#it used to be like 5+ because the office had free coffee

[dsybouquet]

ceo! ellie - 4

“see the stars, they’re shining bright. everything is alright tonight”

read part 3 here !

ellie woke up by the sound of glasses moving. tiredly, she rolled around, noticing your absence. the light was already beaming in from your bedroom window. how late was it? regardless, ellie got up and made her way down the hallway to meet you in the kitchen.

„morning!“

you smiled, noticeably already running on a cup of coffee. ellie rubber her eyes, groaning a small ‚morning‘ back with her raspy morning voice.

perhaps you had a little heartattack because of how how she manages to sound and look that good while you‘re fumbling around with cups and plates.

„want a coffee?“ you ask while already pouring some in a cup and handing it to her.

ellie, in the meantime, sat down at your kitchen table, watching you clean up your kitchen. she had to admit, you looked adorable while doing so. still in pyjamas, no make up, hair a little messy.. she could get used to that view.

“what time is it?“ she asked after the first few sips of coffee.

you looked at the time on your microwave. „9.45 am“

quickly, ellie pulled out her phone to see if there was anything to be missed. in fact, she had 4 missed calls from dina, 5 from jesse and 1 from an unknown number. she didn’t dare to take a look into her messages app.

„fuck.“, she groaned, letting her head fall into her hands.

“what‘s wrong?“ you asked her, sitting down on the other side of the table.

„work. still have to plan an event.“ her hands still supported her head. truth is, ellie didn’t want to. she hated planing and holding speeches on events. she hated the people acting all nice around her when truth was they despised her for taking over joels work.

you nodded, almost forgetting that ellie wasn’t just a girl, she was a business woman.

“i suppose you need to go soon then?”

“yeah.”

ellie looked up to you, her eyes covered in almost a sad glace. the time she spends with you makes her feel so free, like there isn’t a company to run or an event to plan or an problem to solve. its pure sweet freedom, the one she has been seeking for ages.

“if you need fresh clothes, check my closet. this way you don’t need to drive home first.” you said with the softest smile on your lips. maybe you also just liked the thought of her wearing your stuff although it may not fit her perfectly.

“i would just keep that hoodie on, if you don’t mind, dear?”

“of course not!”

the way the petnames rolled off her lips made you weak in the knees.

no matter how stressed ellie felt, she took her time drinking her coffee, keeping up a conversation with you while doing so. she kindly declined breakfast as she wasn’t the person to eat right after getting up.

slowly, you two got ready for the day. brushing teeth and hair, getting changed. ellie enjoyed the slow morning with you - although she knew dina and jesse would fuck her up for this.

together you walked to the beautiful white bentley outside. in your eyes, ellie looked so adorable. the tailored suit pants paired with your oversized university hoodie. she looked so casual, so suit, no black turtleneck - just a pretty girl that spend the night at someone’s place.

“i’ll text you later, okay? maybe we can grab some food?” she asked as gentle as always, smirking slightly.

“i’d love that.”

ellie knew you’d spend your day with your laptop and books, studying for the upcoming exams. maybe a little dinner date would make you feel better after.

she pulled you in a tight hug, stroking your hair lightly.

“see you later, pretty girl.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

“what the fuck took you so long?”

dina was pissed, and maybe she was right about it. after all, miller enterprises almost got sued over some stupid agent.

“sorry.” ellie groaned in return, letting herself drop onto her leather office chair.

rolling her eyes to the back of her head dina called jesse and a few more members of the team to meet in ellies office.

“everything is set. while you were gone enjoying youself, we organised an event hall and a catering service.” jesse explained, putting some contacts and sheets of paper on ellies desk.

“invitations have been sent, celebrities and influencers as well as important business people have been invited. the charity event, as per wish of the andersons, will be dedicated to the saint mary hospital. helping finding a cure for terminal child illnesses.” dina continued, catching ellies attention.

“this is a lovely topic. helping research for kids that need it.. very well done, team.” she admitted, signing the checks that were in between the paper stack jesse put infront of her.

everybody stood around her desk, watching her silently, waiting for an objection or something to change. to their surprise, ellie was calm. soft tempered, reading through every detail.

“next friday?” she then asked, looking up at everybody.

“yessir.”

“fine. we can get everything done by then.”

they kept on discussing business manner some of the lower tier agents for organisations didn’t understand. after all some were too stunned by the fact that they were standing in their ceos office.

“everyone aware of what to do? are we all aligned?”

everybody nooded. some ‘aye sir’ and ‘yes ma’am’ coming from different corners. ellie took that as a clear yes.

“i expect a perfect event. i shall keep my eyes on your hands while doing so. if you need anything, be it budget or approval, send it to your team leader or to jesse to let me sign it, all clear?”

again, nodding and silent approvals.

ellie grinned, sometimes she loved the power.

“you’re all dismissed then.”

everybody, except for dina and jesse, left her office. ellie wished her friends left too. she wasn’t ready for tales about how she was irresponsible by being inactive and not checking her phone.

“didn’t know you went to university?” dina joked, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. “another girl to play and show off with? is it that bartender girl?”

this woman knew how to piss ellie off. she rolled her eyes and got out of her comfortable leather seat.

“first of all, thats none of your business, dina. i didn’t say a word about you and jesse as well.”

“well you just di-“

“jesse, not know!”

jesse laughed demonically, knowing his jokes can be quite a bit.

“and second of all, i am always on top of everything. once i sleep in you act like my fucking mother!”

“didn’t you wish for one?”

if dina wasn’t her best friend, ellie would’ve grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the wall. it was a button you shouldn’t be pushing when talking to ellie. she was quite reserved about her past, about everything before joel.

„dina that’s enough!“ jesse threw in, getting in between the women.

„i‘ll send you approved contracts to sign.“ dina added before leaving the office.

ellie felt defeated and just looked at jesse.

„can you like leave too? i got work to do.“

„if you need anything let me know.“

„i won‘t but thanks, jesse.“

and so he left her in her huge office by herself. a huge groan left her throat before she activated her coffee machine for another cup. ellie light a cigarette and sat down at her desk. dina always had to pull the family card, opening old wounds that haven’t properly healed inside of ellie yet. there was no time to heal when you had a company to run.

she did her paperwork, read the contacts dina mailed her and approved or declined them. she took boring business calls and attended meetings with the top tier managers.

finally she called it a day and called you on her way to her car.

„hey ellie!“ you sweet voice light up her moof immediately.

“hey dear, can i come pick you up?”

oh, how you hoped she wouldn’t hear your smile in your voice.

“of course ! didnt finish studying yet but it can wait.”

ellie made her way to the garage of the office building, still having you on the phone.

“alright, i will be there in 20!”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

and she was. perhaps your were already waiting outside, wearing your favourite skirt paired with a hoodie and leather jacket, heeled boots underneath.

“hey.” again, she pulled you in a soft hug after getting out of her bentley before opening the door for you to get in.

“so, where are we going?”

“my apartment. im not feeling many people in a restaurant right now.”

you nodded, understanding the burden of work and after studying for what felt like ages, you were happy to not have dinner in a restaurant.

ellie drove off your street, 80s rock playing again. the sun was already down due to the winter nights. still, her car and her aura was so warm.

she stopped in front of an huge building that looked way to expensive to be an apartment building. pressing a little button on a remote control in her car, the doors to an underground garage opened. being an student that’s hardly living on budget, you were stunned.

and before you could notice, you stood in an elevator driving to the top floor of the apartment. the doors opened, and in front of you was probably the most gorgeous apartment you’ve ever seen. plants, led lights and lamp, nerdy posters and figures.

“welcome to my place.”

you were a hooked by the view from the enormous windows all around you. the skyline of the town was beautiful.

she helped you take off your jacket and put it on the hanger - as gentle as always. “thank you.” you smiled.

she showed you around. showing you her kitchen which was an dream, her two bathrooms that were so huge and beautiful, her living room, her bedroom and office. this apartment was an absolute dream. all black and white furniture, color coming from plants and posters.

“ellie this is an insane place.”

“took me a good while to get it like this, thank you.”

she smiled before getting wine glasses and a bottle of way too expensive looking wine.

“i was thinking about ordering pizza, im not a good cook unfortunately.”

“i would love that.”

and so you ordered pizza and drank way too expensive wine, talking, smoking cigarettes and maybe a little bit of weed too. you never felt so full filed in your life - neither did ellie.

“______?”

“hm?” you replied, looking up and taking a sip of the wine. ellie adored the way you look, slightly drunk, eyes full of life. how she wanted to have you for herself, but you hardly have entered the talking stage, did you?

by staring at your pretty eyes, she forgot what to say.

“ellie?” you laughed, putting her back to reality.

“uh yeah ! i wanted to ask uhm.. my company is having a charity event next friday and aah if you’re free, i’d love to have you coming alongsides me.”

you smiled, moving slightly closer to her.

“so like your date?”

ellie started blushing, but hid it well.

“if you wanna call it that.” she smiled in return, ignoring the fact that she was starting to get shy by your energy. the tension was think enough to be cut with a knife. god, you wanted to kiss her right in that spot.

“i’d love to.” you said, close enough for her to grab your face and kiss you. but she didn’t, not yet.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

and with that, merry christmas my loves ! sorry for taking ages. this is not proof read so if anything doesnt make sense, mind i wrote this in the middle of my christmas stress and cooking etc. anyways, one more part is yet to come. <3

love, daisy xx

taglist: @harrysslutsstuff @vwonnie @mikaaj @elliewilliamsgf69 @weridcattty @feelsoseencantdream @honeymoonbbie @katymae12344 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @nakimushiohime @p4ison1vy @keilyskei @angelicagellyka @kerst666 @littlegingerperson

[starsxblazing]

Pushing the Limits (Part 10)

Summary: Prepping for your mission takes an interesting turn

Azriel x Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 11 - Part 12

----

Cassian banging on your door before the sun was even up had you pulling your covers over your head with a huff. When you didn’t answer, he burst through the door and pulled the covers off of you. You frowned at him when cool air hit you and it was all that you could do to not knock that cocky smirk off of his face.

“Cassian!” you snapped. “I could’ve been naked.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” he laughed. “Wake your ass up. Rhys wants to see us.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be training in that damn maze that you set up?” you asked as you hesitantly crawled out of bed, rubbing your eyes in the process.

“The girls’ will manage without the two of us for a few hours.”

“Yea but I like doing it with them. Even if it kicks our asses most of the time.”

“Well the sooner you get up, the sooner we can get back.”

You groaned again as you stood to force yourself awake. Knowing your struggle, the House placed a steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk and you had never been more thankful for a house that was essentially alive. Unsure of what to wear, you slipped on your usual loose t-shirt and leggings in hopes of being comfortable.

For all that you wanted to be with your friends, you also didn’t want to be. The three girls going through hell in those obstacles were a lifesaver and it gave you something to think about other than your broken heart. You ignored Azriel any time that you were in seeing distance from the other, refusing to look at him because you couldn’t forgive him. At least not yet. Maybe, just in hindsight, it wasn’t that big of a deal but it was to you.

You had lost your favorite dagger that had been a personalized gift from Rhys whenever you both were free of the underground prison. It was so close to your heart since it was something given from the heart and it really hurt to lose. Not only that, Azriel’s mistrust in you hurt as well. They all knew that you weren’t as good but it left you wondering if the shadowsinger’s harsh words about your training was something that he really thought was true.

Pushing your pain aside, you made your way to the balcony where Cassian was already waiting on you. He gave you a playful scoff paired with an equally playful glare. It eased your pain just a bit and you couldn't be any more thankful for him. Being in his presence was calming so you didn’t mind the close proximity that he moved towards you once you stepped into the fresh air. 

“Do you know any good blacksmiths?” you asked as you looked up at him.

“I know plenty,” he chuckled, the sound being off compared to usual.

“No. Not just any blacksmith,” you sighed. “I want the best of the best.”

“To replace the dagger you lost?” You nodded since you weren’t able to form the words. “I will go through all of my sources and find the absolute best.”

You barely caught Azirel’s presence as you grinned up at Cassian before he gently picked you up and moved into the sky at a slower pace than he usually did. Anger was shining in his eyes as he flew and you hated that you were the reason behind the rift between the three brothers. It was the absolute last thing that you would ever want but yet here they all were.

Cassian landed flawlessly as he always did and set you down just as gently had he had when he had picked you up. You had wondered if it was pity that made him do it but you quickly realized that it was his appreciation that you were still alive and with them.

Rhysand was waiting in the office with Amren and no sooner than they could sit down, Azriel was striding through the door behind them. You still refused to even so much as look at him even though you so desperately wanted to. A month after his confession still had your heart hurting and a part of you wanted to let it go just to see if things would work.

“Are you up for some work, Y/N?” Rhys asked, breaking through your thoughts.

“You know I always am,” you agreed as you felt Azriel’s eyes on you. “It’s only been a month and I’m so restless that I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“You just like to fight, girl.”

You grinned at Amren and you were always conflicted if you liked her or Cassian the most but always decided that was almost equal. Amren always encouraged your violence and you found it amusing every single time. Pushing your thoughts to the side, you listened as Rhysand explained the details to Cassian.

“It’s a rival camp of Windhaven,” the High Lord started. “They have snuck in too many times, mostly in the middle of the night, and have done what the worst of the Illyrians have to offer.”

“Actual and true danger then?” you asked and contemplated what exactly they were to do. “I’m guessing that it means sneaking and plotting.”

“Cassian knows what needs to be done and will give you all of the details tonight before you leave in the morning.”

You nodded but was surprised that the shadowsinger had nothing to say, even by the end of the meeting.

Azriel was beside himself with worry as he sat in his room, his shadow leaving him to go check on you in your room. Going to Windhaven to see how things were going was one thing but taking care of rogue Illyrians from a different camp was something different. He had full trust in his brother, who was still highly upset with him, to protect you but the mating bond only had his worry at an all time high.

It would take everything in him to use his senses and not be overbearing. Even though he knew that you didn’t know about the bond, he tried to tug on it anyway. He wanted nothing more than for the both of you to be fully connected so that he could send all of his love and regret in hopes that you would know just how sorry that he was. It was another sleepless night and he waited for a different shadow to tell him that you were getting ready to leave. The one that favored you the most never told him anything about you other than that it wanted to be with you.

He was unsure if he should do what he was planning but he felt that if he didn’t, he would wholeheartedly regret it. Cassian was finishing his breakfast while you were working with the many straps on your leathers so you would be able to place all of the steel on the table in front of you in them. For the first time in a month, you looked at him and all that he could see was sadness and pain before you quickly returned to your task.

Despite the fact that Cassian was still upset with him, he threw him an apologetic glance before watching you struggle with the many weapon holder straps. He took a deep breath and approached you, his heart clenching and aching when you stiffened as he got close. In hopes of appearing smaller and less intimidating, he knelt beside you which caused you to look at him with surprise. 

He did his best not to touch you no matter how much that he wanted to as he wrapped the strap around your thigh. You continued to stare down at him as he tightened it so that it fit correctly before adjusting the one around your waist and then the one that would hold the sword behind your back. 

Once he was satisfied that it was all correct, he pulled Truth-Teller from its strap on his own thigh and placed it in the strap on your right side so that it would be the first thing that you could grab. From his peripheral vision, he saw his brother completely frozen in shock as he knew he would be.

“I don’t need your weapons,” you muttered, the pain in your voice only breaking him further.

“I know,” he whispered as most of his shadows disappeared other than a few that wanted to stay with you. “But Truth-Teller has never let me down. Ever. And I know that it will help you too if it is needed.”

There were tears lining your eyes whenever he slowly stood and the sight of it had him wanting to pull you into him to comfort you from the pain that he had caused. Before he could say anything else, Rhys appeared on the balcony and his eyes went wide when he noticed the weapon strapped on your side. With a shake of his head, he stepped away so that the High Lord could winnow them to their destination and he prayed to the Mother that you would come back safe and unscathed.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @i-am-infinite @acourtofbatboydreams @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @bxm-1012 @justdreamstars

[moonsanoverthinker]

Some more TMA headcanons because I’ve thought of some more. Also apologies if this list is a little more chaotic than the other one x (Here’s the first list I make incase anyone’s interested)

Also if people have their own that they’d want to add feel free to because I love reading other people’s x

There’s probably going to be some spoilers for but I’ve tried to keep it as broad as possible :) x

Tim used to steal Jon’s pens - Not because he needed them he did it to annoy Jon

Tim once hid a plastic spider in Jon’s desk then pinned it on Martin

Gerry liked to make puns, Gertrude didn’t like Gerry’s puns - Or at least she pretended not too

Peters changed the locks multiple times but Elias just keeps finding his was back in

Georgie has that really nice kind of swoopy writing - I kind of feel Sasha did as well

Distortion Micheal likes the animated Alice in Wonderland film - Can’t think why… (If I had any artistic talent I’d draw him as the Cheshire Cat but I sadly I don’t have any)

Melanie used to make loom band bracelets - She never gave them to anyone but she’d use specific colours with specific people in mind

Elias likes to shout peoples names then not answer them when they shouted back asking what he wanted

Jon owns a few packs of some nice playing cards (Like the ones with cool pictures and stuff) but no one’s allowed to use them - He let Tim use them once but after he slightly bent the corner of one they became off limits to them all

Jon drinks black coffee because it seems like the mature thing to do

Tim drinks the super sweet coffees because they taste nicer and look pretty

Elias has one of them big spinning office chairs - He’s definitely done the James Bond villain spin

Daisy once told Martin she knew a great place to hide his body - She then proceeded to leave notes around the archives to remind him - Jon would also take the notes down

Not necessarily a headcanon but I just imagine series 5 Jared Hopworth in the garden with a necklace of various body parts and bones

Occasionally Basira would just look out to the fourth wall - I’m imagining it like fleabag style

During their travelling Gerry brought Gertrude a mug from a tourist shop - She kept saying she didn’t like it but once she was back in the archives she would use it all the time

Just Jon wearing some sparkly green nail polish

On the topic of Jon’s nails imagine him with those pointy acrylics - He’d either be in his element or he’d have the same vibe as a dog trying to walk in shoes

Both Micheal and Helen just pinging rubber bands at the backs of peoples head (I’ve got no real explanation for why they do it but then again neither have they)

Jon appreciates badgers - He got a little desk calendar with different pictures of them every month

When Martin was staying in the institute Jon gave him a blanket. He took the blanket with him when he started living at home again and started using it

Tim kept every card Sasha ever gave him

Sasha has a little pot of fake flowers on her desk

Jon pretends to he surprised every time Martin gives him a present - Especially if it’s an out of the blue ‘I saw this and thought of you’ present

Sasha and Tim went ice skating together one Christmas - They claimed it was as friends but Tim did give her flowers

Also some random side notes - Slight spoilers for series 4/5

Listened to 170 and immediately started crying at the end / The descriptions in 172 made me feel physically ill as someone who really doesn’t like spiders / Also I saw a thing on TikTok where someone took Gerry asking to be called Gerry and paired it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski and it was more upsetting than I was expecting xx

[sooverwhitesandpinks]

Bejeweled

Ceo!Harry Styles x Gf!Reader

Inspired by Bejeweled by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: angst?, fluff at the end, alcohol consumption, i think that's all. i did proofread, just not carefully.

Word Count: 2.1K

guess who finally wrote something! sorry for the months long writer's block, hope you enjoy.

Your phone lit up where you left it on the coffee table in front of you. Keeping your thumb between the open pages of your book, you reached for the device, hoping it was a text from your boyfriend.

You couldn't help but feel disappointed when you realized it was a message from your good friend, Hannah. You weren't disappointed because of Hannah, you were upset that today was becoming another one of those days without a word from Harry.

You knew being the CEO of a major company was a lot of time and dedication, but it had been months of only seeing Harry briefly in the morning and for an hour or so before bed.

As much as you loved him, you weren't getting any of that love or attention back.

'Anya, Erin, and I are going out tonight, you should join us. We haven't seen you in forever!!!'

Hannah's message stared back at you.

She was right. You hadn't been out in forever, and it's not like Harry would miss you tonight. You two were practically coexisting at this point. You stayed cooped up in this massive penthouse, Harry spent his days in his office or at business meetings and dinners. His weekends were taken up by work or trips related to the company.

Still, did you want to go out? You wouldn't mind getting ready for something other than the grocery store.

You decided you would give Harry a chance before answering Hannah. You pressed a few buttons on your phone before bringing it to your ear.

"Hello?" Harry answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey! How's your day going?" You replied, happy to hear his voice.

"It's fine so far-" You heard him shuffle around before giving someone an instruction. "Look honey, is this important? Because I've got a lot going on and my next meeting starts in a few minutes."

"Oh," you paused for a moment. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight? We haven't really seen each other the past couple months."

"I've got a business dinner tonight, but feel free to order in whatever you want. You know I don't mind. Was that all?" He asked.

You took a second before answering. It was one thing to practically ignore you, but it was another to make you feel unimportant. You remember when Harry made you feel like a priority, and now your relationship had been reduced to a 'good morning' and a 'goodnight'.

"Yeah, that's all," you shook your head, a sad smile tugging at your lips.

"Alright, I'll see you this evening," Harry said.

"I wouldn't count on it. I'm going out, don't wait up," you told him before hanging up.

'I miss you guys and I definitely need a night out! Where and when should I meet you?' You texted Hannah back.

5 hours later, you stood in front of the full length mirror in your closet, running your hands down the vintage Versace mini dress you picked out for some event of Harry's but never ended up wearing.

You felt good, great even. You took a long, relaxing shower. You had a glass of wine while you did your makeup and put every hair in place. It had been so long since you put time into yourself like this, you'd forgotten what it felt like to sparkle.

You grabbed a small handbag and walked out of the large closet. As you made your way out of your bedroom and down the hall, you heard the familiar sound of Harry's keys hitting the small table by the door.

With a smirk, you stepped around the corner and into view. You pretended to hardly notice Harry's presence as you grabbed your phone off of the couch and texted Hannah that you would be leaving in a few minutes.

You heard Harry's footsteps halt as he saw you. You waited a moment before looking up at him. You glanced down at the time on your phone.

"It's only 8:15, I thought you'd be at dinner," you said nonchalantly, slipping your phone into your purse.

"I moved it up a few hours so I could get home earlier," he answered, shrugging off his suit jacket.

"Ahh," you nodded, starting to walk past him and toward the door. He gently grabbed your arm and you let him, looking up at him expectantly.

"You're still going out?" He asked, brows furrowed. For just a second, you felt bad about leaving. Then you remembered how easily he dismissed you earlier on the phone, and how easily he's dismissed you for awhile now.

"Yeah, I told Hannah and the girls that I'd meet them in a few," you replied, watching his eyes scan over your body and back up to your face, pausing on your lips.

"But I moved my meeting so I could see you," he responded, his fingers slipping from your arm to your hand. His touch felt good, you'd missed him, but he can wait another night. You finally felt like you weren't the one left hanging.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to stay home the one time I made plans because you suddenly found a way to fit me into your tight schedule?" You tilted your head, matching his pout.

"Besides, you're seeing me now. I clean up nice, huh? I bought this dress for one of your events but it'll do for tonight."

"Honey-"

"Is this important? My ride is downstairs," you said, keeping your eyes on his. You watched it click as he realized he asked you the same thing hours ago. You raised a brow, pursing your lips.

"I guess not," he took a step back. "You look beautiful, love. Have fun tonight."

"I will," you smiled, finally walking to the door and stepping out of the house.

✨ 🪩 ✨

"I"m just a little tipsy," you slurred, holding up your thumb and pointer finger.

"Me too!" Hannah squealed, throwing her arms into the air.

Anya and Erin were still out on the dance floor, but you and Hannah were tucked into a large circle booth in the VIP section of the club.

You sat with the members of some band you'd never heard of. They were apparently a big deal. Hannah was obsessed with them and had scored herself a seat on the lead guitarist's lap.

You sat between one of their friends and the drummer, who was high out of his mind, chatting away with some other people that'd made their way up to VIP.

"You wanna dance?" Hannah asked, grinning wildly from across the table.

"Definitely," you nodded. You turned to the drummer beside you who was blocking your way out.

"Moonstone!" He smiled when you turned to him. He'd been calling you that all night, something about your aura. He referred to Hannah as Amethyst and Erin as Sapphire, you didn't catch Anya's.

"Can I squeeze past you?" You asked, pointed toward the outside of the booth.

"Of course," he nodded, nudging his friends out of the booth with him so you could get to where Hannah stood.

As soon as you were free from the table, one of your hands was grabbed by her as she dragged you down to the dance floor. Your other hand was looking at your phone for the first time all night, checking to see if Harry had said anything.

You saw two messages from him.

'I took tomorrow off. I figure we could spend the day together.'

'I miss you and I'm sorry for not making you feel as important as you are. I'll hopefully spend the rest of my life making it up to you.'

Despite the frustration you felt for months because of him, you felt a lot of relief in that moment. He did still want you. He still wanted forever with you. It wasn't something you realized you'd doubted until now.

'I hope you know I expect an apology in person too.'

You texted back. Simple enough to communicate that it will take more than a text message.

'And I'm excited to spend tomorrow with you. But I'm drunk so can we start around noon?'

You added, finally looking up from your phone as Hannah pulled you deeper into the sea of dancing people. You realized she'd located Erin and Anya.

"You still wanna dance?' Hannah shouted, starting to feel the music. You hadn't noticed it before, but it was deafeningly loud.

"Maybe just for a little while. I'm getting tired," you replied, suddenly not wanting to be anywhere but home.

"Are you okay getting home by yourself?" She asked.

"I'll just get an Uber," you shrugged. "I'll pretend to be on the phone with Harry if the driver seems shady."

"Fair enough," she laughed, turning more towards Anya and Erin.

"Bye ladies, it was fun seeing you. We gotta get lunch sometime soon," you leaned in between Erin and Anya to speak, hoping they'd hear you well enough.

The two drunk and sweaty women gave you a half hug, agreeing to lunch and wishing you a goodnight before they went back to senselessly jumping to the music.

You ordered the car as you walked to the door, only stepping outside when the app said it arrived.

The ride was short and your driver was nice enough.

As you entered your building and pressed your button on the elevator, you wondered if Harry was awake. You hadn't heard from him in almost an hour when he'd texted you to say noon was fine and to be safe.

You walked through the house, stepping out of your shoes at the door and carrying them with you to the bedroom. Harry sat up in bed, his computer in his lap as he typed away at something you were sure was work related.

"Hey Honey," he said softly as you entered, closing his laptop and setting it on his side table.

"Hey," you smiled, walking straight into the closet to change.

As you stepped out in your pajamas, Harry pulled open the covers, waiting for you to crawl in beside him.

You slipped under the duvet and dropped your head onto his lap, eyes closed. You heard him rustle around in the drawer of his nightstand before he pulled something out and closed the drawer.

You opened your eyes in time to see him pull a makeup wipe from its package.

"How was your night?" He asked, lowering the wipe to your face as he started to gently remove what was left of your makeup. It was something he used to do for you after his work events and charity galas. Or when the two of you would stumble in drunk after a night out.

"It was a lot of fun," you answered honestly. Those four or five hours were fun. You saw your friends and felt good about yourself.

"I'm glad," he replied, still brushing the wipe across your skin.

"How was yours?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"It was alright. I did a lot of thinking," he waited a bit before adding. "I missed you."

"But you didn't have to, Harry," you sighed. "I've been here the whole time, and it took me doing something for myself, for once, to get your attention."

"I'm so sorry, Honey. I've been terrible. I've just been so caught up in work and trying to land this account," he started explaining.

"I know, trust me, I do. That's why I haven't nagged you about it, but I deserve to feel like a priority, Harry. I know your work is important, but I should be too. We've been coexisting for almost two months now. We're supposed to be a team," you finally told him what's been on your mind.

"We will be, we are," he finished wiping your skin, now taking your face between his hands as he looked down at you. "You're it for me and I'm sorry for making you doubt that."

"You should be. I'm a goddamn prize, you know?" You told him with your tired tipsy rasp. You lifted yourself from his lap, sitting up to face him.

"Of course I do, Honey. You're a diamond, a pearl, a jewel," he grinned, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

"I love you," you said softly, looking into the eyes that finally felt familiar again.

"I love you too," he leaned forward, closing the short distance between you.

Masterlist

Harry Styles Masterlist

[the-guilty-writer]

What's in a Nickname?

Request: from @doctorsteeb

Okay okay one more in case the last one was too specific—

Rossi!daughter coming home from college or from traveling abroad?

David Rossi x daughter!reader

Summary: A stop by your dad’s office leaves the BAU with a few questions… Some of them are more sentimental than others.

A/N: I couldn’t not write this after the idea popped into my head and this request gave me free reign to work with. If you didn’t look up what the nickname was for the reader in my other recent rossi!daughter fic you will know by the end. And yes, this nickname will absolutely stick for rossi!daughter reader from here on out unless I get a specific request not to include it because we all know if Rossi had a daughter this nickname would be canon.

CW: lots of italian... like I went a bit overboard on this one so here are translations: rompere le scatole = literal translation is “to break boxes” but it is slang for getting on someone’s nerves. Non avere peli sulla lingua = literal translation is “not to have hair on the tongue” which is slang for tell the truth. la goccia che ha fatto traboccare il vaso = literal translation for “drop that made the vase overflow” equating to the straw that broke the camel's back. Ti voglio bene = “I love you” used for family and close friends. Mio passerotta… you’ve gotta read until the end to find this one out for yourself.

---

“I never thought I would actually miss sitting in traffic,” you said, a smile on your face.

You were finally home after a semester abroad in Jamaica. Having always lived in a city, it was nice to be close to the ocean and wildlife and small towns, but after five months you were ready to return to the concrete jungle that was Washington, DC.

Your dad, on the other hand, was rather grumpy about the back up on the highway. “I’ll remind you of that next week when you say that the traffic is rompere le scatole.” He looked down at his watch and hesitated. “Do you mind if I-”

“Stop by the office?” You finished for him. You didn’t hate the idea of stopping by work with your dad, but you would have much rather gone home to eat a nice warm meal.

“If it’s not okay I understand,” he said. “Non avere peli sulla lingua.”

For a second, you thought about his words. “It’s fine,” you told him, then held out a singular finger. “But only if you make pasta tonight.” David Rossi might have been a master at hostage negotiation, but you were a master at dinner negotiation.

“Certo, mio passerotta,” he said as he turned onto the exit towards Quantico.

---

“Hey,” Derek walked into the bullpen, a cup of coffee in his hands even though it was nearly 5 PM. “Anyone know who is in Rossi’s office?”

“Rossi, I assume,” Emily said. She glanced up at the open office door where you were sitting. “Well that’s definitely not Rossi.”

“Maybe she’s a groupie?” JJ suggested.

“I don’t think a groupie would have made it past security,” said Reid without looking up from his book.

“BAU team,” Hotch walked into the bullpen with a file in hand, Rossi in tow, and Garcia trailing closely behind. “We have a case.”

The rest of the team headed to the conference room, but Rossi walked to his office to deliver the news to you that pasta might not be happening that night.

---

“You’re sure this is okay with you?” Your dad asked. “I don't want this to be la goccia che ha fatto traboccare il vaso-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “I'm sure. Pasta can happen another night. Stopping a serial killer cannot.”

The team filed out of the conference room- the case was an emergency one, which meant the full briefing would be done on the jet, but they couldn’t help overhear the conversation you were having with your father.

“Ti voglio bene, papa.” You wrapped him in a hug.

He returned it, holding you tight. “Ti voglio bene, mio passerotta.”

You had to pry yourself out of your father’s arms to get him to let go. With a kiss on the forehead and a reminder not to drink his expensive wine, he sent you on your way home and went into his office to pack up his briefcase.

“Rossi has a daughter?” Emily smiled a bit and looked around at Morgan, Reid, JJ, and Garcia in confusion. “Did any of you know?”

“I had no idea,” JJ said as she and the rest of the team watched you leave.

“What’s everyone looking at?” Hotch said from behind them as he exited his office. They all startled at their boss’s sudden appearance.

“Rossi’s daughter that none of us knew existed,” Garcia admitted, still surprised.

“Oh yes, that’s (Y/N),” Hotch said. “She’s been studying abroad but decided to spend this summer with Dave instead of her mother.”

“Which wife?” Morgan joked.

“Actually, her mother is a close friend from college.” Rossi said. Once again, the team jumped in surprise. “We both wanted a kid, but she didn’t want to deal with too many lawyers and I didn’t want to deal with someone not understanding that I have an inflexible job. It worked out for both of us. Now if we’re done talking about my personal life, I think we have a murderer to catch.”

Rossi and Hotch walked out of the bullpen, leaving the team to stand around awkwardly for just a moment before remembering they had a flight to catch.

---

The case was fast and successful, but after being awake for nearly 24 hours straight most of the team was asleep- all except for Reid and Prentiss who were playing chess in the most quiet corner of the jet.

“How’d you know she was his daughter?” Reid asked as he moved his queen.

“It was a pretty easy inference,” said Emily as she calculated her next move, carefully watching how Reid had strategically placed his knights. She captured one. “She called him papa. I figured she had to be his daughter.”

“What does it mean?” Reid moved a bishop forward.

“What does what mean?” Emily moved one of her pieces without thinking.

Reid captured a pawn in her confusion. “He called her mio passerotta. You smiled when he said her nickname. What does it mean?”

Emily’s mouth twitched slightly up at one corner and moved a rook before leaning back in her seat. “My sparrow,” she said, a melancholy tone to her voice. “Mio passerotta means ‘my sparrow.’”

Reid looked down, a small smile gracing his face before going back to the board and putting Emily’s king in check with a move his mentor had used against him many years before.

[cosmerelists]

If Cosmere Characters worked at a coffee shop...

[Spoilers for Rhythm of War & Mistborn Era 1, technically! All other references should be safe.]

Let’s say the Cosmere characters lived in our world and worked as baristas. What would they be like in that role?

1. Kaladin: Keeps trying (in vain) to unionize with the other employees

Kaladin: I really thought we had it, that time.

Kaladin: I can’t believe I’m the only one who didn’t get fired.

Kaladin: AGAIN

2. Shallan: Makes the most gorgeous latte art you’ve ever seen

Customer: H-How did you make the flower 3D? It’s just MILK

Shallan: I learned it from a book!

3. Sarene: Is the queen of malicious compliance and working to rule

Sarene: Manager got on my case because the customer said the coffee was weak.

Sarene: I am using this scale to measure out the proper coffee amounts to the gram.

Sarene: These tweezers help. 

4. Kelsier: The rumors of his firing were greatly exaggerated

Doug the normal barista: Uh, I’m pretty sure our new coworker Ty Decker is just Kelsier in a mustache.

Doug the other normal barista: Impossible! We saw him get fired!

Doug #1: I’m telling you, man! It’s like he can’t leave this coffeeshop!

“Ty” (to a customer): Hello would you like to join my secret club?

Doug #2 (whispering): And I’m pretty sure he’s in an MLM!

5. Adolin: Knows each customer by name (and flirts for tips)

Adolin: Janala! It’s so great to see you! You look gorgeous as always!

Janala: ...

Janala: Is our date going to be just hanging out at your coffeeshop while you’re working?

Adolin: I-It’ll be fun; you’ll see!

6. Lirin: Refuses to apply upcharges

Lirin: No one should have to pay EXTRA for oatmilk!

Lirin: I’m just going to give this to you for free.

7. Steris: Has the employee handbook memorized

Steris: Actually, it’s illegal to ask Doug to start the coffee before he clocks in.

Steris: Employee handbook Section 3.7a.

8. Lightsong: Refuses to believe that he is a god (of coffeemaking)

Lightsong: Ugh, WHY are we always so much busier when I’m working?

Lightsong: I’m not even that good at making coffee!

Llarimar: People believe your coffee is the best in town.

Lightsong: The coffee maker does all the work!

9. Lezian: Keeps forming grudges against coworkers

Lezian: Every time someone else gets chosen for Employee of the Month instead of me...

Lezian: I make it my mission to see them FIRED before the month is OVER!

Kaladin: But that’s...always.

Kaladin: You’re not very good at your job.

Lezian: THAT’S IT

Lezian: YOU’RE ON MY LIST

10. Tress: Really just loves the cups

Tress: Oh! I love your travel mug!

Tress: Where is it from?

11. Vivenna: Gradually has all of her coffeeshop illusions shattered

Vivenna: Man, I really thought people would come in, order off the menu, and then wait politely for their drink to be made and delivered.

Customer: NINE SHOTS OF ESPRESSO! WHIPPED CREAM!

Vivenna: I have seen the darkest parts of humanity.

12. Hoid: Is somehow everyone’s previous coworker

Shallan: Wait, didn’t we work for UberEats together? 

Kelsier: No, that’s the bastard who slapped me! In the middle of Walmart! While we were on the clock!

Kaladin: Huh? I think that’s the guy who always changed the radio station in the store I used to work at.

Steris: I think he did Lyft with my sister.

Vivenna: Are you sure? I thought he worked at a bookstore with MY sister.

Sarene: I think I recognize him from my last office job. He never really seemed to do anything.

Adolin: How old IS this guy??

13. Rock: Makes the coffee...very strong

Rock: This is how we drink it where I’m from!

Customer: M-My tongue is dissolving!

14. Jasnah: Doesn’t like coffee

Shallan: You don’t like coffee??

Jasnah: I do not.

Shallan: You work in a coffee shop!

Jasnah: I don’t try to convince others to dislike coffee. 

Jasnah: But I do believe that it is an unnecessary contrivance that people depend too much on.

Shallan: I thought you pulled, like, constant all-nighters!

Jasnah: That’s just sheer willpower. 

15. Silence: Takes safety rules very seriously

Silence: Hey!

Silence: Wash out that cut, put on a band-aid, and wear gloves! You can’t bleed around food!

Silence: T-turn off that stove! You shouldn’t leave an open flame if you’re not heating something up!

Silence: AND NO RUNNING!

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 5

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 781

Masterlist

Let me tell you what I've learned about you these last two weeks.

I know at which store you buy your groceries (TV dinners and twizzlers), and that you spend far too much money on Starbucks coffee (a White Café Mocha in the morning, a Caramel Frappe sometime during the afternoon). You work in an office building. According to our friend Google, the building is shared by an online marketing agency and a large fashion retailer. I want to say you must be in fashion, but I'm just not sure.

What else? You didn't lie to me. You haven't made many friends here. During your free time, you drift through New York all on your lonesome, and you don't seem to mind it. You never seem to know exactly where you're going, and you don't ask anyone for directions. You don't talk to strangers at all - I was an exception, then, and that makes me feel good - and you get lost in crowds, and sometimes I want to approach you and pretend it's random, but I don't want that glassy, dreamy look to go out of your eyes. It's the same look you had the first time we met, before you found Stephen King.

There is so much you can find out about a person, once you know where they live. I'm finding out so much about you, (Y/n).

And yet, I’m having trouble finding an in.

You are not predictable. You don’t get your coffees at the same time every day and you never walk the exact same route twice. Getting breakfast at the same place two days in a row must have been a fluke, because I never catch you following any sort of routine except for when you go to work.

You never go to any other bookstore except Mooney’s, though. I wait for you there whenever I’m working, except for when I know you’re also at work. I feel like a puppy, and I don’t like it. This is what you’re doing to me.

My reward for all this waiting? Your smile.

You walk into the bookstore again, just like you did that first time only now your eyes immediately find mine, and you smile at me and I can’t help but smile back. You approach me, and you say: “Hey, Joe.”

“Hi, (Y/n),” I answer, copying your tone.

“So I was thinking,” you say, leaning your elbows on the counter between us. “We never hang out.”

“Oh?” I say. I can’t sound too interested, but I am, (Y/n), I am! “What do you mean, exactly?”

“We text, occasionally,” you say, and I can tell this is something you’ve practised. You’ve been thinking about what to say because you think about me. You’re obsessed with me. Why else do you come here so often, if not to see me? “And we see each other here, when you’re working. We should hang out some other time, when you’re not. Working, I mean.”

“That could be fun,” I say. Are you asking me on a date? “What did you have in mind?”

“Coffee?” you offer. “Or lunch.”

You are! You’re asking me on a date!

I can’t believe my luck, (Y/n). I’ve been trying so hard to find a way into your life and here you are, finally, opening the door for me. If I’d known it was going to be this easy, I wouldn’t have had to follow you around so much. But then, I’m glad I did, because it means I know to say:

“Saturday? One pm? We can meet here.”

“Yes,” you say, because you don’t work on Saturday and of course you don’t have plans. You pull a hand through your messy hair and you smile with your teeth and you add: “It’s a date.” And it is! It really is!

I’ve been working so hard, (Y/n), and it’s all seemed so impossible so far. But I should have known you were testing me. You wanted to know how long I was willing to wait. For you, I’d wait an eternity.

“Well, the books are calling me,” you say, leaning back. You tilt your head to the side. “Do you hear them?”

“For sure,” I say, even though all I’m hearing is happy music. “Go find your next novel to devour.”

You disappear into the stacks and I stare after you. I can’t wait for our date, (Y/n). We’ll get coffee and I’ll take you on a walk, one of those long walks you enjoy that have no specific direction. We’ll talk about anything and everything, and at the end of the night you’ll love me. You really will.

[readerlovr]

For Richer or for Poorer

Pt. 2

Pt.1

This past week has been the hardest I have ever worked. Growing up seeing my dad and brothers work, I always knew was difficult, but doing it yourself is on another level. So I can only imagine what the boss feels. It’s Friday so luckily it’s the last day of the week for us.

Although Mr. Beresford has two meetings today which I have to attend. As I am organizing my planner for next week, I get an email. It’s from one of the companies we have a meeting with saying they can no longer meet at 3, and can only meet after 5. I would normally look skeptical because the normal work day ends at 5, but Mr. Beresford stays in his office long after I leave for the day. Before I send the company a confirmation, I check Mr. Beresford’s agenda and I see that he has a free period between 5:30 and 7. So I gather my notepad and walk my way to Mr. Beresford’s office. Once I’m there, I knock, then crack the door.

“Mr. Beresford, your 3 o’clock rescheduled for a later appointment, so I put you down for 6.”

“Thank you, Ms. Y/l/n.”

I close the door as I go back to my office, and send the company the confirmation for 6. They respond swiftly saying that they will be here at 6. I mentally prepare myself for a long day after the normal work hours.

I wonder if Rachel has any tips on my note taking, so I decide to speed dial 5.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Rachel I was wondering if you have any tips on how to take notes for the meeting. I have been taking notes this past week but Mr. Beresford didn’t seem to need them. But because there is two meetings today, he might need them to recollect the specifics the different meetings.”

“Yeah of course.” She gives me the spill of how she used to take notes, but she says Mr. Beresford did not like the way she took notes, because she wrote it in her own understanding instead of his.

“Okay, because we have another meeting after the one that starts in 15 minutes. And it’s after 5 o’clock, so I definitely need to take notes to the best of my ability. Or his I guess.”

“Get used to that.” She says with a sigh.

“What taking notes? Or staying after 5?”

“Well, both actually.”

“I have to stay after 5, everyday with him?”

“Well, yes. Haven’t you been doing that so far?”

“No, I have been leaving around 5:30.”

“Y/n, no. The assistant stays with the boss until he tells you to leave.”

My father has had assistants but he never kept one long enough for me to see how they were supposed to behave.

“Oh no. Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I don’t know, he probably thought you’d just know given your father has a business.”

“My father did everything on his own.” I say curtly. I hate discussing my family and their success, the reason why I left is to start my own. So when someone brings them up, I try to be tight lipped about them.

“Also, it wasn’t in the job description.”

“It’s not, but it’s commonly preferred.”

I think for a bit. I feel bad that I possibly left Mr. Beresford to do everything alone. I never suspected I was doing anything wrong. Every morning when I entered after giving Mr. Beresford his coffee and breakfast, notes he took from the previous night was sat on my desk.

I look over at the time and see it’s 5 till the meeting.

“Hey Rachel I have to go.”

“Okay, talk to you later.” She says before promptly hanging up.

I grab my notepad and get up to walk down to the conference room. When I get there I notice Mr. Beresford and a couple of our staff is already seated. I quickly take the seat on Mr. Beresford’s left. Once I sit, he looks up from his laptop and smile.

“Mr. Beresford.” I say greeting him.

“Ms. Y/l/n.”

I look around at everyone else engaging in their own conversations. I scoot a bit forward closer to Mr. Beresford.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was supposed to stay after with you everyday?”

“I supposed you knew. And if not you’d figure it out eventually. Plus I’ve been used to-“ he pauses and looks back down at his computer, “working alone.”

Just as I about to ask what he meant the company we are meeting with walked in. Mr. Beresford stood up, which caused me to follow suit. We all greeted each other by shaking hands.

Once everyone was aquatinted and seated, Mr. Beresford walks to the other end of the table with no chair.

“Shall we get started?”

_________________________

I tried to take notes most accurate to Mr. Beresford’s. Mimicking his note taking style from the one he leaves on my desk every night. Based on the meeting details, I could give him the notes at the end of the day so I have enough time to tweak it if I see something unfitting.

It’s now 30 minutes until the 6:00 meeting. We had lunch at 3 since the meeting was pushed back. Although, I like to work better with a snack so I decide to go downstairs to the donut shop to get a donut and a coffee. After I gathered my purse, I knocked on Mr. Beresford’s door.

“Mr. Beresford, I’m going downstairs to get a donut, do you want anything?”

He doesn’t respond. After a minute of waiting, I knock on his door again, then open the door and peek in.

“Mr. Beresford?”

He looks up at me from his computer with a stoic look.

“No thank you. I am not supposed to be eating that stuff.”

I notice he seems a bit down so I don’t push him on it.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

I am back within 10 minutes. I finish my coffee before I make it back to my office. As I’m walking back I contemplate either going to my office or Mr. Beresford’s. I decide on Mr. Beresford’s office of course. I knock on the door once again. He doesn’t respond like normally but I decide to turn the knob anyway. As I come in the room uninvited, he looks at me confused.

With my donut in hand I decide to sit in a seat in front of him.

“Hi.” I say before taking a bite of my donut.

“Hi?” He says confused. He continues to look at me confused as of to say, why are you here.

“What?” I question his confused look.

He shakes his head. “Normally people don’t just come in my office and sit down. Just to say hi.”

“Well I’m not normal people. I’m your assistant so I can do that.” I say with a smile.

He smirks a bit before changing his face to serious.

“Look. I know I met you before the job interview. And I gave you a well deserved compliment based on your looks, but our relationship needs to be strictly professional.”

What he said caught me off guard. I wasn’t trying to come onto him. Even though he is insanely good looking. I just wanted to start a conversation given he was so busy this whole week.

“Oh.” I say as I nod and start to get up to leave.

“But-“ he says as he sees me get up. “You can stay. At least until the meeting starts. We can walk down together.”

“Okay.” I say with a small smile. I don’t want to say the wrong thing because I don’t want him to think I am trying to build a relationship that’s not professional.

“So, why don’t you eat donuts? Is it your diet?”

He once again looks down at his computer. I know he was down earlier but I thought he was okay now. Before I was able to apologize for prying he answers.

“Yeah, it’s my diet. I actually haven’t had a donut in 5 years.”

“Really?”

He nods and looks up at me from his computer. I give him a cunning smile and hold up my donut.

“You want a bite?”

“No, I’m okay.” He says chuckling.

“Come on. It’s a bite. What is a bite gonna do?”

He looks at me for a couple seconds before he lightly nods. He motions his fingers for me to bring the donut closer. I stand up to bring it close enough for him to take but instead he bites it straight off the donut. My heart skips a beat with his held eye contact on me. As he pulls away I have to mentally tell myself to act normal. I sit back down trying to shake that hot memory out of my head. I look up to him and he’s still chewing. I wait a couple seconds after he swallows it and I’m met with silence.

“Well?”

He starts smiling. Like a real smile, not a smirk.

“That was really good.”

“See I told you. You just have to trust your smart assistant sometimes.”

He smirks and huffs out a laugh. I check my watch and realize it’s seven till 6.

“Oh, we have to go.”

I stand up and he follows after me down the hall. It’s just us when we enter the conference room.

“Where is everybody?”

“Well the staff isn’t required to stay after 5, so we’re just waiting on the company that we’re meeting with.”

We continue to wait for exactly 7 minutes before Mr. Beresford stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“They’re late. I’m leaving.”

“Wha- leaving? Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that.”

As he moves to walk out the conference room door, the company walks in the door.

“Shall we get this over with?” The man who comes in first says, throwing his coat at the woman who came in after him.

Mr. Beresford looks back at me before turning to the man who spoke.

“Mr. Johnson, we are not going further with this merger.”

“Why not? I put in a lot of money for this deal.” The man named Mr. Johnson says.

“You can keep your deal, and you can keep your money. I’m all about creating jobs for people. I need my partners to be punctual as well as considerate. Because if not, I know you will treat your employees the same way. And so far from what I’ve seen,” he gestures to the woman behind him, “you are not very considerate to your employees.”

I don’t know why, but that whole scene made me have a heartbeat in my core. My mouth is agape. I have never seen anyone respectfully decline a disrespectful person regardless of their money.

“Come on, Ms. Y/l/n.”

I immediately jump up to stand beside him. He puts his hand on my back as he guides me out of the room.

“You can see yourself out.” He says as we past them out the door. Just before we leave, I give a sympathetic look to the woman.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, people like that really get under my skin.”

“Don’t apologize. You did the right thing.”

He looks down at his feet as we continue walking together.

“Could you… come back to my office with me. I like the company.” He asks seemingly nervously. I smile up at him before nodding.

“Sure let me just get the rest of my things.” We reach my office door and he goes inside of his. I gather my purse and previous notes. I stay in my office a bit longer than suspected, checking and responded to thank you emails on Mr. Beresford’s behalf. I’m finished about 10 minutes later and I start to walk to Mr. Beresford’s office. I knock on the door, and there wasn’t an answer like usual.

“Mr. Beresford, it’s me.” Still no answer.

I open the door expecting him to look up at me from his computer, but he wasn’t there. I know he didn’t walk out of his office because I would’ve saw given that my office is right next to his corner office.

“Mr. Beresford?” I ask looking around the office. I notice that his chair is a bit pushed back than normal. I walk over to his chair to see why and immediately my heart drops. He is passed out on the floor behind his desk.

“Oh, shit! Mr. Beresford!” I kneel down to feel his forehead I don’t feel it being warm. I fumble for my purse to grab my cell to call 911.

I tell dispatch what happened and what building and floor were on. They had an ambulance out here in minutes once they found out it was Clay Beresford. When the officers get here, I have Mr. Beresford’s head in my lap so it wouldn’t be on the hard ground. They remove him off of me and put him on a stretcher.

“Be careful with him. I don’t know what happened.” I say with a shaky voice.

One of the officers that is not carrying him turns to me.

“Ma’am, calm down. We know how to deal with a heart transplant patient.”

Once he says that I am stunned.

“A what?”

“4 years ago Clayton Beresford, had a heart transplant from his mother after the whole doctor team tried to murder him. It was on the news for weeks.” He looks at me like the information he gave me was so obvious and everyone else knew about it.

“Wha-“ I can’t even process what he just said. As his assistant why wasn’t I notified of his condition. 10 million questions run in my head but I realize as his assistant I should be with him also. I find the stamina to get up on my shaky legs and follow them to the elevator. Once we get outside I climb in the ambulance after they put Mr. Beresford in it. I stare at Mr. Beresford seemingly lifeless body, and it scares the shit out of me. I grab his hand and hope everything is okay.

Once we get to the hospital, he gets put on an IV. And i have to wait in the waiting room while they check to see what’s wrong with him. I rock in my chair nervously wondering what I’m going to do if he doesn’t make it out of this. He was just starting to become my friend even with him saying he wanted a strictly professional relationship. As I am thinking to myself as Beresford was called. I stood up and walked to the doctor.

“How is he?”

“Mr. Beresford is doing just fine.”

I let out a long relieved sigh.

“He had a small relapse due to his heart transplant.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“We can’t be sure. With heart transplants, this could be caused by anything. Did he recently have any changes of diet, or exercise?”

I shake my head no, trying to think. Then suddenly it clicks.

“I gave him a bite of my donut. Do you think that what caused this?” I say devastated. I can’t bear a man’s life almost ending because of me.

“I’m sorry, but that’s a very real possibility. It’s the most probable possibility given that everything was fine until tonight.”

I look around and cover my mouth, knowing that I almost killed Mr. Beresford.

“Can I see him?”

“Of course but he’s resting right now. It might be a little while before he wakes up.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

She puts her hand on my should in sympathy and walks me to his room. Once I go in I see him sleeping on the bed with 3 different tubes attached to him. I put my hand over my mouth as I sob looking at him. I did that. I walk over beside his bed and sit in the seat that was there. I grab his hand and wait for him to wake. As I wait, I dosed off to sleep still grabbing his hand.

__________________________

He starts stirring which wakes me up. I squeeze his hand tighter with purpose letting him know that I was here for him. He squeezed it back but his eyes are still closed.

“Mr. Beresford.” I whisper as I stand up to get closer to his face. He hums and opens his eyes. He looks around confused before his eyes land on me, shocked.

“What happened.” He says groggily.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shakes his head in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your heart?” I say before I full on sob right in front of my boss. “It was my fault, I’m so sorry.”

He looks at me confused still.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, take a breath.” He says and he grabs my other hand with his other hand. “What happened?”

“They say you had a relapse because of the donut I gave you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you to eat it.”

“Hey. Y/n, I am an adult. You didn’t push me to do anything. I ate it because I wanted to.”

I am too hysterical to realize that was his first time calling me by my first name.

“Do you want me to call anyone?”

He looks into my red, puffy eyes then looks forward.

“I don’t have anyone.” He says softly.

I don’t know what he means by that but he’s gone through enough so I don’t push him on it. It seems like I’m the only one going to be here from him tonight. I start to sit on the bed next to him slowly waiting for any signs of his uncomfortably. He nodded for me to continue to sit, still having both of our hands holding. I look him in the eyes and my eyes start to water again.

He wipes my tears with his fingers.

“Stop it. It wasn’t your fault.” He says as he tugs my hands so I can go closer to him. He pulls me into a hug, which causes me to have to lay on his chest. I carefully avoid the tubes attached to him, not trying to mess him up further.

“I’m going to be okay.”

We stay like this in silence for a couple of minutes.

“I thought you wanted to keep a professional relationship.” I joke through a sad voice.

“Screw that.”

______________________________

That sure took a turn. 😬

[suzdin]

Mad Max Phillips

(Vampire!Max Phillips x f!reader)

Summary: When trying to deliver a message to Max Phillips doesn’t go according to plan.

Warnings: no use of y/n but use of a nickname/pet name, violence/gore, blood kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (he’s dead it doesn’t matter), squirting, biting (obviously), kind of soft Max at one point

Notes: Basically wanted an excuse to write something about vampires to exercise my knowledge of vampire lore, that’s all really. Enjoy!

18+ MDNI

——

You aren’t sure what compels you to knock on the door to Max’s office. It’s after hours and you should be sitting in traffic by now, chugging down your third or fourth iced coffee of the day, mentally preparing yourself to go to the bar for St. Patrick’s Day celebrations with Alice and Tristan later. Not standing on the fifth floor, where you definitely don’t belong, with some name and phone number scrawled on a post-it note because asshole Max Phillips wouldn’t answer his goddamn phone.

You got the call right as you were about to clock out—a client called ManeGain that sells hair growth products for men. Needed to talk Max Phillips about their account. Fine, you thought. Last one of the day.

Let me direct your call, you’d told the voice on the phone. One moment.

You thought you were home free after that. That is until another call rolled through right as you were slinking into your purse and jacket, fingers hovering over the keyboard to log your hours for the day.

He isn’t answering and I need to talk to him immediately. Please see to it he gets my message, the voice said.

You’re under no obligation to hand deliver messages. Your job is to man the front desk, answer and route phone calls to the appropriate recipients. Direct visitors to the bathroom down the hall. Be a smiling face—or not—as people you barely recognize wash past you and into the building for a long and exhausting 9 to 5 in corporate America.

You had a vague idea of what Max looked like. By and large, he ignored you. As if you weren’t really there. Which was fine by you; the less interaction you had to endure throughout the day, the better.

So you aren’t sure why you’re here, on this empty floor crammed full of cubicles by yourself, hand delivering a message to a man you couldn’t care less about right now. Especially after hearing what sounded like screams as you stepped off the elevator into the hall; and especially after said screams had fallen stagnant and the only other noise audible to you is the crescendo of your own breath as it warbles out of your chest.

You rap your knuckles softly against the door, a lingering sense of dread snaking its way up your spine. “Mr. Phillips? I’m from downstairs. From the lobby? I have a message for you from a Jim Hicks with ManeGain?“

You wait patiently and you’re met with silence so heavy your ears ring. Not even the creak of an office chair or the tapping of fingers on a keyboard can be heard. Perhaps Max has already gone home for the day? You don’t recall seeing him, but it’s possible you missed him in the rush to complete your end of day tasks.

Now that you think about it, you don’t remember seeing him much at all lately.

You could just stick the note to his door and be done with it. After all, it isn’t your job to play delivery person. You’ve done more than is necessary already.

But there’s a persistent intuition rising in your throat that something is off. That something is wrong—you’re sure you’d heard screams. What if Max is hurt? What if you could help him?

The smart thing to do would be to call 911 and vacate yourself back to the safety of the lobby while you wait for emergency services to arrive. But if Max or someone else is injured, they may only have precious few seconds to live, so if you could just check that everything is alright first for your own peace of mind…

As you raise your hand to knock a second time, the door abruptly whooshes open in front of you, an arm shooting forward to hook around your neck and snatch you into the confines of the office, a second hand clapping over your mouth to dampen the horrified yelp that works its way up from your lungs. Your back collides harshly into the door as someone you can’t see spins you, pinning you between themselves and the wood. This all happens within fractions of a second.

At first you think you’ve lost your vision; the room is black as pitch and you can’t even make out the edges of the space around you, much less whoever is inches from your face. Once your vision adjusts, you pick up on the faint blinking glow of a modem against the wall; aside from that, you’re completely blind, your other senses going into overtime.

The first thing you notice is the smell. A thick coppery tang, it almost seems to cake the inside of your nasal passage, overburdening your senses. You think you know what it is—it can’t be though, right? Why would it be?—but you can’t be sure without your sight.

And then you hear something…dripping. Whatever it is, it isn’t far. Few feet, maybe. It seems to be low, which means the source of the sound isn’t coming from the ceiling, where you would suspect. Possibly a desk. Perhaps someone spilled a drink?

Everything happens quickly, within split seconds of one another, and it’s only then you’re acutely aware you’re still being pinned by a faceless assailant, and that whoever it is is breathing against your neck, their breath rife with the same copper stench of the surrounding room. You make a pathetic, mewling sound, your muscles pulled tighter than a snare drum over your trembling frame.

“I can hear the blood coursing through your veins,” murmurs the phantom voice. Then, a dark chuckle. “Fear makes it taste better. Lucky for you, I just fed.”

You feel a shift in your bodies as he manipulates you into a position more advantageous for him, lining his pelvis up with yours. You feel the hard pressure of his erection prodding at your center, dragging your seam through your thin leggings. You relinquish a small sound, one that sounds more gratuitous than you intend it to be, your core throbbing at the sensation in spite of—or perhaps as a consequence of—the spikes of fear and adrenaline currently threading their way through you.

“Did someone like that?” the voice chuckles. You feel the sharp hook of his nose press against the flesh of your neck, skimming along your pulse point. He groans salaciously and rolls his hips against yours, your own utterance of pleasure reverberating your lungs and dying in the meat of the palm still clamped over your mouth. Fuck, this shouldn’t feel good, it shouldn’t, it shouldn’t, but it does—

—it’s the fear, you think. Your mind is trying to help you cope by flooding your body with endorphins. That has to be it. It must be…

“I can smell your blood, sweetheart. Smells so fucking sweet and intoxicating,” he asserts, his tone heady and full of longing. “Never smelled any like yours before. What is your blood type?”

His hand moves away from your mouth, sliding down to circle the underside of your jaw. “Make a sound and I’ll snap your neck like a toothpick,” he warns. Max knows he isn’t above fucking a corpse. Hell, he is a corpse.

You could scream now if you wanted, and you most definitely should. But in spite of yourself, you don’t. You know as well as anyone there’s no one in the building who can save you. And even if there were, they’d never make it in time; the firm press of his hand against your jawbone confirms your suspicion that his threat is anything but idle. You vaguely remember your crisis training and know that compliance is key to survival in hostage situations, if that’s what this is.

“AB negative,” you answer, your voice quavering. Hot tears collecting along the rims of your eyes. “R-rarest… rarest blood type,” you finish.

Max grins and pulls back to study your face. Unlike you, he doesn’t need light to see, his supernatural senses honed now that he’s grown accustomed to using them. He recognizes you as the pretty face from downstairs, the first and last he used to see every work day. Although not so much lately; not since the shift and that pesky allergy to sunlight that would render him to a pile of ash if he tempted it.

“Excellent,” he croons, licking a slow stripe along your neck, simultaneously drunk on the blood in his belly that is making his head swim, and the way he can feel your artery pulsing under his tongue.

“Maybe I’ll have a taste anyway. Always room for dessert, right?” His hand travels from your jaw to the curve of your waist, then to your thigh, where he grabs your leg to hitch it up against him, slinking you around himself so he can deepen the angle of his erection against your core. He needs to be inside you sooner than later, the high of his recent kill making him insatiable.

You let out a sob. It isn’t exactly loud and you hope it isn’t enough to get you killed, but you can’t help it, panic now taking the wheel. A taste of what? Your blood? Does he think he’s a fucking vampire?

You’re definitely the kind of weird girl to believe such things—vampires, aliens, ghosts and the lot. But now that it actually appears to be happening, you’re paralyzed with disbelief, your heart telling you there’s no other logical explanation, but your brain not wanting to accept.

“Shhhh, shhh. Quiet now. I’m going to turn on the light so you can see. And again, you will not make a sound. Right?” he implores.

“R-right,” you mumble, your tongue feeling like a dead lump of flesh in your mouth. “W-won’t make a sound,” you promise.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, flicking on the switch that you discover is only inches from where your head meets the door, reminding you that you could have turned it on at any point yourself.

You bring a hand up to shield your eyes from the onslaught of luminescence and Max does the same, his eyes far more sensitive than your own. You adjust faster than he does, your gaze already pointed at his chest as your hand lowers, and the first thing you notice is the smattering of blood adorning his suit, staining his white dress shirt. He’s wearing a green tie for Saint Patrick’s Day and you can’t help but think grimly that it looks like some sort of macabre version of Christmas.

Only after you gather your bearings do you allow yourself to look around fully and what you’re met with is nothing short of a horror show. A lifeless man is draped across Max’s desk, both arms displaced from his body, tendrils of sinew dangling gracelessly from the sockets where his arms should be. A gaping chasm decorates his chest which is devoid of a heart as far as you can tell. A smaller but similar impression is found in the stem of the man’s neck, which you deduce is the source of the dripping you heard, the shape and jagged edges of the wound indicative that Max took more than a generous bite out of him.

Rivulets of blood stream down the sides of the desk, collecting in a puddle which is still slowly spreading dark vermillion across the tiled floor. You inhale sharply, your tears flowing freely, thinking to yourself how you’ve never seen this much blood in your entire life. How you may be next.

You will yourself to look at the man’s face. You recognize him from earlier when he’d come up to you in the lobby to ask for directions to Max’s office. His eyes are glazed open in a perpetual loop of his final moments, his jaw slack, mouth ajar in a silent scream. Your stomach turns and you release another sob that you’ve been holding in your chest, but you don’t dare make any other sounds lest Max rips you asunder.

You find one arm on the floor next to the desk, your gaze pulling directly to it. Your eyes search with urgency for the second one, as there are very few places it could possibly be, but you don’t find it on visual inspection alone.

Max forces your visage back to his, black and endless as they scrutinize you. His face is streaked in blood, a goatee of red flowing down from his curved lips, which is splayed into a tilted smirk. You sniffle, your chest shuddering with effort as you attempt to collect your breath and your faculties.

“He wanted to pull his account from our company,” Max explains with a shrug, waving a hand dismissively. “There were some…choice words exchanged. Things escalated. I was hungry. It worked out.”

Max drags you backwards, twirling you toward the wall opposite the door as he releases you, turning the lock behind him. You swallow, dread hammering hard in your chest, doing all you can to regulate your pulse rate but easily failing, pinpricks of sweat breaking out on your skin.

You’ll make it through this. You’ll make it out alive. You won’t end up another meal for this… vampire, incubus, deranged cannibal. Whatever he is.

He steps forward, slipping out of his jacket and waistcoat, discarding them in the bin in the corner. They’re ruined, anyway.

“Fear makes…everything better,” Max intones, giving you a cursory once over as he licks his lips. “On both sides.”

He begins rolling up his sleeves on each arm, pinning them at the elbow, revealing a twin set of thick, toned forearms. His tie is last, which he removes deftly, stepping closer to you to loop it around your neck. You shrink away, or try to, your backside bumping against a cabinet. Max laughs when he effectively corners you again, your mingled scents driving him to madness, threatening to turn him into some sort of savage beast; he can smell the fear being excreted from your adrenal gland, the heady arousal pooling amid your thighs, the invigorating scent of blood pulsing in your veins. It’s enough to make any vampire crazy.

He cinches the tie around your neck, wrapping the other end around his fist. He knows he could use his mind control powers to will you into submission, but there’s no sport in that. No challenge. He prefers when it feels more like a game of cat and mouse and so far, you were being plenty acquiescent, stunned into submission like a timid little dormouse. He can’t help but wonder what you’d let him do to you. How far you would go.

He pulls you against him using the necktie for leverage, causing you to stumble into his chest. He can feel how hard your nipples are underneath your green blouse. You hate how much your body is betraying you right now.

“Taste,” Max quietly commands, lifting his fingers to your lips, the digits still slick with the drying blood of his victim. You whimper and shake your head, tilting away from him.

“N-no, please,” you beg. “Anything but that.”

“Anything? That’s a dangerous proposition, dollface,” Max tuts, smirking crookedly.

“I don’t think I c-can,” you reiterate, shaking like a leaf in his grasp. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. It’s easy. And it tastes fucking amazing.” He places his fingers against your soft lips. “Open. Now.”

You ultimately resign yourself, knowing you shouldn’t fight him. You’ve seen what he can do—did do—the last thing you need is to antagonize him further. Your lips part softly for him and his fingers delve into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue.

You note the distinct coppery tang of blood right away and it makes you gag, sending you into an inadvertent coughing fit, your own hands pushing Max’s away before you’re aware you’re even doing so, more tears crowding your eyes. If it was your own blood or Max’s, you’re sure you could handle it. But knowing where it came from is enough to make you want to wretch. And you almost do.

Max chuckles, shaking his head at how easily you succumb to your pathetic human morals. “Not good?” he asks.

“Tastes like…rusty pennies,” you spit, swiping at your tongue in anguish to get the taste out of your mouth. In your peripheral, you can almost see the dead man’s eyes watching you. Rightfully judging you.

Max grins, musing over how easily he can make you fall apart, but satisfied that he got you to try, which is good enough for him. For now, at least. “Suit yourself. More for me,” he says with a flourish of his shoulders, licking the remnants of blood from his fingers. “Tastes like the best fucking drink I’ve ever had. I bet you taste even better, though.”

He’s pushing into you again, tightening the tie a few more inches until it’s just barely flush against your throat. His words go straight to your core, his nostrils flaring when he smells more arousal creeping into your panties.

His hand coils tighter around the other end of the necktie, a wry grin playing on his features. He studies you, memorizing all the different shades of your eyes; the curvature of your lips, of your soft cheeks. “I should make you my pet. Would you like that? Being a pet for a vampire?” he asks, his free hand cupping your cheek. “I would like that.”

You attempt a nod. You don’t dare say no. Part of you thinks you would like it, though. But the killing? The constant slew of bodies? You aren’t sure you could get used to that.

“That’s what I thought,” Max muses with a small puff of air from his lips, his opposite hand traversing the curves of your body at a agonizingly leisurely pace.

His hand finds your sex, fingers stroking along your folds through the cloth of your leggings. He can feel you’re soaked through already. His mouth dips to your neck, tongue trailing your pulse point, eager to taste you, but allotting you ample time to get used to the feeling of him there. His teeth tease across your pebbled skin, but he doesn’t clamp down yet, his vampire canines still tucked away for now.

He notices the way your muscles tense and your heart flutters each time his teeth graze, anticipating being bitten, being fed on. He wishes he hadn’t already gorged himself on some jerkoff right before you showed yourself at his door—you would have made a far more delicious meal than this guy. Not that he would have given you the same treatment. Unlike the corpse still cooling on his desk, he’d rather keep you around for future feedings and other forays.

“My pet likes this, doesn’t she?” he coos, nipping at the delicate intersection of your neck and shoulder with his human teeth, causing you to jump. He chuckles. “Relax, baby.”

There’s a sudden tight pull in your lungs, an inexplicable rush of air, and you start to panic when it feels like you can’t breathe, the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Everything goes static and you almost black out, the edges of the room slowly blotting away but then quickly coming back into focus, and you feel an inexplicable chill roll up your spine as a blast of cold air stings your skin.

There are two fingers tapping at your entrance and you look down in time to see Max’s thick digits sinking deep into you, all the way down to the meat of his hand. It occurs to you that you’re completely naked, your clothes discarded into a hasty pile on the floor. You look at Max with a quizzical expression, but before he can answer, your head is rolling back to brush the wall as he furls said fingers inside of you, slowly pumping, a moan departing your lips.

“Super speed. Comes in handy sometimes,” Max explains with a low chortle. “You get used to it.”

If there were any doubts before that Max could be a vampire, you definitely have none now. Unless you’re going insane, which is a very real possibility at this point, there is no other logical explanation for how expeditiously he was able to get you undressed.

He continues to fuck you slowly with his fingers, watching the way your expression transitions from horror to pleasure, your mouth dropping open in a small “O”.

He can tell by your scent that you haven’t been with any other men recently, indicating that you most likely don’t have a regular suitor in your life. He would be right, your last boyfriend out of the picture for several months now. That’s a good thing, because Max doesn’t do competition.

“Would you like to know the other ways it’s useful? My super speed?” Max questions, curving his fingers into a spot that makes your body roll into an arch against him.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “Please.”

It’s fucked that you’re enjoying this. Max is a killer who’s cloaked in another man’s blood. Said man wasn’t particularly kind to you—was in fact, curt and rude—but that doesn’t mean he deserved such a fate.

Whatever conflict you’re currently having over the whole ordeal hastily disperses when it’s almost like Max switches on a vibrator between your legs, the edges of his arm blurring away, an exquisite tingle pooling amid your thighs, spreading through your abdomen.

Max doesn’t use his advanced speed often as it takes a lot out of him to do so. Vampires were not as invulnerable as everyone perceived them to be, so he only used it when it was its most advantageous, such as now.

Your head droops forward to rest on his shoulder, blood and all, biting back a moan between your teeth. You think he’s probably even better than your vibrator back home, as you can’t recall something ever making you feel this good.

He lifts your eyes back to him and bites down against the side of your neck—once again only human teeth, which still hurt by all accounts—your muscles clamping down around him with a whimper. You feel the familiar stirring growing low in your core, and you know your orgasm is not far off.

“Max—“

“That’s it, sweetheart. Quiet now. Cum for me. Cum for me, but don’t make a sound.”

His eyes are dark, brow pushed down into a stern line. They bore holes straight through your soul, unmoving from your face as he watches you. You close your eyes to concentrate on the impending orgasm and he snaps the tie against your neck, making you gasp, bringing you back to the present.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me.”

His thumb finds your clit, anchoring itself there and that does it, the coil inside of you unfurling, euphoria peaking as you struggle to keep your sounds to a lower pitch.

And then a not-so-recognizable sensation overtakes you and you’re suddenly gushing around his fingers, your eyes going wide with shock as you realize what is happening, knowing you’ve never done that before, you never knew it was something you could do.

“Messy little thing,” Max muses, fingers slipping free with another rush of fluids that trickle down your inner thigh.

Mind somewhat foggy now with over exertion, he can’t help but think how much it was worth it as he tastes you on his fingers.

He hikes your leg up once more, wrapping it around his waist like a belt as he undoes his pants, pulling himself free. His cock springs forward, rock hard and twitching eagerly, flaring red at the tip, more than ready to bury himself in your depths.

You can’t stop your eyes from wandering and you marvel at his size, swallowing in anticipation of it, but your gaze quickly whips back to his when he tugs harshly on the tie.

“Eyes stay up here, dollface.”

He swipes the head of his shaft through your folds, gathering your slick. He admires the cluster of stars you have tattooed on your inner thigh, dragging a thumb over it. An impulsive thing you did as soon as you turned eighteen simply because you could.

You notice as you watch him that Max also has a tattoo—a small bullseye no bigger than a dime on the side of his left hand.

“My pet needs a new name,” he hums as he aligns himself with your entrance. “How about Star? Would you like that?”

You nod in affirmation. “S-star, yes. I like it.”

Max grins. That wide, self-important grin retained from his former self, blood still staining his lips and chin. “Good. Because if you’re a good little pet, that is what you will be. My Star.”

He starts to push into you, slow at first so you get used to the stretch of him, and then snapping forward the last inch or so, sinking until his hips slot against yours. He lets out a groan that sounds almost demonic in its ardor, causing your heart to skip a beat or several.

“I can…hear your blood…moving. Fucking hot,” he growls.

The first thing you notice about Max as he begins thrusting inside of you is how cold he feels. Not ice cold, but for sure not the warm bodies you’re used to sharing yourself with. Oddly enough, you kind of like it.

You wrap one hand around his neck to steady yourself as he ruts into you. He isn’t going any faster than you’re used to, but that’s probably for the best. If he went even half as fast as he did with his arm, he might actually rip you in half.

You’re the first human Max has been with since the change. He missed it, the warmth of it. Sex with other vampires was too cold, both physically and psychologically, too cunning and dispassionate. He much prefers this, the warmth of your skin sinking into his, making him feel almost like his mortal self again; your little moans and mewls of passion bringing out the monster in him.

You have to hide your face in his chest to muffle all the various sounds of being fucked you’re making, which he surprisingly lets you do without retribution this time, each thrust of his hips jerking you halfway up the wall, the cloth of his nice dress shirt damp from blood, not sweat. Strangely enough, there is no sweat aside from your own, his skin smooth as porcelain.

He slants his hips to deepen the angle inside of you, causing you to whimper louder than intended, his hand tightening around your hip, bruising. If not for the previous expenditure of his energy and the fact he was going easier on you than usual, he could do this all night and then some. You’re making him absolutely ravenous and his self-control not to taste you is waning by the minute.

He pins you in place with the span of his body, increasing the speed and power of his thrusts, and within seconds your walls start to clamp around him, another orgasm building low in your belly.

“That’s it, Star. Cum for me. Cum on my cock,” he beckons.

His face tilts to your neck, aquiline nose nuzzling in the small hollow at the back of your jaw, the soft area that bridges your neck and throat. Grazing his teeth over the warmth of your skin, the heat of your pulsating artery.

The feel of his teeth dragging your skin, teasing, testing, making you clench, and then you’re cumming again with a muted whimper lost in the wide breadth of his chest. You feel his mouth part against your skin as you come undone, a sharp pain suddenly blooming hot in the muscle of your neck.

You feel liquid pooling in the dip of your collarbone, and you realize that Max is feeding on you, sharp canines sinking deep into your neck, tongue laving across your skin with a deep, guttural groan as he feasts upon you. The sounds he’s making are lascivious and lewd, sending a fresh new wave of arousal through you despite your panic, amplifying your orgasm.

Lips still locked to your neck as he feeds, Max’s hips stutter and then draw to a halt when he begins to spill himself inside of you, unable to fully contain himself now that he’s gotten a taste, an unholy, inhuman roar erupting from him so terrifying in its potency that you nearly scream.

Max pulls his face away, lips dark and shiny with a fresh coat of blood as he looks down at you, half-cocked grin playing there. There’s something unsettlingly alluring about it.

You begin to sob softly, you can’t help it, your adrenaline and endorphins dwindling now that all is said and done.

“Shhhh, my Star. It’s okay. You’re okay. You did so well for me,” he consoles, tracing your cheek with the back of his hand.

You see his fangs now, which you’re positive weren’t there before, sharp and pointed and slicked in red. He pricks a finger on one of them and squeezes it, blood beading at the end of his fingertip. He smears it over the punctures in your neck, and you feel a small tickle as they close up almost instantaneously.

And then you see his teeth retract, not dissimilar to a cat’s claws. There one second and gone the next.

He leans forward to clean up any remaining traces of blood, gently pulling you off of him. “See? Good as new,” he says with a wink.

“W-what do I do now?” you ask with a tremble in your voice. You start fidgeting with the tie to see if he’ll let you take it off. He cocks his head curiously.

“You stay with me,” he explains. “You’ll live with me. I’ll take fabulous care of you, my pet, don’t worry.”

“C-can I take this off?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

You take it off and hand it to him, although it’s stained beyond usefulness, so he tosses it to the floor. He bends to gather your clothes, meticulously redressing you, placing a small kiss to your neck where he fed.

“You taste so fucking good, Star,” he pines with a stretch, sucking air through his teeth. “Best I’ve ever tasted. Now that I’ve had you, I’ll never be sated.”

He wraps his arms around your torso in an uncharacteristically tender embrace, skimming his lips along the shell of your ear. “Sleep, now,” he whispers, and you slip away just like that, Max lowering your now-limp body to the floor as he tucks his discarded jacket under your neck.

——

When you wake up—you don’t know how many minutes or hours later—Max is standing over you. Your eyes dart about the room and the man’s body and every trace of him is gone, as if he never existed. Max offers you a hand to help you up and you take it.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Just before sunrise. It’s too late to leave. You can call in today and I’ll keep you hidden in my office.”

You frown. Calling in after St. Paddy’s Day isn’t a good look, but what other choice do you have? You just hope you don’t lose your job.

“Okay,” you reply, nodding your head in confirmation. “And at the end of the day?”

“We wait until sun down,” Max begins with a grin, “and then we go home.”

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 5 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 5 Summary: Peña has done more than you expected by making you the Customs Agent in Charge, and you’re already starting to feel the pressure. While preparing to give your first official brief, you reach out once again to Marcus for reassurance. The call leads you down memory lane to the last conversation you had with Marcus face to face.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x f!Reader), drinking (pity party of 1 - your wine is ready), flashback, semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), unprotected p-in-v (stay safe, folks), probably talking about cum way too much?, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl, cockwarming, aftercare, denying all the feels, ohh the yearning

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.6k

Author’s Note: This chapter contains the final installment of the Last Night in D.C. Flashback, as I’ve dubbed it in my head. It was certainly a challenge, and I’m oddly proud that I actually made myself cry a little while writing it! I plan on posting the entire D.C. flashback while I’m working on the next chapter if you’d like to read it in its entirety. I’m excited at where we are in the story, because the events in this chapter will make a lot more room for Javi to work his magic.

All the smooches and hugs to @kilamonster who puts the B, E, T, and A (*giggity*) in BEAUTIFUL - thank you, lovey! 

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Texas Present

A copy of the assignment paperwork shows up on your desk the next morning. Next to your name states your role in the case: CBP Agent in Charge. 

Peña did more than make good on his word to keep you involved. You’d told him you didn’t want to be just another liaison or consultant, but you weren’t expecting this. It doesn’t feel right, truth be told. You wanted this level of involvement in a case, but only by earning it on your own merit – not because your connection at the FBI panned out. 

Your conversation with Marcus the previous day still lingers in your mind as you try to get some work done. It was good to hear his voice again so soon. Great, actually. You admit that you missed the sound of his smile when he spoke and his reassuring tones. He actually listened to what you said and remembered things you told him. Marcus was going to make somebody very lucky one day, and they had better deserve him. 

Marcus had been gracious when you fessed up and told him that Peña wanted you to use your connection to the art squad to help with the case. 

“I know how bureaucracy really works,” he’d said. He was surprised to hear that Peña had already tried calling, and you offered to ask Peña who he’d spoken to in their office. 

You stare blankly at the paperwork in your hand. You’re officially attached to the case now, but it’s still squarely in the DEA’s jurisdiction for now, which means the ball is in Peña’s court. The man is always so busy, you could be waiting a week if you don’t put yourself in his path. Smoothing your skirt, you decide to walk by Peña’s office to see if he’s free to talk. 

The butterflies in your stomach wilt a bit when you see the door closed. The blinds on his office windows are parted, and through the slats you observe Peña leaning back in his leather office chair, holding the phone receiver against his shoulder. Held at that angle, his neck is elongated and you notice the tight cords of tendon and muscle flex as he speaks. 

You pause a moment, wondering if you should pass by and continue to the breakroom for coffee, or head back to your desk. Before you can decide, Peña spots you and sits up in his chair. He beckons you forward, and you approach his door. The butterflies return as you turn the knob and walk in just as he’s hanging up his phone.

“I see you got your copy of the detail agreement.” He nods at your hand, where you’re grasping the paperwork.

“Yeah, I did.” You take a breath. “Thanks for that.”

“You earned it.”

Choosing to ignore his platitude, you direct the conversation to figuring out your first tasks. 

“When do I start?” You notice the chair in front of his desk is still empty from your last visit, so you sit without being invited. As you cross your legs, the sheer material of your stockings makes your legs glide together smoothly. 

“Right away, if you can. We’ll have our first team briefing Monday morning.” Javier adjusts his tie and clears his throat. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you catch his eyes taking in your movements while you smooth the fabric and tug the hem of your skirt down to a demure length. Javi must be a leg guy.

“I want you to present your strategy to the team,” he adds, eyes cutting up to meet yours and catching you off guard.

“My ‘strategy?’” It takes you a moment to register what Javier means. “You mean my idea that we talked about at the bar the other night? I wouldn’t exactly call that a strategy.” 

“You’ll need to flesh it out a bit more, of course. Prepare for questions.” Javier props his elbows on his desk and leans over, his voice softens slightly. “Can you do that for me?”

His question – the sincerity in his tone, the earnestness in his face – makes you want his approval, makes you want to please him. Nodding, you say, “Of course. I’ll get started right away.” 

He smiles appreciatively. “I’m looking forward to it.” You stand up to go, and he adds distractedly, “That’s why I made you the Customs AIC.”

“What?” You look back at him, stopping in the doorway.

“Your strategy. It’s what’s going to make this case successful.” You’re intrigued by this shift in Javi. He’s different: more open and forthcoming, generous with his time, giving you a peek at a softer side of him you couldn’t have known existed.

“I was doubtful at first,” he concedes. One of his large hands smooths his mustache and he smiles wryly. “But somebody reminded me that I don’t know shit about art.”

You flush a bit, remembering how forceful you’d been with him at the bar. That kind of assertiveness was new to you, but the case you worked with Marcus had helped you build up your professional confidence. 

Drawing yourself up a bit taller, you smile back at him. “Well, that person sounds very smart. I’m glad you listened to them.” 

Javi smirks and relaxes back into his chair, bridging his fingers together contemplatively. As you turn to leave, you hear him say, “Me too.”

~~~

Now that you know the reason Peña made you the Customs Agent in Charge of the case was because of your idea and not just your connection to the FBI, you feel an even stronger drive to excel. You know you tend to be unrealistically hard on yourself, but you justify this impulsive need to not just succeed, but to exceed all expectations, with the fact that a positive result in this case could get you the promotion you’d been gunning for back in D.C. 

Marcus was always good at grounding you when you went a little too far and started spiraling. He understood that the standards were different for female agents. He witnessed the endless patriarchal bullshit you and the other female agents had to put up with on a daily basis, and did his best to be an ally from within the institutional boys’ club of federal law enforcement. 

Marcus had a knack for knowing when to say something to pull you out of a spiral, and when you needed to push yourself through it. He was never condescending nor patronizing, but his natural empathy made you feel seen, heard, and valid.

Making a solid first impression with the rest of the agents on the case will be paramount to getting everyone on board with the strategy. Thankfully Peña is on your side, but you don’t want the others to go along with it just because he tells them to. You want to instill them all individually with confidence in your idea.

You’ve already been at this most of the day. For comfort, you decided to move from the small dinette table in your kitchen to your bed, where an open bottle of red wine now sits on your nightstand. 

You’ve gotten stuck trying to poke holes in your strategy, identify the risks and vulnerabilities to prepare for any hard-hitting questions. It’s hard to see things from an outside perspective. Sighing, you reach over and pick up the glass of wine sitting next to your phone. You could really use a partner right now to help prepare this briefing. 

Your eyes go back to your phone, and you consider calling Marcus. It’s a Saturday, and he might have plans, or could just be enjoying some quiet time outside of work. You decide to send him a text first, just in case. 

After agonizing for several minutes over what to say, you decide to send a simple: Can you talk?

Blowing out your cheeks with a big exhale, you turn back to your presentation. A few minutes later your phone dings and you rush to grab it.

Sure, let me get somewhere quiet. 

You let out a groan and feel bad that you’re obviously pulling him away from something, but you’re feeling pretty desperate. Resolved to make it a quick conversation, you’re poring over your notes and then jump when your phone rings. 

You answer immediately, imbuing an apologetic tone to your voice, “Marcus, hey, I’m so sorry–”

“It’s Javier.” 

You blink, too stunned to respond. Glancing at your phone’s screen, you see the call had not actually come from Marcus as you’d assumed.

“Who’s Marcus?” His tone had turned teasing and you hear the clink of ice in a glass. “You standing some poor guy up?” 

You recover enough to stammer, “Uh, no. No, he’s just a friend.” You don’t know why you felt the need to give Javi an explanation. 

“Mm, okay.” He exhales slowly, and you think he must be smoking a cigarette with his whiskey. “Whatever you say, cariño.” His voice is a soft purr from deep in his chest. 

You’re suddenly very aware that you’ve never spoken with Javi on the phone outside of work, and it feels strange – not in a bad way, he has a nice voice. But you do feel off kilter, and a touch of vulnerability makes you stomach flip. 

“So…” You pause, not sure what to say without sounding rude. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you, actually.”

Wrapping your sweater more tightly across your chest, you wonder if your nipples are pebbling from a chill in the room or the idea of Javi helping you with something. You really need to get laid; you can’t focus on this case this tightly wound.

“Like what?” You take another sip of wine and wonder what the whiskey in Javi’s glass tastes like, and if the tobacco you smelled on him the other night in the bar is what he’s smoking now. 

“The briefing on Monday – that’s a lot for one person to manage, especially one who doesn’t have any resources assigned yet.” 

Resources. That means an actual team, with actual funding. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. That drive to impress and succeed can make you do stupid things, like take on way too much for one person, and set yourself up for failure. You’re starting to feel that sense of overwhelm that happens when you feel like you’ve taken on too much but force yourself to rein it in. 

Needing help is not a weakness. Asking for help is a strength. Accepting help when offered, especially from somebody like Javi, is the right thing to do.

Swallowing your pride, you say, “Yeah, that’s actually what I’m working on right now. It is a lot. What kind of help did you have in mind?” 

Ice clinks in his glass again and you can almost picture him licking the cool, golden drops from his mustache.

“How about I meet you tomorrow to go over what you’ve got so far, and we can go from there?” 

“Meet me – you mean at the office?” 

“Or your place, wherever you’d be most comfortable.” His tone is purely professional, it doesn’t sound like he’s feeding you a line. But the idea of Javier Peña being inside your apartment fills you with something akin to panic.

“The office is good,” you rush to answer. 

Javi’s chuckle is low and breathy. “Whatever you want, cariño.”

You agree on a time to meet the next day and hang up, just in time for your phone to start ringing again a moment later. Downing the rest of your wine glass, you answer with a choked, “Hello?”

“Hey, sorry, it took me forever to find a quiet spot to call – you okay?” Marcus is raising his voice slightly to hear himself over the music and conversation in the background.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine – sorry to bother you right now, I can tell you’re busy.” Setting the empty wine glass down next to the bottle, you begin to feel flushed and flap your sweater to cool off.

“It’s okay, just a work thing for, uh… for my girlfriend.” 

Your bed disappears from beneath you as your stomach drops. The dregs of the wine burn a trail down your throat. 

“Oh,” you manage.

“She’s a lawyer, just won a big case.” He continues. There’s an edge to his voice you can’t place, which makes you uncomfortable. You used to know his voice better.

“That’s awesome!” There’s a little too much enthusiasm in your response, and you try to dial it back a bit. “That’s so great. Good for her. I should let you get back to her, then.”

“Well, uh. What did you want to talk about?” Oh. Right. You’d asked if he could talk. 

“Oh, god, it’s stupid, I’m really sorry. I’m briefing my strategy at the kickoff on Monday…” 

“That’s great!” Marcus’ voice is filled with genuine warmth and excitement and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, except I’m shitting myself over here,” you try to chuckle. “I know these DEA guys are going to grill me and I want to have an answer to every question.” 

“You’re going to blow them away, I know it.” His words make you smile a bit. Marcus has always had unwavering confidence in you.

“Thanks, Marcus.” You try and fail to mask the tinge of defeat in your voice as you pour another large glass of wine. It’s your pity party, and you’ll drink if you want to. 

“Listen, how about I–” He’s cut off by a woman calling his name in the distance. That must be the successful lawyer girlfriend. She probably looks like Heidi Klum.

“I better let you go, I’ve already taken up enough of your time.” The words rush from your mouth. “Thanks again for calling – oh, and congrats to your girlfriend.” 

“Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything…”

“For sure.” Your false air of confidence is transparent. “Thanks, Marcus. Goodnight.” You hang up a little too quickly and take a hefty gulp of wine. 

Marcus has a girlfriend. Of course he has a girlfriend, he’s a total 10. If you’d just been able to get your head out of your ass back in D.C. – no, you won’t let yourself go down that road; not tonight. You’ve got way too much to do before you meet with Javi.

Work is a welcome distraction now, and you find yourself laser focused. By the time the glass of wine is done, your mind is too tired and fuzzy to be productive. You decide to pack it in for the night and get started again bright and early so you’ll have something halfway decent to bring to the office. 

You brush your teeth, down a full glass of water, and climb into bed with your wine-soaked brain swimming with thoughts of the two phone calls you experienced this evening. Javi’s call may have been totally unexpected, and you are resolved not to read too much into it, but Marcus’ led your mind back down memory lane to your last face-to-face conversation. You fall asleep thinking of how things might have been a bit different if you’d only been brave enough to stay.

~~~

Washington, D.C. 6 Months Ago

“Good girl,” he rasps. “My good fucking girl.” He kisses your forehead and temple, then presses his lips in a trail down to the crook in your neck where he rests and catches his breath. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper breathlessly. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” Marcus says softly into your hair. “You did so well for me.” As you begin to regain the strength in your legs, he runs a hand across your cheek and cups it, kissing you gently. His other hand trails featherlight touches across your breasts, then tweaks a nipple making you gasp. 

“Do you still want my cum?” This makes you clench around him with a moan, and he smiles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Slowly, he pulls out of you with a small groan, making sure you’re steady enough on your feet before letting go of your waist. 

He removes his shirt entirely and reaches for the chair nearby where his coat and tie are draped across the back. Laying his shirt on the seat, he sits and opens his arms, beckoning you. Walking forward, you step between his parted knees, looking hungrily at his shiny, slick-coated cock. 

You want him in your mouth. You want to clean your cum from his cock and feel his hardness slide against your tongue until it hits the back of your throat. Saliva is already pooling in your mouth at the thought. But you know you have to ask permission first. 

“Sir, can I please suck your cock?” Marcus lets out a hungry groan and you lick your lips when his cock twitches in response. You start to go down on your knees when Marcus stops you. 

“Sweetheart, I would love to feel your mouth, especially now. But I can’t let you kneel on this hard floor. My good girl doesn’t deserve that.” He takes your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly.

“Besides,” he cradles your cheeks until you meet his eyes, “I want you riding my cock so I can watch your face when I finally fill you with my cum.” Smiling, you straddle his lap obediently, eager to have him back inside you, however you can have him. 

Marcus holds his cock to line it up at your entrance once again. Audible sighs pass both your lips as you begin to lower yourself down onto him. Marcus hisses between his teeth from the heightened sensitivity of being so hard, still so close to his own finish. 

“God, yes,” Marcus whispers when he’s fully sheathed inside you. “This isn’t going to take long, baby.” 

An electric sort of thrill fills you at how close Marcus is, his orgasm now in your hands. Rocking your hips experimentally, you search to find the best way to move together on the chair. Hands on his shoulders to steady your movements, you begin moving up and down on his cock, your arousal making the glide easy. 

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Marcus urges you on with unceasing praise, kisses your breasts and clavicle and moans against your neck. Leaning back, he looks up at you. “Fuck, sweetheart, you look incredible riding me. You’ve got this, keep going. Good girl.” 

Emboldened, you find your rhythm, and delight in the words and noises coming from Marcus’ mouth. Tilting your hips one way on the upstroke, and rolling them on the way back down, Marcus’ breath comes out in pants and grunts each time you bottom out on his dick. You watch Marcus watching you, head tilted back to look up at your face, eyes bright and shining. “Beautiful,” he whispers, as though to himself. “So beautiful, so good… So fucking perfect.”

He grabs your ass, a cheek in each hand, to support your rise and fall. Furrowing his brow, he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. He’s getting close, trying to reach that peak. On the next downstroke you press yourself to him, grinding your hips into his pelvis and he lets out a guttural noise. 

Marcus pulls you down into a passionate kiss and you moan into each other’s mouths as he ruts up again. The chair begins to creak beneath your combined weight and vigor, but you’re both too far gone to take any notice. This combination of depth and pressure is getting you perilously close to your own climax, but you desperately want him to finish with you this time.

“Please. Sir,” you gasp. “Please, I need it.”

“I’m gonna give you my cum, baby. So close. Don’t stop.” Marcus has an arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in place as he fucks up into you, his grip nearly bruising on your hip. Running his other hand up to cup the side of your face, fingers twining into your hair. “Look at me, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty face. Fuck–” he grunts, so close. “Eyes on me… Good girl.”

Gazes locked, mouths agape, you and Marcus inch closer to that razor’s edge together. The building pressure is almost too much and you struggle to keep your eyes open against its blinding power. You need him to fill your already soaked cunt. 

“Marcus, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum – Marcus-” 

A strangled cry that sounds like your name tumbles from Marcus’ mouth as he erupts, the swell and jerk of his cock being the final push you need. He’s holding you so tightly, crushing his mouth against yours as you ride out your pleasure together. Each spasm pulls your bodies together, like waves crashing over rocks, drowned out only by your blended moans. 

Panting to catch your breath, Marcus sprinkles feather-light kisses along your brow, beaded with sweat from exertion. As you slowly come down, you begin to shiver a bit – probably from both the adrenaline and the cool, dry air of the room. Marcus rubs his hands against your arms and back and pulls you close for warmth. 

“Good girl, I’ve got you.” He reaches behind him to pull his suit jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over your shoulders. Perhaps it’s the intensity of the physical sensations, the comedown from such a high, or something else, but tears start to prick at the backs of your eyes. 

You’ve never experienced this amount of passion and sensuality with any other person in your life. Marcus is more than just a sex partner, he’s your lover. He’s also a friend, and a rare one at that. 

Aftercare is so important to Marcus, he never lets you rush or skip it. He sits there patiently as you recover and ride out the aftershocks, huddled against him with his cock still inside you. Marcus strokes your back and kisses your temple, whispering things too quietly to hear over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Breathing in tandem, you feel both your heart rates begin to co-regulate and beat together.

Eventually, and only when you feel ready, you begin to get up off his lap. 

“Good girl, nice and easy.” Marcus is a sight to behold, sitting there. His lap is soaked, his chest and neck damp with sweat, hair delightfully mussed. 

Marcus hands you your panties and you slip them on before his cum, infused with your own, can leak too much and make a bigger mess. 

Slowly, naturally, the electricity in the air begins to diffuse and a comfortable quiet takes its place. The two of you redress and straighten the evidence room, finding plenty of opportunities to smile, touch, and help each other. You even share a couple of laughs at the wet spot on Marcus’ shirt. 

“At least it’ll be under your jacket,” you offer, trying to smooth out the deep wrinkles in your skirt a bit more.

“Yeah, I’ll just have to figure out a way to explain it to my dry cleaner.” Marcus grins, revealing his dimple.

Marcus insists on walking you to your car and carrying the box of stuff you’d packed. He laughs at the sheer amount of office supplies you’d thrown in before leaving for the parking garage.

“I’m loving the silent protest, but do you really need three staplers?” 

“The patriarchy has a lot of paperwork,” you shrug innocently and press the unlock button on your key fob. 

Marcus secures your loot in the backseat and turns to face you before you get in and drive away. His shoulders have noticeably slumped and there’s a sad half-smile on his face. You step into his open arms and he envelopes you in a warm embrace, kissing the top of your head. The prickles have come back to your eyes and you burrow into his shoulder and neck even deeper, trying to memorize his scent.

He mumbles something, but you can’t hear him, just feel the rumble in his chest. You pull back without unlocking your arms from his torso, “What did you say?”

“I said ‘I’m going to miss you,’” Marcus repeats, tucking an errant lock of hair behind your ear. His face goes blurry and you quickly blink back the tears threatening to form. 

“I’m going to miss you too, Marcus.” 

He leans down to kiss you, but you shy away and look around nervously out of habit. Marcus grabs your face and plants his lips on yours, kissing you with determination. You sink into him with a sigh, and he deepens the kiss, caressing your tongue with his own. The kiss builds until you both have to break away for breath. 

You get a naughty idea and bite your lip, glancing around. “Hang on, I want to give you something. Keep an eye out.” Hidden from view by your open car door and Marcus’ tall form, you discreetly pull your panties off from under your skirt and tuck them into the pocket of his suit jacket. 

“A memento,” you say with a wink and he kisses you again.

“It’ll keep me warm on cold nights,” he teases, with a cheeky lift of his brow. 

 The somber mood returns, and the two of you stand there quietly again, neither of you ready to say goodbye just yet. 

Finally, Marcus takes a big breath and speaks. “I…” he falters, and has to clear his throat. “I don’t know if I’m going to get another chance to say this, and I’m going to regret it forever if I let you leave without saying anything.” 

His words come out quickly, but his voice is thick with emotion. 

“You shouldn’t go. I mean, I don’t want you to go. You won’t talk about why you’re leaving, but I get it – I do, even if you think I don’t.” You have to look away, and swipe harshly at the tears beginning to spill over. 

Marcus gently cups your face and thumbs away one tear, kisses another off your cheek. Your throat constricts, and you can’t find the words you’d say to stop him if you could. He keeps speaking, every word breaking your heart a little bit more. 

“I really think that there's something special here, with us, and I–” His voice breaks, and you see emotion swimming in his eyes. You cover his hand with yours, and turn your face into his palm, placing a kiss there. 

Tears are falling freely from your eyes now, and there’s a deep, aching part of you that needs to hear what he has to say, even if it kills you. 

“I care about you. Very much.” He meets your eyes as he says this. “I don’t expect you to feel the same–” 

Rising up on your toes, you quickly seal his lips with a bruising kiss. You and Marcus cling to each other in a crushing embrace. 

“Please,” you say against his lips, kissing him again. “Please, don’t–,” another kiss. A sob breaks loose from your throat. “I can’t–”

“I know,” Marcus whispers, ghosting his lips across your cheek, temple, forehead.

“I have to go.”

“I know,” he presses his forehead to yours. “I know.”

Pulling back, you can’t tell if the wetness shining on Marcus’ cheeks is from your tears, or his own. His arms remain locked around you, holding you to him.

“I have to go,” you repeat in a hushed tone. Marcus nods and presses his lips to your forehead one last time. 

“Goodbye, Marcus.” Without looking at his face again, you turn away, breaking free of his warmth.

You manage to get in your car and drive a full block before you finally break down.

Next Chapter || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

Additional Author’s Note: I am so thrilled at all the folks who have liked this story and that I get to thot thotfully with you fine folks. Thank you so much to those who have commented, reblogged, and recc’d my fic! I don’t think this has gotten enough traction to warrant a taglist, but I’m more than happy to tag anybody going forward as I post subsequent chapters! Just send me a DM. 

As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

[anti-romantico]

[work trip] the boyz sangyeon

warnings: slow-burn, use of the word "daddy" idk if I should apologize for this one lmao, oral (f receiving), protected sex (I earned a cookie for this), hint of a second round

words: 3571

Working as an assistant wasn’t in your plans when you graduated, but as long as you could pay your bills with the salary without having to get another job, you were more than happy.

And it wasn’t like your boss was terrible or a creep. He was young, didn’t have kids, but always liked to spoil his friend’s, it was like his favorite hobby. 

You arrived at your desk 15 minutes before your usual time this morning. You didn’t know your driver was in such a rush, but you preferred to not ask and let him drive while you hold on for dear life.

— You’re early. — Your boss said, walking out of his office.

— My driver must have had something important to do after dropping me off. — You answered. — Good morning, Mr. Lee. — You bowed your head a little.

He softly smiled. — Good morning. Did you receive my email?

— Yes, you wanted to talk to me. — You confirmed.

And even though it wasn’t a question, Sangyeon nodded. — It was going to be later, but considering you still have 10 more minutes of freedom and that I’ll leave earlier. Come to my office, please.

You felt cold sweat all over your body. Did you mention he made you insanely nervous? And you knew the thoughts you sometimes had about him would be firing you in a second. 

You sat down on the chair in front of his desk and waited for him to talk. Sangyeon took off his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and sat down on his own chair.

— Do you want water? — He suddenly asked. And you didn’t know if it was the nervousness, but you sensed a hint of mockery in his tone.

— No, thank you, Mr. Lee. — You said, looking away.

You heard him scoff. — Well, I wanted to talk to you because we received an invitation to an investors meeting in Gangmun. And although it will only be 3 meetings, it’s going to be a whole week. You can pack some swimsuits if you want. We are leaving on Friday.

And Friday arrived too fast for your liking. The organizers of this trip made sure his future investors traveled comfortably because your seats were first class and the hotel was 5 stars. 

Your room and Sanyeon’s were next to each other, and while you were unpacking, someone knocked on your door.

— Hi, I just got a call. Our first meeting is tomorrow morning, so that means you have the whole day free. — You nodded. — Oh. These were in my room, to let the hotel staff know you’re here as part of the trip. Pretty sure you’ll have courtesies. — Sangyeon grabbed your left arm and put on the white plastic bracelet. — And you have only one more replacement, so be careful. — He let it go.

— Thanks. So am I free to do anything today? — You asked, already making plans.

— I mean, yes, just don’t go to sleep late, the meeting is at 11am, right after breakfast. — You giggled, he was using the same tone he used with his friend’s kids.

— Right, thank you, Mr. Lee. — You smiled and waited for him to leave.

The next morning, you got up and took a bath. You were getting dressed when you released how hungry you were. You were almost ready when Sangyeon knocked on your door. 

— Slept well? — Was the first thing he asked when you opened your door.

— Yes, thank you, Mr. Lee. You too? — You asked, closing your door, making sure it was locked. 

— You can say that. I always have a difficult time sleeping the first night outside my home.

— That happened to me once, I just asked for more pillows. — You said. He called the elevator and nodded.

Breakfast was quiet. The restaurant was full of businessmen, and some even looked at both of you from time to time. None of them came accompanied by their assistant? You wanted to ask Sanyeon about it, but he was too immersed in his phone.

— Aren't you going to order, Mr. Lee? — You took him out of his thoughts.

— I only ordered a coffee, [Y/N], I'm not that hungry. — Sangyeon put away his phone and gave you his whole attention.

After his coffee and your fruit salad arrived, you casually talked about your plans for the next day. Not noticing everyone's eyes were on you two.

Not even in the meeting room you noticed the businessmen gossiping around, you just assumed they were talking about, well, business. 

The next day finally arrived, and room service was like your alarm to get off the bed. 

"Courtesy from the house" the bellman said. 

You sent Sangyeon a message to tell him you were having your breakfast in your room and that it would be ok for him to join, but he rejected the offer saying he was already having breakfast with some colleague at the restaurant. 

After finishing, you grabbed one of the bikinis you packed and got ready to enjoy the pool.

— Hi! — A voice called your attention when you were looking for your sunglasses.

A guy with black hair and tattoos was right in front of you. 

— Hi.

— I wasn't sure if you were the lady from the meeting room. I'm Kevin.

— [Y/N]. — You gazed over him, watching him sit down on the chair beside yours. — Are you an investor?

— I'm one of the organizers, actually. — You slightly panicked. — I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but you didn't seem to have a moment away from Mr. Lee.

— Yeah, he often forgets small but important details and I have to remind him.

— Oh, so you're his assistant? — Kevin sounded genuinely surprised.

— I am, is there a problem?

— No, I think it's smart of him to bring his assistant. Most of these men think they know everything and often humiliate themselves. 

— Tell me about it, in all the work trips I've been since I started to work for Mr. Lee, at least one man interrupts the head of the investors and ends up being kicked out of the meeting. 

— Oh I've seen it happen, it's really funny. Anyways, didn't mean to interrupt your free day, but let me take you for a drink or two. How about your next free day?

— The day after tomorrow? 

— Sure, I know those meetings can be exhausting, can't imagine how tired you end up. So, is it ok for you?

— Yeah, let me know the time.

You watched Kevin leave and finally got into the pool when he was out of your sight.

And he was right about the meetings. Businessmen always liked to show off their intelligence, thinking they knew more than the rest. Sangyeon would look at you from time to time, to make sure you weren't too tired.

— I can excuse you if you want to leave. — He whispered in your ear. You swallowed hard.

— And miss this? No way. — You whispered back, making him giggle. 

Your eyes then were caught by Kevin's, he was giving you a teasing look that left you feeling uneasy.

The next night, you dressed casually and went to the bar of the hotel. On your way to the elevator, you met Sangyeon and the colleague he had breakfast with the other day.

— Going somewhere special? — Sangyeon arched his brow when he saw how well dressed you were.

— Yeah, going to the bar, a friend invited me. — You didn't exactly want to tell him that one of the organizers invited you.

— That's great, have a good time, just don't forget…

— We have the last meeting tomorrow, I know. I won't come back late. — Sangyeon smiled and let you go. 

— How long have you been working with Mr. Lee. — Kevin asked, already three drinks in.

You sighed. — Two years, but I started in the archive until he realized I was acting like his assistant so he decided to hire me as such.

— Nice, starting from the bottom… — You laughed and nodded. — I'm going to say this before I get too drunk. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable.

— Why would you?

— Just me and my thoughts. They like to assume things. — You finished your drink and waited for him to talk. — I just thought you were either the wife or the affair. 

And fortunately you already swallowed your drink before he said those words because you would've choked. 

— Why would you think that?

—  I mean, he brought you. Investors usually come alone.

— What do you mean?

— We only sent one invitation. Not saying he has done it in the past, everyone does things differently, but in this case, we only invited him and he asked for permission to bring someone, all expenses on him, of course. 

You couldn't believe him. What if this wasn't the first time? 

After getting another drink and changing topics, you two decided it was time to go back and sleep. You were still talking in the elevator when it reached Kevin's floor. He said goodnight and left, leaving you with your thoughts. 

Once you got to your floor, you calmly walked to your door, but a voice in your head convinced you it was a good time for answers. 

You knocked Sangyeon's door and waited, getting no answer. You knocked again, impatiently.

— [Y/N], it’s late, what’s wrong? — Sangyeon finally opened his door.

— Why did you bring me?

— What?

— You’re paying for my room and my “courtesies”, you thought I wouldn’t know? 

Sangyeon moved to let you in his room. You walked in and waited beside him.

— What’s so wrong about it? — He said after closing his door.

— You lied to me! You told me I was also invited and that the organizers were paying for my food and such. I work for you, why would you do this?

— Ok, let’s get this straight. You don’t work for me, you work with me. Without you I would forget half of the stuff I have to do during the day, I needed you here.

— Are you sure about that? Was paying for such an expensive hotel room necessary?

— Yes. — You closed your mouth surprised.

— Wow, this is beyond unprofessional, Sangyeon. 

— I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, but ever since you started working in the company you haven’t had proper vacations.

— How about you hire someone else and I find somewhere else to work? — You asked. You tried to open the door, but Sangyeon had his whole weight on his arms, stopping you. 

— Are you seriously quitting right now? 

You didn’t turn around. — No, unlike you, I’m a professional. I’ll finish this trip, enjoy my last days here. You’ll have my resignation letter on your desk by Monday. 

He sighed and let you go. He couldn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, you sent him a message saying you'll have your breakfast in your room, so he could go to the restaurant without you. And Sangyeon thought you’d also miss the meeting, but you were waiting for him outside the meeting room.

— It’s not necessary, [Y/N], I'm pretty sure this meeting will be a recap of the other two. — Sangyeon said in a lower voice, not wanting the other businessmen to hear him.

You sighed. — Ms. Kim only invited the investors she was truly interested in working with. 

Sangyeon bit his lower lip fighting the urge to laugh. — I told you I needed you here. 

— Meeting is about to start, Mr. Lee. — You said, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you heard those words.

After the meeting, you waited for him to finish talk with Ms. Kim. You got distracted with the beautiful view the meeting room had. Sangyeon called your name after some minutes and you followed him, saying goodbye to Ms. Kim.

— Well, — Sangyeon and you stopped at your door. — Our flight is on Sunday.

— I know. See you then. — You opened your door and looked at him.

— I really hope you reconsider what you said last night. I promise this won’t happen again. 

— See you on Sunday, Mr. Lee. 

You were in the pool enjoying the warm water. The businessmen were already leaving. You noticed when Kevin was checking out. “I just thought you were either the wife or the affair” his words made echo in your head. God, who else thought that about you. He looked in your direction and waved goodbye. You smiled and waved back.

— May I? — Sangyeon’s voice made you turn around.

You shrugged and kept swimming, ignoring that he took off his shirt. After 5 minutes of complete silence, you sat on the edge of the pool and turned your head to talk to him.

— Was this the first time you did it? — You asked.

— What? Paying for a whole hotel room, first class flights, food and all-access bracelets for you? — He answered in a sarcastic tone. 

— And you still want me to work for you? — You turned your body this time.

— Of course. I know I should’ve told you, but would you have agreed to go all those times knowing I was paying for you? — You stayed silent. — Listen, if you decide to still work with me — Sanyeon made emphasis on the “with”. — I’ll still pay for you, you already do half of my job, just take it as a way to thank you. 

You got up and walked to the chair where your towel was. — Did you know some of those businessmen thought I was your wife or even your mistress? And I’m sure it’s not the first time people think that.

— I don’t know why people would think that, [Y/N], we don’t behave like a couple at all. Also, if it’s not true, why are you so worried? 

You stopped your tracks and turned around. — You don’t get it, do you? It has nothing to do with how we act, it’s you paying every single penny for me on these business trips that I shouldn't even be on. 

— Like I said, I’ll still pay for you if you decide to stay on the boat, and it’ll be the same with the next assistant. — Sangyeon got up and walked to you.

— Then I still stand by my decision to give you my resignation letter on Monday. — He was so close you could feel his breath. 

— We make such an amazing team, you have a good salary, I pay for your vacations. I don’t think you’ll be able to find another job like this one.

— Am I your assistant or your sugar baby, Sangyeon?

— I don't know, which one do you want to be?

— You're not implying that…

— It's your decision, pretty.

You didn't care how you looked, you were tired of fighting your inner you to look like a big girl for once. — Do you want me to be only your sugar baby? 

And Sangyeon loved the change of aura. — How about we have this very important conversation in my room. 

If walls could talk, you were sure Sangyeon's room would gasp before such a scene.

You were under him, hungrily kissing, both of your hands were held over your head with one hand of his while his free hand was exploring every inch of your naked skin, sending shivers from your spine to your cunt.

— Is here where you want me, pretty? — He asked in your ear, running his middle and index fingers over your clothed pussy. — Would you allow me to taste you?

— Please… I… 

Sangyeon let your arms go and got down on you, pulling down your bikini bottom. — Tell me if you want me to stop.

He started to lick, as if he was testing the waters. When you didn't show any type of discomfort, he continued by opening your folds with his fingers and finally giving your wet pussy a hard lick that made you moan really loud.

And he didn't give you a moment to breathe, he was sucking on your clit and toying with it with his tongue.

— Fuck… Daddy… please… — You sighed, pulling his hair.

— Are you close, pretty? — He said against your cunt.

You nodded and grabbed the pillows that were beside you before grabbing his face and pulling him to you. — Do you have condoms? 

Sangyeon kept fingering you. — I'm so glad they didn't go to waste this time. 

You giggled when you saw him rush to his backpack and take two metallic envelopes.

And you thought you were finally going to see his dick when he got back to the bed, but before you could say a word, he was back on your pussy, spreading your legs open to finish the job. You had to push him when he kept eating you out after you had your orgasm. 

— Do you remember how you just called me? — Sangyeon asked, taking out one of the condoms and rolling it down on his hard cock. 

— I don't think so. — You playfully said, sighing when you felt his tip against your entrance. 

— Make some memory because I want to hear it more often. 

The whole room was filled with moans, grunts and wet sounds. Your arms were back over your head while your tongues were fighting. You threw your head back with another loud moan when he brushed the spot.

— Right there, daddy. — You whined, hugging his hips with your legs. 

Sangyeon's hips took control and kept ramming against you, making the bed squeak.

Your juices were dripping to the bed, letting you know you were close. — Daddy… — You couldn't finish your sentence, you felt your whole body burning. Sangyeon kissed you and massaged your clit, receiving all your moans in his mouth. 

— Give it to me, pretty. Cum for me. — His grip on your wrists was deadly, there will be marks the next morning. 

You felt how you teared your throat with how loud you moaned while cumming. Sangyeon cummed right after with how tight your pussy was squeezing him.

After five minutes of cleaning yourselves, you went to the bathroom to pee while he was looking for something for you to wear.

— Do you know my room is next to yours, right? — You said, sitting down on his bed.

— Do you promise you'll come back? — He grabbed you by the chain and made you look up.

— Why wouldn't I come back? — Sangyeon gave you a sweet kiss and let you go, getting in the bathroom.

You went to your room to change clothes and pack all your things, leaving everything ready for the next morning. 

Once you were in your pajamas, you went to Sangyeon's room. He was already laying down waiting for you.

— Are you hungry? — He asked. He was now wearing sweatpants, but didn't bother to wear a shirt. And the slight tent under the pants gave you a hint that he also didn't have underwear on. 

— Kind of. — You crawled through the bed to him and straddled him.

— Do you want me to order something? — His hand shamelessly massaged your butt.

— I think we have a conversation pending, Mr. Lee. — You said before kissing his neck.

— Are you sure you want to have that conversation like this? Fuck… — You licked his neck all the way to his ear. — I don't want you to be my sugar baby, [Y/N]. — You stopped, but didn't move. — I want to start a romantic relationship with you. 

Your soul came back to your body, made you laugh. You hit him on his chest. — Is it too hard to ask me to be your girlfriend? 

Sangyeon pulled you to kiss you. — And about the job… 

— You already know my position on that. — You answered, intertwining your fingers with his.

— You said it yourself. You're a professional, but if you consider you can't separate our relationship at work, then I'll respect your decision.

— What about the rest of the workers?

— I'm the one signing the checks, pretty, if they want to doubt on the position you are in, then they can have a word with me.

The next morning, you turned off your alarm and stretched your body without opening your eyes. You giggled when you felt Sangyeon's lips on the skin of your back.

— Morning, pretty. — His raspy and deep voice made you clench around nothing.

You turned your body and kissed him. — Morning, handsome. 

— Call me cheesy, but it's my first night here sleeping the whole night. — Sangyeon kissed you again, pulling one of your legs over his waist.

You felt his morning wood and bit his lower lip, making him groan. — Do you have any plans for today? — You said over his lips.

— Enjoying this really comfortable bed with my girlfriend. — His hips buckled up, brushing his erection on your stomach. — And I was thinking of rescheduling our flight and staying a few more days.

Your hand traveled inside of his pajama pants and started massaging him. — That sounds lovely, but I don't think we have enough condoms for that.

— I can still order more. — His fingers pulled down your shorts and underwear before reaching for the condom that he left over the nightstand last night. 

You helped him with it and guided him to your entrance, feeling a pinch of pain for the lack of preparation. 

— How long do you want to stay? — Sangyeon asked over your lips, thrusting into you.

— How about you make me cum and then we can talk about anything you want? — Your finger dug in his back, leaving marks.

[kayfeefgtrghh]

Connor (RK800) x shy reader

Did I just write 2984 words? Maybe…

Body image is talked about here as well as other topics that might be sensitive. Read at your own accord. Also, apologies since this is the first fanfic I’ve written in over 10 years. The last 5 years I’ve spent writing university papers. If it’s not the best I’m sorry!

*Reader is addressed as ‘little girl’ and has long hair.

*Does include swear words but I’ve tried to censor them a little.

“Hank the paperwork is due today… And-“ His head tilts “detective? Your temperature is very high. Are you sick?” Putting his hand to my forehead. Throat dry, I try to speak but nothing comes out and stare at Connor, red in the face. Glancing to a friend hoping he can help but Hank just looks back at his screen. Great. I’m on my own. Well. “Yes” squeaks out before you feel a shoulder bump into my back. Sharp breathe in. Turning to make eye contact with Derrik Fedpilzt. He got off on me being quiet. Said I make a shit cop. Too fat, not smart enough, too slow, can’t keep my “female” emotions out of work. Looking down, surprised he kept quiet. I apologise before getting back to my desk. 2 close calls in one day was enough. Writing this report is such a waste of time. Its not like it’s real. I saw it. That deviant was protecting a child… It didn’t deserve to die. Email? Shit. Should I say something to Hank? No. No. I can’t be weak. I can do this. I can’t drag others into my own problems.

‘Don’t think I didn’t figure you out. Meet me in the carpark at 8pm tonight.’ – DF

I need to take my mind off of this. “Heyyyy Hank. Is that seat free?” pointing to his lap. He had such a priceless face before shaking his head mumbling, something about kids these days, under his breathe. Making me giggle. “Okay, but really, I’m going for coffee if you want some?”

“Yeah, Connor should be back soon.”

“Ahh I just meant the-‘

“Lieutenant. Detective.” Connor starts to which I just avoid his gaze and nod to my title. “My apologise for interrupting the conversation.”

“No worries, Connor.” Hank straightens his back, “we’re all heading for coffee.” Connor simply nods in reply to his partner. I try catching Hank’s eye but he just smirks.

-------------*Time skip to coffee shop*---------------

“Soy latte please.” Cringing at how quiet my voice just came out.

“Yes. I-I couldn’t pass up fireworks. It’s nostalgic. What about you both?” Hoping to get away from the spotlight. Hank finally feeling nice speaks up,

“Sorry can you repeat that for me please” the Barista inquires politely. "Soy latte. Thank you.” Connor interjects for me. All I can do is nod and smile shyly to the server while paying.  Sliding into a booth opposite Hank. Connor right after me. Oh. My. God. I can feel his body so close to mine. Keep it together (y/n)! Fingers pulling my coat closer self-consciously. “I heard there is going to be ice festival with fire works tonight. Will you be going Detective?”

“Nah. Kid wants to go so maybe you could go together. Me and Sumo are watching sport, drinking, and sleeping at midnight.” Well… there goes him helping you.

“Ahhhh. No. I mean yes!. I’m- I- I… I just remembered I have a meeting soon, sorry. I’ll see you both around? I’ll meet you outside the office at say… 9pm?” Turning on my tail before they can speak.

---------------*Time skip to car park*-----------------

Skin going cold and fingertips numb, from the cold and the fact Derrik brought friends. I feel a hand around the back of my neck. “You know, if you weren’t so fat maybe I wouldn’t have bumped into you.” Coming into my face, I lean back instinctively. “Or maybe if you were smart, I would have seen you resign. Save the rest of us time picking up your slack. Which judging by your size is a lot,” erupting with laughter from his own comment. “You must have slept your way up with older guys because how else would sone with such a pathetic track record get in. You can’t write reports properly, can’t shoot because you think that what? Androids can have feelings. Ohh look at me I’m so desperate to be loved I’ll turn to something that can’t say no. Isn’t that right?” Not letting me speak, “you don’t deserve this job title, the badge, hell to live!  You’re worthless. Undeserving, fat, ugly, stupid. Is there ANY good quality about you? No. Just kill yourself already to stop burdening others. This time, me and my buddies are gonna teach you a lesson on behaving like a good little girl.” Pulled back and shoved into a pillar. There’s laughter, I can hear it, but it blurs for a minute. Shit I feel something wet drip into my eyelashes. Hold the tears. Confront. Come on. “Hey! I said I was sorry. Why are you doing this?”

“Because,” another guy steps closer, “we don’t respect people like you. Spiting on my face. It had been bad before but never physical.  He raises his hand and I turn to flip him over my shoulder. Thump. “You fc*king bit*h!” he wheezes out. Every muscle in my body feels like stone. He swipes my leg from under me as the others make a circle shouting “fight! Fight!”

“Wai-“ he straddles my legs. Hands instantly on my neck. Not like this. Please. Kicking, I try twist my hips. Gasping in air as I grip his wrists. “Enough Jake.” Another voice calls. The man above me lets go, standing and brushing off his jacket. Huffing. Before kicking my stomach and going off. The rest leave laughing and shaking their head with, “you showed her.” Coughing and feeling the air come back to me I push onto my arms. Shit! It’s 8:55! Connor. Legs shaking I push up and head up to the girls bathroom. The stairs make me feel so heavy. I can’t stop thinking about his words. He was right. I do burden others. I can’t drive. I have one of the lowest success rates. Am I really that unlovable? Do I just empathise with deviants because I see the hate in them as similar to the way people treat me?... Elbowing the door open I can help but say “shit” out loud looking at my reflection. Bloodshot eyes, since when have I been crying? And my neck. Jesus. How was I going to hide this from Connor?! But if I cancel, he’ll try ask why and I can’t lie to him. I pull the collar up and undo my hair.  Lucky I’ve let it grow. Using it as a disguise I head out. “I’m sorry to keep you, had to talk to some colleagues from the lower floor before we left. Are you ready?” I feel him looking right through me. He wants to say something, but his LED goes yellow before red then back to yellow, “Yes detective.”

------------*Time skip to the ice festival*--------------

“SOOO beautiful!” I’m so thankful the weather is cooler outside to excuse me covering my neck so much and accommodating for my slower gate. My ribs really hurt now. But it was worth it. The snow glistened with the colourful lights. Children running around, giggling, as they have snowball fights. It was like a movie scene come true. The city really outdid themselves this year. I love winter. To be on the couch near my window watching the slow gently fall. Hot chocolate in hand and a nice, weighted blanket. Cozy. Safe.

I can feel eyes on me and look up to see Connor smiling, “I’ve never seen you look so childlike Detective.” I know it’s supposed to be an observation. I can’t help it. Thinking of it as an insult. A reminder I need to grow up. “Thanks.” Looking down at my feet.  ‘Worthless… stop burdening others. He’s right.

“Ahh hey. How- How about going on the Ferris wheel? I can pay. My treat for driving.” He nods and we walk in silence. It’s eating away at me. “Hey. Connor? Do you have any fun facts on snow or winter? Festivals? I know Hank tells you to be quiet,” looking down blushing,” but I love when you talk all about things. He sprouts facts like, “the Sapporo Snow Festival started in 1950…” It was nice. His voice. His face. Errgh! I have such a bad crush on him. How couldn’t you? He’s smart, sweet, understanding, patient, fast, strong, and such a gentleman. I can’t help but stare. The light freckles sprinkled over his face. The piece of hair loose and flipping around in the elements. The small snowflakes sticking to his perfect brown hair. Those beautiful eyes I could get lost I for days. I’ve never felt this way about someone. Growing up focused on studies and work. Now for the first time, I look at someone and want to marry. To have children. To do domestic things with Connor. Have him look at me the way I look at him. Love struck as Hank put it. “Snow itself is just precipitation in the form of ice crystals. It originates in clouds when temperatures are below freezing point. It is currently 17.6 degrees Fahrenheit or minus 8 Celsius….” Putting up 2 fingers and paying for the tickets as he ramble on. Side track about drinks for winter festivals in different countries. “For example, in Japan, the initial festival I mentioned, they would drink something called Amazake. Dating back over 1,30 years. It comprises of rice fermented using aspergillus oryzae. The same fungus in natto. Its literally translation is sweet sake and has been described as a mellow sweet flavour…”

We step into the capsule and start our assent. Once we reached the top the breeze was beautiful. I had to take photos. To put on my wall. I lent forward, enjoying the breeze flow through the gaps and focus outside. Not noticing the silence from my companion. “It’s so beautiful don’t you think? I don’t normally like crowds but to see people enjoying themselves like this. It’s nice and the snow is always so- Connor?” His LED is red and I freeze. Following his line of sight. Blushing, I rush to cover the bruises, but he grabs my wrists. With the better lighting he’s seen it. The bruises. Does he think I’m weak. For a officer to get hurt so easily? He says my name sternly and my eyes flick between him and the floor. Jaw tensing and I can’t seem to swallow enough to take a breath. I rub my arm absently at the tense air between us. “Connor I can explain.” He just stares and helps me out before dragging me past the maze. We keep walking. His LED changing between red and yellow. His grips loosens and tightens as the snow crunches beneath us. It would be a nice sound if it weren’t for the anxiety.

He continues to lead me onto a path with no one around, under a streetlight, before turning to face me. Trying to catch a breath he doesn’t need.  He just stares. “Connor?” It’s soft. But I know he hears. “Please. You’re starting to scare me.”

“Who?! Who did that to you?!” Flinching. Was he... mad? He’s an android, he shouldn’t react this way. “Are you deviating?” I whisper shout leaning in despite my fear. He’d never hurt me, right? His brows twitch and he tilts his head. Before his LED stays red. Stepping closer. “This isn’t about me (y/n). Who. Hurt. You. Names.” Now, as he stepped closer with each word, he’s less than a meter from me. I step back and avoid his gaze. “Why?”

“I want to protect you. Keep you safe and I can’t do that if you keep me out.”

“No. Why do you care? I’m just another human. Replaceable. Less intelligent. Less capable, so why do you pretend to care Connor? Because you feel you have to? Did Hank tell you to say those things to me? “I feel my eyes burn and voice break. “Maybe I should go home I’m sorry and end up dashing off as a ground walk past.

-------------------*Time skip*--------------------------

I’ve been avoiding Connor for almost a month now. I was so close to confessing. Or breaking down. Either way I can feel his gaze burn into me and the questioning looks when I just turn and walk away or leave a half-made coffee when he goes to make one for Hank. Speaking of Hank tried to ask about what happened but now I’m avoiding them both. Everyone. Today is the day. I look up, eyes set on Fowler. I get up and knock on his door. “Come in.” Walking into his office reminds me of this nature documentary show I watches where the deer ventured right into the lion’s den. Keep calm. He eventually looks up from my silence and awkwardly standing around. “Sit. What do you want?”

“I quit.” There it was. Those 2 little words. “This is my 2 weeks’ notice sir. I wish to ask if I can stay in the office for my last week. To finish up my reports.” He looks shocked but it quickly morphs back into a scowl. “Fine.” I nod before leaving. I did it. Letting the air out my nose I head back to my desk and put headphones on and begin typing. The day continues like this. Quiet. Efficient. Lonely. It’s what I deserve.

--------------*Time skip to the last day*---------------

Alcohol. Mans real best friend. Sure, dogs make me happy, but they don’t help you numb out life. The dread of not being able to get enough job. The feeling of worthlessness. Alcohol though. A miracle. Especially 10 drinks in. I don’t even know at this point if my thoughts make sense let alone the out loud stuff. Hang onnnnn. I know that hair. “Hannnnnnk! I shout and stumble my way to him. By himself thankfully. I smother him in a hug, and he just shoves me off. “God. I’m so sorry. I’m a shitty friend Hank. I mean… oh oh omg that dog is so cute!” Seeing a golden retriever walk past.

“What have you been ignoring me What happened between you and Connor?”

“Hmmm. I love him, Hank. Not that I don’t love you too but not in that way” giggling,” it’s just. I had a run in and some guys at the precinct beat me up so-“

“What?! When?!” He goes to stand, and I shove his shoulders to push him back into his seat.

“SHHHHH! Hank, I don’t know where I was up to now. Anyway, long story short. Perfect android, Ferris Wheel, found my bruised neck, Unrequited love, I got scared and listened to the voice in my head.” Nodding. “Wait no. Not like that. I meant the things the people said about me. They were right. That’s why today was my last day. I quit. I couldn’t stand to look at you. I know you’d be disappointed and Connor. Fu*k Hank, I’d kill for him. Do anything he asked. But we both know that’s stupid. He dese- derggkrves… ,” pausing and squinting as the word doesn’t come out right, “deserves someone better. He’s PERFECT and look at me.” Flinging my arms out and hitting someone in the face. “Oh” covering my mouth and turning. “I’m so sorry!!”

“Detective.”

“Connor… I- I want you to know what happened at the festival… me avoiding you. Wasn’t your fault.” His LED is rotating yellow still. He then hooks his arm with mine.

“You are intoxicated. I will wait to have this conversation with you tomorrow. I will take you home.” I pout and lean into his body.  Giggling before shoving my nose into his chest and breathing in harshly before confessing, “you smell amazing.”

-----------*Time skip to next morning*----------------

“Owww my head.” Tripping as I tangle into my bedsheets. Faceplanting. Sighing I just lay there face down for a while. Remembering what I said last night. How much did he hear of my confession to Hank? “Detective. You are finally up. It is currently 1:39pm.” I stiffen. Looking up at the android like a dear caught in head lights. “I will cook breakfast while you clean up and then we can talk.”

“I remember you mentioning to Hank you like pancakes.” They look so unbelievably good.

“Thank you, Connor. For everything. I really am sorry.”

“I accept your apology. As to begin our discussion I would like to start with the most defining aspect. That you confessed your feelings for me last night to Hank, did you not?” At this I choke on my food. Coughing and red in the face.  

“Yess.. Well- I did. But you don’t have to-“

“I like you too. More than as a friend. You were correct I have become deviant and these feelings these last months have been difficult. However, after talking to Hank he said it was love. It explains my rash and inappropriate reaction to your bruising and the reason I still feel angry now when thinking about it. “

“It was Derrik Fedpilzt and his friends. I tried to fend one off by flipping him onto his back. So, he chocked me. I was scared that you’d judge me. For not being able to defend myself. “

“Like I said before I want to take care of you and protect you. There has never been a time when I thought you were weak. Or flawed in any way for that matter.” He puts hind hand on the table between us. I look up before timidly reaching to place mine across the table too. He moves to cover mine and smiles that dorky smile. Realising I am finished he gets up to do the dishes, but I block him. 

“Why don’t we cuddle on the couch for a while? I can do them later.” LED yellow to blue. Putting my plate on the sink before grabbing a blanket. Sitting on my old couch, snow just outside. This was perfect. I look up at him admiring the view and kiss his cheek. Maybe I deserve love after all.

[inglourious-imagines]

I love your writing so much so I wanted to request number 26 “In a fight, they’re lethal. Around each other, they melt.” for Brad Colbert

“Watch out, Iceman, you might melt.” (Brad Colbert x Female!Reader)

Requested by: anon

Summary: Pretty much the prompt.

Prompt: 26 – In a fight, they’re lethal. Around each other, they melt. (used it, again, as a setting for the one-shot, not as a direct speech; hope that’s okay)

Warnings: swearing, made-up enemy contact that isn’t in the show, (very bad!) description of combat, female pronouns (hope that’s okay, it just fitted the story – if it is a trouble, I deeply apologize and if you want, request a new one with a gender neutral reader please <3)

A/N: I love this man to my bones. Also i might have fucked up the military jargon, so apologies if i did haha. I added GenKill to my taglist, so feel free to add yourself if u feel like it :).

.

.

.

Brad Colbert isn’t necessarily a complicated person, at least to Ray Person. Having spent many hours together in their precious Humvee, during training, in combat, one person gets to know the other, without even realizing it. Ray Person has realized it, and even though Brad always discards Ray’s observations about his behaviour, personality, or quirks, with a simple “fuck off, you blabbering, coffee-high motherfucker”, Ray knows that most of the time he is right. And he enjoys it. On the other hand, this works both ways – and to Brad’s dislike, he’s started to notice his fellow soldier’s traits, likes and dislikes, how he works more efficiently, and Ray has always been okay with someone knowing him, but with Brad? He’s long had a suspicion that the combat-hardened man is downright terrified of being close to someone to the point of vulnerability.

Bravo Company is still on that airfield they invaded couple of minutes ago in quite a “pretty fucking ninja” way as Brad Colbert put it, when the men of Team 1 of Victor 1 hear the news of Trombley being reassigned to Team 3 into the Victor 5 and they’ll be getting a newbie. Lt. Fick mentions it to the five of the men standing around their Humvee in a quick manner, as other orders are more pressing to the young officer than just the change-up of two soldiers. Plus, he doesn’t particularly feel the need to be anywhere near Brad when the reassignment happens because the man already has a reporter in his vehicle and dealing with another person, even though a soldier, but a new one, someone with whom Brad Colbert is not familiar and does not know their strengths and weaknesses, can be potentially catastrophic (as Ray put it).

Trombley just shakes his head at the news and goes to pack his things; it doesn’t really matter to him from which vehicle he’ll get to kill the Iraqis. War is war and hell is hell and a soldier has to deal with whatever the army throws at him.

They are about to move out, wanting to stay in the open area as little as possible, and Trombley’s seat is still empty.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Brad mutters, while looking out his window. It’s not like the whole Company is waiting for one person, Brad knows other officer stuff must be taken care of still, there are some soldiers running around from Humvee to Humvee, but he’s already pissed off enough and the need to pin the blame on someone is eventually stronger than him.

“Maybe the bad guys killed him on the way here,” Ray says, turning his head to his team leader, his lips formed into a cheeky grin.

Brad shakes his head and glances at his driver. “Glad you’re having fun.”

Ray winks at him. “I can always sing you a country song, honey-boo."

“I swear, Ray, I will–“

“–Shut the fuck up, Colbert.” Ray interrupts him, as he stares at something, or rather someone, outside, to the right of their Humvee.

Brad is ready to pull up rank, but he will never get the chance to do so. He’s cut off by enthusiastic hollering that’s getting louder with each second. He turns his head and then he sees why. The shouting lasts for about ten seconds, although it feels like a lot more, then Godfather puts a stop to it by just a wave of his hand and urges the soldier by his side to hurry up. The soldier meant for Brad’s Humvee.

“I’ll be fucking damned,” Ray is the first to talk and practically drooling, “this might just be the best day of my fucking life. The Marines can do something right after all.”

And then, with surprise, certain admiration, and most definitely attraction (although he doesn’t know that yet), Brad says without even realizing he’s saying something: “You bet your ass, Person, God bless the US Army.”

Ray looks at his team leader, eyes squinting, and then he bursts out laughing. “Watch out, Iceman, you might melt.”

Now Reporter is laughing in the back, as he scribbles down something quickly in his small black notepad, Brad’s face is suddenly cold and unreadable again. Cold and unreadable to a stranger, yes, but Ray Person knows his better than they both know, and the facial expression makes only Ray laugh more.

“Don’t even try that Iceman shit on me, fucker,” the Humvee driver grins, “I can see how much you’re blushing now. Hell, I bet Fick can see your big red face from that distance.”

At this point, the Reporter is leaning from back to front to see, his eyes watering from all the laughter, but it only infuriates Brad more.

“I’ll fucking cut off both of your motherfucking heads and throw-“

“Sargeant Colbert.”

Brad coughs and has to take a millisecond to compose himself before he turns to Godfather himself and the new addition to his Humvee. “Yes, sir?”

“I believe Lt. Fick has already given you the orders from above. I trust you that you, as a team leader, will take care of your new soldier. This is Corporal Y/L/N.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Godfather nods in approval, clearly satisfied with Brad’s answer with no signs of protest or sarcasm.

Ray giggles behind the steering wheel and as Corporal is getting into the vehicle, he leans to Brad and whispers into his ear quickly before he can smack him away, “You’re gonna take care of her alright.”

***

“You got everything back there?” Brad asks for about the fourth time in ten minutes, his head turned slightly to his left in an attempt to steal a glance at her, his lips formed into a soft smile.

She laughs, but doesn’t tear her gaze away from her sector, the need to prove herself to these men stronger than anything, “Nothing has changed from that one minute ago when you asked me the last time, sir.”

She calls him sir and Brad just knows that if some Iraqi won’t kill him, this will. He envies Reporter the spot in the back next to her, he is fully aware that Reporter is also writing it all down in his little notebook and that Ray is closely watching his every move, but for the first time he doesn’t really care. And that terrifies him.

“I told you to just call me Brad,” he tries to convince her.

“I’m afraid that is not possible, Sargeant,” she replies, and he needs to take deep breath to live it down.

It takes everything in Ray’s power not to burst out laughing because this kind of behaviour in his team leader he has never seen during the entire time they have known each other. The blush hasn’t really left Brad’s cheeks and from what he sees, the attentiveness is only flattering to their beautiful new addition.

Ray leans to Brad once more with a cheeky remark, “Keep it in your pants and hold your sector, sir, or you’re gonna get us killed.”

“All Victors, this is Hitman Two Actual, from now on we’re supposed to treat this territory as hostile. I repeat, as hostile.”

As if there was a switch, the giggling stops and the soldiers straighten up, adjusting their rifles to a better position. The atmosphere in the Humvee has changed in a matter of seconds, from light to combat-hardened. It takes Reporter several more moments and turns of head from Y/N to Brad to wrap his head around the situation. But it is really the first fired shots that wake him up from the confused limbo, his whole body instinctively jerking down a bit.

“I got muzzle flashes,” she says, and Reporter is surprised how different her voice now sounds, “my ten o’clock. Permission to engage.”

“We have orders,” Brad responds immediately, “light ‘em the fuck up.”

Reporter watches her closely, as she takes a deep breath, aims at her target, then there are more enemy shots fired at them and he jerks back again but she doesn’t even flinch and right after the enemy fires, she presses the trigger. Then again, and again, and again.

They keep moving and from the spot Y/N discovered there is no more incoming enemy fire and Reporter realizes that she took them down with frightening precision in one take. He wants to say some words of praise immediately, but he’s cut off again, not by bullets this time but by words.

“Hitman Two Actual, this is Hitman Two One, we have two big trucks heading directly our way, approximately 500 meters on our 12 o’clock. Permission to stop the convoy,” Brad strictly says.

“Hitman Two one, interrogative."

Reporter jerks his head to see what Brad Colbert is talking about and there they were, moving too fast to Reporter’s liking. He feels like his heartbeat must be heart through the entire vehicle and even on the comms.

They keep on going, the white trucks keep on going, directly against each other, Reporter watches it all, but keeps quiet but he’s pretty sure he couldn’t form a sensible sentence even if he tried. Those few second it takes Lt. Fick to answer are the longest seconds Reporter has yet experienced.

“Hitman Two One, permission granted. First warning shots, then light ‘em up if need be.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ray stops the Humvee perpendicularly to the convoy and Y/N and Brad hop out in synchronisation, positioning themselves behind the vehicle next to each other. The trucks are getting closer with each second and despite the growing fear in Reporter’s veins, he gets out of the Humvee too and crouches behind the duo.

Brad fires a warning shot. Nothing happens. Lt. Fick is already behind them but doesn’t say anything to disturb their work.

“Left,” she says and leans against the hood of the vehicle to strengthen her grip on her rifle. Brad nods, although due to the angle she’s not able to see it, and answers, “Right then.”

She fires first, one shot, then Brad Cobert also one shot, but both of the trucks don’t go immediately off the road; Reporter is so fixated on the cars still getting so close to them he’s so surprised when he hears two more shots. This time the trucks overturn and end up on their sides.

For a few seconds there’s absolute silence. Then Iraqis start to get out of the trucks and accurate fire from the Marines lights up the air.

***

When they stop for the night, many men come to her to express their admiration for her shooting skills, and she can’t help it but feel genuinely flattered. Even Lt. Fick comes by to say, “Good work,” and even offers her a small smile. But eventually she decides to go hide in their Humvee from all the attention; they killed people today after all, and the vehicle hugs her in its dark embrace without questions.

“Don’t know if anybody told you this, but what you did today? Pretty fucking ninja. And I reserve this term for special occasions only,” Brad’s voice fills the space around her, and she just has to sincerely laugh at his joke.

“Thanks,” she smiles and gestures for him to get in, and he, without a hint of hesitation or thought, climbs into the Humvee. A stupid grin appears on his face, as if he was a teenage boy climbing into a girl’s room in the middle of the night while her parents were downstairs.

Brad goes on telling her some random funny story about what happened that one time with Ray, and she keeps laughing, and he gets drunk on the sound, wanting more and more, to be drunk forever.

Neither of them knows this, but Reporter goes by the Humvee and hears the quiet talking and occasional laughing and simply has to stop to find out what it is. And then he sees them, and he is both surprised and not. He is not the least surprised because they look so beautiful together, like they have always been destined to be together and share their lifetimes; but he is surprised at the fact that only a few hours ago, during combat, they were two different people, cold, distant, lethal, efficient, and now around one other warm, close, loving.

Reporter stands there for a few more seconds, jotting down some notes about the duo, when Ray appears next to him out of nowhere and says, “You’re not the only one perplexed, but it’s kinda the only possible way how to fucking live in a place and time like this.”

It must have been the smartest thing Reporter has heard him say so far.

[slavic-roots-western-mind]

Back to uni to-dos: Final year edition

This will be my final year at university, which in itself is honestly unbelievable. Here's a list of things to do before and during your final year, although anyone can benefit from this advice!

1.Review your graduation requirements Make sure that everything is on track grade-wise and that you have enough credits to graduate. If there are any issues, meet with your academic advisor so that you have enough time to fix everything and graduate hassle-free.

2. Fix your sleep schedule before your classes are due to start. You can't be productive if you're always sleep-deprived and running on coffee. Your final year is especially important, so you need to be able to focus, which is practically impossible if you're sleep-deprived.

3. Exchange contact details with your favorite professors, advisors, etc. This may be a cultural thing, but here it's quite usual to remain in contact with your professors. You don't have to be facebook friends, but having someone you can ask for advice or request a LinkedIn recommendation from may be useful, which leads me to the next point.

4. Update your LinkedIn & other profiles This includes updating your email address to something more professional because the email address you had since you were 12 is unlikely to be all that professional now. Add any experience that you may have, whether it's an internship, freelancing or a job placement etc.

5. Plan what comes after or review your plan Are you jumping into a masters degree? Freelancing? Working abroad? Not many people have a 100% finished plan, but it does help to research your options and have an understanding of what you want to do after. Things change and as the past year has shown, some previously considered options are definitely not it.

6. Career fairs and networking events Chances are you may have attended some, but for final years these things are especially important. You have a chance to personally meet recruiters and to exchange contact details which may come in handy in the future. Obviously you can do that via LinkedIn, but I for one think that talking in person can add more of a personal touch. Regarding networking in general, it doesn't necessarily have to be a formal affair. Sure there are those formal meetings but they don't always have to be. There are plenty of facebook groups e.g. marketing, women in finance etc. which you can join and ask for mentoring, advice or even if you can meet up for a coffee and a chat. Alternatively, your university most likely has a careers/guidance office where you can find out about any networking meetings or organizations that have events going on.

7. Create an application schedule Many firms open their graduate student program applications at a certain time, so depending on where you're applying, or if you're skipping that, a schedule is a good idea. If you're targeting different sectors then your resume will have to be altered a bit to make it appropriate for the job that you're applying for. Many jobs also require cover letters, so it may be a good idea to have a rough template so that you know what exactly it is that you're supposed to include and then edit accordingly.

8. Try to get some work experience It doesn't have to be full-time at an office type of work, but any experience is good. Freelance language tutor, an internship, volunteer work, writing for your uni's paper. Experience doesn't automatically guarantee you a job, but it can be beneficial in standing out or giving you an extra boost.

9. Try to get some extra qualifications A language proficiency test, a coursera course (there are quite a lot of free ones), a LinkedIn powerpoint course, Code First Girls javascript course (also free!). You can add quite a lot of skills to your LinkedIn profile, but you do need to be able to back them up. These extra courses and qualification aren't just good for your resume, but they're also a good way for you to develop new skills and develop new interests. And who knows where they might end up taking you. My teachers former student ended up finding herself a husband on a study abroad language program in Korea and now they're happily married and living in Japan I think.

10. Make the most of it Uni certainly has it's ups and downs, but for most it's a pretty rewarding and occasionally enlightening journey. You may have different feelings towards it, but it is coming to an end so make some good memories.

11. Remember that life will go on after uni Many people may feel odd after graduating, you just spent 3-4 years living your life as a student and now you're not. Your previous routines that worked before may not work anymore. You may not be as close to your former dormmates. You may drift apart from your college bestie. But life goes on. Many things may stay the same and even more things may change and that's ok.

[acidmatze]

I’ll be there for you (Yes, like the Friends theme) Chapter 7

Summary: After being in a coma for two years Vash wakes up, not being able to remember Anything that has happened since he was “a teenager”. How is he gonna adapt to living in a world so strange and unfamilliar? By going to therapy for once Pairings: None Warnings: Nope Wordcount: 3.4k Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Truth be told, this morning Vash is super nervous to join everyone for breakfast.

After all, they all know now that he's not human.

But he can't stay away forever and someone is already knocking on his door, so he hastily opens and-

„Brother Vashus, will you be joining us for breakfast on this wonderful Tuesday morning?“

Vash stares at Chelsea.

„W-What....?“

„It's breakfast time. Time for breakfast. Munch munch, crunch crunch.“

Vash lets out a sigh.

Maybe he should give up on trying to understand whatever is going on in that girl's head.

Chelsea is skipping along the hallway back to the kitchen and Vash follows.

„Good morning Vash! You want some coffee?“ Steven greets him before anyone else can say anything.

„Uh.. I don't know if i ever had coffee.“ „Pour him one extra strong and black I wanna see if he can scale walls.“ Melvin mutters under his breath.

„What?“

„What?“

Melvin and Steven stare at each other.

Vash just sits down and grabs some toast.

„I'll just pour you half a cup and you can try it and tell me what you think of it.“

„Drink it up, drink it up, drink it up...“ Melvin continues to mutter.

„Maybe you should shut your mouth for a while until you are properly awake.“ Steven offers and pushes the cup towards Vash who takes it and smells it.

„Put some milk and sugar in it. It's less bitter then.“

Vash does as suggested.

Chelsea stuffs herself with cereals. Anna is nowhere to be seen yet.

Melvin's head suddenly slams on the table. He's snoring loudly.

Everyone immediately stops their movements and stare.

„Uhm....“ Vash looks the most confused „Does this happen often...?“

Chelsea makes an affirmative noise, her cheeks looking like a squirrel's.

„Once in a while. Let's ignore him for now. Did you sleep well?“

Vash takes a sip from his coffee and makes a face.

That's not exactly going to be his favourite taste.

„I think so? I had no nightmares at least. Or any dreams. But I needed a while to fall asleep.“

Steven nods.

„That's to be expected. A lot of stuff happened yesterday, you're in a new environment and then we bombarded you with questions as well. I'm just glad you're here because now its not me anymore who's the oldest.“

„I don't feel like 153 to be honest with you.“

„You don't look a day over 152 anyway.“

Morning assembly was pretty uneventful. Joe was absent again and by now Vash wonders if he will actually ever see that guy.

They talked about what each group will have for lunch, what today's therapy groups will be and sang Happy Birthday for a girl in all black named Lucy. She glared at everyone as if she wanted to explode them with her mind.

Then Vash headed to the living-room and went through the bookshelves there. He found a thriller-ish novel called „20 iles from May City“ and just tried that one out.

By the time he had to head for therapy he was already at page 35.

Now that Vash has gotten used to his new surroundings and everything he has more free space in his mind to actually realise how small Mrs Fischer's office is. And its so Full of stuff. Tons of paintings on the walls that all look very... abstract. Mostly Vash can't even tell what they are supposed to be. The colours clash. Nothing is making sense.

Then his attention is caught by a big tube filled with water and bubbles in the corner. In it are fake fish „swimming“ around. There is also a light changing colours constantly in the back to illuminate the tube.

The fake fish get caught in the bubbles, rise to the top and then sink back down slowly only to be caught by the bubbles again.

It is mesmerizing and it takes all of Vash's willpower to redirect his attention back to Mrs. Fischer. Who is looking at him expectantly.

„Okay, seems like you got distracted. So let me ask again. Did you like the movie you watched yesterday?“

„Uuuhh...“

There is a hint of amusement on his therapist's face.

„Uhm.. I guess it was okay? I don't have any experience with movies. But what bothers me is that it seems like everyone else knows more about me than I do.“

Mrs. Fischer leans slightly forward on her elbows.

„What do you mean?“

„They said I look like Vash the Stampede. I assume that is... me? I don't know anything about that guy. Sounds like a complete stranger to me. Why would I destroy a whole city?“

Mrs. Fischer hums and taps on her chin.

While she is thinking about her next words Vash's attention slowly drifts back to the fish tube. He kinda wants one for himself. But then he would never do anything else besides sitting in front of it and staring at it. There is something deeply relaxing about it.

„Well, there are theories about that. But we won't know for certain unless you manage to remember it and share it with us. We do know that it's currently being rebuild, around the crater that is left. How do you feel about learning all this?“

Vash forces himself to pay attention to his therapist, not the fish tube.

„I guess... I don't know? How am i supposed to feel? Maybe shocked? Guilty?“

He stares at his feet.

„I don't feel anything right now. Is that bad? I can't remember a thing.“

The therapy session was inconclusive for the most part. Vash was reassured that not knowing what to think and feel about a past he cannot remember is normal. He basically just woke up from a coma as well. Memories will come in time.

He was also given a small bottle partly filled with water and glitter and tiny colourful stones and a tiny sailing ship, that he has to hold sideways and then slowly sway from side to side.

Which was utterly fascinating to Vash so until he was called for lunch he sat on his bed staring at it.

After lunch, spinach with steak and tater tots, Melvin asks Vash if he wants to play soccer with him but Vash declines.

"I have depression now."

"We all do." Melvin says with a really dry voice.

"Fool. He has depression Group now." Steven says with a slight sneer. "I am headed there as well. You can just follow me."

"What do we even do in Depression Group? Are we just.. sad?" Vash asks. He has no idea what to imagine. He was told to bring a notebook and something to write with and that's it.

"I actually don't know myself. This is a new group and I was in behavioural therapy before this but that is over now."

Depression & Anxiety Group is on the third floor right under the attic, in the same room where everyone organises their meds for their pill boxes. Vash hasn't done that yet though since staff still has to figure out Exactly what meds he needs.

Behaviour therapy is in the same room, but as Steven said, that group is over for now.

The room also has a glass wall to the floor, like the Assembly room directly opposite. It also quite unfortunately has lots of large windows so the sun is streaming into the room right now. When Vash enters he feels like he's in a sauna.

He sits down next to Steven and immediately recognises the girl from today morning who still looks like she wants to explode people with her mind. There are also five other people in the room already, including the therapist. Who is shuffling through his papers as of now.

"So uhm.. Is... is everyone here? Where is my attendance list?"

Two more people enter the room and sit down. Not everyone has brought a notebook. Maybe they forgot. Or weren't told.

"Okay that should be all. Or is anyone missing?"

"Joe can't come, he is feeling really sick." some guy says.

At this point Vash is starting to accept that this Joe must be some kind of cryptid. Maybe nobody has ever seen him.

"That is very unfortunate..."

The therapist does not sound convincing at all.

More paper shuffling.

"Okay then. We should be 9 in total but Joe is sick so that makes 8 and there's 8 of us in here, yes very good. Good afternoon, welcome to depression and anxiety... group. I am Mr. Kowalski and I am just filling in for Mrs. Fischer. She had to urgently see an external patient of ours. This is a new group so we will figure things out as we go. Or You will. I won't. I won't be here next time. I normally lead the pain group and also the addiction group."

Some girl starts giggling.

"Haha yes very funny, that is how the groups are called, I did not come up with this. You are laughing you are obviously not depressed, get out."

More giggling.

"At least someone finds this amusing." Mr. Kowalski seems like he really doesn't wanna be here.

"Do you know why you are here?"

"Uh.. because we are depressed and don't want to be anymore..?"

Looks like the blue-haired guy from last evening is also here.

"Wrong! You are here because you want to go on a long and hard journey to the inner workings of your mind and fix the broken clockwork."

Silence.

This guy is definitely just as bonkers as anyone else here.

Mr. Kowalksi clears his throat.

"My humor is clearly misplaced here. Let's do some actual therapy then. I have a worksheet for you. Take one and pass it along, please."

It's about symptoms of depression. But oneself's symptoms. How is Vash supposed to know that yet? He doesn't even really feel depressed, maybe.

"Depression can take many faces." Mr. Kowalksi explains.

"Some people sleep all day, some people cannot sleep at all. Some lose all interest in their hobbies. Some don't feel anything, they just get unexplained pains and aches or an upset stomach. Or even funkier physical symptoms. Some want to end their lifes... Depression can disguise itself as other illnesses as well. I had a patient who told me she had no idea she was depressed. Went to her doctor and was treated for stomach ulcers. Took three years until someone figured out what was actually going on. It is really important that you all know what your very own personal brand of depression is, before you can do anything about it. You don't have to fill this out immediately. Do it in your own time and bring it back with you to the next session. For now, let's brainstorm a few symptoms of depression that you are familiar with and put it on the white board here."

Vash's head is swimming. That was way too much stuff for him to take in and the group seemed to drag on and on. He definitely has issues with focussing. Originally he was planning on doing research on what depression and anxiety actually Are but given how full his head is right now he shouldn't do anything that uses his brain at all.

Let's focus on something easier instead. What is going on around him?

This time, not much. His group might be over but there is still therapy stuff going on for the others. Group 2 also went out a bit earlier. They went bowling. Which is another thing that Vash doesn't know.

Steven is quiet. Melvin also seems very quiet. There is muffled talking in the hallway but it isn't anyone Vash can immediately recognise.

The next thing on his schedule is Relaxation. Yeah, that is literally what it is called.

Vash doesn't know what to expect from it. Will they just talk about relaxing things or will they actually... relax? How do you just do that on command?

He once overheard some people at the hospital talk about something called Yoga. Maybe they will do this Yoga thing in Relaxation?

They did not do The Yoga Thing at Relaxation Group, which is the full name of the group.

Instead the therapist, who is funnily also one of the physical therapists but not Diego, had laid out foam mats on the floor and instructed everyone to lie down in a way that is comfortable for everyone.

It was a small group there were only seven people, Vash included, and the group was being held in the room with the glass wall where morning assembly is done.

Relaxing soft music was playing in the background.

First Vash was worried that people might look at him funny if he showed up in fuzzy slippers and sweatpants but looked like everyone was wearing similar stuff.

After everyone had lied down the therapist was giving a small introduction of what she wanted to do today, which was reading them something they have to imagine while doing their best to relax.

Five minutes into the story which was about flying in a balloon over sand dyed in a myriad of colours, Vash heard the first person starting to snore.

Several people seemed to have fallen asleep and had to be woken back up after the session was over. Vash himself was feeling a bit groggy too.

This seemed to be a common theme lately. He doesn't remember that he got this tired as fast when he was younger. Is that what people mean when they say they are „getting old“?.

In reality he was simply still overwhelmed by everything being new and novel to him. His brain had a whole lot of catching up to do, after all.

After all therapies for the day are over Vash is now lying on his bed with his book and looks for a radio station to listen to while he is reading. He figured since they found his radio and it is still functional he should also actually use it.

Seems like it was tuned to rather military-sounding stations previously but Vash managed to get „normal“ stations in now. Probably at some point in life these served a purpose to him but not now. But he can't imagine that he used to be a military man at all. What's there even to fight? Worms? Hopefully not other people. A war is the last things anyone needs on this planet.

Maybe... Knives?

Before dread and a Very Bad Feeling can fester in Vash the radio is blaring in his ears.

„TURN YOUR PHONE INTO A STYLISH COFFEE MACHINE WITH THIS APP!!!!“

Nope.

„..And this is why the planet is actually an elongated trapezoid.“

Nope.

„The cure all for everything. Excessive sweating, stomach aches, flus and other infections, buckteeth, obesity, internal bleeding, death and balding be gone!“

Nope.

„DANN GEH DOCH ZU NETTO!!!!!“

Uhm... Vash would rather not.

„Amazing! What has hanging upside down from a cliff for two decades taught you?“ That.. that's very painful...?

„(Speaks in ancient greek)“

Huh...?

The sound of the worst „music“ Vash has ever heard in his entire life fills the room. This song-like something has more bpm than there are stars in the entire universe and the sawtooth synths could cut down a whole forest in two seconds. Nope, dear god, nope!

„And now... types of numbers... Natural numbers: The counting numbers {1, 2, 3, ...} are commonly called natural numbers; however, other definitions include 0, so that the non-negative integers {0, 1, 2, 3, ...} are also called natural numbers. Natural numbers including 0 are also sometimes called whole numbers.

Integers: Positive and negative counting numbers, as well as zero: {..., −3, −2, −1, 0, 1, 2, 3, ...}. Rational numbers: Numbers that can be expressed as a ratio of an integer to-“

Nope.

„Calibur FM! The only alternative radio on the planet that Matters. Welcome to Earth Hour where we only play bands that originate from planet Earth. For you we dug though mountains of old records and found the best ones that are still working.“

Something compells Vash to stop here. Maybe he is curious about Earth Music or maybe he knows this station from Before.

„Let's start the second half of the show with Let It Happen by Jimmy Eat World. Shame that this band is over 400 years old. I doubt they will release any new albums any time soon!“

Only two seconds in and the hairs on Vash's arm are standing straight up.

He knows that song.

He knows that song.

He knows that song.

Before he realises it he finds himself singing along as if he has heard this song dozens of times.

He probably Has.

How?

Vash immediately gets his tablet out and looks the band up. He finds a couple of videos that are mostly all in garbage audio quality, which is to be expected cuz this is Old. Hundreds of years old. But they all paint a very clear picture.

He knows those songs. He finds himself humming along to most of them. Even a few suggested songs sound extremely familar to him.

Someone is banging on his door.

„Oh my god was that Jimmy Eat World? I love them! My favourite band says they were their inspiration!“

It's Chelsea. Her banging is very insistent. So Vash sighs and gets up from his bed to open the door.

Chelsea almost falls over herself and stumbles into his room.

„Wow theres absolutely nothing in here!“ she exclaims in genuine shock.

„Uhm.. I mean.. I just moved here.“

Vash rubs his neck. Is that really that weird?

„Okay yeah but when I came here I brought my posters and my Pinky Dolls rug and my laptop and my books and my plushies and my magazines and my lifesize sized cardboard cutout of Johnny Death which I made myself.“

„Who.. who's Johnny Death? Anyway, I don't have any of these things. Coma, remember?“

Chelsea lets out a gasp.

„Ohmygodicantbelieveyoudontknowwhojohnnydeathis! He's the frontman of Bloody Samurai, one of my favourite bands! He's soooooooooooo cute and dreamy! I have loved him ever since I saw the music video for As Blood Rained From The Sky and he was looking into the camera all drenched in fake blood and looking so soft. Once at a concert he looked at me!“

Before Vash can say anything Chelsea has taken out her phone and is scrolling through various pictures.

„Look! Look, that's him!“

Vash is staring at a guy with black straight hair down to his shoulders and so much black makeup he looks like a panda. He's making a face like someone disturbed him from a super comfy nap.

„Isn't he cute?“

He looks like he kicks puppies as a hobby, but Vash knows he can't say that.

The next picture is of the same guy, shirtless this time, drenched in fake blood and clinging to himself while looking dramatically at the camera. He also has a buttload of tattoos, most of them black. The panda makeup is not present so he looks like a human person actually.

„He's so hot, isn't he?“

Chelsea is swooning.

He's as hot as a featherless chicken shortly before it gets cooked, but Vash knows he Also can't say that.

He opts for the diplomatic answer.

„That is a lot of pictures you have of him. You obviously love him very much.“

Chelsea nods so fast that Vash is worried she might dislocate her neck or something.

Then she suddenly stops and looks at her phone in shock.

„Oh would you look at the time! I would love to stay longer but I'm meeting with the girlies. We wanna hang out at West Dunes Park and harass some old people.“

She giggles.

„Just joking! We just hang out at the playground and listen to music. Anyway, you really need some decorations in here though. Something that reflects your personality. We had a guy here whose room was totally empty even after half a year and that was so creepy. Hopefully you're not as creepy. Like, that guy had no personality I swear. Well, I gotta go know. See you later!“

And there she goes, leaving Vash even more confused than before.

[miminmimikyu]

Prodigy episodes 5-6

WHAT THAt coffee with espresso shot from the trailer was for Dal??? janeway what are you doing to that child

I guess Janeway’s way of dealing with *gestures* all this is by giving coffee to her protégé, said coffee being heavily imbued with symbolism. Dal and Janeway are already coming up with the same “plan” independently of each other (finding the protostar and placing it on past!Tars Lamora themselves to fix the timeline)! I’m so proud :’) don’t pick up any more of her habits, Dal.

Something else that I also like is: unlike in other kids shows, where to tell a story where the children go off to save the day all the adults are written as stern, uncaring people who don’t see reason + then in the end you’ll eventually find out that that was all miscommunication, in Prodigy they’re showing that outright! The adults aren’t uncaring and they aren’t angry (anymore) at the kids— they are shocked that they even got into that situation in the first place. It’s viewed by the adults as a failure on their part, of their responsibilities as adults. They talk, among themselves, about how much they admire how the children are holding up in these circumstances and they make an effort to check if they really are okay, even though these are incredibly stressful circumstances for them (for janeway in particular) too. It seems that they also understand that being kept in the dark is what is making the gang restless and they offer them at least some morsels of information. Like how Tysess tells them that the Infinity is going to be destroyed but it’s NOT because of anything they did. He didn’t need to tell them that, but he did. But you can’t expect the gang can intuit all this and instead think they’re being punished or on the verge of being kicked out. That’s a reasonable assumption for any child/teenager to make, but especially for these ones, who have only been around bad, untrustworthy or neglectful adults almost their whole lives. So no one is sharing info but the situation is more nuanced than I've seen before in a children's show.

But please please someone share some information with Janeway 💀

Cerritos mention!!!! Does that mean the EMH will be in an episode of Lower Decks s5? He went on that ship and survived??

They really nailed the doctor’s facial expressions and mannerisms! Great to know he’s still writing self-insert fiction. Hopefully this one isn’t as libellous as Photons Be Free. Makes me wonder what the rest of Voyager’s former crew is up to now.

Also Janeway’s expressions are spot on for that matter: oh man the pain on her face when she blew up the wormhole!!!The fact that she only really lets the mask slip the second she’s on her own is so Janeway too *chef's kiss*

Is this the first ever mention of what tribe Chakotay is from?

Mermaid Murf and Gillian in the tank were so cute!

I love the snippets of personality we’re getting from Voyager-A’s bridge crew these two episodes: Tysess can laugh? Oh boy, he can. Counsellor Noum just clocking off for the day with a good book? I’m glad that he’s warming up to Jankom a little bit. Anyway, Janeway’s new officers all seem so on board with her and her mission, if Janeway had said “never mind, let’s just cloak the ship and use it for a covert mission” I think they all would have gone along in a heartbeat.

Also is this the same Vulcan lieutenant from Mindwalk? So that sudden makeout (handshake) with Janeway (Dal) didn’t put him off working for Janeway/humans forever.

Was Noum the only doctor on the Dauntless? Wait, did they only let Janeway do that mission on the Dauntless as long as there was a proper psychiatrist/psychologist as the chief medical officer?

Omg omg omg next is another episode where the voice actors do impressions of each others’ characters?? I cannot wait!!!!!

Also it’s so funny that Jellico just consistently remains “Captain/Admiral Buzzkill” after all these years. Anyway. Fuck him.