you let out a groan before burring your head into the pillow next to you. "(nickname) do you wan to take a break?" "no i can still go for one game, i'm really sorry epel. after i told you we would rank up..." "it's oka-... what the fuck?" surprised at the sudden change in attitude and the sound of your boyfriend's furious typing ringing in your ears, you automatically looked at the team chat realizing why he suddenly became mad. randomnamehere: wtf if you are going to troll can you not do it here? randomnamehere: so much so for being a (username) fake randomnamehere2: that is so embarrassing get your ass off rank noob (username): have u seen your stats, been covering for your skill issue the whole game "if i wasn't a streamer, i would've talked back about his ass gaming very much." applelppa: why don't you get your ass off that pc and touch grass and have a touch with nature bc YOU TWO ARE THE ONES WITH THE MOST DEATHS?! **applelppa has been muted for 24 hours** "love, you got muted again..." "COWARDS I TELL YOU! YOUR MOM WILL NEVER BE PROUD OF YOU!" "epel-" "WHY DON'T YOU *BEEP* Y-" "BRO, WAIT CALM DOWN! I AM ON LIVE!"

✧.* ortho shroud

this little guy is a regular at your stream no doubt it!

it would be more surprising not to see ortho in one of your streams rather than being in it

ortho would entertain your viewers while you go try to tell idia to tone his screaming down (real)

"okay so do you think i should change furina's artifact or not?" leaning over your shoulder, your brother took a closer look humming, analyzing everything then shaking his head. "no, your build is actually perfect, i think you should focus more on-" "AHHHH I HATE THIS GAME!" a loud scream followed by a loud thud from the room above you cause a thousand of laughing emoji to roll in the chat. jiminijipity: lolololololo mamasita: the eldest sibling is back at it again lolololol ace trappola 🔧: did idia just died or something jamil viper 🔧: as someone who plays league, he is pretty relatable... "... not this again, ortho keep them entertained for me will you?" with annod, you left the room running and ortho casually twirling around his chair, waving excitedly at the camera. "hello everyone! how are you all doing?" orthofanreal: HI ORTHO petuniaaaa: hello ortho how are YOU doing? skibidirdir: its a miracle your neighbors haven't filed a complaint with how noisy your sibling gets in playing games "we are sure noisy, but the truth is we don't actually have any neighbors, it gets pretty lonely here at times." in the viewer's eyes, they can see ortho looking out of your window longingly before shrugging what ever was clouding his mind and smiled. "you guys might already know that our parents are really busy leaving us three to stick together most of the time. and i am glad that (name) and big brother idia would include me in their livestream so i won't feel lonely." https.shroudsiblings: oh no... who is chopping the onions :( jack howl 🔧: you know you can come over here evey once in a while right? yuu 🔧: ORTHOOOO 🙁 there were several crying emoji flooding in as well as the sound of someone crying behind him. the youngest shroud turned around to see his older siblings at the door way, holding in their tears - obviously hearing what he just said. "since when did you guys got here?" "*sniff* okay fuck league and genshin we are going to play mario kart."

it may come as a surprise but ortho is actually the best player out of the three of you

ortho being first followed by idia and you at dead last 😅

but hey who cares if you are last?! you could even play the most boring game ever but ortho will always make it like its made for fun

sometimes you would try to entice ortho with his favorite food just to turn on idia on voting what to play on game and movie night

(name) (lastname) @(username) i love my siblings very much (don't mind the ugly one at the right) 459 replies 2.5k retweets 1.1k quotes 40k likes @ orthoshroud: but isn't that big brother idia on the right? @ (username): exactly 🥰 dont mind him at all our youngest 🤍 @ randomuser: loolololol agreed @ (username): @ randomuser shut the fuck up only i can insult idia @ gloomrai: I SEE HOW IT IS I AM TELLING MOM @ mrsshroud: yeah about that idy... @ (username): IJBOL

✧.* sebek zigvolt

and if i speak - this man will get everything just to support you

and i mean everything: your channel subscription, merch, plushie, photo cards that he made and he will still support you by sending donations + gifting subs to your fandom

sebek is very proud of you real! he is very vocal about it and he really feels giddy when you invite him to your streams

(name) (lastname) @(username) okay new waiting room for you all <3 and donations are still off so it's a sign for y'all to save money I AM LOOKING AT YOU MISTER @ wanisama 😾 (insert twitch link) 233 replies 1.5k retweets 900 quotes 20k likes @ gloomrai: to those non (fandom name) its like putting a kpop stan on merch ban for their fave artist @ lilredbat: and i was about to sen you some too @ (username): SO YOU ARE THE ONE INFLUENCING HIM 🫵 @ wanisama: :( @ (username): oh don't you go all sad on me now mister YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH 😾

but it won't be too long until he would do it again - just like a routine 😭 that is just how he shows his love okay

other than that, sebek is a pretty cuddly person and pretty much let you do what you want

while you were streaming, you suddenly faced the man with your arms wide out. "sebek babe, come here." before his mind could even process anything, his body moved on his own and quickly wrapped his arms around you. even giving you a a kiss on the head. "what's wrong?" "hehe, nothing. can you sit next to me? we just finished playing." "sure, do you want me to get some snacks?" you cuddled each other, him wrapping you into his hoodie, until you finally finished the stream.

its funny how your viewers would comment on how you are endorsing more of sebek's hoodie rather than your own merch 😭

with your relationship being out in the open, it's no surprise that both of you would shoot some videos and post stories on instagram like cooking and this is where they realize sebek is more like a boyfailure disaster than the one they see on live

"sebek?" "...yes?" "... can you tell me what are you doing right now?" in the video, sebek was trying to hide something behind him, ribbons and papers scattered around his feet. sebek avoided your gaze, hand flailing in the air. "i-i thought you were streaming?" the more you step forwards the more he tried o hide that certain thing behind him "yeah but it got delayed because the game had a sudden maintenace... oh my god is that the one i wanted to buy the other day-" "OH MY MY PHONE JUST STARTED RINGING, I THINK WAKA-SAMA IS CALLING FOR ME. FAREWELL MY LOVE."

yeaaa and don't get him with the q and a because he has a one track mind if there are questions regarding about you

i think he knows you more more than yourself

sometimes though sebek would join his friends' games and content involving everyone asking each other questions and such (like 2 truths one false or a batsu game).

"okay, my turn!" after ace spin the bottle, it landed on sebek who looks like he was about to say something that would change the world. "ah, it's sebek. now this is hard." "give me your worst, trappola." the green haired man challenged, knowing he will emerge as the victor (man vs himself). "alright! if you could kiss anyone in the world without consequences, who would it be?" "easy, my wonderful partner (name) (last name)." "that shit don't count, you do that anyways!" "@ (username) in every social media platform." riddle rosehearts 🔧: never let ace interrogate anybody (name) (last name) 🔧: AWWW BABE <333 I LOVE YOU TOO (name) (last name) 🔧: and ace open up i'm at your door 😃😊

[elikajinnie]

Note: Hello! Just posting this birthday fic before I start my journey to London! Happy birthday @ikeuverse !!! luv u bay boo <3 Hope you enjoy this dark fic as a present!

Warnings: Office au, Violence, Obsession, Suggestive Content, Needy Behaviour, Pet names, Blood, Choking, Crazy Man in Love, Murder

Synopsis: Jay prided himself on his ability to keep his emotions and impulses in check, even the ones dark enough to ruin his image. But every man has a breaking point, and his was you. You awaken something in him—something unstrained and dangerous.

Jay considered himself a patient man—steadfast, composed, and reliable in almost any situation. A colleague dumping extra workload on him? No problem, he could stay an extra hour to finish it. The coffee machine running out right before his turn? He’d refill it without complaint. His computer crashing, and IT dragging their feet to fix it? Fine, he could manage.

He could handle all of it.

But what he couldn’t handle—what made his patience snap like a dry twig—was seeing someone ruin your day.

You, the person who had his heart entirely, even if you didn’t know it yet.

The first day you’d walked into the office, he swore it was love at first sight. There was something about you—so effortlessly beautiful, so free yet reserved. You weren’t loud or attention-seeking like some of the others in the office. You simply came in, did your work and left.

And the fact that you didn’t talk to many of your colleagues? That you seemed to reserve most of your conversations for him?

That pleased him more than he’d care to admit.

Because the truth was, Jay wasn’t a good man. Not in the way people thought. He wore the mask of the perfect coworker, the dependable guy, the one you could always count on. But underneath, in the shadows of his mind, there were thoughts he’d never dare to voice. Things no one needed to know.

They didn’t need to know what he thought when he saw someone laughing too loudly near your desk, stealing your attention away from him. They didn’t need to know how his jaw tightened when another colleague asked you out for lunch, or how his stomach churned when you smiled politely but didn’t refuse.

And they definitely didn’t need to know what he imagined doing to the coworker who’d made you frown earlier today.

It wasn’t much—just a small comment, a careless remark about your work that Jay knew wasn’t fair. But he saw the way your shoulders slumped, the way your smile faltered for the rest of the day. It was enough to ignite something dangerous inside him, something he fought hard to suppress.

No one got to hurt you.

Jay’s hands flexed against the desk, his knuckles turning white. He took a slow, measured breath. No one had to know what was going on in his head. Not you, not the person who’d hurt you, no one.

No, no one could find out. And no one would find out.

Jay repeated that mantra in his head like a lifeline, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the desk as if the movement could ground him. If he just held his patience, if he kept his emotions under control, everything would be fine. He was good at hiding things, good at maintaining the mask of normalcy.

But he shouldn’t have underestimated how much his feelings for you overthrew his rational thinking.

It wasn’t just admiration or a harmless crush anymore. It was deeper, sharper, something that dug into his very being and left him restless. It consumed him, made him hyperaware of every glance you gave someone else, every moment you looked even the slightest bit upset.

And when he saw the person who’d hurt you walking past his desk, laughing as if they hadn’t just wrecked your mood, that feeling boiled over.

His fingers stilled, his jaw tightening. He didn’t know when he stood up or when he started walking. The rational part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to think this through, to sit back down before he did something he couldn’t take back. But that part of him was no match for the storm brewing in his chest.

He caught up to them in the hallway, his voice calm, measured, almost too controlled. “Hey.”

The coworker turned, their expression a mixture of confusion and faint unease. “Hey?”

Jay smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Got a minute?”

They hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing something was off. Jay's smile didn't waver. "It's important," he added, voice still smooth but carrying an undertone that left little room for argument.

Reluctantly, they nodded, following him into one of the empty meeting rooms. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in a bubble of tense silence.

Jay leaned against the door casually, arms crossed, tilting his head as he studied them. "You know," he began, his tone deceptively light, "I noticed you had a lot to say to her today."

Confusion flickered in their eyes before it shifted into indifference. "What? It was just a comment. It’s not that serious."

Jay chuckled quietly, the sound low and cold. "Not serious to you, maybe."

"Look, man, if she’s upset, that’s not my problem." They moved as if to leave, but Jay didn’t budge.

His smile faded.

"See, that's where you're wrong." His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "It is your problem now."

The coworker’s bravado faltered for a second.

Jay leaned in slightly, his eyes sharp and unblinking. "I’m going to give you a piece of advice—free of charge. You’re going to stay far away from her. No comments, no jokes, no anything. Understand?"

They scoffed, trying to mask their unease. "Are you threatening me?"

Jay’s lips curled into a slow smirk. "Threatening?" He let the word hang in the air. "No. I’m just making sure we understand each other."

The tension in the room thickened. Jay didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stared until the other man shifted uncomfortably.

"Fine. Whatever," they muttered, pushing past him. Jay let them go, listening to their hurried footsteps fade down the hall.

Slowly, he exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. The tightness in his chest eased, but only slightly.

That should be enough—for now.

But deep down, Jay knew this feeling wasn’t going away.

And to Jay's dismay, the warning didn’t stick.

The coworker didn’t stop.

Oh, they were smarter about it now—waiting until Jay wasn’t around to make their comments, keeping their voice low, making sure their jabs seemed like harmless jokes to anyone else. But Jay knew better.

Because Jay always knew.

He was always watching. Always listening.

Always watching you.

It wasn’t difficult. He knew your schedule, your habits, the way you tucked yourself into quieter corners of the office during breaks. He knew which paths you took to avoid unnecessary conversation, which meetings you hated sitting through, and which tasks weighed you down.

And he knew when something was wrong.

Like now.

Jay watched from across the office as that same coworker leaned in a little too close to you at the copier, their smirk too smug, their voice just low enough that no one else could catch the words.

But Jay could read your body language—the way you stiffened, how your eyes didn’t meet theirs, how your hands faltered as you shuffled papers.

That was enough.

Jay’s vision tunneled, the hum of the office dulling into static. His hands tightened into fists at his sides.

They thought they could get away with it, thought he wasn’t paying attention.

But Jay was always paying attention.

And now?

They’d crossed a line.

Without thinking, without hesitation, Jay was moving, his steps steady. He didn’t care about the people around him, didn’t care if anyone noticed the shift in his expression—cold, and dangerously calm.

This time, a warning wouldn’t be enough. No, this time Jay would make sure they understood.

Permanently.

His steps were silent as he closed the distance between you and the coworker.

He saw it—the subtle shift in their stance, the way their hand moved just slightly, as if they were about to reach out.

To touch you.

His.

Jay’s hand shot out, clapping down on the coworker’s shoulder with more force than necessary.

“Is there a problem here?” Jay’s voice was calm, smooth, but laced with something colder beneath the surface.

The coworker jolted slightly, caught off guard, and quickly shook their head. “No, no problem. Just talking.”

Jay’s grip didn’t loosen. His smile was polite, but his eyes were sharp, piercing. “Funny. It didn’t look like talking.”

The coworker shifted uncomfortably under his hold, glancing at you for some sort of support, but you said nothing. Jay noticed how you subtly moved closer to him, putting a few more inches of space between yourself and the other man.

Oh, how that pleased him.

Something dark and satisfied coiled deep within Jay’s chest.

You felt safe near him.

Exactly where you belonged.

Jay leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough for the coworker to hear. “I think it’s best if you get back to work. Before I decide to take this to HR. I’m sure they’d love to hear about how you’ve been treating your coworkers.”

The blood drained from the man’s face. “It’s not like that—”

Jay’s grip tightened, just for a second. “Now.”

The coworker stumbled back, muttering something under their breath before practically fleeing the area.

Jay let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back, and turned his attention to you. His expression softened instantly, concern replacing the coldness in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice gentler now.

You nodded slowly, still a bit shaken. “Yeah… thanks, Jay.”

That small, grateful smile you gave him nearly made his heart stop.

“Of course,” he murmured, resisting the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch you—your hand, your arm, anything. But the way you stayed close to him, the way you trusted him to handle it?

It was more than enough for now.

Jay would deal with the persistent coworker in due time.

He was a patient man, after all. He could bide his time, wait for the perfect moment—when there were no interruptions, no prying eyes, and no one to witness what he intended to do.

Because Jay hated repeating himself.

The coworker hadn’t heeded his warning, and now Jay had to escalate things. He didn’t want to resort to this, but they’d left him no choice.

For you, though? It was worth it.

It was always worth it.

Jay kept his routine flawless, his demeanor at work unbothered and professional. No one suspected a thing as he continued his tasks, chatting with colleagues, even offering his usual polite smile to you when you passed by his desk.

But beneath the surface, he was calculating.

When the time came, it was almost too easy.

The coworker stayed late one evening, likely trying to catch up on the workload they’d neglected while harassing others. Jay lingered too, casually packing his things, waiting for the office to empty out. When the last employee left and it was just the two of them, Jay approached. “Working late?” he asked, his tone friendly but his eyes sharp.

The coworker glanced up, startled, before nodding hesitantly. “Yeah, just finishing up.”

Jay nodded, stepping closer, his presence filling the room. “That’s good. Means we have a chance to chat without anyone interrupting.”

The coworker stiffened, the unease in their expression growing. “Look, if this is about previously—”

“Oh, it’s definitely about previously.” Jay’s voice dropped, losing any trace of friendliness. He leaned down, placing his hands flat on the desk. “I warned you, didn’t I?” His voice was quiet, almost conversational, but there was no mistaking the edge in his tone. “I told you to stay away from her. No comments. No games. Nothing.”

The coworker stammered, trying to explain, but Jay cut him off.

“And yet, you didn’t listen. You thought I was bluffing.” He straightened, his gaze cold and unyielding. “I never bluff.”

The coworker’s mouth moved, spitting out excuses—something about misunderstanding, about it being harmless—but Jay wasn’t listening.

Not really.

He only pretended to listen, his expression carefully composed, nodding faintly as if he was weighing the words.

But his eyes drifted, scanning the dim office. The quiet hum of machines in sleep mode filled the space. The hall was empty. The cleaning crew wouldn’t arrive for a few hours.

Perfect.

His hand moved slowly, deliberately, fingers curling around the cold metal of the stapler sitting carelessly on the edge of the desk. He gripped it tightly, feeling the weight of it, the solid heft pressing into his palm.

And his mind spiraled.

You.

You, who always greeted him first in the morning, your voice soft but warm.

You, who smiled at him every time he placed your favorite drink on your desk, pretending it was nothing.

You, who leaned in close to help him when the printer jammed, your fingers brushing his.

You, who tensed, shoulders rising when this man got too close, discomfort flashing in your eyes.

You. You. You.

Everything about Jay had become built around you.

Every thought. Every choice. Every breath.

And if making you happy meant eliminating what made you uncomfortable, what hurt you… then it was simple.

Jay’s grip on the stapler tightened.

Without hesitation, without a second thought, he swung.

The solid crack of metal against bone echoed in the empty office. The coworker barely had time to cry out before Jay brought the stapler down again. And again.

Each hit was harder than the last, fueled by something dark and burning inside him.

You.

Even when the coworker’s body slumped, weak and broken, Jay didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not until the coworker was nothing more than a twisted, crumpled body on the cold office floor—still, silent, and broken.

Jay slowly straightened up, his breathing steady, calm. The bloodied stapler slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a dull, wet thud.

He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it back casually, not caring about the smears of blood staining his skin or clothes.

His eyes stayed fixed on the body.

Unmoving. Silent.

Good.

His mind, once a storm of spiraling thoughts, was quiet now. Peaceful.

A slow, satisfied smile crept onto his lips.

This was right.

This was necessary.

He tilted his head slightly, admiring his work for a moment longer before pulling himself away.

No panic. No guilt.

Just clarity.

Because now, the problem was gone.

And you—sweet, perfect you—would never have to feel uncomfortable again.

Jay turned away, already thinking about how easily this would disappear.

He was careful. He was smart.

And most importantly, he was patient.

No one would know.

And tomorrow, when you smiled at him in the office, when you thanked him for the coffee, when you leaned close to help him with the printer—he would smile back.

Because this?

This was all for you.

And you would never need to know.

At least that was what he planned, until the sharp, broken sound of a gasp shattered the stillness.

Jay’s head snapped toward the sound.

There you were.

Frozen by the exit, your coat still on, bag slung over your shoulder—just as it had been when you left the office an hour ago.

But you hadn’t left.

Or maybe you had and come back.

Why?

Jay’s mind, so quiet a moment ago, now whirled with questions.

Why were you back?

How much had you seen?

How long had you been standing there?

Your wide, horrified eyes flicked between the mangled body on the floor and Jay’s bloodied figure.

His chest rose slowly with a deep, steady breath.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

For a fleeting second, Jay considered stepping forward, saying something—anything—but his feet remained planted.

The silence between you stretched painfully thin.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Jay’s mind sharpened, cutting through the static.

He couldn’t let you be afraid of him.

Not you.

Slowly, deliberately, Jay raised his blood-streaked hands in front of him, palms out as if calming a startled animal. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and soft. “I can explain.”

But could he?

Could he explain that this was for you? That every swing of that stapler, every brutal hit, was to protect you?

Would you understand?

His heart beat steadily in his chest, not with panic—but with focus.

This was just another problem to solve.

Like the one lying cold and unmoving on the floor.

Jay’s eyes didn’t leave yours. He smiled. Slowly. Softly. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he murmured.

Now, he had to decide what to do next. With you.

His jaw clenched as he prepared himself for the worst.

The scream.

The panic.

The rush for your phone to call the police.

He was ready to take it all.

If you ran, he wouldn’t chase.

If you screamed, he wouldn’t silence you.

Because he had done what needed to be done. He had removed the problem.

For you.

But then—

You did something he never expected.

Your bag slipped from your shoulder and hit the ground with a soft thud.

Slowly, cautiously, you stepped toward him.

Jay didn’t move.

Not when your trembling hands reached up. Not when your soft fingers cupped his blood-smeared cheeks.

Your eyes searched his, wide and filled with something between fear and disbelief. “Jay…” you whispered, barely audible. “What… what did you do?”

Jay blinked, his breath shallow under your touch. His lips parted, and the words spilled out. “I… I did it for you.” His voice was quiet. “He wouldn’t leave you alone. He didn’t listen. I… I had to stop him.”

The room seemed to freeze.

You didn’t recoil.

You didn’t scream.

You just stared, shocked, processing the weight of his words.

Jay searched your face, looking for disgust, horror—anything. But it wasn’t there. And that broke something inside him.

Before you could speak, before doubt could flicker in your eyes, Jay moved. His arms shot forward, wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. One hand slid up, cradling the back of your head, gently but firmly turning your face away from the mangled body on the floor.

“You shouldn’t look at that,” he murmured against your hair, his voice softer now but tinged with something.

Protective.

Possessive.

His grip tightened, holding you like you might slip away.

“I couldn’t let him hurt you,” Jay whispered, his thumb brushing against your temple. “You’re mine to protect. No one gets to make you uncomfortable. Not him. Not anyone.”

He held you close, his body warm and solid against yours, his gaze piercing as if he could see into the deepest parts of your soul. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “You don’t need to be scared.” He closed his eyes, savoring how perfectly you fit in his arms.

He’d do anything to keep you here.

Anything.

His hand slowly stroked the back of your head, a soothing motion that contrasted sharply with the violence that had just taken place. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t scream.

Didn’t run.

Jay’s grip tightened, his mind racing. Maybe you understood. Maybe deep down, you knew he had done this for you. “I… I couldn’t let him near you anymore,” he confessed, voice barely a whisper. “He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away.

Jay’s hand, still cradling your head, slid down to gently cup your cheek—thumb brushing over your skin, leaving a faint smear of blood. “But it’s okay now,” he murmured, tilting his head. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His eyes searched yours, desperate for understanding, for acceptance.

And when you still didn’t pull away, when your body stayed close to his—Jay’s lips curved into a slow smile. “You believe me, don’t you?” he asked softly, almost childlike in tone. His fingers pressed just slightly against your skin, his need for reassurance growing heavier. “Tell me you believe me. Tell me you know I did this for you.”

The room seemed to close in, the silence suffocating. But Jay’s breath was steady, his hold firm.

He would wait.

He was patient.

But not forever.

Not with you.

Because now that you knew, now that you had seen this part of him, he couldn’t let you go.

And if you didn’t say what he needed to hear… Well.

Jay could be persuasive.

“I… I believe you,” you whispered eventually, the words shaky, barely holding together.

And that was enough.

Enough for Jay.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something unhinged sparking within them.

A slow, shaky breath left his lips as a grin stretched across his face—wide, relieved, and far too dangerous. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured.

In one slow, fluid motion, his blood-slicked hand slid to the side of your neck, fingers curling possessively around your throat. He then leaned in, so close that your noses brushed, his breath hot against your lips. “Say it again,” he whispered, voice cracking with need. “Please… say it again.”

You gasped softly, wide-eyed, frozen beneath the weight of his stare. But before you could form another word, Jay couldn’t wait anymore. His lips crashed into yours, desperate and unrelenting. It wasn’t a kiss meant to be sweet or careful—it was starving, as if he was finally taking something he’d been denied for far too long.

His other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, crushing you against him as he groaned into your mouth, the sound guttural, like he’d been holding it in for years.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath, your hands instinctively clutching at his shirt as his grip on your neck tightened—not to hurt, but to keep you there, to feel you.

His lips moved hungrily against yours, consuming, devouring, as if this kiss could erase everything else.

The blood on his hands smeared against your skin, staining you, marking you as his. And that thought—oh, that thought—made Jay shudder.

Finally, finally, you were his.

His lips moved to brush against your ear as he whispered, his voice heavy with desire. “You’ll never have to worry again, do you understand?”

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. His hand, still resting on your neck, felt like a constant reminder of how much he owned this moment. How much he owned you.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat, overwhelmed by his presence, and the weight of everything that had just happened.

And Jay noticed.

A flicker of understanding crossed his face, and his lips curled into a grin. “I know you’re shocked,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur. “I know. But you don’t have to be. Not anymore.” His thumb brushed over your lips, tracing the curve, as if memorizing every part of you. There was no room for doubt anymore. This was what he’d been working for. What he’d needed to do to make you his.

The thought of you, fully his, made him tremble.

And there was nothing left but the need to keep you close, to never let you go.

Jay gently pulled you back, guiding you until your back met the wall behind you. His lips found yours again—feverish, desperate. The kiss was a claim, a mark, an ownership. He wanted to feel you beneath him, to know that no one else would ever get to see you like this. His kiss deepened, growing rougher, more demanding, as though he could pour every dark thought and overwhelming need into you.

Jay wanted more.

No—he needed more.

The thought of anyone else seeing you like this, touching you, even looking at you—it made his grip tighten, made his breath grow heavier.

His mouth trailed down, kissing along your jaw, to the soft skin just below your ear. He lingered there, lips brushing your pulse, his teeth grazed your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. That sound—your gasp—ignited something in him.

He wanted to burn himself into you.

To make sure you would never forget.

Jay’s lips crashed back onto yours, fiercer, deeper, as if he could devour every breath you took.

“Mine,” he growled against your mouth, his voice low and rough. His hands were everywhere—one gripping your waist so tightly it almost hurt, the other wrapped firmly around your throat. “Baby…” he murmured between kisses, lips barely pulling away before claiming you again.

You gasped, trying to pull back, your hands pressing against his chest. “Jay—”

But his grip on your throat tightened, holding you in place as he swallowed your protest with another bruising kiss. “Shh, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice dripping with hunger. “Don’t say my name like that. Makes me crazy.” His lips dragged along your jaw, down to your neck, where he bit down—not too hard, but hard enough to make you whimper. “Good girl,” he breathed, lips curling into a dark smile against your skin.

You squirmed slightly, your hands trembling as they gripped his arms. “Jay...please—”

“Oh, princess, now you beg?” he chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hand still cradled your throat, his thumb brushing along your pulse. “You’re not going anywhere.” Then his mouth was on yours again, more desperate, more claiming. “My sweet girl,” he mumbled.

You tried to turn your head, tried to catch your breath, but Jay wouldn’t let you. His grip on your throat kept you exactly where he wanted you.“Don’t pull away,” he groaned, biting your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue.

“You belong here. With me.”

Another kiss.

“You understand that, don’t you, baby?” His hand flexed on your throat, a silent warning. His breath was ragged, lips swollen, eyes dark with obsession.

Jay wasn’t asking this time.

He was demanding.

And he wasn’t going to stop until you gave him what he wanted.

Until you surrendered.

Your breath hitched, eyes wide as Jay’s grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your pulse race. His thumb stroked your skin slowly, in stark contrast to the desperate, punishing kisses he pressed against your lips.

“Say it,” he murmured again, lips ghosting over yours. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You swallowed hard, the words tangled in your throat. “I`m—”

That was all you managed before his hand flexed. “No, baby,” he rasped, his tone unyielding. “Not like that.” His teeth grazed your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. “Say it like you mean it,” he whispered against your mouth. “Tell me you belong to me like you mean it.” Jay’s breath turned ragged, his grip trembling slightly as if even he was starting to lose control. "Please," he whispered, the word barely audible but heavy with desperation. His thumb brushed over your pulse point, feeling it quicken under his touch. "I need to hear it. Need you to say it."

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. The hesitation in your eyes made something in him crack.

"Baby," he breathed out shakily. "You're mine. Mine. I'll say it a thousand times, scream it until my throat bleeds if I have to." His voice was hoarse and strained. "But I need you to say it back. Just once. Please."

His lips ghosted over yours, softer now, but his hands trembled where they held you. "Tell me you belong to me. Tell me before I lose my mind." His lips pressed desperately against your jaw, your cheek, your lips—frantic, as if trying to draw the words from you. "I can't—" he choked, pulling back just enough to search your eyes. "I can't breathe without you. Just say it, baby. Please."

"Say you're mine."

Every time you tried to pull away, tried to catch your breath, Jay wouldn’t allow it. His grip on your throat anchored you, holding you exactly where he wanted you—his. “Come on, princess,” he murmured. “You know it’s true. You’ve always been mine.”

His lips brushed over your cheek, down to your ear.

“Mine to protect.”

Another kiss, softer this time.

“Mine to touch.”

His hand squeezed your hip, dragging you impossibly closer.

“Mine to love.”

The way he said it—love—sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was dark, consuming.

You felt breathless, overwhelmed.

And yet… you didn’t speak.

Jay leaned back just enough to meet your eyes, his own burning with need. “I won’t ask again, baby,” he murmured, voice like velvet over steel. His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, smearing blood along your skin.

“Say it.”

And in that suffocating silence, with his grip steady and his eyes locked on yours, you knew you had no choice.

Not when he was looking at you like that.

Like he would burn the world down if you didn’t.

Your breath trembled, your mind spinning. Jay’s hand on your throat was firm, his body pressed so tightly against yours that there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Say it.

His words echoed in your head, each one heavier than the last. And somehow, despite the fear, despite the chaos in your chest, your lips parted. “I…” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Jay’s grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make your pulse quicken. “Louder, sweetheart.” His voice was a low growl, his lips brushing against yours. “Say it so I know it’s real.”

Your chest heaved, and for a brief second, your gaze flickered to the dark stain on the floor behind him. The body. The blood.

But then Jay’s hand shifted, his thumb stroking along your jaw, pulling your attention back to him.

To the man who had done all of this for you.

To the man who would do it again.

And something inside you cracked.

“I’m yours,” you breathed.

Jay froze.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence between you.

Then, slowly, his lips pulled into a wicked, satisfied smile.

“That’s my girl.”

Before you could take another breath, his mouth was on yours again, brutal and hungry. His hand tightened in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss, his other hand still warm and solid around your throat.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” he muttered between kisses, voice rough and uneven. “Hearing you say it…fuck...” He kissed you again, harsher this time, as if the words you spoke had completely undone him.

Jay was losing control, and he didn’t care.

Because now you were his.

Completely.

Irrevocably.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, making sure you felt every inch of his need. “Say it again,” he demanded, his lips brushing over your cheek, down to your neck. His teeth scraped against your skin, sending a shiver through you.

“Jay—”

He growled at the sound of his name, his hand around your throat flexing.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

Jay let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he laughed—low, dark, and completely unhinged.

“That’s right, baby,” he whispered, “you’re mine.” His breath grew heavier, ragged against your skin.

Being this close—feeling you against him, hearing you say you were his—shattered whatever thread of control he had left.

His mind spiraled, drowning in the intoxicating thought that you belonged to him.

Only him.

His mouth smashed against yours again, bruising and desperate, like he was trying to crawl inside you, to erase any space that could ever exist between you.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

Jay broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, his hands roaming everywhere—gripping, pulling, needing. His lips found your jaw, your neck, biting and kissing until your skin bloomed with marks.

“You don’t understand what you do to me,” he growled, his teeth scraping along your throat. “I can’t think when I’m around you. I can’t fucking breathe without wanting to touch you.”

His hands gripped the fabric of your clothes so tightly they shook, like he might rip them off just to feel more of you. “Fuck, baby…” His voice cracked, breath ragged. “I need you. Right now.”

His mouth found yours again, messier this time, all teeth and tongue and need.

You whimpered, trying to turn your head, overwhelmed by how hard he was pressing you into the wall.

But Jay wasn’t having it.

His hand shot up, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back to meet his lips again. “Don’t pull away from me.” His voice was a warning, but there was something desperate beneath it. “You said you’re mine.”

He kissed you harder, punishing, needy.

“So act like it.”

His hand slid under your shirt, rough and fast, gripping your skin like he could mold you into him, his mind spinning with every sound you made, every shiver he felt under his hands.

And it still wasn’t enough.

“I want to ruin you for anyone else.”

“I want them to look at you and know they’ll never fucking have you.”

His grip on your waist tightened, his breathing quick and shallow.

“Because you’re mine.”

Jay’s lips crashed into yours again, wild and unrelenting, his hands gripping you like he’d fall apart if he let go.

And in that moment, you realized—

There was nothing left of Jay’s control.

Only you.

Only this.

And he would burn everything down to keep it.

...and the twisted part? You didn’t feel guilty. Not even a little.

The memory of that night lingered like smoke in the back of your mind, heavy and intoxicating. Jay’s wild energy, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world—sent a shiver down your spine every time you thought about it.

The office had grown quieter since then. People whispered about the sudden disappearance of your colleague, speculating everything from a sudden transfer to something more sinister. You kept your head down, your lips sealed, and Jay? Jay acted like nothing had ever happened, except when it came to you.

You felt him everywhere. His gaze burned into you during meetings, his hand brushed yours at the coffee machine, his voice low and dangerous when he spoke your name. It was suffocating and addictive all at once.

“You’re distracted,” Jay murmured one afternoon, his voice startling you. He was leaning against your desk, his tie slightly loosened, looking every bit like the confident, composed professional everyone thought he was. But his eyes—they told a different story. They always did.

“I’m just tired,” you lied, trying to focus on your computer screen, though the heat of his presence made it impossible.

“Liar.” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it. He leaned closer, his fingers trailing along the edge of your desk. “You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. He didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t need one. Jay was good at reading you, too good.

“You should come by my place tonight,” he said casually, like he was suggesting something as mundane as grabbing a coffee. But there was nothing casual about the way his fingers brushed your wrist, the way his tone promised so much more than just conversation.

“Why?” you managed to ask, your voice steadier than you thought possible.

“Because,” he said, his lips curling into that devilish smirk that always sent your thoughts spiraling, “I like having you close. And you like it too, don’t you?”

There it was—Jay’s true colors, bold and unapologetic. He was dangerous, unrelenting, and completely unhinged. And yet, you couldn’t say no.

Because deep down, a part of you liked it. Maybe even loved it.

That night, you found yourself outside Jay’s apartment door, your heart pounding harder than you’d ever admit. You hadn’t even fully decided to come until your legs had taken you here on autopilot. Something about the way he consumed you, mind and soul, left no room for logical thought.

Before you could knock, the door swung open. Jay stood there, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a sliver of his chest, his hair slightly disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it.

“You’re late,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“You didn’t give me a time,” you shot back, feigning confidence you didn’t really feel.

He chuckled low, a sound that made your stomach flip. “Touché. Come in.”

You stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind you, the sound feeling heavier than it should have. His place was exactly what you expected—sleek, modern, and meticulously clean, but somehow it still felt like him. The air was warm, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered everywhere, pulling you further under his spell.

“Drink?” he offered, already heading toward the kitchen.

“No, I’m good,” you replied, shifting awkwardly on your feet.

He returned moments later, empty-handed, but his eyes were locked on you like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re tense,” he observed, closing the space between you in a few long strides.

“I wonder why,” you said sarcastically, though your voice wavered.

Jay tilted his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “What? Are you scared?”

Your breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers ghosting over your jaw before tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to be,” he murmured, his voice soft. “I’d never hurt you.”

The way he said it, so certain and sincere, made your chest ache. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. Jay would never hurt you, no. But the lengths he’d go to for you? Those would destroy everything—and everyone—in his path.

“I should go,” you said, the words barely audible, even to yourself.

“But you won’t.” His hands were on your waist now, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating off him. “Because you don’t want to.”

He was right. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to run. You wanted him, in all his terrifying, obsessive glory.

“Jay—”

“Shh.” He silenced you with a kiss, his lips rough and demanding, stealing whatever protests you thought you had. His hands gripped you tighter, his body pressing yours against the wall as if he couldn’t stand even a fraction of space between you.

You let yourself melt into him, into the chaos and the fire. Because with Jay, that’s all there ever was—chaos and fire.

And, God help you, you craved it.

Jay’s kisses grew wilder, more desperate, like he was a man starved, and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. His grip on your waist tightened, almost bruising, and his body pressed you harder against the wall, leaving no room to breathe—not that you cared.

“It’s been too long,” he rasped against your lips, his voice raw with need. His hands roamed over you, searing through the fabric of your clothes. “So beautiful...”

Your response came out as a broken gasp when his teeth grazed your neck, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you arch into him, and his low growl sent shivers down your spine.

“Jay—” you managed to choke out, your hands clinging to his shoulders for balance as his lips trailed down your neck to your collarbone.

“I can’t stop,” he confessed, his voice strained like he was losing a battle with himself. “Not when it’s you. Never when it’s you.”

His words ignited something deep inside you, both fear and exhilaration that only Jay could elicit. He lifted you effortlessly as he carried you toward the couch, his eyes never leaving yours.

He laid you down gently, hovering over you, his hands braced on either side of your head, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “You don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his weight pressing you into the cushions, his lips trailing a path down your jawline.

“It’s been too long since I could touch you like this,” he murmured, his voice rough and shaky. “Too long since I could feel you, taste you, claim you.”

Your heart raced, and you couldn’t help the way your body responded to him, arching into his touch. His hand slid under your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours making you shiver.

“Say you want this,” he demanded, his voice low but commanding. “Say you want me.”

“I do,” you whispered, the words barely audible but enough to send a dark smile curling his lips.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he growled, and then he was kissing you again, harder, deeper, as if he was trying to consume every part of you.

And you let him, because in that moment, Jay was everything—your fire, your chaos, your undoing.

a/n: Happy birthday bayyy! Hope today goes amazing for you! Love yaaa <333

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(@miuwonis @stormy1408)

[igglemouse]

authors note: ignore the day, it's wednesday!

It's me again! Yep, still very pregnant and like usual craving pancakes as if my life depends on the. They are a good way to start a Wednesday morning, I guess they are a good way to start any morning. Stacked fluffy syrupy goodness!

As for my past well, life is all about moving forward, right? So let's do that. Not talking about my past and no dragging up my history with former and now very dead drug lords. Whatever happened in Selva stays in Selva and that's where I'd like to leave it.

Oh, you want to know if I feel guilty about it? Of course not. It was either me or him and as far as I'm concerned I've saved so many lives by eliminating that man from humanity. The world is better for it. Still...the blood...

"Wow, you are...scowling?" I remark in a somewhat tentative tone. It's rare to see Pascal's face twisted like this. Furrowed brows, dark eyes fixed on the plate as if it had wronged him, and without a word he's stuffing my glorious pancakes into his mouth. Not even savoring how perfectly made they were. It feels like he's just here to eat and nothing else but I can't help but ask; "Everything okay?"

His jaw tightens on a mouthful of food and I can see his adams apple drop as he swallows it as if he's a snake, ready to strike. "Did you see what they were saying about me last night?"

I blink. Of course I did not. As you know I do not follow fútbol. So I give my head a little shake. "No?"

This man kicks a ball for a living and I still do not get it. The world cares so much on every pass, every kick, every tackle, every card, and for me it is just a game. One he's going to make a lot of simoleons playing yet still. At least it brings me to the present and away from my past.

"On social media they-" he starts, still pissed, but I aim to cut him off before he gets going.

"Mi querido, you really can't worry about what others are saying about you, random people. Most of those guys probably wish they were you. None of it is true-"

"If you saw my recent games maybe you'd know some of it is true," after that he goes quiet and clearly wants the conversation to end so it does.

Since moving in with Pascal I've learned that when he is in a bad mood the best thing I can do is give him space and let him be. He likes to stew or better yet, he likes to work out his anger. Which is exactly what he does after breakfast but this time he's juggling the ball instead of taking it out on the now overused treadmill.

I spend some time cleaning the place since it's getting a little dirty and dusty and I do refuse to live in a dirty place!

So you could say my day was off to a so-so start. Nothing terrible but nothing amazing either. I expected the rest of the day to move along as usual and basically just be a buffer before the big day comes. You know, delivery day.

Unfortunately, it was not going to be a great day because the moment I opened my mailbox there was a letter addressed to me and letting me know that since I do not have a permit to operate my food stand in the park that I could no longer do so.

That's odd. It was pretty visible and no one stopped me then but I think we all know what this is about and who is behind this. Not sure there is much I can do. I could get a permit and open it back up but I really don't need this right now so consider the matter tabled.

But the day continues on, like it always does, indifferent to how I'm feeling and I'm feeling very hungry of course. I'm happy to dive into more pancakes and another meal as my mind is restless. Thinking and planning and worrying. She's close, I can feel it, she's just as restless, likely planning her own escape and I hope and pray to the watcher that she's ready for the world.

Across the table there is Pascal. Firmly seated and glued to his computer and his fingers tip tapping quickly on the keyboard. It sounds like he's replying and likely to a troll. I hope not. Word of advice, trolls live under the bridge and their entire goal is to stop you from crossing it. They are stuck there, under the bridge, hoping that you stop long enough so they can pull you off your path.

I scoot over to him, grabbing his attention with just my presence but his eyes are still locked on the screen so I clear my throat to take all of his attention. Once I have it I tell him about the situation with my food stand, the bad news and the uncertainty of what I will do moving forward. I'm thankful I have him because if I were still living alone I'd be in deep trouble. His response to it all is a little concerning.

"You're going to be a mother right?" He says, as if that just explains it. As if the rest of my life is so obvious now. "I doubt you'd have time for that thing any ways."

I am blinking at him and sitting up a little straighter and doing my best to take in what he's just said to me. "Time? It's not just 'that thing' to me, it's my passion!" Oh, my voice wavers a little, so I have to stop to make sure this doesn't turn into an argument. "Y-yes, you're right, I'll be a mama first, always, but that doesn't mean I can't do other things too."

Now it is his turn to look surprised, as if he would never suggest such a thing although he literally just did. "Oh, Frida, I didn't mean it like that," and for a moment I believe him to be innocent.

"Yeah," I begin again. Softer now, forgiving what I hope to be a slip up. "It's just...I was really enjoying it! It was mines. It was a testament to my drive and..." I stop and think about it. I could bring it back. Maybe one day I will but perhaps this is a sign too? "I think I'll start a SimTube channel. Martin can't take that away from me and-"

Pascal raises a brow and I realize this might be the first time he's heard of this plan of mine. "Oh? Why is that? Wouldn't that also take a lot of your time?" His tone isn't harsh or anything but the words still worry me. What is trying to say here?

"Y-yes," I stammer, quietly wondering if the question is innocent or if it should concern me. "But again, I don't want to be just a mother, you know? I still want to advance my career, my culinary career, you know?" I ask hoping he understands, giving him another chance.

"I just don't get it," he says but there is a soft edge to his tone now. This is something I didn't expect. Maybe the trolls have him frustrated? "I'm going to sign a new and bigger contract soon so you really don't have to work at all."

I think my heart skips a beat. He did just say that, right? Younger me wouldn't have had an issue with it. Oh no, not at all. The idea of some professional athlete picking me up off the streets and providing everything for me sounds nice. Sounds perfect. Oh and by younger me I mean me a year ago. Now? Well, now I know I can survive by myself. I appreciate he's going to be rich some day but still I want to me more than just his sidekick.

"Oh?" so my reply starts off snappy. "And what will I do with all that time?"

"I dunno?" he mutters in such a nonchalant way that it kind of ticks me off. "I just hear being a mom is a full time job so why have two? Just a suggestion, that's all."

But no, that's not all. I don't like his attitude towards this and so instead of letting the conversation get dropped I pick it up. "So you just want me here taking care of your children and home or-"

"Well Frida," Pascal is not bothered by my annoyed tone at all. "I'm going to be a world class athlete. Seems like its a privilege I'm offering," I'm about to say something because that feels almost like an insult to me. "It's not like that, I promise. Just saying! I think your first priority should be to our child and then the culinary stuff comes after, right?"

"Yeah..." I say glaring at him because he's right. A mother's first priority should be to her child, that is true, but isn't it true for the father as well? "I'm going to start a Simtube channel," I say with some determination.

He shrugs and smiles as if it makes no difference to him.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. That red flag is so big that it could cover a field but...it's just words, in the end, and no one is perfect.

I'm going to have this baby soon, VERY soon, and I'm driven to give her something I've never had. A family.

Frida Varela Index ~ Episode 8.3

[bardoftheshire]

Obsessed With You || Chapter III

Dano! Riddler x Cop! Reader

< Previous Chapter

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

You groan, lazily trying to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock but when you fail to do so, I get up and unplug it.

"Shit, I fell asleep doing my reports again." You look at your computer and notepad laying on your bed.

You'd just have to hope that your report is automatically saved so you won't have to rewrite it again.

You walk out of your room, into the small kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee. The apartment you were staying in was small and dirty, only a few lights and outlets worked and the sbathroom sink tap water was occasionally rusty. The porcelain bathtub in the restroom was broken most likely by previous tenants, leaving you with having to shower at the gym right across from the station. You had talked to the front about it yet they refuse to fix it.

You know how it is in Gotham.

'I don't have time to eat breakfast or shower today, it's fine they always have some sort of food over there, I can grab it before patrol.' You think to yourself, grabbing your keys and locking the door before you realize you forgot to put on your uniform. You were already late so this isn't helping. Shit.

You snap out of your complaining in your head once the coffee machine beeps, take a mug from your dish rack and grab an energy drink from your fridge, closing the door with a squeak.

You pour the coffee into the mug, the energy drink afterward, and take a big gulp of the piping-hot liquid.

--------------------------------------

After forgetting to grab your radio on the way out of the apartment, you park your unit, grab your computer and envelopes filled with finished case reports, shut your car door, and enter the depressing building.

"Officer L/n, you're late." A poison-laced voice coming from across the room speaks.

"I'm terribly sorry commander, I have no excuse other than waking late and forgetting my radio," I admit truthfully.

"Just don't be late next time officer L/n. Do you at least have those case reports I gave you done?" Gordon says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I do lieutenant, Gordon." You say, handing the envelopes to Gordon nervously.

"Y'know kid, you remind me of someone we had here. He worked in forensics, real genius, was quite skittish, and kept to himself, we unfortunately had to let him go due to... Uh, certain problems with him though. A real shame, you two would've gotten along real well." Gordon says as he takes a look at the manila envelopes.

You couldn't tell if what he had just told me was good or bad. 'Real genius..' You think to yourself as I recall his words, 'Quite skittish and kept to himself..' Maybe it's both considering what he said.

"...Hey L/n, were you out looking for that Riddler guy again. One of the guys told me that he saw you in an area that wasn't yours during your shift."

'Shit... What if they've been following me and what if they've found him?'

"Officer L/n, how about we talk about this in my office," Gordon says, walking me to his cluttered office and sitting down at his desk.

"U-uh, well yes... B-but I promise you, lieutenant I won't go looking for him again, It's just that.. I mean, well our guys working on his case aren't doing much and haven't made any progress at all, If I were still working on his case he would have already been found and locked up. I'm one of the best officers you have, you know that lieutenant! Shit, if I were to be a detective rather than working graveyard shifts as a cop do you know how many other cases I could solve?" You get flustered and frustrated as you say this.

All the other officers looked at you, whispering and snickering.

"L/n, I took you off of the case because it was making you mad and it was affecting you overall. You would spend even your days off looking for the bastard, for fucks sake Y/n you didn't sleep for days or even eat because of the bastard! And I wasn't going to risk losing one of my best officers because they got caught up looking for him. What if he found out how close you were getting to finding him and killed you?" Gordon shouted, a pained look in his eyes.

It always smelt of ink, black coffee, and paper in there. Not the smell that printer ink has when it has made a copy or document of something but the smell of ink that you use for those fountain pens, he was an old-fashioned kind of guy that didn't like using the modern stuff.

You could hear the humming of the fluorescent lights and the muffled sound of clacking keys from outside his closed office, but it had an odd sort of comfort with it.

He was right though. I mean, if Edward had figured out that you knew who he really was and that you even knew his residence, he could find and kill you. But also quite frankly, you could just tell Gordon who he really is right now if you had felt like it. 

"L/n, I'll give you back the case but you have to really promise that you'll try to take better care of yourself while working on this case okay? Don't try and sacrifice your own well-being to catch this lunatic, he's making a bad and very large impact on Gotham right now but he's really not worth it."

'Oh... Oh yes, he is...'

"Of course Gordon, I promise I'll try to find this bastard, but I will also promise to not lose too much sleep on this case too. I won't let you down." You say, grabbing the case file from his hand.

"I know you've got this L/N, you're one of the best officers we've got here at the GCPD, it'd be a shame to lose you."

'God, I'm insufferable...'

'Jeez, I hate that I'm lying to Gordon like this... He's a great lieutenant and he's genuinely concerned for me, and I'm here lying right to his face. He wouldn't have lost the commissioner if I would've just told him who Edward was.'

Who's side were you even on? Are you just as corrupted as Mitchell and Pete were? Your supposed to do my duty, yoy even swore to it, so why are you breaking the code?

You thank Gordon once more for giving back the case and walk outside to go back to your unit, opening the case file and reading over it for the millionth time since getting it.

You shake your thoughts away and turn on the unit, deciding to go to the little corner diner that Edward is always at.

'He kills corrupt cops you know.. What you're doing, covering up for him like this, thats you not doing your job and being just as bad as Savage.' You think to yourself. 'But I mean, if he kills me then he knows about me. Oh man, think about that. The Riddler himself knowing that much about me to know about that, that would mean he has to spy on me, see every move I make to really know. Wow...'

You can just already imagine him. Working in his notebook slumped over as usual, slice of pumpkin pie and cup of coffee in front of him as he sits in the same chair he's always at, stopping to think for a minute and then continuing.

God..

[devil-doll13]

How my OCs would comfort you HCs

Inspired by @myers-meadow from our server <3 hope you feel better my beet

This Includes: Abigail, Max, Zach, Jude, Ciarán, Adam & Apollo

Abigail isn’t great at comfort (she can barely hold herself together let alone you) but her first instinct is to give you a bit of space, maybe discreetly watch you to see if there’s anything that can be sorted right away. Then, her next step is fixing you a drink she knows you like. Will perch awkwardly on a chair and just silently stare at u like a cat. She’s trying to tell you it’s ok to talk to her. Abigail can be gentle with you if you need physical comfort though it can come across a little like this tbh

Max is about to dash across the room and immediately scoop you up in a big bear hug like!!! Oh no what’s wrong!!! He’ll back off quick if this overwhelms you, he’s just anxious and wants to help you feel better. Up to do whatever you want. A ride on his motorcycle? He’s already revving her up. Wanna just sit and watch a movie/show? Max will go get the snacks and drinks right now. He’s the kinda guy to try and distract you from your problems for a bit. He doesn’t like it when his little friend is down.

Zach better shut his damn mouth bc he’s terrible for sticking his foot in it. He’s not as good when it comes to verbally comforting you. Will cook you something good to eat if that helps, thinking he’s a master chef and all. He jingles his car keys for you to tell you he’ll drive you around for a bit, maybe go sightseeing, maybe cause some chaos depending on how you feel. Might end up getting you drunk and/or laid because that’s always what he does when he’s in a mood.

Jude panics a lil especially if she walks in on you crying and she feels really bad if she embarrasses you like that. Gets you smth sweet to eat and/or drink like honeyed tea hoping the sugar will perk you up a bit. One of the few people here who can talk it through with you well enough. Will rant together with you if you need a sense of unity even if she has no idea what you’re talking about. If it’s anything like injustice or you being mistreated though, her anger becomes genuine and she might try to fix the situation herself, maybe enlisting Zach.

Ciarán unfortunately can’t use words to comfort you so he settles for actions instead, being tender and gentle with you. He’ll take you out for a ride if that helps get your head cleared up a bit - Gormlaith also senses your mood and fusses over you - the wind in your face may wash away all concerns if you find it soothing. He also likes to care for your hair, brushing it and braiding it if he is able. It’s a rather intimate act for Fae, so Ciarán hopes you can feel comforted by it.

Adam will listen to your worries without judgement, and it’s at these times you appreciate his patience. He’s so easygoing that being in his presence might calm you down from any heightened emotions you were feeling before. Or maybe it’s the pheromones he’ll conjure up your favourite flowers if that helps. It’s nice to be in a natural environment, with the fresh air in you lungs. If you want, I think he’d be happy to lend you something to get stoned/high with as well. That depends on you though.

Bonus: Apollo will make soothing booping noises and play you your favourite music on his speakers. Sorry he’s a computer AI he can’t do much.

[babyboibucky]

Salt, Sugar and Viruses

Pairing: Office!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’ve been secretly making coffee for Bucky at the office.

Word Count: 1,962

Warnings: Two idiots just doing idiot things

A/N: This was done in a haste so I kinda hate it lol but I can’t get this story out of my head and thanks to @bitchassbucky for pushing me to write a full fic of this 🥰 luv u 🥺

MAIN MASTERLIST

"You have a crush on Barnes' grumpy ass?!" Sam choked out.

You angrily hushed him and frantically looked around the pantry to make sure that your secret was still safe. Fortunately, only you, Sam and Nat were inside having your respective afternoon breaks.

"What? He's nice. And cute." you told Sam as you stirred your coffee, smiling to yourself at the thought of your office crush, Bucky.

"How'd you even meet him, he works all the way at the IT department." Sam asked.

Nat snorted recalling the encounters she witnessed for the past few months. Some of which were unintentional but most of them? You had carefully planned out just so you could come up with an excuse to request for Bucky's assistance.

"She might have gotten viruses in her computer once...or twice. Or thrice." Nat teased.

The first time you met Bucky was when most of your files suddenly got corrupted. It was hella embarrassing because you didn't know shit about how computers worked and well, you've been illegally downloading torrents since the office's internet connection was a gift from the internet gods. Without a doubt, your computer was a nest for viruses.

Bucky showed up in your floor that morning and you almost sunk into your seat from shame. You'd heard the IT Department complain about everybody else in the office messing up their computer systems. When you turned around, Bucky greeted you with a charming smile and soft hello. You could still remember how he felt when he stayed behind you as you sat on your chair, bending over to take your mouse in his hand.

God, he smelled so good you almost turned your head to nuzzle your face into his neck.

He was very soft-spoken you realized; Bucky was kind enough to walk you through the process and to be honest, you couldn't recall a damn thing he said. Something about firewalls? And shields? Whatever, you didn't really listen. You just stared at Bucky as he explained everything, solving your problem in less than fifteen minutes.

Since then, your crush for Bucky grew bigger. You'd entered the elevator together a couple of times, shared small conversations that made your heart flutter. When those little moments didn't seem enough, you started your devious plan to fuck up your computer a bit. By the third time Bucky fixed your computer, he was already comfortable enough to tease you for being a "virus magnet".

"Hello? Young lady, come back to earth." Sam snapped his finger right in front of your face, interrupting your thoughts.

You clicked your tongue at him and swatted his hand away. "If you ever tell this to anyone, Wilson. You are dead." you warned, poinitng a finger at him.

Sam rolled his eyes, "It's so unfair how he's kind to you. Last time I requested for his assistance he got all smug and grumpy at me." he complained.

Nat shook her head in amusment, "That's because you've been downloading porn. You know the IT department can access our browser histories, right?"

You choked on your coffe, "WHAT?!"

Nat narrowed her eyes at you, "You been up to no good for you to react like that?"

You faceplamed, "I've been stalking his Facebook account."

Sam chortled, "What are you, in high school? Jesus, calm down. You're gonna be fine. Why don't you just tell him you like him?"

You made a face, "I'm not Nat to have the guts to do that."

Nat hummed, bringing her mug to the sink to wash it. "Why don't you start by making him coffee?"

"I don't know how he likes his coffee."

You received a pointed look from both your friends. You groaned in defeat, "Okay, fine. I know how Bucky likes his coffee."

Nat smirked, "Stalker."

-

Bucky always arrived in the office half an hour before nine in the morning. This gives him time to settle into his cubicle, buy a sandwich at the stall downstairs and to make himself a cup of coffee. It was his daily routine and upon going back to his desk after buying his breakfast sandwich, Bucky was surprised to see a cup of newly brewed coffee on his desk.

He looked around but there were no signs of anyone. There wasn't even a note of some sort. Carefully, he brought the cup to his face and inhaled its scent. Shrugging, he took a tiny sip.

-

"How's the little secret admirer doing?" Nat asked, grabbing a chair and sitting down beside you.

You deadpanned, "I've been leaving him his coffee for an entire week now and nothing's happened yet."

Nat frowned, "Are you kidding me? Why would you expect for something to happen when you haven't been leaving any clues?" she said.

"I'm shy, okay?! Maybe I should hide somewhere, check for his reaction. See whether I have a chance." you shrugged.

It was stupid of you to leave the coffee on Bucky's desk. You never stayed to wait for him. You just left it there without a note or anything that would even give him a clue about you and your little crush on him. You knew the reason why, of course. You were afraid of rejection. Sometimes, you'd feel like you have a chance with him since he was always so kind and warm to you. Not to mention, everyone in the office knows him to be grumpy but around you, he was totally the opposite of that.

But then again, maybe he was just nice to you because you were nice to him too.

-

One morning after leaving Bucky his coffee, you finally decided to leave him a note. You ran back to your cubicle to get a post-it and a pen. Before you could even walk around your desk, you spotted Bucky headed over to the pantry, the cup of coffee in his hand.

"Fuck, okay. Maybe I should just directly ask him out?" you thought to yourself.

You quickly followed Bucky into the pantry and almost whined when you saw that Sam was inside as well. You widened your eyes at him, signalling for him to leave but Sam was preoccupied on observing Bucky who seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Rough morning?" Sam just had to ask as you awkwardly stood by the doorway, finding the right timing to butt in.

Bucky's forehead creased as he let out a huff, "Rough weeks, actually." he answered.

You opened your mouth to say something comforting, wanting to lift Bucky's spirits up but he turned around and glanced at you and then back to Sam.

"Does anyone hate me in this office?" Bucky asked.

You and Sam exchanged looks, both of utter confusion before shaking your heads in unison. "Why'd you ask?" Sam asked.

Bucky lifted the cup of coffee that you made, "Someone's been making me coffee." he stated.

You cleared your throat, "...is it bad?" you asked.

Bucky made a face, "Terrible actually."

Ouch.

"I mean, the first time I saw it I was actually flattered. And then I took a sip and it's just...salty." Bucky said, pouring the coffee into the sink before throwing it into the bin.

Sam's head snapped towards your direction, his face almost red from biting back a laugh. Your face heated up at the realization that you've been putting salt into Bucky's coffee instead of sugar. All this time. You wanted to disappear right then and there. And Sam had to be the one to witness your huge failure.

"I thought it was a mistake since the next day, there was another coffee on my desk. I tried it out and it's still salty. It lasted a week, you guys. And I was dumb enough to keep on tasting it in hopes that it might have been a genuine mistake. But now I'm starting to think that someone hates me that much to fuck my coffee up." Bucky explained, face scrunched up into a mixture of irritation and curiosity.

Sam failed to stifle his laughter and exploded, "Funniest shit I've ever heard." he told Bucky before standing up and making his way to the door where you stood.

Your face was red and if the salt and sugar mishap was already humiliating enough, Sam decided to make things even worse for you.

"You really need to check the labels before pouring shit into his coffee." and with that, Sam gave your shoulder a squeeze before leaving the pantry.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself. When you opened them, Bucky was staring at you with an expression you couldn't paint.

"Did you...were you the one leaving me coffee?" he asked.

You secretly pinched yourself in the arm to check whether you were just dreaming. Fuck, you hoped you were having a nightmare but the pain that you felt made it clear that you totally fucked up.

You nodded in embarrassment.

"You hate me that much?" Bucky asked in disbelief, as if he was offended that out of all people, it had to be you.

You quickly shook your head, "No, God no! I just...it's because I..." you stammered, trying to find the courage to spit out the words you've been dying to tell Bucky.

Bucky tilted his head, "Because you...?" he urged.

Your hands balled into fists as you let out another deep breath. Bucky probably hates you right now, but whatever. This was your only chance and to hell, you were going to confess.

"Because I like you?"

You didn't think that Bucky's confused look could even turn more...well, confused. But he was looking at you incredulously as though you've grown a second head, or a third head.

"You like me so you decided to put salt in my coffee?" he asked again.

You honestly didn't know who sounded even more stupid now, you or Bucky. Because if he still didn't understand what was going on, he was dense as fuck.

"No!" you explained. "I wanted to make you a decent cup of coffee but I guess I was too careless and didn't realize that I've been putting in salt instead of sugar." you said.

Bucky didn't say anything after that. He just stared at you, but he didn't seem confused anymore. If any, he looked like he was processing the entire situation.

"You like me." he stated again.

Will your embarrassment ever end?!

"Yes, Bucky. And I messed up my chance and you know what? I'm just going to show myself out and leave you alone." you told him and forced a fake grin before attempting to walk out.

A hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back into the pantry. This time, Bucky was the one who looked embarrassed.

"I might have...done something pretty stupid too." he said, avoiding your gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You eyed him suspiciously, "What do you mean?"

"I uhh...I did something to your computer...the day before you requested for my assistance for the first time." Bucky admitted shyly.

It was your turn to get muddled at Bucky's confession. "But why?" you asked.

Bucky offered a shy smile, "Because I've been seeing you around the building and thought you were cute."

And then everything clicked. It was a light bulb moment for the both of you.

"Oh. Ohhh okay. I see." you said before suddenly breaking into laughter.

Bucky joined you and scratched his head, "I guess we're both idiots." he said, placing his hands inside his pockets as he stared at you.

"This went...way more interesting than I thought." you said with a nod.

There was a pause before you decided to speak up, "So, do you want coffee?"

Bucky beamed at you as he nodded, "As long as you'll use sugar this time."

-

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[nilolol30]

Endangered: 5

---------------------------

While Momo was trying to work on the computer I got Momo a drink it was oil? I think? Honestly Jacob just told me it's Momo's favorite so that's good enough thankfully Jacob also had a can opener and opened one of the cans for me this one was soup I'm not sure what kind it didn't say.

"Ah thanks human" Momo carefully took the cup from my hand.

"So umm any luck with your memory?"

"Ah still nothing I remember patches of things but nothing important it's like it's on the tip of my tongue" everytime I feel like I'm close to remembering something i suddenly take a U turn and I'm back at square one.

"I heard if you don't think about it the answer just appears I don't know I read that in a book"

"I think that maybe a good idea I don't want to give myself a headache" I take a sip of the soup... maybe I should have asked Jacob if he could microwave it for me.

After a few minutes Momo slammed his fist on the poor desk again...

"Oh ******* hell this stupid thing won't work!" Okay did not expect him to have a censor I rubbed his back.

"Hey why don't you take a break?" Momo seems to agree and chugs down his drink? I don't know anymore.

Soon Stray walked into the bar and walked over to me.

"Hello human, Momo me and Stray need help we need to repair this broken tracker" B-12 showed us the tracker and Momo studied it for only a second.

"What a beautiful object! And rare, too. I know a guy who fixes stuff like this. He's very talented, just...well you'll see. His name is Elliot. His office is just left of here near Grandma's shop there are signs all over his door" Jacob speaks up.

"Perfect I'll come with you guys" I jumped up from my chair the soup was already finished.

"Alright I'll be here of you guys get into trouble" Momo says giving us a thumbs up.

"Thanks just try not to abuse that poor table though" I give Momo a goodbye wave as I follow B-12 and Stray.

"Ah this is the door do you mind knocking for us human?" Nodding I gave the door three knocks the quickly opened and a companion moved to the side letting us in.

"You're here for Elliot? He's just over there" after pointing to the stairs the companion closed the door and sat down immediately falling asleep letting out these cute snores.

I turned around and already saw Stray steal some paper from the wall then meowed at me to follow them upstairs.

"You are very impatient" I mumble following the cats demands once upstairs I saw another companion sitting on a pillow Infront on many computers they seem to be shivering.

"Yes? Can I help you?" B-12 floated out and showed the tracker.

"Oh wow. That's a great tracker! I recognize this model it's a TOHIMA BR-2000. You can track anyone with this little gadget! May I?" B-12 placed the tracker in Elliot's hand.

"I know how to repair it, but when I'm trembling like this I can't use my keyboard. I don't know if I'm sick or something, but I don't feel right, I can't work when I'm shivering like this. I think I need a blanket to be able to fix your tracker" wow so companions can feel temperatures and get sick? Amazing!

"Oh where just in luck we just got this Poncho from grandma!" B-12 quickly dropped the poncho Infront of Elliot.

"Oh it's amazing! Let me try it on" Elliot quickly wrapped himself in the poncho obviously very much happier now.

"Look, no tremors! I'm able to work again thanks! Now I can definitely fix your Tracker! Let me take a look... just gotta give it an update and...one more thing...Voila! There you go, little one and...soft one? Goodluck finding who you are looking for" Elliot handed me the tracker.

"Wonderful let's go back to Seamus" Stray meowed in agreement and started leading the way as he usually does.

Seamus' door was wide open as he was sitting on the couch waiting I guess but he perks up seeing me and Stray walk in.

"Did you manage to fix that Tracker?"

"Yup Elliot fixed it up" I say handing it over to Seamus.

"He fixed it! Well done!" Seamus turned it on and pressed a few buttons and static can out of the tracker Seamus stood up quickly and I moved out the way.

"We got a ping! Is Papa really alive? I can't believe it! Let's follow the tracker. Maybe we'll find where my Papa went!" Seamus started walking out of the apartment as me and Stray follow close behind him.

Soon we were Infront of a metal door with a blue sign with a house on it with a big red X on the middle...that doesn't look good.

"This must be it. He really left the Slums it's dangerous out there but I must be sure. I need to know. Let's do this" Seamus adjusted his hat and started to open the door on the other side I could see those small yellow egg like things from before.

And moving flesh above? Oh my god I think I'm gonna be sick...

Stray being the bravest one here immediately jumped over through the door then Seamus motioned me to do the same walking under the moving flesh i could feel like throwing up but didn't? I can hear it move!

After Seamus walked through he closed the door and lead us to another gate.

"Look at all these Zurk eggs! They will eat us. I can't do this. Me and the Human are not as fast as you little one. The Zurks will get is for sure here , take this badge. My Papa will recognize it. He will know that you're a friend" hold on.

"Wait but-" I guess my objection was already known since B-12 flew out the little bag.

"Please human it is best for you to stay here you can't make these big risks remember you are the last human you must live out the rest of your life and carry on humanity" carry on humanity? I hate that this little drone keeps making good points.

I kneel down giving Stray a big hug to which they return by rubbing his face on my cheek.

"Don't worry Stray is the best at escaping zurks they are a pro!" B-12 reassured.

"I'll open the door for you" Seamus says while pressing a few buttons on the door lock after giving Stray a few kisses on the head I let them go.

"We will see you soon human!" B-12 says flying into the backpack Stray meowed and trotted down the stairs Seamus quickly closed the gate.

"Don't worry soft one I'm sure the little outsider will be okay" Seamus gave me a soft pat on the back.

"I know..." Just this is the second time the did a huge mission while I just sit and twiddle my thumbs I can't help but feel a little useless.

"Let's quickly get back into the safe zone I don't like it here" Seamus quickly rushed to the door.

"Agreed I don't think I can keep listening to the flesh wall without vomiting" I ran to follow Seamus through the door.

"I'll leave it unlocked we should stay here through" I leaned on the brick wall.

"Yeah sounds like a plan..." Now all I have to do is get rid of any memory of that fleshy wall thing...Seamus patted my back again.

"Thank you for getting the tracker fixed by the way sorry about the whole bar thing" Seamus laughed slightly scratching the side of his head.

"Ah no worries you have every reason to be upset and I agree...those zurks would definitely make a good meal out of me I must be a delicacy huh" I gave Seamus a nudge laughing he seemed to find it funny too.

"True looks like they probably have a taste of you now" he pointed to my bandage.

"Oh my god your right they probably spread rumors about me now!" I faked a gasp Seamus bent over laughing the other bots on the couch looked over in concern.

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (1/5)

part one of the The Better Love Series 

pairing: Javier Peña x fem reader

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 6.3k 

warnings: 18+ - drugs, violence, language, alcohol, eventual smut. 

a/n: at the end. @tiffdawg​, I finally did it.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Your alarm buzzes, and you roll over groggily. 

0615.

Goddamn. You flop a pillow over your head, blocking out the early morning sun, and wonder if three hours of sleep is any better than no sleep at all. 

Somehow, you kind of doubt it. 

The alarm blares again, a failsafe you’d been wise enough to set up after round two had led you to the shower. You gather your still-damp hair, wincing at how gross that feels, and elbow Peña in the shoulder. 

“Morning, sunshine!” You toss your soggy pillow onto his face. 

He grunts pathetically, cracks an eye just enough to send you a sliver of resentment, and lifts a middle finger vaguely in your direction. 

You’re completely unsympathetic. “Not my fault this time, Peña.” 

He curses you in Spanish as you flick on the lights on your way to the kitchen. Coffee is your first order of business. 

You’re not sure exactly when Agent Peña became a fixture in your apartment.  Oh, you can nail down the general timeline pretty well - a night out with the Search Bloc boys had ended with Peña coming to your place, and things had unfolded naturally from there. The sex was good. Very good. You’ve always had a high drive, and Peña is a man who can deliver. You’re pretty creative, and he’s fairly open minded, and neither of you seem to care to make things complicated with Labels and Conversations. Somewhere down the line, wild nights out evolved into even wilder nights in, and then, before you knew it, you’d let Peña borrow your spare key when he’d left his wallet on your coffee table. 

That had been at least two months ago. The sex is still good, and Peña is still leaving his shit everywhere, so neither of you bothered to say anything about it. 

It works. That’s all that matters.

You’ve just sat down with your drink in your hands as the doorbell buzzes. “What the fuck?” You glance at the kitchen clock. It’s not even 0630.

The doorbell buzzes again. 

You eyeball the gun that Peña has left lying on the kitchen counter. Nobody should be looking for you this early in the morning. 

“Hey!” Somebody is knocking now, and shouting, and ugh, you recognize that voice. You leave the gun where it is - somewhat reluctantly - and slam open the door with a ferocity that sends Steve Murphy stumbling into your kitchen. 

“Good morning,” you say serenely. 

“Good morning to you, too, Ears,” Murphy grimaces up at you. 

“That’s not my name,” you remind him for the thousandth time. Not that it will make any difference. Ever since you’d made the mistake of introducing yourself as Centra Spike’s new liaison by saying, “I’ll be your ears,” the Search Bloc boys had leapt at the opportunity to tease. You’re pretty sure most of them don’t realize that you have any other name. 

Somehow, it irks you more coming from Murphy. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask as politely as your temper allows. Murphy has never been your favorite person, and your caffeine definitely hasn’t kicked in yet.

Murphy rights himself, fixing you with a glare that doesn’t threaten in the slightest. “I’m looking for Javi,” he says. He has the audacity to glance around your tiny living space, as if he’d come with a search warrant.

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly aware of your too-thin nightshirt, and lift a brow in Murphy’s direction. “And what makes you think he’d be here?”

Murphy pins you with an ‘I see right through your bullshit’ expression. “Call it a hunch.” 

Right on cue, footsteps clatter down the kitchen stairs. Murphy smirks. You don’t bother to hide a sigh. 

Fuck. 

“What are you doing here?” Peña echoes you unconsciously. You try not to cringe at the smug glance Murphy throws your way.

 Instead, you turn to glare at Javi, and oh god. 

His shirt is buttoned all wrong, hanging lopsided and displaying half his chest, if he’d just given up at the top. 

Subtle.

Murphy apparently doesn’t have the stones to address it, because he waves a manilla folder in front of Peña’s face. “Special delivery,” he says, dropping the file on your coffee table with a smack. 

Peña dives for it, brow furrowed. Whatever he sees must be good, because he snaps his head up to stare at Murphy. “Where did you get these?” he asks, thumbing through the pages.

“My contact in Medellín.” Steve rests his hands on his belt ever so casually, as if daring Peña to question him. 

Peña does. “Since when do you have a contact in Medellín?” 

You wonder the same. Partners are usually aware of each other’s informants, unless it’s that kind of contact. Isn’t Murphy married?

“Not important.” Murphy shuts him down quickly. 

“Verdugo,” Peña breathes.

You shoot a questioning glance at Murphy.  In the three months you’ve been in Colombia, your Spanish is rapidly improving, but Murphy has been here longer, and some things are still beyond you. “Butcher,” he translates with a grimace. “Or executioner. One of Escobar’s top sicarios.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lovely.”

Peña glances up, surprised to hear you speak, as if he’d forgotten that he’s standing in your living room.

Murphy doesn’t acknowledge you. “He’s in Medellín, Javi.” He stretches, then makes for your front door. “I’m gonna turn in for a bit. Late night.” 

Peña grunts, settling on your sofa with the file as Murphy sees himself out. 

You sidle up behind him, curious.  He knows you’re there - your hair is falling over his shoulder and you’re doing nothing to stifle your breathing, but Peña’s only acknowledgement of your presence is to shift his body ever so slightly to the left, unspokenly granting you access to the file.

You bite your lip, pleased and a little unnerved at the implication. You suppose that Peña wouldn’t be Peña unless he’s breaking the rules. He certainly has a reputation for it.

It hits a little differently, though, knowing that he’s committing a felony just to satisfy your curiosity. And on your fucking sofa, too.

You shake the butterflies away. Peña is flipping through a series of grainy photos, each showcasing the same guy. Somebody, Murphy probably, has circled his face in red ink, and there are further notes in the margins, written hastily. Landmarks, you guess. Peña is reading too fast for you to decipher much, but you spot a map of what you assume is Medellín in the shuffle. It is similarly annotated with scrawling red ink.

Peña flips through the file once, and then again, slower. 

You brace yourself on on your forearms, glancing at the clock. You aren’t expected at the embassy until eight - you can afford to be patient. 

Whatever this is, it’s big.

Deciding you’ve gleaned all you can from the file, you turn your attention to Peña. He’s leaned forward on your sofa, arms on thighs, lost in thought. Every muscle is tensed, as if he could spring up at any moment, his gaze is narrowed, his brow furrowed in a way that tempts you to lick it. 

The thought startles you. You aren’t a goddamn animal.

Are you? Your mind drifts to Murphy, smirking with his arms folded in your kitchen like he could see through your nightshirt, right into your fucking brain. 

A stone sinks in your chest. Landing this position with Centra Spike had been your first big break in a lifetime of frustrations. You’d joined the army fresh out of school, angling to be an analyst with the special forces. The good ol’ U. S. of A. had gladly foot the bill for your education in exchange for you signing your life away, and you’d chugged through a mind-numbingly boring double major of mathematics and computer science, all on the sage advice of your recruiter. 

The reality of active duty was a kick in the fucking teeth. The brass had taken one look at you - a wide-eyed, idealistic woman with a big hair and bigger goals - and promptly slapped you with a desk job. You’d spent three more years rotting away in a forgotten back corner of an office building in Kuwait, filing reports and delivering messages. Occasionally, they’d throw you a bone and hand you a code to rewrite. Your commanding officer got all the credit, and you were just a glorified secretary.

By the time your contract was up, you’d been sidelined, interrupted, passed-over, underestimated, scoffed, and just flat-out ignored enough to be thoroughly fed up with military life. The glass ceiling in the U.S. Army is raised just high enough to suffocate its victims slowly, and you were sick sick of being stifled. 

Being recruited by the CIA for analyst work in the hunt for Pablo Escobar had been pure, dumb luck. Right now, you might just be a liaison, but this is your shot. Your last one, probably, and you’re not willing to give it up just to get laid.

Not even for the best lay of your life.

Peña slaps the file shut with gentle smack, startling you from your thoughts. He reaches for his boots, moving with a single-minded determination that you’d find sexy if it weren’t so damned inconvenient.

“Peña.”

He doesn’t react, just gathers his badge and keys from the end table as if you aren’t even there.

“Peña.” You say it louder this time.

“Hmm?” 

“Javi!” You call his name without even realizing it, and it works. His head snaps up, eyes wide, staring at you as if he’s just now seen you for the first time.

You have his undivided attention now. 

“Yeah?” He blinks, all wide brown eyes, and fuck it all, you can feel yourself flushing under his gaze. 

You swallow hard, push past the strange flutter in your chest. “We’re getting too predicable.” 

His brow furrows. “Come again?”

You decide to take the high road, but you can’t stop your lips twitching at the obvious joke that he’s left himself open for. He’s quick to follow your though process, though - his eyes sparkle with laugher, daring you to call him on his blunder. 

Shit.

You press on. “This,” you start, grimacing. He’s still looking at you, and his expression is warm. Flirtatious. “What we’re doing…” Goddamn, your face is aflame. “I mean, we’re not exactly subtle.”

He draws back, expression shuttering instantly. “Don’t worry about Murphy,” he says firmly. “He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

The ‘if he knows what’s good for him’ is clearly implied.

“It’s not just Murphy,” you press. You can’t exactly put into words what it is that you're trying to make Peña understand, you just know it's important that he does.

“What are you suggesting?” He’s standing now, still holding the file against his chest, as if to defend himself with it. 

You shake your head. “I think,” you say slowly, trying hard not to catch his eye, “that we need to cool it.”

Silence. You can feel his raised eyebrow.

You step forward. You’re focusing hard on finding the right words without revealing too much, but your hands are desperate for something to do. “We need to stop fucking around.”

There, you said it.

“Oh?” There’s something amused in his tone, but you shrug it off, still refusing to look at him.

“Yeah,” you answer hotly. “Isn’t this fraternization? Shouldn’t we be worried about our careers, or some shit? We both have a lot to lose here.” You glance up, emboldened by your speech. “Do you want to catch Escobar or not?”

He’s looking down at you, not taking you the least bit seriously, expression damn near indulgent. 

Indignation sets a fire in your chest.

“You think you can just quit me, cold turkey,” he asks in a voice as smooth as silk.

Goddammit, he’s mocking you.

“Absolutely.” You look him firmly in the eye, former awkwardness forgotten, more determined than you’ve ever been. 

He huffs directly in your face. “You won’t last a week, Ears.” He cups your cheek in his hand, skimming your jawline with his thumb. “I know you, remember.”

Oh, the bastard. “You think you can go longer?” You counter, stepping into his chest. You’re pissed now. Peña is a well-known man whore, and you know, know, that you are exactly his type.

He laughs now, openly and genuinely amused. “Longer than you,” he says, glancing down at where your hands are absently fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. 

Oh, fuck. 

“I’m fixing you, you absolute asshole,” you hiss, beyond grateful that you’ve yet to undo his last cockeyed button. “Unless you want to show up at the office all freshly fucked and lopsided.” You hold up the hem of his shirt, clearly displaying his mismatched edges.

“Oh.” At least he has the grace to look abashed. 

“Yeah,” you swallow dryly, suddenly aware of how close he his, smelling of coffee and cigarettes, sex and the scent of your own bedsheets. 

Goddamn, you want him already. 

You push it all away, patting him condescendingly on the chest. Two can play this game. “Just looking out for your career, Agent Peña.”

He sighs somewhat theatrically, but you can see the conflict warring in him. 

“Well, then, Ears,” he says after a long moment. He rebuttons his shirt properly this time, fingers working quickly. “Guess I’ll see you around.” 

You meet his gaze evenly. “Guess so.”

The door shuts behind him, and you sink to the sofa. It’s still warm from where he’d been sitting.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

♠

You’re not watching, you’re not, but you can’t help but notice when Peña comes swaggering into the office at ten am, wearing those sunglasses and those fucking too-tight, dark wash jeans, chugging a cup of coffee like he knows that his exposed neck is a weapon. 

You make eye contact through the glass, just for a moment, and he winks at you.

You smirk back, a plan forming in your mind.

This means war. 

♠

You retaliate by letting your hair curl wild over your shoulders and squeezing yourself into a leather skirt that is just barely work appropriate. The Search Bloc boys bombard you with whistles and winks and catcalls all day. 

It’s worth it, though, to see Agent Peña’s eyes go wide and blinking, to watch him swallow so hard. 

“Fucking tease,” Murphy hisses as you glide past his desk. 

You flip him off in response. 

♠

Your apartment feels strangely empty. 

It’s Saturday afternoon. Search Bloc is investigating a tip in Medellín, and Centra Spike doesn’t need you in today. You briefly consider going out, but that would involve changing out of your sweats, and besides, aside from the Search Bloc guys, you really don’t have many friends in Colombia. 

You sit down on your sofa, drawing the coffee table toward you, and deal yourself a hand of solitaire. The cards had belonged to your dad before he passed them down to you, and they are comfortable in your hand, worn soft with age. There’s a trick to shuffling a deck this old, and something comfortable in the practice. 

The hand you deal is a losing hand. 

Frustrated, you stomp down the stairs to the little pharmacy below your flat. “Hola, Emilio!” you wave to the older man working the counter. Emilio doesn’t speak much English, and your Spanish is improving slower than you’d like, but you mostly manage to communicate just fine. 

You make your way to the little display of liquor bottles and ponder it for a minute. There’s nothing remotely recognizable on the shelves, but you’re not exactly committed to buying anything, anyway. 

There’s nothing more pathetic than drinking alone. 

 A presence at your shoulder makes you jump. It’s just Emilio. He smiles at you, and reaches for a bottle of clear liquor whose packaging reminds you a little too much of antiseptic hand spray for comfort. He presses it into your hands. “Guaro.”

“This is what I need, then?” you ask him. “Este? It’s good?”

“Guaro.” He’s nodding and grinning, rattling something in rapid-fire Spanish that you’re far too slow to translate. The enthusiasm behind it is hard to miss, though.

“He says it’s good and strong. Respect it, and it will respect you.” Emilo’s daughter winks up at you. She’s bent over, stocking shelves, and you’d missed her, distracted as you’d been by your conversation with Emilio.

You smile gratefully. Ana must be home from university this weekend. You’ve only met once or twice, but she’s kind, and doesn’t mind translating for you. You think you might have been friends, if she was around more.

“Gracias,” you tell her, and mean it. “Aguardiente,” you sound out slowly, frowning down at the bottle. “Sugar water?”

“Something like that.” Ana rises, leaving the box of chicharrones on the floor. “You’ll find that most of the locals just call it guaro. It’s a staple in Colombia. Hard to find anywhere else, and even transporting it between cities is dangerous.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs, as if to say, ‘what’s new?’ 

“But it’s just liquor, right?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Alcohol, sugar, anise…” She shrugs, and laughs. “Simple, but there’s something magic about it. You don’t want to go too hard with this. Sit down and have a small glass with a lime. Slower is better.” 

You frown. Anise. It jogs something in your memory, some long-forgotten fact…

“Trust me.” Ana is at your elbow now, pinning you with an earnest stare. “It hits hard, and fast. Papa wasn’t lying.”

You laugh. “Is that the college experience speaking?”

“Oh, yes. Seguro.” 

Ana follows you as you take the bottle of guaro to the register. “And how are your classes going?” you ask as Emilio rings you up. 

Ana grimaces, shaking her head as she cuts her gaze to Emilio. “It’s good to have a little break,” she admits. 

You sympathize with that. You hadn’t cared too much for the tedium of higher education either. Emilio hands you a little paper bag, and you wave goodbye to him with a smile. “I’ll have to catch you when you’ve got a free weekend,” you tell Ana as you head toward the stairs that lead to your flat. You hold up the liquor suggestively. “You can teach me all about how to respect this guaro.”

Ana laughs. “What are you doing this evening? We close up at eight.”

Your face breaks into a grin. It’s hard making friends in Colombia just with the language barrier alone, never mind that your work with Centra Spike forces you to keep so many secrets. Without Peña around, life here is lonely. But Ana seems innocent enough, and it’s just a drink. “Perfect! I’ll be here.”

You walk up the steps feeling much lighter than when you descended them.

♠

Ana doesn’t stay long. She looks around your apartment, carefully assessing, then nodding as if satisfied. 

You let it go.

She teaches you to tap the bottom of the bottle to expel the liquor, almost as if you’re pouring ketchup from a glass container. Looking at the contents, they don’t seem particularly viscous. When you ask her why this is necessary, Ana shrugs.  “It’s a mystery,” she tells you, and you write it off as one of the eccentricities of Colombian culture, paying rapt attention as Ana begins explaining one of only three acceptable ways to serve the guaro.  

♠

“I’ve got something for you,” you announce brightly, slapping both hands firmly on Javier Peña’s desk and leaning in just a hair too close to be strictly professional. 

“Oh?” His face breaks into a slow smirk, and he tilts back in his swivel chair, stretching just enough to give you a good view of those too-tight jeans as he hooks his fingers behind his head. “And what’s that?”

Smug fucking bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. You cool your jets and wink at him, teasing a manilla file for him to see. “We thought you might like this.”

“We?”

“Okay, fine, Jacoby caught some chatter, but I vetted it,” you press on, refusing to let him derail you. This is huge. “It’s Verdugo.”

Peña glances up at you, suddenly intense. “You sure?”

“Well, it’s not him personally,” you admit. “At least, not his voice. But,” You slam the transcript down on his desk. “We caught an entire conversation verifying his presence at a safehouse in Medellín.” You pause for full dramatic effect before going in for the kill. “A specific safehouse in Medellín.”

Javi reverts to Agent Peña instantly, all flirting forgotten as he leans forward on his elbows. “Show me.”

You bend over, noticing absently that your hair is once again falling into his face as you tap your finger over the address. Peña settles in to read the full report as you watch, his eyes darting back and forth over the pages at a rate that is truly impressive. When he glances back up at you, the ferocity of his gaze is startling. 

“They’re getting ready to make a move.” There’s something like a spark of hope in his eyes, tiny, but growing stronger as he processes the information you’ve given him.

“Yeah,” you say, throat suddenly dry. He’s looking at you with earnest gratitude, and it tugs at something deep in your chest.

“This is big,” he breathes, and just like that, he’s on his feet, gathering the file, punching a number into his desktop telephone. 

“This is Peña,” he says as the call connects. “We’ve got something.”

♠

It’s dark when you finally get home. Claudia Messina, head of DEA operations in Colombia, had cornered you in her office for hours, going over and over the information you’d vetted. You brain is absolutely fried, the victory of the discovery stifled by having to defend your work again and again. 

You just need a drink. 

“About time!” a voice startles you as you turn to shut the door behind you. You jump, barely suppressing a shriek, and whirl around. 

Goddamn Javier Peña with his goddamned spare key.

He’s smirking at you from your sofa, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Any other day, you’d have noticed his presence instantly just from the smell. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice is more of a whine than you’d like, but dammit, you’re tired, and dammit, he’s gotten one over on you. 

He knows it, too, the smug bastard. “Expecting somebody else?” he asks, sauntering toward you with a devastating smile that manages to be both possessive and suggestive all at once. 

“No,” you answer somewhat grumpily. “I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

Given your sulky attitude, you’re surprised to see that his smile brightens a bit. You frown at him, still confused as to why the fuck he is here, and he bustles into the kitchen, clinking around, pouring you a drink. 

You sigh and relax onto the sofa. At least you’ll have that.

He comes back, a tumbler of clear liquor in each hand. Ah, so he’s found your guaro. You suspect that he’s helped himself to at least one measure already. He hands you a glass, and you take it gratefully, sniffing at the contents. 

He’s drinking it neat, apparently.

“So!” he says, settling beside you on the sofa, close enough that your thighs touch. He pins you with an intense stare. You raise a brow in response, intrigued and a little confused. 

He smiles. “Your tip from this morning was a gold mine, Ears.” He eases back, propping his feet on your coffee table in a way that you should probably reprimand him for. He sips, sighs, leans in to bump your shoulder playfully, then settles with his hands at his waist, long fingers fiddling with the glass he’s cradling. “Martinez wants us to go for Verdugo tomorrow,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “Based on your information.” 

“Really?” You can hardly believe it. Most of what you do is verify things that others have found, or carry files from Centra Spike to Search Bloc. Same old, same old. Even though you’ve trained for this for years, you’ve never been integral in interpreting and locating a conversation before, especially not for a target as high level as Verdugo. 

Javi twists to smile up at you, a real smile. “Really,” he says, pointing a finger in your direction. He watches you fight back a grin. “Go on, be smug. This is big.”

“Wow,” you mouth, somewhat awed that you’ve contributed anything, let alone this, to the hunt for Pablo Escobar. 

The reaction isn’t lost on Javi. He sits up, wraps his arms around your shoulders and squeezes gently. “Pretty much. You gave us enough information that we feel confident about initiating a sting in Medellín.” He reaches up with both hands, catching your face at the edge of your jaw and drawing you close. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Ears.”

Ears. Yours are burning at the heat of his touch. You’re acutely aware of his palms cupping your cheeks. His eyes are dark, too dark, and open, looking at you as if you’ve single handled handed Escobar to the DEA on a golden platter. 

You suppress a shudder, leaning in to him as he pulls you in for a hug. Christ, his body feels so good as it cradles yours, arms snaking around your back, stubble gritting awkwardly into your cheek, the scent of smoke and liquor clouding you -

You wonder, abruptly, how much he’s had to drink.

“Peña,” you say swiftly, pulling away from him to stand. The way he’s looking at you right now, giddy and awestruck and openly hungry, well, it’s not going to last. You know it won’t. It can’t. 

His face falls, as if he’s confused at your sudden rejection. 

You shake your head. Peña is just drunk. You guys aren’t like this. You don’t hug and share and hold each other. It was only ever sex, and it’s not even that anymore. 

You’re overwhelmed, suddenly and without warning, at how desperately you want him. 

Not just the sex, though honestly, you have missed that. No, what you want is - 

You shove that thought down, locking it away so deeply that it will never see the light of day. 

You cannot have feelings for Javier Peña. 

“Ears?” he questions, tilting his head just so, managing to look more sober than he has all evening. 

“I just need another drink,” you say as you sidestep him, making your way to the kitchen. You watch him from the corner of your eyes as his gaze follows you. He seems to take your deference at face value - he’s lighter than you’ve seen him in weeks, excited, almost chipper, if you can believe it. The meeting with Martinez must have gone very well. You snort, contrasting his meeting to yours with Messina. The dissonance is enough to wonder, offhandedly, if some not-so-subtle sexism is at play. 

You shake off that thought. It’s not helpful, just depressing, especially here in Colombia. Instead, you turn to look at Javi. 

He’s still flopped on your sofa, his original drink in his hand, hunched over the stack of playing cards that you’d left out last night. 

Your dad had taught you to play solitaire from a young age. There’s a variation for two players, a game which one will inevitably win, but the real challenge is for the single player, in which triumph relies equally on skill and luck. Last night, after Ana had left, you’d played a long, brutal game, ultimately finding yourself blocked, helpless to do anything but shuffle the deck over, and over, and over again. 

Losing two games in a row is just shameful, and you’d left the cards on the table, eager to look at them again with fresh eyes. 

Javi eyeballs the game with a furrowed brow. You’d managed to make it quite far. Had the cards fallen in any different order, you’d have won easily. Carefully, Javi flicks over one card from the stack, frowns, then another. This one is a red queen, and he plays it eagerly, shuffling the black jack to its new position and opening up another space. 

“Hey!” you protest. He glances up at you, bemused, and you shove a newly made drink into his hand as you settle beside him. 

“You missed that move,” he explains, pointing exaggeratedly with the pinky finger that holds the tumbler. 

You roll your eyes. “I play draw three,” you correct him. You reshuffle the cards to their original places, this time drawing three from the deck: a five of spades on top, Javi’s red queen in the middle, and the ace of spades below both. The top card, the five of spades, has no place to be played, so you flip all three cards into the discard pile and draw three more from the deck. 

Javi frowns. “Seems like you’re making it a lot harder than it has to be.”

You sigh. Men. “Single draw solitaire is for kids,” you counter with a vicious smile. “Just for them to learn to play the game. Real players draw three.”

He huffs, “Oh, really?” he’s smirking up at you, eyes sparkling in amusement. “Are you the kind of woman who likes a challenge, Ears?”

He’s just dying to prove you wrong. 

“I’m the kind of woman who refuses to cut corners just so I can win a dumb card game.” you inform him sagely.  

“Hmmm,” he says, staring contemplatively at the cards. You let him shuffle through the deck twice, each time verifying what you already know - the game, played as it is, is unbeatable. 

‘Seems a little silly to me,’  he teases, bopping you on the nose. “Letting your ego get in the way of winning.”

Of course Javier Peña would see it that way. You kick back, letting your feet settle at the edge of the coffee table. “Go on then,” you tell him, siping at your drink. “Swoop in and save my game with your kiddie version, you fucking hero.”

He laughs overtly at that, eyes sparkling, and something clenches hard in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so open, laughing and flirting and playing stupid games after a long day at work. 

It’s nice.

You settle in to watch him work his magic. He’s making plays at an alarming rate - it seems like no time at all before the deck is empty. 

You glance at the clock, biting back a sigh. Less than five minutes. 

He’s smirking up at you, all mussed and smug, eyes alight with warmth, and suddenly, something swoops dangerously in your belly.

That hair, those eyes, his laugh. Warm skin in the dim glow of the lamplight, his body sprawled over your sofa, just begging to be teased. 

You wonder again why he’s here. You’ve made it clear that there’s no more sex, so…

Oh, god. 

Glancing back down at him, tousled hair and crooked smile, ridiculous mustache, plopped indelicately on your sofa, you suddenly realize. 

Javier Peña had sought you out for your company. For no other reason than that he’d had a good day, and wanted to share it with you. 

And oh, oh god.

You’re still so caught up in the sex and your fucking feelings that you can’t divorce that from your friendship, which is obviously important to him. He’s not out celebrating with Murphy - he’s here, in your apartment, with no expectation other than to kick your ass by cheating at children’s card games. 

The realization takes the breath from your lungs. 

You’re the problem here. Just like with the fucking card game, you’re the one making it complicated. 

Javi needs a friend. 

Javi needs a friend, and he’d sought you out so that you can just chill together, and all you can think as he shuffles those damned cards is how the callouses of his fingers would catch deliciously against your clit as he dips them inside you. 

And, and…

You cut off that dark thought. You are not going there.

Jesus Christ, what kind of friend are you?

“Well, this calls for a celebration,” you say. It’s a beat too late and obviously hollow, but Javi doesn’t seem to notice, and you’ve managed to keep the tremor out of your voice, so that’s a win. You rise, making for the kitchen, desperate to do something with your hands. You find yourself pouring Javi yet another drink - is this his third? Or fourth? You aren’t sure - and making yourself a second, much lighter version. 

The last thing you want is to do something stupid.

Javi meets you at the kitchen bar, and you slide the tumbler across to him. He eyeballs it speculatively, raising it and tilting it to view the contents in the dim kitchen light. 

“Goddamn, Ears.” He snorts. “Are you trying to poison me?” 

The denial falls from your tongue as he tilts back his glass from earlier, his second, - or third? - the one that you’d made. He swallows, pushing the empty glass back into you hand, and stands, catching himself on the edge of the table as if he’d moved too fast.

“Alright?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath, then straightens, slowly letting go of the countertop. “Fine,” he says, cocking a brow at you. “But what is that stuff?”

You laugh. “Emilio, you know, from downstairs, he found it for me. Says it’s a Colombian staple, and I can’t leave without having a bottle at least once.”

Javi blinks one too many times, then giggles. Despite your best effort, you snort at the sound. "Well then,” he raises his full tumblr to your half full one, and they clink awkwardly. “To local rotgut and poor life choices,” he toasts, as solemnly as he as able.

“Salud!” you counter, managing to sound a just a hair more sober. Javi is swaying as he stands, and suddenly, you’re concerned. “When did you last eat?”

He glances at you, tilting his head as if your question makes no goddamn sense, and you sigh heavily. Idiot man.

“Okay, hold off on that one,” you warn him - he looks as if he’s about to toss it back, too. “Let me at least make you some eggs first.”

“Eggs?” 

You’re already bustling around your tiny kitchen, pulling a pan from below the stove. “Yeah, moron,” you tell him, unable to stop the grin that catches your lips. “Eggs and salsa. Best food for staving off a hangover that I’ve found so far.”

Javi throws back the rest of his drink anyway, then comes to press his body to your side. “Is that a fact?”

“It’s a fucking science,” you counter, unable to resist slamming your hips into his to nudge him out of the way as you reach into the fridge for the butter. 

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, sinking his face into the crook of your neck. “How can I be of assistance?” he purrs into your ear, and suddenly, it’s very, very hard to concentrate on cooking. 

“Sit. Down.” You hiss, slapping his butt with a dishtowel. He yowls more than strictly necessary, the drama queen; you’re an excellent towel-popper, but it shouldn’t hurt that much. 

Still, you rub his ass in compensation, matching his lecherous grin when he fixes it on you. “Have a seat,” you tell him again, kicking a barstool vaguely in his direction. “And watch the magic.”

♠

Javi cleans his plate enthusiastically. “So what’s the secret?” he asks, mouth full, still staring up at you like your shitty scrambled eggs are the best meal he’s ever eaten.

You snort. “No secret, Peña.” You hold up your stick of butter, much lighter than it’d been before, and toss it back into the fridge. “You literally just watched me cook them.”

He grins loopily.

You shake your head, biting back your own smile. How could a man as competent and independent as Javier Peña forget to do something as basic as eat? 

Well, it hardly matters. Even with the food you’ve made, he’s going to have a massive hangover in the morning. Ana had cautioned you several times to go easy on the guaro, and you trust her judgement. Emilio’s shit, in particular, is cheap, potent, and deadly. 

Well, he’ll pay for it tomorrow. You shake you head, watching him bumble around the kitchen and drop his dirty plate in the sink. Javi stands at your side, warm and solid as you draw just enough water to let the dishes soak. 

He reaches for your dish soap, and you stop him with a hand on his arm. Javi glances down at you, still a little drunkenly, but his eyes are warm, his lips parted just slightly, and you pull away from him as if burned.

“I’ll get them in the morning,” you manage hoarsely.

He shrugs, brushes your shoulder with his hand as he bumbles away, and you take a moment to lean against the sink and calm your racing heart. 

God, what is with you lately?

Javi has already crashed on your sofa, shoes kicked off, legs sprawled, grinning lazily in your direction. 

You manage not to oogle at him, but it’s a near thing.

Instead, you flop down on his opposite side, allowing your legs to tangle in the middle.

He makes a big show of yawning, tilting his wrist up to glance at his watch. You crane your neck to look at the kitchen clock. It’s only 10:33, but you’re both feeling a little lit - Javi more than you, thankfully - and you both have a big day tomorrow. 

You sigh, reaching down to collect the empty glasses and discarded playing cards, slipping Javi’s keys in your back pocket while he’s not looking.

He scoffs.

Oh. You whirl, realizing he’d been watching you all along. 

“So, am I staying over, Ears?” He grins up at you, a little tired, but still in an excellent mood. 

“You are definitely staying over, Peña,” you tell him firmly, trying not to laugh at the wounded puppy expression on his face as he reacts to your tone. His eyes have gone so wide, pout so pathetic that you can’t help but grin, even as you toss a throw pillow haphazardly over his lap. 

That seems to get a rise out of him. He sits up, frowning at the pillow. “I’m on the sofa?” he whines. 

“Yup!’ you say happily, enjoying the power dynamic for what it is. Putting Javier Peña in your bed tonight would lead straight to…

Well, you’re both drunk, and even if you weren’t, you’re not willing to give up on your bet. Not with the nasty realization that you’d had tonight, for sure. 

Javi must follow your thoughts, because he sobers instantly. “Okay,” he says softly, settling back down and cramming the pillow beneath his shoulder.

You’re kind enough to tuck him in, which really just consists of dragging your comforter from you bed and draping it over his ass and shoulders. His boots are lying haphazardly on the floor - you decide to leave them for him to trip over in the morning - and you don’t bother to cover his feet, knowing that he sleeps with his socks outside of the blanket, the weirdo.

Just as you turn away, a single brown eye catches your gaze. He’d been watching you again.

The thought sends a tremor down your spine. “Need anything else?” you ask clinically, trying to ignore the urge to either kiss him, or scream. 

He huffs contentedly, rocking against the cushions like an animal sinking into a burrow. His eyes drift closed, and you can’t help but just notice how dark his lashes are against his cheek. “Can’t think of anything,” he murmurs, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Okay. Good night,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder as you pass by to turn out the lights.

“Night, babe.”

You choke. Well, maybe he won’t remember. 

Fat chance. He’s drunk, but he’s not wasted. You decide to raise him, because any other response from you will be awkward, forever.

“Good night, honey,” you answer sweetly as you flick off the light. 

In the darkness, you hear him snort.

♠

author’s notes/confessions: 

I have never written Javier Peña. I have never written in second person. I have never written decent smut. I speak no Spanish. Advice and criticisms, if delivered kindly, are very welcome. 

Yeah, I realize that I wrote Javi a little lighter/goofier here than he’s probably typically depicted. Hang tight, guys. He’s not taking this seriously yet, but he will be. Just wait. 

Guaro/Aguardiente a legit Colombian liquor, and I tried to depict it as accurately as possible for never having tried it. The anise thought that reader has is a reference to absinthe, which is a trip if you’ve ever managed to acquire the real deal (something that’s kind of difficult if you live in the States, unfortunately). Also, I’m unsure if you can just walk into a pharmacy and buy liquor in Colombia, but hey, just go with it. 

This started as a conversation with Tiff and turned into... well, this. I am so, so sorry. Expect about 20k and three chapters. Probably. 

Not beta’d. you get what you get, my friends. 

At the risk of sounding pathetic, your feedback absolutely inspires me to write faster. I don’t make the rules, guys. I just write.

This installment is (mostly) complete, but I’d love to hear what you like and what you don’t, and what you want to see next. My inbox is open. I welcome messages. I want to make friends.  

Love you guys big, and happy holidays to those of you who are celebrating!

[binniesthighs]

hi!! i rly liked your first writing it was so cute and you described jisung so well too! can i request a friends to lovers with han? kinda slow burn like they're really good friends but jisung gets jealous of her close friend and reader secretly likes him too but she doesnt wanna ruin the things between them so... one day they get into a fight and they end up making out😳 bc shes like "wtf we're friends" smut is ok but just a make out would be fine too the details r up to u💗

why yes you can! Thank you for requesting hehe you are my first ask ever  ♡ I hope that you like it, here’s some best friend ‘sungie for ya :)   

all yours | reader x jisung |

Paring: self-insert, female reader x han jisung

Genre: fluff ‘n a lil bit of smut & angst  

Tags: student!reader, bestfriend!jisung, lab partner!felix (haha), friends to lovers, mutual pining, best friend au, college au, jealousy, slow-ish burn, mentions of exams, some yelling, reader is secretly whipped for jisung (and jisung for the reader), explicit language, marking, that good good makin’ out

Word count: 2.4k

“Hey!”

The little ball of paper that you had crinkled up bounced off Jisung’s arm with a soft pat.

“What happened to studying together? You said that you were gonna quiz me.”

Jisung’s eyes popped up from his phone screen looking a little bewildered. “Sorry, I just...got a little distracted.

“Distracted? Looking at what?”

“Oh, nothing.” He placed his phone down, clicking it off.

“Is “nothing” code for some girl’s Instagram?” You dished him out a teasing smirk. “I think you forget that I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.”

Jisung shuffled the papers in front of him pretending like he had something to do. “Psh. I was not.”

“--Does she go to school here?”

“I told you, I said no.” He furrowed his brow trying to look as serious as possible, but that was nearly impossible for someone as naturally adorable as him. “Why are you drilling me? Aren’t you supposed to be doing some work right now?”

“~So are you~” You teasingly sang back to him, giving him a kick under the table just for good measure.

Jisung threw your balled up paper ball back to you. “Let’s just get back to what we were doing so we can leave. I don’t wanna end up like him.”

He nodded over to the end of your table where a student had fallen asleep mid-chapter. His nose twitched and he snorted a little bit. You knew exactly what Jisung meant, you didn’t want to be at the library at 11pm on a Tuesday either; it was your better judgement that told you.

“Can we get food after this?” Jisung asked after approximately five minutes of “working.”

“Sounds good to me.” You quipped, barely allowing your eyes to leave your computer screen. You found that you always had to try you best to let him not distract you. He was really good at that.

You slid a stack of index cards in front of him. “Ask me these? I’m having a hard time getting the Latin names down...if you’re not busy?”

“Nope!” He piped, and shoved his notebook away.

“Okay!” He said with determination and a little bounce. He fixed his oversized hoodie before starting, looking adorably lost in the fabric.

He asked you the first question, but it barely met your ears. There you were, getting distracted by him again.

screw you Han Jisung, you thought to yourself.

☆。*。☆。

“I just don’t understand how you make sense of all that crap, I could never be a science major like you are.”

“--And I could never understand production like you do.”

“And this is why we work.” Jisung grinned with smiling eyes while he opened the library door for you. “I’m starving, I can’t stop thinking about--”

“--Y/n??” A voice called from behind the two of you.

The two of you whipped your heads back to see a loveable looking blonde and freckled boy bounding to catch up with you. It was Felix, your lab partner from zoology. The two of you were nothing more than classroom friends, but his friendly kindness was always something that brightened up your terrible 9 am lab.

“Felix!” You beamed, holding the door so it wouldn’t close on him. “Are you here studying for the exam as well?”

“Oh yeah, I just...my brain couldn’t take it any more,” He sarcastically mimed his head pains, “I just need to get some sleep now.”

“I just don’t get how they expect us to know all of those phyla like its nothing.”

“I know right?’ He chuckled.

Next to you, Jisung silently poked at the elevator button to go down.

“Is it alright if I head down with you guys?”

“Of course!” You motioned him in.

Once the doors had closed, the three of you found a different corner of the small box to plant yourselves in.

“shit-sorry, Felix, I didn’t introduce you, this is Jisung.”

“Hi!” Felix shone, and Jisung gave him a curt nod back.

Felix waved to two of you goodbye, leaving you in the nighttime snow. You noticed that as Felix walked away he had a little bounce to his step; and you couldn’t help but crack a little smile.

“Our usual?” Jisung asked you with a little edge to his voice.

You linked your arm around his, letting out a little shrill sound when the fabric of your two coat sleeves met. “Sounds good to me!” You nuzzled up into him while both of your bodies’ heat intermingled.

The two of you walked on under the streetlights which illuminated the falling flakes in streams of light. You never loosened your grip, as had become your habit lately when the two of you walked around. Jisung never seemed to mind; the two of you had been mistaken for a couple more than enough times thanks to it. When it did happen, it didn’t phase you at all. Being close to Jisung was like second nature to you.

The whole walk over Jisung never uttered a word, which was uncharacteristic of his usual boisterous self.

“Is everything okay?”

He sniffled, “Yeah, I think I just got kinda tired out of nowhere.”

“Ah.” You mouthed, and squeezed his arm a little harder.

After a moment’s silence, he somberly announced, “If you’re in the same class as him, maybe you should study with him.”

“Huh.” You tsked. “Yeah, I mean I never thought about that before...I guess that could do me some good.”

You looked slightly up to him: a product of him being slightly taller than you. His brown eyes remained stoic, and you couldn’t figure out why. You hated it when he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong, but he was also stubborn at letting up.

“But thank you for helping me tonight! You know that I reeealy appreciate it.” You turned your tone as cutesy as you could--Jisung hated it, but you knew that it could bring a smile to his face.

His gaze softened a bit. “Anytime. You’d do the same for me.”

☆。*。☆。

Jisung rested his head on your shoulder on the bus ride home with his phone weakly held in his hand. One more bump in the road and you knew that it would go flying so you carefully took it into your own lap where it would be safe. You wouldn’t dare moving an inch because you had a feeling that he had closed his eyes. Time had slipped past 1am, and you had to keep fighting yawns yourself. The bus driver had been blasting the heat, so it wasn’t hard at all for you to feel cozy.

You glanced down at his open hand in his lap. It looked exactly like he was beckoning for you to scoop it up in your own. You wondered what what happen if you did. What would he think of it? Would he think anything of it? You had held hands before, but every time you had it had been under purely platonic pretenses. If you just grabbed it now, what would the pretenses be then? The two of you cozied up on a bus: that was something that couples did.

You shut your eyes closed tightly and tried your best to banish all the thoughts clouding your head.

Jisung’s hand twitched, looking even more inviting.

screw you Han Jisung.

☆。*。☆。

[7:14pm]

jisung: you want to come over? Changbin is cooking and i don’t wanna eat whatever he’s making alone

[7:31pm]

me: sorry, I’m studying with Felix at the library, I think that we are gonna be here late. It’s all the Latin, I’m drowning in the Latin, Sung.

I’m sorry.

see you Friday once I’m out of this hell?

[7:34pm]

jisung: see you friday.

☆。*。☆。

You pounded on the door to Jisung’s apartment with your phone in hand, the white screen showing you the number that you had worked so hard for.

“Open the door!” You called giddily. “Jisung! I know that you’re in here, we need to celebrate! ~I can treat youuu~”

Just as you were about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing a wet haired Jisung in his grey sweats and tee. His brown strands of hair were scattered around his head while he rubbed at them with a towel.

“Shit! Can’t I shower?” He jested.

It took all your will power not to ogle him more. He looked devastatingly handsome, but you swallowed down how utterly flustered he had made you.

You cleared your throat, “Uh...sorry...” then remembered your phone in your hand. “I got a 96! Can you believe it! I’m even surprised too, when I was taking the test I just got so nervous...”

“All that studying paid off huh?” He cockily rose an eyebrow. “You can go ahead and thank me now, without my help...” He shrugged with a grin.

You invited yourself in and threw your bag down at the door like you usually did.

“Thank youuu” You sung. “Oh! And studying with Felix really paid off too.” You took off your shoes, thinking of how nice it had been to finally study with someone who knew your class topics. Not that Jisung wasn’t helpful, but you and Felix were on the same page. “He knew it all way more than I did, so he was super helpful. I forgot to text him--”

Jisung closed the door behind you with a slam that made you jump. He moved away from you, not meeting your eyes. The air around the two of you suddenly became thick with something that did not feel as excited as you just were.

“...do you wanna maybe watch a movie?” You moved closer. “Or we could get some deliv--”

“--Why even bother coming over here?” Jisung suddenly huffed.

“What?”

Jisung’s words flew out of his mouth sharply, “If he was so helpful? What are you doing here, huh?”

“Jisung, I don’t understand...” Your heartbeat quickened in your chest and you felt anxiety swell there as well. Jisung never spoke to you like this. He never sounded like this.

He growled out a little sound in frustration. “I-I just...can’t believe you--”

“--Me? Jisung, what did I do?” You threw your arms up, genuinely confused.

He ran his fingertips over his temples and let out a deep exhale. “Y/n, don’t pretend like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your temper started to become seething and you felt your ears get hot. “Tell me Jisung. Tell me what I did. And while you’re at it, what has been up with you these past few days? Being short with me, and distant, yeah-I’ve noticed...what are you doing??”

Jisung heaved breaths in and out of his chest, then ran a hand through his hair. He still couldn’t meet your eyes.

For a moment, a flash of panic surged in your head, making your heart ache with an unexpected pain. You truly didn’t know what he had meant, and if you had made a mistake, you knew it could mean loosing him. God, that was the last thing in the world you wanted. It always was.

“If I did something wrong tell me because clearly I don’t know!!” You yelled back at him, straining your throat.

He walked up to you, then grabbed your shoulders with a firm grip. Finally, you saw his eyes, brown and soft, holding a type of pain that you hadn’t seen in him before.

screw you, Han Jisung.

“Jisung, I--”

You were shoved by the shoulders in milliseconds to the door behind you, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of you. You gasped in your surprise, but your mouth was immediately shut by Jisung ramming his lips into yours. His hands needily took your face into his palms with his mouth blazing with hunger for you.

It took you a moment to realize what had just happened and steady yourself after being so startled. His lips were so soft and warm, your brain had a hard time recognizing that he was really doing this. His haste made no indication of stopping so you let yourself do what you had wanted to do for years: you kissed him back with everything that you had.

As soon as you did so, he let out little desperate moans between your lips in response. You let your arms wrap around his back and he fell into them just right. Naturally you took one of your hands to the back of his head and tangled up your fingers in his hair. God, it all felt so good. Jisung snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into him with force, crashing your hips together.

The two of you clumsily made your way to the couch where he threw you down and crawled over top of you just as fast. He moved to your neck then traversed around your skin, sending shivers all through your body. Your hands eagerly found his back where you dug into him, wanting to be impossibly close. To your side, he carefully took your hand in his, weaving all of your fingers together.

Jisung pressed down into you and began to suck at your neck without holding himself back. It was such an intense feeling that couldn’t help but moan out something you didn’t know you could. You felt his mouth turn into a grin on your skin while he continued. It stung a little when he removed his lips, but he gently kissed each mark as if he was soothing it once he was done. He stopped to admire the little array of purple bruises he had made.  

“I want you all to myself.”  Jisung’s voice was hoarse, but still honey-covered in desire.

“What are we doing?” You asked him in breathless disbelief.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He whispered, and appeared to calm his breaths. “I don’t care.”

"You don’t?”

“Why should I?” He cocked his head and used his free hand to caress your face.

“--That this could change things between us?”

“You don’t want it too?” He looked a little confused.

You felt a warmth rush to your cheeks.  “--No! I do, I do...trust me.”

“Then can I kiss you some more?” Jisung grinned down at you as loving as he always had, but this time it meant something slightly different.

“...please.”

He lowered back onto you, connecting your lips once more. Jisung’s tongue languidly smoothed onto yours and you already felt intoxicated by the feeling. You tightened your fingers around his.

I’ve always been yours.

[cherryyharryy]

i have an idea for a request (it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do it) like an angst-> fluff where one of harry’s songs accidentally gets leaked bc of y/n like she has something on a flash drive and the song is on another and they get mixed up and obviously he’s really mad at y/n and they have a fight he’s super snappy with her but something happens to her like she gets into a really big accidental or something and he forgives her bc he cares about her more tha the leaked song

WC: 2.7k

***

Damage control wasn’t even an option. 

Y/n sat there, staring at Harry’s laptop, numb to everything except the blaring desire to go back in time just two minutes. Two minutes is all she would need to undo possibly the biggest screwup of her life.

And the worst part is that this mistake ultimately doesn’t affect her. At least not in comparison to how it will affect Harry. And his band. And his team. Basically everyone involved with his career. 

Her mind is equally begging for her to shut down and come up with a plan—an excuse—something, Is there anyway this wasn’t my fault?  

She checks the time, her heart sinking to her stomach when she realizes Harry and his team will be back any minute. Any minute and she’s done for.

They’ve only been together for five months, officially. She’s still new to most everyone. She’s that girl Harry’s dating.

“I told you he played in that movie.” Jeff’s voice echoes outside the studio. Y/n closes the laptop and prays for strength. 

“I have him confused with someone else.” Harry bustles through the door, a small crowd of people filing in behind him, back to the spots they left an hour ago. “Hey darling,” he greets, “finish your paper?”

Y/n’s frozen, morbidly wishing he had found out about his song leaking on his own so she wouldn’t have to tell him. “Uh, almost.”

He kisses the top of her head and hands her a cup of frozen yogurt. “Your favorite.” 

“Thanks.” She sets it on the table she’s sat at while Harry pulls up a chair beside her. “Aren’t you guys still working?”

He waves in the direction of his band, “Mitch’s gotta fix his guitar.” He snickers, and slides his laptop out from under y/n’s hands. “Had a bit of an accident in the car.” 

Y/n’s head tingles with what must be nerve damage, her place in this world, her place in this room, decreasing in value as Harry opens his computer.

“It’s gonna melt.” He nods to her yogurt.

“I’m not hungry.”

He furrows his brow. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She looks around the room, everyone busy getting back to work, light chatter passing among them. “Uh, actually, I uh, I have to tell you something.” Y/n tries to swallow the lump in her throat with no luck.

“Okay…” He shuts the laptop and gives her his full attention.

“Okay, um—”

“What the fuck!?” The room freezes as everyone turns toward Jeff. “Harry someone’s got a hold of your song!” 

Harry scrambles to his manager, complete shock on his face as they both stare down at Jeff’s phone. “Fuck.” They start to play a video, the sound of a girl screaming, with Harry’s unconsented voice playing in the background, fills the room. “How the hell did this happen?” He’s gritting through his teeth, neck red, veins bulging in his hands as he rips the phone out of Jeff’s hand. “HOW? Someone answer me!”

Y/N considers keeping quiet. Playing innocent. What good will it do to confess anyway? It’s not like it’ll undo what she’s done.

Sarah chimes in from across the room, “It looks like it happened half an hour ago. That’s when this video I’m looking at was posted.”

Y/n’s staring down at her lap, holding her head up with her fingers pressed into her temples when Harry slings himself back into the chair next to her.

“All that work, all that fucking work,” he nearly growls, “for some cunt to spread my unfinished song around for a buck.”

Y/n peers up to the room, a completely different picture compared to five minutes ago. Now there’s talk of lawyers and pressing charges while everyone shuffles around. Jeff slams the door as he steps out with his phone to his ear, and y/n knows she can’t claim denial, it’ll only make things worse.

“Uh, Harry?”

“What is it?” He doesn’t look at her, eyes glaring at his phone while another video plays of a group of people reacting to his song. “Glad they fucking like it.”

“Harry?”

“What, y/n?”

She shrinks under his gaze, mouth dry as she forces her confession out. “I uh, this is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll do anything—I know I can’t fix it—but...”

Harry’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing in on her as a morbid silence forms a little bubble around them. “Go on,” he whispers with grit, “finish what you were gonna say.”

She stutters, desperately trying to figure him out. “I’m just sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How did you even manage to do this?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea what this accident means, y/n?”

She reluctantly shakes her head no.

“How the fuck did you do this?”

“I—I don’t know...I was taking a break from my paper, and, I don’t know Harry.” She’s in tears now, warm and salty as they spill down her cheeks. Her mouth wobbles around another apology, but no sounds make it out.

“Fix it.”

“What?”

He stands up, yanking his laptop off the table, pausing to glare at her one last time. “I said, to fix it.” With that he storms across the room, slinging the door open just as Jeff reenters.

“Harry, your attorney—”

“Forget it.” He turns around and points his phone towards y/n silently sobbing in the corner. “She’s gonna handle it.” He takes one step out into the hall and stops, spinning on his heels to face the studio. “Don’t speak to me until you do.”

Mitch’s guitar that was fixed and propped against the wall, crashes to the floor when Harry slams the door. 

Chatter passes around the room one more time, only now everyone seems to be in agreeance—that girl never should have been allowed in the studio, and maybe, Harry should break up with her.

***

Early morning rain fell outside Harry’s apartment. It was still dark, street lamps burning through the fog in the city below. His home fills with coffee as he pours his fifth cup; the prior four never offering more than a few sips before he had abandoned them somewhere, the counter, mantle, bookshelf, because he can’t talk without his hands.

Y/n sits on his couch. It’s velvet and pink and too big for one person. She hated it the first time he invited her over. If he breaks up with her, she’s going to tell him how ugly it is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” She’s exhausted. She hadn’t hesitated to drive over when he finally responded to one of her hundreds of texts in the week since the mishap. But now she regrets it. They’ve been going in circles with the same argument for the past four hours. She’s convinced he invited her over just to be mean. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I said I was sorry. You know that I’m sorry. And you know that I never, ever in a million years, would have done something like this on purpose.”

“I’m allowed to be angry with you. I have every right to be.”

“Do you, though?” She straightens up on his ugly couch and looks at him leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen. “Aren’t you a little tired of hating me? God Harry, everyone else in the whole world has moved on except you.”

“It’s not everyone else’s song, is it? It’s not everyone else’s months and months of hard work. It’s not everyone else’s unfinished art? Nobody else is having to deal with a girlfriend that is so careless, so thoughtless, that she actually managed to leak my song!”

“Stop raising your voice at me!”

“You had no business snooping around my computer anyway! I told you you could work on your fucking paper, not to go prying around my personal shit!”

“You know what,” she scoffs, shooting up off the couch, “this argument is so pointless. You didn’t want me here so we could talk. You just wanted to torture me because you’re mad that people don’t love your stupid song.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

She brushes his shoulder as she passes by him, and a drip of his coffee spills onto his hand. He curses, and follows her into the kitchen where he lays his final cup down on the island.

“You’re being a baby because people aren’t fawning over you like they usually do.” She shrugs and slings her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not your best song, Harry.”

The veins in his neck strain against his flaming skin. His cheeks are sucked in, and if he bites down on the skin any harder he’ll puncture his face. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was already leaving, dumb ass.” She strides by him once more, practically feeling the heat steaming off his body. When she gets to the front door, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Your couch is hideous, by the way. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy shitty looking stuff.”

When she slams the door behind her, the apartment shakes, and cold coffee spills from each cup.

***

It’s nearing five a.m. when y/n backs out of the complex. Her wipers race across the windshield, but do nothing against the downpour wreaking havoc in the city. She does her best to stay on what she assumes is her side of the road, swerving to the right each time headlights blind her.

“Shit.” Nothing is open, and she can’t even see where it would be safe to pull over to let the rain pass. But her home isn’t that far, and traffic isn’t too bad. 

She comes to a stop at a red light, only to realize she missed a left turn she should’ve made a minute ago. “Damn it. Fucking hell.”

As soon as the light turns green, she spins the wheel to make a U-turn, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, and her own clouded mind, and Harry’s voice echoing in her ears, she might have seen the truck who didn’t even try to avoid her.

***

It’s the headache from hell that wakes her up. And it’s the sterile smell of hospital that jogs her memory. And it’s a nurse not much older than y/n that says something about you’re lucky to be alive. 

She’s poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions before her IV is adjusted and a pill to ease one of the many pains scratching her body is handed to her in a small plastic cup. A police officer repeats half of this process, and somewhere in the mess of her reality, she learns that the other driver was sending a text to his wife when he plowed into her car. He’s at home and she’s here. Lucky to be alive.

She made calls to her mom and friends, and even managed to type out a decent email to her professors for her upcoming absence in class.

When she automatically pulled up Harry’s name on her phone, the last text he sent, the one inviting her over so he could make her more miserable than she already was, sat there in all its taunting glory.

What is she even supposed to say? Hey, I know you hate my existence right now, but I’m lying here in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. It’d be cool if you stopped by.

It’s not long before the sun pops up and reminds y/n of just how early it is. The clouds part, and it’s like it had never even rained, like it had never even been dark for hours, and if she closes her eyes, y/n can pretend that the past week hadn’t even happened.

***

 “How are you feeling today?” The nurse checks y/n’s IV, humming after her question.

“Just sore. Ready to get out of here.”

“We’ve started the paperwork, so shouldn’t be too long. Who’s coming to get you?”

Y/n blinks, feeling stupid she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. The nurse looks over the computer monitor, waiting for a response.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Awesome. Dr. Kirby has to come check on you one last time before you leave. I’ll go see if he can stop by now, if you want to let your friend know.”

As soon as the nurse is out the door, y/n scrambles to turn her phone back on, and once it is, her lock screen is filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.

She’ll respond later; gives her something to do in the car to occupy her in front of Harry. 

She can’t call him. Harry’s not a monster, although the past week doesn’t exactly prove her case, but she knows he wouldn’t refuse to come get her. If anything, he’ll be annoyed she didn’t tell him about the accident sooner. But she’s too emotional to deal with hearing his voice.

She types out a text recounting her last 24 hours, along with the name of the hospital. He immediately reads it, and a moment later he’s trying to call.

To: Harry

I’m too tired to talk rn

She lies. And it works.

From: Harry

I’ll be there as fast as i can

***

“Baby?”

Y/n cracks her eyes open, irritated she never quite fell asleep. Confused as to why Harry’s calling her baby. Angry that she cares. And the next words out of his mouth are ones she’d been predicting.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve dropped everything. You’ve been here all alone, shit. Are you okay? What hurts?”

He’s hovering over her, fidgeting, unsure if he can touch her.

“I’m fine now. Just sore. And tired.”

“Fuck I can’t believe this, I—”

“The doctor already said I can go. I’m not allowed to walk out on my own, so, you need to let the nurse know you’re here. She’ll take me down in a wheelchair.”

“Baby I’m so sorry-”

“No, Harry. You would still be busy hating my guts right now—”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you?”

“Well you did a great job this week making me feel otherwise.”

Harry sighs, gripping the bed frame and dropping his chin to his chest. When he looks back up he has tears brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. “I know I’ve been an ass this week. I—you were right. I took out my anger from no one lovin’ the song on you.”

“Well it’s not no one. A lot of people did. And it’s unfinished anyway. You wouldn’t enjoy a meal if it was only cooked halfway.”

He nods, but y/n knows he’s only accepting her words because of the situation.

“You mean so much more to me than a leaked song. I’m sorry I treated you like shit. And that I—I made you think I hated you. You have every right to hate me.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

His lips twitch, but a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She takes his hand off the rail and smoothes her thumb across his knuckles. “You can make it up to me by getting me out of here.”

“I can do that.” He kisses the top of her head and hits the remote to call for the nurse.

“You can really kiss me, y’know. I’m not gonna break.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly lowers his head to press his lips to hers. He’s timid, and his lips are still damp from tears, but it’s more relieving than either of them would ever admit.

The nurse ends their moment when she pops in the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Hi, you must be y/n’s friend.”

“Friend?” He peers down at y/n, suggestion lacing the word. “Care to explain?”

“Not really, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.” He clicks his tongue, supporting her arm as she swings her legs off the bed. Once she’s standing and steady, he tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down so his mouth can graze her lobe. “Since we’re just friends, I guess you’ll have to sleep on my ugly couch.”

[behindyourbarrette]

like you a latte - matcha latte

← previous | series masterlist | join my taglist | next part ->

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

a/n: SURPRISE i felt like dropping this a DAY early!!lololololol but here it is! i appreciate the love on the last two parts so so soooo much :) can’t beliEVE WE ARE HALFWAY DONE!! reblog if u enjoyed

—

Needless to say, Twilight Time isn’t very crowded on Thursday afternoons. 

You rarely pick up closing shifts anymore—for reasons totally unrelated to the doctor who almost exclusively arrives in the morning—but you’re covering for Sally, and it’s a nice day out. The rain has let up in favor of mild weather, the sun just barely peeking through the clouds as people drift past the shop. Despite the fact that there’s more foot traffic on the street, not many people come in to order. You don’t blame them. Why have hot coffee on a day like this?

Your back is turned when you hear a group enter, and your heart soars at the prospect of tips. For whatever reason, most people are more inclined to tip when they know their friends are watching. You call out to let them know you’ll be right with them, and after you’re done fidgeting with the settings of the coffee grinder, you turn. 

It’s Spencer. But he’s not alone.

There are a total of four people before you, each intimidating you in slightly different ways. They’re all agents, as evidenced by their not-so-concealed carries. You recognize a few of the characters. Spencer’s told you about JJ, who you assume to be the friendly blonde, and Penelope, who is a vision in fuchsia. That leaves Emily, who’s whispering to JJ, eyes fixed on you. You try to absorb the sight, them together. Spencer looks at ease, a wide smile on his face as he looks between you and the group.

“Hey, Spencer. These your coworkers?” You crack a nervous smile, knitting your fingers together. He nods, introducing them each in turn. JJ grins in your direction, and Penelope waves at you with a fingerlessly-gloved hand. Emily reaches across the bar to shake your hand. You get the sense that there’s something Spencer hasn’t told you.

“What can I get you guys?”

Spencer shrugs, defaulting to JJ and Emily. Penelope pipes up, eyes bright as she peers at the menu above you.

“Do you have matcha, sweetheart? I’ve been meaning to try that. It’s great for your skin.” You nod, pulling a cup out and inscribing Penelope’s name on it. JJ and Emily both order americanos, exchanging a sheepish grin. After setting their cups aside, you turn to Spencer.

“Genius, you should really try the matcha. It’ll give you brain power. Not that you need any more.” Penelope does jazz hands to emphasize her excitement, and Spencer shrugs. You watch them interact for a moment before you realize he’s turned to you for your approval.

“Oh. I really like matcha. It’s green tea, and a matcha latte tastes light and sweet. I think you’d like it.” He nods, and orders it hot. Penelope orders iced; you smile as you consider that they compliment each other, eventually turning away to prepare everyone’s drinks. They’re all relatively simple, and you manage to include latte art in the hot drinks. Spencer’s is last, and you flick your wrist to finish the design. Crossing the bar, you hand each agent their drink in turn. 

Penelope sips at her drink first, the bright green matching one of her rings perfectly. Spencer eyes his dubiously, poking at it with a wooden stirring stick. 

“It’s very green.” He whispers to Penelope, who cackles in response. 

JJ catches your eye as you watch, lingering between the bar and their seats. With a smile, she waves you over. 

“You’ve totally ruined other coffee for Spence. We had to come try it for ourselves.” She whispers, leaning down. You aren’t sure how to feel about her tone; there’s a glint of something in her eye, something playfully secretive. You’re not sure what part of this you’re not in on.The idea of Spencer mentioning you at all is foreign—sure, you’ve told your roommates, and your coworkers found out that you do, in fact, have a favorite regular. Still, you never considered the idea that you bleed into other parts of his life. You steal a glance at him while JJ compliments her americano. He’s sipping at his matcha, a green mustache left behind. 

“You have a magic touch, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever had coffee this good in the states.” Emily flashes you a grin as if she can sense your nervousness. You relax a little, asking her about her work abroad instead of getting lost in your head. She strikes you as a diplomat, and a compliment from her feels like something to be savored. Penelope raves to you about the health benefits of matcha, and you immediately feel welcomed by her. If you were to run a study comparing the approachability between pink polka dots and pantsuits, you're sure that polka dots would win.

“Are you an agent, too?” You ask, stirring your own iced coffee with a straw. Eyeing the clock, you’ve decided that this counts as your break. Tyler be damned. Penelope giggles, shaking her head.

“Oh God no. Well, technically. I’m a technical analyst, so I work on the computer and tech end of things.” She explains, and you nod. It makes a lot of sense. While both JJ and Emily exude the energy of most cops—authoritative, with a critical eye—Garcia does’t fit that mold. It’s this that draws you to her.

You learn that JJ has a son named Henry, a surprisingly Southern boyfriend to match, and that Emily has a cat named Sergio. Despite their highbrow titles, you don’t feel out of place. It’s easy to sip at your coffee, the cup cool against your fingertips, and listen.

“Are you in school? Spence mentioned that you majored in literature.” JJ sets her cup down, flexing her fingers against the air. You feel yourself flush now that the attention is on you. The fact that he chose this detail to divulge sticks between your ribs. You haven't told him much about your work—he insisted on reading your thesis, and even reread the source material to better discuss it with you—but apparently, what you have discussed has made an impression.

“Yeah, actually. I’m in my second year of law school.” You admit. Emily nods in approval, reaching out to high five you.

“Damn. With all the assholes you deal with in customer service, you’ll make a great attorney.” You high five her with a small smile on your face, stealing a glance at Spencer. He seems elated, clearly enjoying the dynamic he’s observing.

“Do you want to go into criminal law?”

JJ asks, eyes wide with curiosity. You shake your head ruefully. They take it well, shrugging their shoulders. To their credit, their branch of law enforcement deals with the process prior to prosecution. You shudder at the idea of what happens after they catch the bad guys.

“No, not really. I’m looking at either the entertainment or environmental sector.”

The group murmurs, and the conversation devolves into small talk about law. You look to Spencer for an escape, and he suggests that they take a walk. Once the girls have trickled out of the room, each hugging you goodbye, you’re left alone with Spencer.

“Hey.”

You laugh at the simplicity of his greeting, turning to toss your empty coffee cup into the trash. Spencer flushes a deep shade of red, raking his hands through his hair.

“Your friends aren’t how I expected. Really cool, though. Especially for like, Quantico professionals.” You wipe the counter down, and the reality that you’re on the clock hits you, a little dizzily. Did his coworkers really just want to meet Spencer’s barista? The realization tastes a little bitter, and you bite back any further questioning in favor of looking up at him.

“Yeah. They’re like family.” He looks out the window, hands deep in his pockets. His whole demeanor is stiff, and you resist the urge to reach out and force his shoulders down from his ears.

“Did you like the matcha? I wasn’t sure you would. I used the oat milk you like.” Slowly, he relaxes. With a small smile, he nods.

“It was good. I like most teas, I’m finding. It wasn’t too sweet.” You add matcha to the mental list you keep, of drinks he likes. It’s become your mission to expand it. In the months since he started branching out, you’ve managed to add a few drinks to his core rotation. 

“You know you’re one of my friends too, right?”

This catches you off guard. You pause in the motion of sweeping the floor, carefully raising your eyes to meet his. While nervous, he sounds sincere. When met with your silence, he continues.

“I just wanted you to know.” 

You nod carefully. The implications of this are something you’ll consider later, when you’re alone. He’s only confirming something you’ve already known, but something about it stings. The word crosses your mind briefly, but it sticks. It’s bittersweet.

“I know.” Your voice is low, soft against the din of the coffee shop. Spencer doesn’t look satisfied, opening his mouth to say something then closing it again. He glances between you and the window.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

taglist:

@everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @coldlilheart @idonotexiste @aberrant-annie @onyourfingertips @bakugouswh0r3 @uptowngotmedown @infinite-tides @chaosconcerns @littlewritersinspace​ @okivia @forever-not-gonna-sink​ @insert-gay-here​ @just-another-persona123​ @winniemjf **if tags don’t work, check your visibility settings

[sweettodo]

LMFAO- can u headcannon the aot warriors + y/n in a zoom meeting. and y’know y/n a little baddie and wears a revealing outfit 😩😏

i just saw this tiktok of some fanart of them in a zoom meet and it was the cutest thing EVERRRR.

EREN-

• doesn’t even bother to get out of bed, he just rolls over, picks his laptop from the floor and joins the zoom only to fall back asleep.

• levi constantly attempts to get his attention, and eren doesn’t even budge.

• seldom awake, but when he IS, he will usually interrupt to ask a stupid question: ‘hange where did you get that cool plant?’ or ‘jean i smell you through the zoom call, did you shower today?’

• enjoys changing his background to an odd photo of jean or one of his friends.

• hange will be the first to kick eren out of the zoom, and it’s not like mr. jaeger cares or anything.

• not to mention, he leaves his camera on too. so everyone sees shirtless eren passed out under the blankets with not a regard in the world.

• eats while on the call.

• one day, ( he still thanks god he was awake to see this ) you were working out in the morning before realizing you were already 10 minutes late to your meeting.

• jumping on to the meeting, sweaty, in a revealing sports bra and shorts, you’re apologizing profusely to levi and hange for being late.

• ‘lookin’ good y/n’ eren cackles, but what you or your friends realizing was that eren was now breathless, trying not to stare at you with every bit of will-power he could muster up.

• ‘seems that eren’s pretty awake now, heh’ jean taunts, eren quickly turns off his camera, so he could enjoy looking at you, who decided to wear... that

JEAN-

~ also likes to change his background, plays on his xbox with or without connie, headphones on his head and screaming while levi is muting jean to proceed talking.

~ jean has the pc set up and everything with the two monitors and the colorful custom pc.

~ eren makes fun of him because he uses a microphone. like the ones that have the stand and everything.

~ his room is never fully lit. he used leds, ( blue or green tbh ) shades are always closed.

~ ‘jean, turn off the game. now’ hange swears she tells him everyday.

~ ‘hey jean, didn’t you wear that sweatshirt last time? do you have any other clothes?’ eren ridicules, of course interrupting levi, who’s talking.

~ ‘i see the crumbs on your bed, jaeger!’

~ jean finds himself staring at you once you joined the call, wearing a... revealing... tank top with a very generous bra. his mouth growing increasingly dry.

~ he assumes that no one seems to notice, but when his friends see that he’s quite literally frozen in place, mouth slightly open as he’s looking at your chest.

~ ‘jean’

~ no answer.

~ ‘jean!’

~ ‘hu- yeah, yes?’

~ ‘is your internet having issues? you’re frozen’

MIKASA-

: sits at her desk, she has a picture collage of her, eren and armin on her wall.

: pristine white walls, very clean.

: always needs to call eren to wake him up before the meeting so he doesn’t miss it.

: if she forgets to call eren to wake him up, he blames her for missing the meeting.

: mikasa and armin are always firsts to the meeting.

: she always speaks, and fully participates.

: levi and hange usually are apt to call on her first for her opinions.

: she never turns her camera off, she’s wearing a comfortable but appropriate outfit, jeans and a blouse or shorts and a t shirt.

: sends group emails, for literally whatever reason.

: compliments others backgrounds ( their rooms ).

: reminds eren that his room is a pigsty and he needs to get out of bed, ‘eren, it’s 11:30am, get up.’

: ‘jean, you need to make your bed once and awhile’

: she always compliments what you’re wearing too, ‘i love that top y/n, where’d you get it?’

: and will have absolutely no problem with putting the boys in their place when she catches them gawking at you.

: ‘you guys are like dogs’

: she tells levi to kick them from the meet if they keep staring at you.

ARMIN-

∘ always early.

∘ room is neat, warm looking and he sits on the edge of his bed with his laptop in his lap.

∘ most talkative one here besides levi and hange.

∘ also calls eren every morning to ensure he’s awake.

∘ armin has a notebook and pencil next to him, constantly writing down notes.

∘ always has a presentation ready, a powerpoint or a document to show everyone.

∘ usually sticks to casual, t shirt and jeans.

∘ room is well lit, camera and mic are always on.

∘ also reminds the others to pay attention and be quiet, pleading with them, ‘guys, captain levi is trying to talk.’ also always lectures eren to get out of bed once and awhile.

∘ he doesn’t really pay much attention to what the others are wearing, but he can’t help but glance a few times at your outfit for the day.

∘ it makes his heart pound of his chest when you move to stretch or prop for hand under your chin to listen, your chest on display, arms squeezing them together only a little. he was in awe, swallowing hard and trying not to blush.

∘ avoiding you at all costs.

∘ armin won’t admit it, but he’s a hypocrite, so he’s gonna lecture the boys not to objectify you and tells you that he’s sorry for their immaturity.

∘ but yet here he is.

LEVI-

» cup of tea ready.

» sits at his dining room table.

» dreads having to do the zoom meet, so he’s pretty short tempered the whole time.

» wearing a button up per usual.

» well lit, has a plant in the corner of the room, most likely a cat in the windowsill.

» very english teacher-esque.

» swears the whole time at eren.

» kicks eren and jean out almost every zoom meeting.

» relies on armin for detailed information and analysis’

» needed to ask hange in secret how to present his screen, pin / mute people because he was pretty inept at computers for the most part.

» doesn’t use the mouse pad on his laptop, he connects a mouse because he despises that stupid mouse pad.

» the second he sees what you’re wearing, he shakes his head, ‘tch, i can hear these hounds now’

» yells at the boys to stop being perverts.

CONNIE-

‣  similar to jean, he also used led’s most of the time.

‣  has posters on his walls of music artists, shows, games and people

‣  he sits at his desk, which is cluttered, occasionally plays video games ( not as much as jean )

‣  zones out, looking at something random and blocks out a lot of what hange and levi says.

‣  yawns like 80 times in the span of an hour.

‣  drinks soda, or surfs the web.

‣  his bed is made, and he wears sweatshirts and sweats because like eren, he just got out of bed too.

‣  though connies bed is made, he still has clothes littered here and there, has a rack of shoes in the corner of his room ( he’s a sneaker head )

‣  most likely to not turn his camera on because he leaves the room to do god knows what.

‣  plays imessage games during the call.

‣  teases eren constantly.

‣  he won’t be AS dog-ish when he sees what you’re wearing, but he will say to himself, ‘she has some pretty nice tits’ and will probably text jean saying exactly that. but then he just moved on with his day.

‣  presents memes before the meeting to try and get levi to laugh. it doesn’t work.

HANGE-

≈ shes on her couch.

≈ wears casual outfits.

≈ ushers the boys to participate.

≈ very upbeat and happy.

≈ first person to make an interactive slideshow to get everyone to participate.

≈ shes into sending levi cat memes.

≈ has a cup of coffee next to her, plants and pictures of plants on her wall.

≈ likes to unmute people purposely if their mic is muted.

≈ emails back and fourth with armin and levi for plans for the upcoming meetings.

≈ she will not tolerate anyone disrespecting one another. kicking the boys out to stop them from harassing you about what you’re wearing.

HISORIA-

‹ her room is like a oasis, pastel walls, the vines on her walls and everything.

‹ diffuser in the background and incense.

‹ shes drinking coffee, always dressed, makeup on ( if she chooses to wear it ) and she attends these meetings on her laptop, sitting in front of her vanity.

‹ wears pretty blouses, or a summery dress, hair always fixed to perfection.

‹ sometimes her mom comes in, with cut up fruit and ice water, giving it to her and then leaving.

‹ she has framed pictures of her and everyone on her wall.

‹ also has honor roll certificates on her wall.

‹ she makes sure her vanity light is on so she has good lighting.

‹ also takes notes- color coordinating notes.

‹ she does participate, she laughs at the boys when they act up.

‹ also compliments everyone.

‹ when she catches the boys looking at you, she tells levi to make them knock it off, and then shakes her head in disappointment, ‘you all are so weird, leave y/n alone, you’re making her uncomfortable’

YMIR-

≍ shes usually propped up on her side, laying on her bed or the couch.

≍ she doesn’t participate unless she’s chosen to.

≍ keeps quiet, pays good attention.

≍ she sticks to wearing a sweatshirt and shorts or just a t shirt and leggings.

≍ clean room, warm blue sheets and gray walls.

≍ she gets furious when jean and eren go at it.

≍ shes gonna defend you against the boys pertaining to what you’re wearing, saying, ‘take your dirty eyes off of her’

≍ she doesn’t mind what you’re wearing, she thinks you look really good, but you wouldn’t catch her dead making a comment on your body.

≍ won’t admit it but it makes her flustered seeing how your body looks.

SASHA-

⇝ sits at her kitchen table.

⇝ eating full meals while the meeting takes place.

⇝ doesn’t hesitate to talk when her mouth is full so levi keeps her muted.

⇝ house is very home-y, warm and decorated well, her kitchen is seen in the background with her mom or dad occasionally walking past.

⇝ sometimes asking her mom to make her another sandwich, ( after her third one ).

⇝ always laughing with connie and jean.

⇝ sticks to casual outfits, sweatshirt and leggings, hair always up.

⇝ no filter, so if she catches eren or jean looking at you, she’s gonna jump into action.

⇝ ‘i know you’re not looking at her like that!’

⇝ ‘you better stop looking at her before i go over there!’

⇝ ‘captain if you don’t kick these fools out right now i’ll go over there and kick their asses instead!’

[jujutsubabe]

Library

Synopsis: (This is set when Gojo and Getou were in highschool) You are all in the library trying to practice presentations but Gojo can’t stop being distracting.

(I mean,,, no ship tbh? Kinda platonic reader insert but u can take it as Gojo flirting)

Word count: 1.7k

—————

A library is supposed to be silent, filled with studying and well focused people. It’s a place meant for peace and quiet, so everyone there can get a good grasp on their subjects without any distractions.

The library is known for being the best place to work in, you are surrounded by peers and books and computers of all kind. The amount of resources is unlimited, mixing alone and social time all into one setting, a beautiful design.

However, if you mix a quiet respectable place with three idiots, you tend to get the opposite of what a library is supposed to be.

The library was filled with your quiet snorts and giggles as you sat in the back of the room, you putting your hand over your mouth did nothing to silence you as you shook.

Gojo bit down on his lip as he tried to contain his laugh as well, waiting for the right timing to say another dumb joke.

You felt the stares of a few of your peers, but couldn’t help from giggling in your corner. It was one of those rare moments where you felt air escape your lungs in a good way, the crunching of your sides was a ticklish feeling. It was so carefree and fun, a simple memory you would keep every time you entered a library.

You turned to Gojo at the same time as him, trying to put on a serious face but when you saw his struggling one you couldn’t help but crack a huge smile and fall back into your lap cackling. He turned away snickering to his side as well.

You had been here for what felt like hours, you trying to go over your presentation but barely getting through the first slide with how Gojo suddenly wanted to be a comedian. Not letting you catch a break each slide.

It didn’t help that you were already behind in your presentation, he just fed into your procrastination. Making this workload ease into other hours of your day, it seemed like the only thing you could do for the day was work on this presentation.

Getou rested his chin on his hand, “You egg him on when you do that.”

“I know!” You wheezed, “But its so—so hard, I can’t focus.”

Gojo leaned in to whisper something else but Getou tilted his head, “Satoru, you’re a distraction.”

He pulled back, fixing his sunglasses with a wide grin. The class clown couldn’t help but make light of such a boring atmosphere, what was he even supposed to do in here? (Study Gojo… study…)

Picking on you two was way more fun than doing his fifty-billion already missing assignments.

“What?” He looked over his glasses, “It’s not my fault I’m this funny.”

“No, he’s right!” You took deep breaths, pulling into your center, “He’s right, let me try again and don’t distract me!” You pointed with a warning intent.

He grinned at you, playing on his innocent expression, which didn’t come across as very genuine.

It was like he called for attention to himself just by entering a room. No one could ignore him. So imagine how much harder it would be to ignore him if this giant ray of sunshine was sitting right next to you, pestering you every second.

“So,” you skimmed over your notes, “for this presentation, I wanted to research how the possible extinction of polar bears is such a condenen— conquential—conquista-- conse-”

“Are you trying to say consequential?” Geto asked.

There was a slight moment of silence, maybe half a second before, like a burst of a bubble, Gojo snorted and turned his head to the side giggling away. It didn’t help that his laugh was so contagious. It was like a yawn, when one person did it everyone else did.

Geto looked away, covering the slight curl of his mouth. He tried his best to be the mature one in the group but sometimes Gojo broke down that expectation with something as simple as giggling like a child.

Him trying to not smile mixed with Gojo’s actual laugh made it so much harder to not give in yourself. These two really couldn’t stop goofing around, no matter the situation.

You forced a frown, “Guys, It’s not funny!”

Gojo made a look at Getou, and Getou let out the lightest huff of air before shaking his head. “You’re right. Continue.”

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, getting your notes in order, “I think it’s important to note that a big factor that could lead to their extinction are greenhouse gas em… emm...emnio—”

You squinted at the page, pulling it closer, you ignored Gojo’s pestering smile beside you. If you even looked at him you knew this would be all bad, he had a way of pulling you from work and not letting you get back to it.

Getou tapped the paper, “What’s wrong?”

You slid the paper to him, “I don’t know how to say that.”

He pulled the paper to his face with a slight frown. He blinked a few times, trying to not let confusion seep onto his face. With a little bit of inspecting, he eventually slipped the paper across for Gojo to help.

Gojo blinked back at the paper, a smile curling onto his face, “Is this your handwriting…?”

Getou hid his face while Gojo’s smile widened into a grin, then a chuckle, then a full on laugh, the both of them snickering onto themselves. You rolled your eyes, as Gojo banged his hand on the table like he saw the funniest thing on the damn planet.

These two were rolling over themselves over your sleep filled handwriting! It wasn’t even that funny!

You scoffed as the two went into hysterics over your handwriting, trying to fight off the smile crawling it’s way onto your face. It took so much to not give in.

It was all fun and games until a few students started to share a few looks from across the room. A few glared your direction, some actually leaving the place for a quieter place to study. No one seemed to enjoy your table's joy the same way you all were.

The three of you were being a nuisance to the quiet work environment, contradicting the point of a library with your presence. But why was laughing in the library more fun than laughing in your room with each other?

Was it the concept of breaking the rules that tickled you? Or maybe it was the hysteria of working on something for too long without breaks, forcing you all into taking a different kind of break.

None of you noticed when a select few students got up to talk to the teachers about you three. Whispering to the side and pointing a teacher your direction.

Your head popped up when you heard the light tapping of heels and keychains coming your direction. A more than pissed off adult looking straight towards your table.

You shook Gojo and grabbed his arm, “Dude shut up! Shut up the teachers coming!”

Before you could grab yourselves together, the teacher already arrived by your table, tapping on the desk until she got your attention. “I’m going to need you all to quiet down or leave. You’re being a distraction.”

Gojo quirked a brow, opening his mouth, but you spoke up before he said something disrespectful.

“Sorry.” You nudged the guy next to you, “We’ll be more quiet.”

She pursed her lips as she did a once over of you all, definitely memorizing your faces. You lot were making this poor lady do more than needed on her shift. She probably couldn’t wait until you guys messed up again so she could kick you out for good.

“Thank you.” She did a last sharp look before she eventually turned, walking away to the front desk again. Full hawk eyes on your table.

You turned around to the group, trying to regain composure. It was so awkward having her stare and know that you had to be on your best behavior. Everyone sat silently, no one even moving.

Until Gojo leaned back in his seat, twisting his head to look at you. You tried your best to not look at him…you could literally feel his stare through your head. He was insufferable.

…However, you couldn’t help the curiosity and slowly turned your head to meet his eyes. Just one look and his face flooded into a winced grin, already trying to hold back laughter with a squeaking sound from him.

With that, your composure broke and you released a set of giggles while Getou covered his mouth. Just like that Gojo won, he ate this attention up, releasing his own dumb fit of laughter.

You guys really couldn’t go a minute in silence could you?

Getou smiled and stood from the table, “Were not getting anything done. Let’s get food.”

You nodded, you were surprised it took this long for someone to realize that. This was a highly anticipated break you put off for too long, not realizing just how much time was wasted goofing off until now.

“I want ice cream!” Gojo slung your bag over his shoulder.

You blinked between the two as they gathered their belongings, starting to disperse from the table. You were still getting yourself together, scrambling with your things as the tall pair strided to the exit. “Guys wait up!”

They very much did not wait up, if anything it seemed as though their pace got quicker. (Gojo even looked back before grinning that sinister smile of his and walking faster.)

When you darted out of the seat, you just so happened to glance back at the table.

It had a few balled up sheets of paper under it, (that Gojo made and threw at the both of you) the chair’s weren’t pushed in, and if you looked closely you could see a few doodles sprawled along it.

For some reason, the table setting that would definitely piss off that teacher, made you smile. It showed proof that you and your friends had been there, that a few teens were messing around and having fun before they left.

Which you did, you made a good memory today. Those small moments of laughing at dust with friends, warmth from being so happy, comfort from having a tight bond.

It was all you needed, and all you wanted to remember anyways.

[beyoncesdragon]

title: have a look yourself

× pairing: Jae x f!reader ((I think?)), (established relationship)

× summary: Spending Christmas with Jae sure is entertaining and full of surprises. 

× warnings: none, FLUFF

× wordcount: 1.3k

× a/n: listen, I don’t know? I kinda lost myself there at the end tbh, I never meant for it to go there. Also, I put f!reader because I used the term “wife someone” and I don’t KNOW IF YOU CAN SAY THAT TO A GUY/NON BINARY PERSON I’m sorry. Pls educate me. (also, watch me pretend to know anything about guitars here, lmao bye) Merry Chrism y’all!

main masterlist | day6 masterlist

“Your Christmas gift for me is…my own album?” Jae asked, looking up just slightly confused. You had troubles holding back your laughter as you nodded, trying to muster an innocent expression. How you had waited for today, longed for the moment you could finally give him the gift you’d planned out so carefully. It had taken you months of planning and messaging back and forth with the company, countless nights spent editing in front of your computer.

Jae flipped the red and black box over, suspiciously eyeing the back of it. “Uh…thank you?” you rolled your eyes. “Open it, Jae come on!” he gave you another confused glance, only hesitatingly fumbling with the lid.

“Will it explode? Hey, why are you filming?” you shook you head quickly, motioning him to just finally focus on the task on hand. He sighed, having decided that questioning you or your choice of gift wouldn’t bring him any further now. All that was left was opening the album. With another sigh he flipped the cover open, facing…the completely regular content. There were the preorder-gift polaroids, a bookmark (with Wonpil at that) the lyric cards, photo cards, the photobook and in its back, as Jae knew, would be the CD. Nothing special. Jae was more than confused.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something? Did like, a fairy elevate from it or something?” you only laughed, shaking your head.

“Nope.” Jae sighed, giving you big, very confused eyes. “Jagi, help. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, I just really don’t…get it?” you gave him an innocent smile once again and nodded towards the album.

“Unpack it. Oh come on Jae, have you never unboxed an album before? Do it like me when I get mine in.” he snorted.

“I only make them, what would I unbox them for. And what do you mean, do it like you. Does that mean I’m supposed to squeal over Jackson Wangs face when I see him pop up somewhere?” you threw the discarded wrapping paper at him.

“You’re no fun Jae, seriously. Just go through it, Jesus Christ!” he sighed dramatically before finally, tilting the box so it’s content would fall into his hands. He gave you a quick look and you just nodded, urging him to continue.

“Am I supposed to go through the photobook?” you shrugged. “I mean, what would you do first if you were a fan of yourself and would get this in the mail?” he pursed his lips slightly. “I am a fan of myself. Y/N you’re no help at all.” you only snickered amused. “Jae, you’re a stoic little boy. Hurry up.” He gave you a glare before opening the photobook…and almost dropping it again.

“What the fu-?“ you couldn’t help yourself any longer and burst out laughing. Instead of the group pictures he’d probably expected, there was…something else. Still a group picture, with just the tiny difference that all the members wore Wonpils face. Jae flicked through the pages of the book, scanning over every picture before looking at you with a horrified look on his face. “What did you dooo?” he whimpered, opening the book at the page where he’s supposed to be – and was – but with Wonpils face montaged over his own. You couldn’t answer just yet, your breath hitching with giggled as you watched Jae stare at this army of Wonpils all over the pages of the book with a look of disgust.

“I’m speechless. How did you even get this done, who helped you. JYP himself?” he ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the pictures, now fighting a small smile.

“The demon, indeed.” Jae mumbled, and a tiny smile started to tug on his lips. You were on floor laughing, more than satisfied with your gift, more than happy with his reaction.

“So you wanna tell me…that you went through all this trouble…all of this…just so I would have a book with Wonpils face?” you nodded, teary eyed, sore throated  but happy. “For my favourite boy. A special edition, only copy that has ever been made. You like it?” he narrowed his eyes.

“C’mere you little minx…” and he leaped towards you. With a shocked squeal you scooted out of reach before getting on your feet as quick as possible and speeding for the kitchen. The chase did not go on forever, actually it ended almost instantly. Jae was faster (also because you wore fluffy Christmas socks which made everything dangerously slippery)  and had you trapped in his arms in no time. He picked you up for half a second maybe, right before he fell backwards onto the sofa, where he took it upon himself to tickle the living hell out of you. Only after a good ten minutes he stopped with it and pulled you into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” Was all he had to say, the fond smile on his lips betraying him. You only grinned, turning around so you could comfortably rest in his arms. He glanced down at you, a smile dancing over his lips. You reached up to press yours against them, as if to catch the smile before it vanished.

“Now did you like it?” he laughed softly, pulling you tighter for a second. “Sure. Would you be mad if I burned it or something?” you stifled a laugh, intertwining your fingers with his, resting them on his belly.

“I kinda expected you to at least frame a few pages. You could hang it up in the studio, right over your guitar stand. The colours would look great with that deep red Gibson you got.” Jae hummed amused before he snapped up.

“Wait the what?” you bit back a tiny smile. “The deep red Gibson Les Paul Studio, you know that guitar. It would go well with the red aesthetic moment you guys got going on in the album.” You repeated, acting as if nothing was wrong.

“I…I don’t have a red Gibson…? I only have a black one, you know the old one…?”

“Are you sure you don’t have a red one?” he sat up, giving you a weird look. “What are you…”

“Oh come on, you didn’t really think I just got you the Wonpil photobook, did you?” his jaw fell slack.

“You got me a guitar?” you grinned proudly. “Younghyun helped me pick the right kind, since I have less than no knowledge about guitars. It’s waiting for you behind the coats in the hallway…I had to hide it somewhere. Go have a look.” Jae was on his feel faster than a chicken on speed and sprinted towards the clothing racks, slithering coming to a stop in front of them.

“Holy shit.” You laughed. “She’s beautiful! I can’t believe…are you serious?” he brushed carefully over the shinny ebony, placing the guitar in a way where it would rest safely on his lap. You leaned against his shoulder as you watched him brush over a few strings hesitatingly. The dark red fit beautifully into the scenery, the light up Christmas tree and cozy atmosphere, accentuating everything with a more Christmas-sy feel. “Damn. I know I shouldn’t swear on Christmas out of everything but holy shit, she’s beautiful.” you shrugged lightly, shooting him a wink. “Suits you perfectly then!” he clicked his tongue and gave you a slightly unbelieving look.

“Keep that behavior up and I’ll wife you before this year ends.” You huffed amused. “Yeah I mean I would, but I do not have the financial capability to do that, good Sir. You can still wife me, tho.” He shot you a quick grin before diverting his gaze back to the guitar.

“You know, I’m gonna do it anyways so...” Jae mumbled almost absentmindedly, gaze still fixed on the guitar. You looked up surprised, feeling a tingle rise in your chest. 

Was he…serious?

“Oh yeah?” he looked up at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “What? Did you think I only got you a box of chocolates and those lame ass concert tickets for Christmas? The ring is in the top drawer of my nightstand, I had to hide it somewhere.” This time, it was your turn to stare at him blankly.

“Shut up Jae, you’re kidding.” He leaned back with a smug grin, shooting you a wink.

“Go have a look yourself, babe.”

— ✩ thank u for reading ✩ —

[dreaming-twist]

2. WEB

Some random oneshot for TwstOBer ~ Enjoy please xD

“Sebek, you need to find some other hobby. Do you want to try playing with my PC?”

“Human inventions that have nothing to do with magic? Hmpf! Sounds disappointing.”

“Well, well, at least give it a try, okay? It maybe surprises you.”

“... If you say so, Lilia-sama...”

That was how it all began. A simple proposal from Lilia had been his first and until now last contact with that world. And he still didn't know how he had gotten to the point where he was right now.

That day, in Lilia's PC, he found a program on the web that caught his attention. "Pass on your thoughts or knowledge!" It said. Sebek arched an eyebrow, and ended up creating an account outnof curiosuty with the first nickname that came to mind (Best Bolt) until he came across a recording function. Then he realized what this must be.

“I understand. It should be something like a journal, but instead of writing it by hand, you speak directly to it. Interesting invention, not bad for humans...”

And then, after clearing his throat and hitting the 'Record' button, he began to speak.

“... Hello? ... I don't know how this works, but I will try to adapt. This is my first time using one of these... inventions. It's interesting, but... Hm? Wait, why is there a light that is blinking on the side? Okay... I'll try to fix it. I don't know how the recording is turned off...”

Sebek began to investigate what happened to the computer, and in that time he wasn't seeing suddenly the counter of 0 that appeared on the side of the recording screen went up to 1, then to 2, and thus it began to rise. increasingly.

Once he finally fixed it, he returned to his starting position.

“Done. It was not a problem for me. What could I talk about today... Huh?”

As he was thinking, he suddenly saw an alert glow red on the screen, next to a speech bubble. Sebek brought the mouse to it and opened it, finding the words: "You can talk about anything you want."

“I understand. It even gives you suggestions... What a useful program... I'll talk a bit about myself in that case.” Despite this, Sebek decided not to speak the names of anyone he named... for his own sake. He didn't want to be embarrassed later if he listened to his own diary... “Right now I don't live with my family, so to speak. It's not that I get on badly with them at all; I went away to study and to fulfill my duties and my work. So now I'm living somewhere else, surrounded by... ahem, people. However, the ones I am closest to are... the family of a person I have known since childhood.”

He leaned back in the chair.

“One of them treats me almost as if I were his son, and sometimes I think he cares too much about me and pampers me too much. He has taught me so many things, and I feel that every day I learn a little more from him. I respect him a lot... although he sometimes takes advantage of me and plays practical jokes on me. I don't know if he wants me to feel comfortable and enjoy all of this despite being away from my family... or he just wants to play with me. He left me all this... equipment to test it and 'have fun'. Hum. I think once again he was right. His advice is always helpful.”

He made a mental note that he should thank Lilia.

“And then there is... the one who is the only person my age who has always been by my side. He is a very decisive... person, and too calm, I'll say. That is what makes him fail so much in many things. However... he is the person I have been with the most since children, and despite his failures and the fact that we argue so many times... he is very important to me. We do not consider ourselves nor have we called ourselves 'friends' before, rather it is that in addition to being one of the same rank as me, he is my rival and someone I like to continually surpass. I think he may feel the same way.”

For some reason he was saying things that surprised even him. He had never spoken so openly about Silver. How was this happening? Was he so comfortable talking to himself...?

“And there is someone else, who is who I am doing all this for and for whom I strive every day. He is the most incredible being I have ever met. Always correct, with the greatest power I have ever seen, diligent, perfect... It is directly my reason for being, I am SURE of it. I want to become stronger for him and be by his side to serve him whenever he needs me. I'm lucky that someone like him recognized my worth. He is my role model... Although...”

He bit his lip.

“... I think I'm not good enough to help him, protect him, and still be worthy. But I will be. Not because I started showing results later than others am I going to give up. That is something I am not going to do. I want to make the world see that I can become the best in my course... No; the best ever. And prove that he was not wrong with me. It doesn't matter where you come from, whose son you are, or if your power came to light sooner or later... WHAT REALLY MATTERS IS YOUR PASSION, AND STRIVE EVERY DAY TO KEEP WALKING!”

After blurting that out with a big smile and clenched fists, he soon realized that he had lost his composure a bit. He returned to his starting position, clearing his throat.

“... Ahem. For now I feel like I'm on the right track to achieve that goal. The first step is to be the best in my course. Or so I think. The people I... hang out with, from the same course as me are... peculiar. There is one who seems to be pursuing the same goal as me. But he still has a lot left. I notice conviction in his words but I don't see any improvement in his studies. However, he is stronger than I expected at first, and he excels at P.E. There's another... thing who wants to become the best too, but... I'm not even going to talk about him. That one is a lost case. There are two more who instead appear to be quite normal, but one only seems to have an interest in one thing, and the other... honestly, I don't know what to think of him, but he's very strong. And besides the four of them there is a... person who does not seem to want to improve on anything at all. Or rather, he doesn't seem to have an interest in it. But he is not an idiot, rather he seems like one, and I have learned from other sources that when he proposes it to him, he is capable of being the best student in his class. Perhaps he is the most suitable to call him a 'rival' among them. Although as long as he continues to seem so bored of everything that comes his way, there should be no problem... He also shouldn't like me too much. Although he keeps talking to me. He is an interesting guy.”

Sebek then took a breath to talk about the last person he was missing, after talking about Deuce, Grim, Epel, Jack and Ace.

“And lastly there is this… ahem, person, that came along all of a sudden. They doesn't have the capacity to be here, but they somehow got in and we're on the same course. When I learned of their existence, I felt that I had tried very hard to get here, while they had a special ability, although not the one that everyone else possesses, was able to enter without problems. It was unfair. I have ever thought that they were making fun of everyone.” He paused. For some reason, even though he had blurted it out, he didn't feel good about himself... Was that the whole truth...? It was then that he recalled certain moments that he spent with them from then on. “... But they are very clumsy. I feel like I have to be there to hold them if they falls. Studying with them is not unpleasant, they are capable to follow my advice and understand things quickly. I do not dislike those who strive to achieve their goals...”

Another notification appeared on the side of the screen. Sebek stopped speaking, a half smile adorning his face, and looked at the message, taking advantage of the stop in his monologue. Would it be another suggestion from the program...?

“How beautiful is love.”

The boy jumped.

“WHAT?! NO!!” He yelled at the screen, totally flushed. “H-How can a program say these things?! This is a joke?!”

The notifications came out again and Sebek managed to read some.

“Program? What are you talking about man?”

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with you liking someone, I support you!!!”

“Is Story Time over? I was really enjoying listening to you, Best Bolt”

“I have become a fan of yours! Will you talk about more things another day?”

“Your words are very inspiring!♡”

“Best Bolt u r the BEST!”

Sebek began to check the screen, and saw that next to a symbol that represented an eye appeared the number "5000".

5000... eyes?

WERE THERE 5000 PEOPLE LISTENING TO HIM AT THAT TIME ?!

“Hey. Did you listen to Best Bolt the other day on this popular app with podcasts that premier live?” Ace asked, as he ate his burger.

Sebek stopped eating when he heard that.

“No, but I have heard people talk about him to class people. He seemed interesting” Said Epel.

“I had listened to podcasts, but few that talked about personal life... And he spoke so calmly and in such a sincere and focused way... I wish I could do something like that” Deuce commented. Epel smiled at him, he felt the same way.

“I don't know who you're talking about” said Jack confused. (Y/n) and Grim were just like him.

“He cut the recording suddenly the other day, something may have happened to his PC... But hey, if he comes back I'll let you know for sure.”

Sebek ate without saying anything, next to them, who were talking so happily about Best Bolt, until...

“Sebek, youuuu... well, I don't even know why I ask, in Diasomnia you all are very old-fashioned, right? You don't use technology much... except Lilia-senpai.” Ace started to say, looking at him.

Sebek tried to avoid him as best he could.

“HUH?! A-Ah... No, n-no, I don't have interest in that kind of human-made things...”

“Heee... Well, I'll let you know when Best Bolt comes back anyway. Maybe it surprises you.”

“Y-Yes, okay, thank you” He replied, looking away... where he met the watchful gaze of (Y/n), quite close to his face.

“Sebek, are you okay?”

That was the last straw. Sebek quickly rose from his chair.

“PERFECTLY! AND NOW IF YOU ALL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE TO GO SEE HOW THE YOUNG MASTER IS!”

And with that said, the boy ran towards the exit, while everyone else looked at him.

“... Hey now that I think about it, doesn't Best Bolt look a bit like Sebek? That way of speaking, and everything he said...”

“Ha, ha. Good one, Deuce.”