#Julia Occasional Chair

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[leclsrc]

hi auds bear!! dunno if you saw charles' insta story of his new sky ad but now begging for a 2k celebration blurb of dad!charles <3

misspelled – cl16

genre: fluff, 2k celebration, girldad!charles

“It’s L-E-S, love.” He points to the piece of paper peppered with doodles. “Go ahead for me.”

The sun is high and sweltering, with noontime March heat, but still Charles is undeterred in his quest to get your daughter to spell his name properly. The evening prior, you’d presented him with a welcome home card signed by her, and addressed to Daddy Charlse—cue the Leclerc dramatics.

He’d pressed about a thousand kisses to her tiny face, thanking her over and over and keeping the card in his bag so they could cook dinner together. But once the pasta was finished and the toothbrush jingle was sang (twice) and he’d stowed her off to bed (three storybooks later), he padded over to your bed and sighed lowly, stopping just shy of the foot of it. Already you’d sensed his incoming anxious complaint.

It comes. “So. Charl-s-e.” 

“She’s four, honey.” You’d shut your book softly, smiling. “She spells her grandmum’s name as Packal.”

“It’s because I’m always out for work, isn’t it?” He climbed into bed beside you, perching his chin on your stomach. “And this is also because Max keeps insisting he babysit, sweetie. I swear, he’s brainwashing my baby girl.”

You laughed; the vibration extended into him and he smiled fondly at your reaction. “Charles, it’s nothing. They’re working on spelling at school, you know—she’s got a few words she gets wrong sometimes, the same ones. But she’s learning.”

“Charl-s-e,” he’d repeated sullenly. “Charl-seh.”

“If it matters that much, why don’t you try teaching her tomorrow?” You swept your hand through his hair, mouth in a half-smile. “Make an afternoon of it.”

He’d taken your advice very seriously—woken up a bit earlier, cooked them both pancakes (and you French toast, as always) and led her into the yard for some daddy-daughter time. “If you’re thirsty, I made lemonade,” you sing-song from the patio door. “You two’ve been at it for a bit.”

There are scrapped pieces of paper with his name misspelled on most of them—there is the occasional success, though you’re guessing Charles wants just one more—and drawings of your family all over them. You already sense the influx of pictures Charles has on his phone, of these drawings and cards he always posts on his Instagram or sends to you.

At your announcement, Julia looks up, green eyes piqued with interest, grip on the red crayon loosening. But her father’s faster, gently coaxing her back into the mini lawn chair that sits on the yard. She nods along his careful instructions, writing slowly, sun filtering through her light brown hair.

You get short moments of reprieve like this during the season. It’s rare for Charles to visit if he’s in the thick of it—most of the time you travel to a different city to see him, Julia going from your hip to his arms in seconds once he spots the two of you. But this moment is irreplaceable: the sunrays on the grass, the lemonade waiting to be drank, the pieces of paper with Mommy and Papa, bunchfuls of grapes on the patio table. 

He tries again. “Come on, love. C-H-A…” 

She bounds into the kitchen five minutes clutching a final paper, which she shows you with a sun-tinged face of pride. CHARLSE, it reads still. You pour her a glass, wait for Charles to finish packing up the rest of the art materials Julia was too excited to do herself; he comes in a bit sweaty from the sun asking to see the card.

You hand him a glass and press a kiss to his cheek. “Still S-E,” you say, both of you reading over the various scribbles.

“I don’t care.” He pauses. “You see this?” He points to the lower part of the page. 

Best Daddy Ever is written on it in wild vivid colors. You beam, love bubbling up in your chest overwhelmingly. He takes it from you and tacks it onto on the fridge, smiling. “She wrote that. I couldn’t have asked for a better card.” 

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, use of the name "sweetheart", kidnapping/abduction, drugging, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: As the team embarks on this urgent search, tension rises with each step they take. Their loyalty runs deep, and tonight, that bond drives them into the dark unknown, where shadows hide more than answers. Follow closely—this mission is about more than duty; it’s about finding one of their own before it's too late. Hold your breath; every clue they uncover only deepens the mystery.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 4 Read Part 5 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 9 Read Part 10

Part 3: An Urgent Search

The low hum of conversation had filled the dimly lit room of the 141’s HQ, blending with the smell of takeout and the occasional clink of beer bottles against glass. Soap leaned back in his chair, tossing another joke across the table as Ghost, Price, and Gaz chuckled. The atmosphere was relaxed, comfortable, like soldiers savoring a rare moment of peace.

But beneath the surface, a tension simmered.

It had been three outings now. Three times they’d gone to the bar, expecting to see you behind the counter, serving drinks with that easy grin. Each time they came up empty-handed. At first, no one thought much of it; life was unpredictable, especially for people like you, who juggled the chaos of civilian life with the remnants of a soldier's discipline. But the absence had stretched on too long, and now it gnawed at them in ways they hadn’t spoken aloud.

Soap, always the first to break the silence, tapped his watch, his expression shifting from humor to concern. “They’re on leave, aye?” His Scottish accent was thick as he glanced around the table, looking for reassurance but finding none.

Price sighed, setting down his drink, the laughter from moments earlier already forgotten. “Maybe, but they’d have told us if something was up,” he muttered, his voice gruff, filled with the weight of too many missions and too many friends gone missing.

Gaz leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, the light catching the subtle furrow in his brow. “It’s not like they could afford a vacation. You’ve seen that shitbox they drive,” he added, half-joking, but the concern was real. That car had always been a running joke, but now it felt like a clue, a reminder of a struggle they all knew too well.

Ghost had been silent through most of it, his expression hidden beneath the skull-patterned mask he wore even when off-duty. He’d been watching, waiting, processing. Something didn’t sit right with him, and when his instincts kicked in, they were rarely wrong. Slowly, he pulled out his phone, his gloved fingers moving with precision as he dialed the bar. The tension in the room thickened as the phone rang once, twice. 

“Tab’s Bar, Julia speaking,” a voice rang out, but not the one they were hoping for.

Ghost greeted the woman, getting to the point of his call and asking if you’d been in.

“No, come to think of it– They haven’t been in since the beginning of the week, I’ve had to cover most of their shifts. Not that I’m complaining, we could all use the extra cash these days.” Your co-worker rambled.

“Thank you, that’ll be all.” Ghost ended the call and silence filled the room.

The silence stretched like a knife's edge, the words of your coworker twisting the worry in their stomachs tighter.

Ghost’s eyes flicked up from the phone, his voice low but commanding, slicing through the tension. “That’s it. We need to check on them.”

Price didn’t hesitate. He nodded, already reaching for his jacket. “We’ll split up, cover more ground. Someone at the bar has to know something.”

Gaz and Soap exchanged glances, both rising without another word. It wasn’t just camaraderie driving them now—it was fear. Fear that something had gone wrong, fear that someone they held close might be in danger. They’d seen it too many times before.

Outside, the air was sharp, biting with the chill of the night. The familiar hum of the city echoed in the background, but for the team, it felt like a distant noise, their focus narrowed to the search ahead. The streets, once so familiar, now felt alien—full of shadows and potential threats. 

Ghost led the way, his steps precise, his mind already racing through possibilities. You had always been careful, reliable, a little care-free maybe, but never unpredictable. Missing shifts wasn’t in your nature, not without a damn good reason. And if something had happened to you, there wasn’t a doubt in any of their minds that they’d find out. And if necessary, they’d make whoever was responsible regret it.

The bar had always been a sanctuary of sorts, a place where patrons, old and young, could unwind, share stories, and drink to forget the turmoil that plagued their days. Its regulars knew the team well enough to exchange nods or beers, but tonight, that comfort was gone. The moment they pushed through the heavy door, eyes turned their way—wary, silent.

The bartender, your coworker, froze mid-pour, her eyes flicking between them as if she already knew the question before they asked it. Something was wrong, and the weight of it settled into their bones.

Price stepped forward, his voice rough, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “We’re looking for someone. You know who.” His words hung in the air like a challenge.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, slowly, the bartender set the glass down, her jaw tight. “They haven’t been in for a while, hence why I’m here tonight. Last I saw, they were talking to someone a couple days ago before they bailed on work. Tall, dark jacket, looked like the type to be a shut-in honestly.”

Gaz exchanged a glance with Soap. They knew the type. And that only made the pit in their stomachs deeper. Quiet and reserved didn’t always mean trustworthy friend.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. The urgency ramped up. Whatever was happening, they needed to find you—and fast.

Read Part 4

Your team is closer than you think, but with each step they take, danger looms larger. Will their loyalty and determination be enough to outwit the darkness closing in around you? Find out as the search intensifies, and hidden truths come to light.

[nayziiz]

Reckless | CS55

Summary: Via finds herself caught up in office politics and encounters Carlos Sainz Jr., the intimidating son of her boss. Despite her initial reluctance, she is drawn into a web of intrigue surrounding the Sainz family and their business empire. As tensions rise and secrets unravel, Via and Carlos grapple with professional challenges, personal relationships, and the allure of forbidden romance. Via must navigate the complexities of power, ambition, and desire, ultimately confronting difficult truths about those around her in a world where appearances can be deceiving and loyalties tested.

Warning: Violence, blood, alcohol, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Via Driscoll) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 1

The bleak London sky seemed to reflect Via's mood as she sat in her office, the persistent rain tapping against the window panes like an incessant reminder of her dissatisfaction. She longed for the comfort of her home, envisioning herself cocooned in her favourite pyjamas, a bowl of popcorn in hand, escaping into the world of a movie. But duty called, and she found herself tethered to her desk, the glow of her computer screen casting a harsh light on her weary face.

Via's gaze drifted from her monitor to the expansive windows that framed her workspace, offering a panoramic view of the dreary cityscape below. The rain streaked down the glass in rivulets, distorting the already dismal scene outside. With a sigh, she swirled her chair to face the window, mesmerised by the hypnotic dance of the raindrops.

Her office, part of the executive suite, was a realm of corporate austerity softened only by the occasional flourish of personalization. Across from her was Eleanor's desk, a colleague whose meticulously organised desk offered a stark contrast to Via's own desk, cluttered with documents and folders. Beyond them lay the hushed confines of the boardroom, its sleek furnishings a testament to the gravity of the decisions made within its walls. And nestled at the heart of it all, concealed behind a frosted glass door, was the sanctum of the CEO, a figure whose presence loomed over the entire floor.

The executive suite was a realm unto itself, delineated from the rest of the office floor by imposing frosted glass panels. These barriers, both physical and metaphorical, served as a symbolic boundary between the realm of power and influence and the humbler domains of the rank and file.

As the sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room, Via instinctively recoiled, her chair scraping against the floor as she sought refuge closer to her desk. The starkness of her workspace mirrored the dreary weather outside, save for a solitary splash of colour—a bright red ribbon adorning her computer monitor, a token of whimsy amidst the monochrome.

Before Via could fully regain her composure, the jarring chime of a message tone shattered the silence, dragging her attention back to the task at hand. With a resigned sigh, she dove back into her work, sifting through the influx of emails that clamoured for her attention. Among them, a cluster of documents awaited Julia's scrutiny, prompting Via to spring into action.

With a sense of urgency gnawing at her, Via swiftly printed out the documents, the whirring of the printer adding a discordant rhythm to the otherwise hushed ambiance of the office. Clutching the papers in hand, she hastened down the main passageway, her footsteps echoing off the sterile tiles with each resounding click of her heels.

Despite her distaste for the clamour her heels inevitably caused, Via pressed on, her posture rigid and purposeful as she navigated the familiar corridors. Straightening her navy blue pencil skirt and smoothing down the crisp lines of her pearly white blouse, she maintained a facade of professionalism, unwilling to betray any hint of vulnerability to the world around her.

As she finally approached Julia's desk, Via's pulse quickened with a mixture of apprehension and determination. With each step, she drew closer to the epicentre of the office's bustling activity, her resolve unyielding even in the face of the tempest raging both outside and within.

“Hey, Jules.” Via greeted Julia with a warm smile, hoping to inject a bit of brightness into the weary atmosphere.

“Hi, Via.” Julia replied, her voice laden with fatigue, betraying the toll that the relentless demands of their profession had taken on her.

“I have some paperwork Eleanor wants you to go over. Mostly just details for the upcoming gala.” Via nodded sympathetically as she approached, presenting the stack of paperwork she had carried with her. 

Julia's shoulders slumped slightly at the mention of more work, her sigh echoing the sentiment shared by many in their line of work.

“The work never ends, does it?” She lamented, a weariness evident in her tone as she prepared to delve once more into the endless stream of tasks that awaited her.

“Sadly, no.” Via echoed with a resigned sigh, her own weariness mirroring Julia's.

“I've actually been meaning to call you over.” Julia interjected, her tired gaze flicking between Via and the documents she held.

“Yeah?” Via prompted, sensing there was more to Julia's invitation.

“Eleanor mentioned that Mr. Sainz wants you in the quarterly meeting tomorrow morning.” Julia explained, her voice tinged with a hint of intrigue as she relayed the information. Via's curiosity piqued at the unexpected news.

“Did she say why?” She inquired, her mind already racing with possibilities as she awaited Julia's response.

“I assume he wants to transfer some of Eleanor's workload to you. Which is both good and bad.” Julia speculated with a nonchalant shrug, acknowledging the mixed implications of such a directive. Via frowned slightly, her thoughts swirling with the implications of the impending meeting.

“She hasn't mentioned anything to me yet.” She murmured, her mind already strategizing how to navigate the potential changes.

“Anyway, listen.” Julia continued, steering the conversation toward more immediate concerns. “There have been a few big projects happening and we need to update the website. Would you mind going through some of our most recent projects and writing up some articles on them?”

Via's expression brightened at the prospect of a new task, eager to immerse herself in a creative endeavour amidst the routine of administrative duties.

“Sure, with pleasure.” She replied, enthusiasm infusing her words as she welcomed the opportunity to breathe life into the neglected facets of their online presence.

“Great! It's just we haven't focused on our website in ages-” Julia began, her words trailing off as she glanced around the bustling office, a silent acknowledgment of the perpetual whirlwind of activity that often left such tasks relegated to the back burner.

Julia's abrupt silence drew Via's attention, and she followed her gaze to the elevator lobby, where four figures stood, three of them familiar: Mr. Sainz, the imposing CEO; Eleanor, his steadfast executive assistant; and Paul, their ever-watchful bodyguard. But it was the fourth man who captured Via's curiosity, his dark chocolate brown hair a stark contrast to the sleek professionalism of the others.

As he turned to face them, Via's breath caught in her throat. The resemblance was uncanny—a younger version of Mr. Sainz himself, yet with a vitality and energy that set him apart.

“Who is that?” Via whispered, her voice barely above a murmur, her eyes fixed on the enigmatic newcomer.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.” Julia replied in hushed tones, her expression betraying a mixture of awe and trepidation at the unexpected arrival of the CEO's son.

As Carlos Sainz Jr. passed by Via and Julia, his impeccably tailored suit accentuating his lean physique, Via found herself momentarily speechless, her gaze lingering on him as he disappeared into the executive suite alongside his father and the others. A palpable tension hung in the air, an eerie quietness enveloping the office as everyone processed the unexpected encounter.

“How come this is the first time I've seen him?” Via queried, her curiosity piqued by the sudden appearance of Mr. Sainz's son.

Julia hesitated for a moment before responding, her voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. 

“He hasn't been involved with the family business. Neither has Blanca nor Ana, his sisters.”

“Why not?” Via pressed, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“It's complicated.” Julia muttered cryptically, her eyes darting around as if searching for eavesdroppers. “He only ever brings trouble when he's around.”

Via nodded slowly, absorbing Julia's words as she contemplated the implications of Carlos Sainz Jr.'s presence and the enigmatic aura that seemed to surround him.

Via's frown deepened as she watched Carlos Sainz Jr. lean casually against her desk, engrossed in conversation with his father and Eleanor. Despite the distance separating them, Via felt the weight of his gaze like a tangible presence, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She averted her eyes, the intensity of their brief connection unsettling her.

Even after breaking eye contact, Via couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. It was as if Carlos Sainz Jr.'s dark brown eyes had left an indelible mark on her consciousness, their magnetic pull impossible to resist.

A few moments later, the trio retreated into Mr. Sainz's office, the heavy door closing behind them with a finality that left Via feeling strangely bereft. She shook off the lingering unease, burying herself in her work as she tried to banish thoughts of Carlos Sainz Jr. and the inexplicable hold he seemed to have over her.

“I suggest you get back to work, Via.” Julia suggested, her tone gently nudging Via back into focus.

Via nodded in agreement, acknowledging the need to redirect her attention to the tasks at hand. With a determined resolve, she made her way back to her desk, the weight of Julia's words lingering in the air.

As Via settled behind her desk, poised to begin her work on the website articles, the shrill ring of her landline shattered the quietude of the executive suite. Startled, she reached for the receiver, her heart rate quickening with anticipation.

“This is Olivia Driscoll. How may I assist?” Via answered, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

“There is a black and a blue folder on my desk. Please bring them to me.” Eleanor's voice commanded, brusque and to the point, before the line went dead.

Via's brow furrowed in confusion at the unexpected request, but she wasted no time in complying. With a sense of purpose, she rose from her desk, her footsteps echoing in the hushed confines of the office as she made her way to Eleanor's domain, the folders clutched tightly in her grasp.

Via carefully selected the two folders from Eleanor's desk, ensuring she didn't overlook any additional blue or black folders that might have been hiding in plain sight. Satisfied with her choices, she proceeded to Mr. Sainz's office, her footsteps measured and deliberate as she approached the frosted glass door.

Pausing briefly, Via knocked three times, a customary gesture to announce her presence before entering. She knew that Eleanor was expecting her, but she still felt a twinge of nervousness as she awaited permission to step inside.

With a click, the door swung open, granting Via access to the inner sanctum of Mr. Sainz's office. Stepping inside, she cast a quick glance around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with a sense of curiosity. Despite having visited only a handful of times, she had never lingered long enough to absorb the nuances that defined the space.

Mr. Sainz was engrossed in something on his laptop screen, his attention fully absorbed by the task at hand. Via approached Eleanor, who sat poised across from Mr. Sainz, her demeanour composed and professional as always. With a respectful nod, Via handed over the two folders, her movements precise and efficient.

Via listened intently as Eleanor and Mr. Sainz exchanged words, her curiosity piqued by the mention of the gala and the logistical challenges they faced. She couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension at the prospect of navigating such a crucial aspect of the event planning process.

“Did you give Julia the paperwork for the gala?” Eleanor asked.

“Yes, she's working through it right now.” Via confirmed, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

“Good. We need to get sign off from the fire departments because we're literally at capacity for the event.” Eleanor continued, her tone conveying a sense of urgency that wasn't lost on Via.

The weight of Eleanor's words hung in the air, directing Mr. Sainz’s attention towards Via and then back to Eleanor, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the information. Via shifted slightly under his scrutiny, acutely aware of the weight of his gaze upon her.

“Retract some of the invitations that have no responses.” Mr. Sainz suggested. “I'm sure Ms Driscoll can handle that?”

Via's attention shifted as Mr. Sainz offered his suggestion, his directive clear and concise. She nodded in acknowledgment, her mind already processing the task at hand.

“Do you have capacity, Via?” Eleanor inquired, her gaze shifting to Via as she awaited confirmation.

“Yes, of course. I'll get right on that.” Via replied with unwavering determination, her resolve firm as she prepared to tackle the assignment entrusted to her.

As Via turned to leave, her gaze inadvertently fell upon Carlos Sainz Jr., who sat in the corner of the room, his presence a silent observer to the exchange unfolding before him. Eleanor followed Via's gaze, her eyes meeting Carlos Jr.'s intense scrutiny with a hint of curiosity. Via quickly averted her gaze, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach as she made her exit from the office.

“Via.” Eleanor called out, halting Via's departure.

“Yes, Ms. Pope?” Via turned back, her attention fully on Eleanor.

“I don't think you've met Carlos Sainz Jr. yet?” Eleanor gestured towards Carlos, who stood and approached Via.

Via met Carlos's gaze as he extended his hand, and she shook it firmly, her composure unwavering despite the unexpected introduction.

“Olivia Driscoll.”  Eleanor added, providing Via's full name as a formality.

“Lovely to meet you, sir. If you'll excuse me.” Via replied politely, her tone respectful as she acknowledged the introduction before taking her leave.

With a nod to Eleanor, she exited the office, her mind racing with the events of the day and the newfound knowledge of Mr. Sainz's son's presence in the company.

Via retreated back to her desk, the weight of the encounter with Carlos Sainz Jr. still lingering in her mind. As time passed, her curiosity grew, eventually leading her to seek out Eleanor once more. With a sense of purpose, Via made her way to Mr. Sainz's office, her footsteps echoing in the hushed confines of the executive suite.

Entering the office, Via found it deserted, the air heavy with the lingering presence of power and authority. Her gaze swept over the room, taking in the dark wood cabinets and the photographs adorning the counter. Intrigued, she reached out to run a hand over the polished surface, her fingers lingering on the images captured within the frames.

“Looking for something?” Carlos's voice shattered the silence, his sudden presence causing Via to spin around in surprise.

Startled, Via found Carlos leaning casually against the door frame, his demeanour relaxed yet undeniably imposing. Her pulse quickened at the unexpected encounter, her mind racing to compose herself in the face of his scrutiny.

“I don't think my father would like it much if he knew you were snooping around in his office.” Carlos remarked, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

“I wasn't snooping.” Via replied defensively, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the implication.

“Olivia, was it?” Carlos inquired, his gaze probing as he addressed her by her full name.

“Yes.” Via confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper as she met his gaze.

“If you're looking for Eleanor, she's left with my father - something about a last-minute meeting.” Carlos informed her, his tone casual yet authoritative.

“Noted, thank you, sir.” Via responded, her voice polite as she acknowledged the information.

“Please, call me Carlos.” He insisted, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Via nodded in acknowledgment, her mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with Mr. Sainz's son. With a polite smile, she excused herself from the office, determined to focus on her tasks and put the encounter behind her.

Via felt a jolt of surprise as Carlos's hand closed around her wrist, his grip firm yet strangely gentle. She met his gaze, her eyes widening in apprehension as he spoke.

“I won’t tell my father you were snooping,” Carlos stated, his tone low and deliberate.

“Because I wasn’t.” Via countered, her voice tinged with defiance as she resisted the implication.

“I won’t tell him on one condition.” Carlos continued, his gaze unwavering as he held her captive with his intense scrutiny.

“What’s the condition?” Via asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

“You don’t come in here by yourself again.” Carlos stated firmly, his expression unyielding as he laid out his terms.

“Yes… Carlos.” Via replied reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper as she acquiesced to his demand.

With a sense of relief, she extracted her wrist from his grasp and quickly made her exit from the office, the encounter leaving her unsettled yet strangely intrigued by the enigmatic figure of Carlos Sainz Jr.

As Carlos released Via's wrist, she felt a rush of relief flood through her. She offered him a brief, uncertain smile before turning on her heels and hurrying out of the office, her steps quickening as she made her way back to her desk.

Behind her, Carlos watched her retreat, his gaze lingering on her figure until she disappeared from view. A faint smile played at the corners of his lips as he reflected on their brief interaction, a sense of intrigue stirring within him at the enigmatic Olivia Driscoll.

With a thoughtful expression, Carlos turned his attention back to the deserted office, his mind already pondering the implications of their encounter and the potential consequences of his decision to keep Via's presence in the office a secret from his father.

Via settled into her seat at the cosy coffee shop, greeted by the familiar faces of her close friends: Rosa, Tori, and Neil. Their playful banter brought a much-needed smile to her face after the events of the day.

“Well, nice of you to join us, big shot.” Rosa teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Hi, Miss rays of sunshine.” Via retorted with a chuckle, exchanging playful greetings with her friends.

“You look terrible.” Tori remarked with mock concern, her tone laced with humour.

“It’s a new look I’m trying out.” Via quipped, her reply eliciting laughter from the group.

“I don’t understand why you have to work so late.” Neil chimed in, his expression one of genuine concern. 

“It's just the nature of the job, you know? Deadlines, last-minute meetings, unexpected tasks. It never seems to end.” Via sighed, her demeanour growing more serious as she explained,

Her friends nodded in understanding, their expressions sympathetic as they listened to her explanation. Despite the challenges she faced, Via couldn't help but feel grateful for the support of her friends, their presence providing a much-needed respite from the demands of her hectic work life.

“No, there’s something else bothering you today. Out with it.” Rosa insisted, her intuition sharp as ever. Via sighed, relenting under her friend's scrutiny.

“The boss’s son showed up.” She confessed, her voice lowering slightly as she revealed the source of her discomfort.

“Ooh, do tell.” Tori exclaimed, leaning in with interest.

“There’s nothing to tell. He’s just intimidating.” Via replied, her gaze flickering with uncertainty.

“You never find people intimidating.” Neil pointed out, his brow furrowing in concern.

“I do when they’re my boss and his son.” Via admitted, her shoulders slumping with the weight of her confession.

“What’s he look like?” Rosa pressed, her curiosity piqued by the mention of Mr. Sainz's son.

“He’s attractive, that’s for sure. He’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.” Via admitted, a hint of reluctance in her voice as she acknowledged Carlos Sainz Jr.'s undeniable allure.

“At least he’s something to look at.” Tori remarked with a playful grin, attempting to lighten the mood with her characteristic humour.

Via couldn't help but chuckle at her friend's comment, grateful for the lighthearted banter that helped to momentarily distract her from the complexities of her professional life. Deep down, though, she knew that Carlos Sainz Jr.'s presence in the office would continue to loom large in her thoughts, his enigmatic aura leaving an indelible impression on her psyche.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.1

Girls on Millionaires

“Samara, this is hopeless.”

“It’s been five minutes, Julia, we’ve barely started!”

“But how am I supposed to find anything in here? They should have thrift shops online, I just want to grab what I need and get on with my life.”

Samara shakes her head. “You’re thinking about it all wrong, this is not shopping. Thrifting is more like a treasure hunt, you never know what you’re going to find.”

She moves between the chaotic piles with the practiced air of someone who’s done this a thousand times before. Her hands are constantly busy, picking up items, examining them, and occasionally letting out a small laugh or shaking her head as she puts them back.

I trail behind her, aimlessly running my hands over stacks of old sweaters and linens, feeling out of place. The whole rebrand is starting to stress me out. My money is dwindling faster than I expected, and I only have so long to get the channel up and running again before I’ll be forced to make that dreaded phone call and ask my parents for help. It would feel like admitting defeat.

My spare room looks empty and forlorn without my sewing machine and fabrics, and I was hoping to find something that would help me get the new aesthetic right without breaking the bank, even if I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for.

Instead, I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of other people’s memories, and none of them fit the person I’m trying to become.

I’m about to give up when Samara calls out, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

“Julia, come check this out.”

She waves me over to a large, white mirror, tucked away in a corner by some broken chairs and unused exercise equipment.

I walk over to it and run my fingers along the curved frame. It’s smooth, no dents or scratches. There’s even a useful shelf on the bottom, and I can already picture it in my new recording setup, framing the scene just right.

“This is perfect, Samara! There’s no price tag on it, do you think they’ll sell it?” I gesture at the girl at the register. She hasn’t looked up from her phone since we got here.

“They’d sell the roof if it didn’t keep the rain out, let’s go make a deal.”

The Rooftop

The music pulses through my body, a steady beat that seems to resonate in my bones and push away any lingering traces of worry. The Rooftop is packed tonight, but I don’t mind the crowd. The energy is electric, the kind that makes you feel alive, feel like anything is possible.

I’m tipsy – more than tipsy, actually – and it feels good. Samara and I managed to get my new mirror home safely, and for the rest of tonight, all thoughts about the rebrand and the money situation are far away, drowned out by the bass and the chemical smell from the smoke machines.

I throw my hands up, twirling in place as the DJ transitions into a song with a heavier beat. The floor beneath my feet feels like it’s vibrating, and I can’t stop smiling, can’t stop moving. I’m probably grinning like an idiot but I don’t even care. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, who I’m supposed to be.

Samara and Miranda are dancing next to me, and I close my eyes, letting the rhythm take over. All the tension I’ve carried melts away. I know I’ll have to face reality again tomorrow, finish setting up my recording equipment and sort out a new posting schedule, but tomorrow is a million miles away.

Miranda leans in close, trying to get my attention. “Let’s grab a table,” she says, and I feel like I can see the vibration of her words through the air more than I hear them. “I need a break.”

“Yeah, good idea, my feet are killing me.”

I slide onto the seat, relieved to get off the unforgiving steel floor, as Miranda puts a drink in front of me. The glass is cool in my hand, condensation dripping down my fingers as I take a sip. The strong taste of alcohol is barely masked by the fruits and sugar. Miranda always gets the good stuff, all the bartenders know she tips well.

I gently peel off my shoes and rest my bare feet on the cold, smooth metal bars of the stool.

“Miranda, seriously, how do you handle wearing heels every single day? I’m so sore.”

Miranda grins.

“You get used to it after a while, really. It’s all about practice and a little bit of masochism,” she says with a laugh. “And then there’s the stubbornness, I didn’t spend all that money on shoes just to keep them on a shelf – speaking of, since when can you afford Diego Lobos?”

I glance down at my shoes. “They were a gift from Paul, for New Year’s Eve. I just haven’t worn them since we broke up. He joked that they were mostly a gift for himself, actually. So he wouldn’t have to bend down as far to kiss me.”

And because he liked it when I wore them to bed. The memory stings a little, but it’s not as bad as it used to be, the wound of the heartbreak has finally scabbed over and the pain is less raw each time I think of him.

Samara giggles tipsily. “I mean, they look nicer than using a stepladder, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe that’s why he dumped me, I was bad for his back. I should find a shorter boyfriend next time.”

“Yeah? How tall is Marten?”

“That’s not – we’re not dating, Miranda!”

Miranda clicks her tongue. “Girl, I hate to break it to you, but he did take you on a date.”

“It wasn’t a date, we just hung out! We got home, played games, ordered takeout. He slept on the couch, and then he took the train back to campus. He didn’t try to flirt or hit on me in any way.”

“Sounds fake,” Samara says. “I still think he’s up to something.”

“Or maybe he’s just not into me, it’s not a crime. He can have friends and not want to date them, you know.”

Thankfully, they drop the subject and move on to something else. I don’t like admitting it, but Marten’s lack of interest bothers me. It’s not even that I want him, but I’m used to most guys wanting me, and my ego is frankly a little bruised. Marten is always so sweet and attentive, but that’s it.

I can’t help but find it strange that he spends so much time with me if he doesn’t like me like that. Am I really just so arrogant that I can’t imagine a guy who doesn’t want me? Or maybe I’m just obsessing over it because Paul didn’t want me either. At least not enough to give me more time. I push away the thought violently.

As I take another sip of my drink, my eyes wander towards the bar. The Rooftop’s head bartender, Shane, is quite pretty, all perfect hair and strong jawline – and not that tall. I catch myself staring a little too long, and then I remember that he asked Miranda about me. A flutter stirs in my stomach.

The truth is that I miss being wanted, being touched. I miss kissing and cuddling and holding hands, but most of all I miss sex, the sweaty, dirty, crazy kind that leaves you breathless on crumpled sheets at sunrise.

“Julia, are you even listening?”

“I think we lost her, Mir, she’s busy eye-fucking the bartender.”

“Good to know she’s healed enough to look at other men at last.”

I feel my cheeks get hot. “Sorry, I was just thinking, uh, isn’t that the bartender who asked about me?” I try to sound casual but Miranda isn’t fooled for a second.

She chuckles knowingly. “Oh, yeah, that’s him. Just a heads up, though, Shane is a total fuckboy, he doesn’t do relationships.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Who said anything about relationships?”

Miranda shrugs, her eyes still sparkling with amusement. “As long as you know what you’re getting into, babe. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, you don’t need more heartbreak.”

“Come on, Julia, you can do so much better. Just wait, before you know it, some prince is going to come riding in on a white horse and sweep you away.”

“Samara, I’d be happy with a duke on a rusty bike at this point. A girl has needs, you know – and my vibrator doesn’t cuddle.”

We laugh it off, but I have to admit that I feel extremely tempted by the thought of seeing where this might go.

Images flash through my mind of maybe, possibly, staying a little after closing time and getting to know Shane the bartender better. Maybe he could help me remember that Paul isn’t the last man on earth, and that even if Marten doesn’t want me either, someone else will.

My pocket vibrates, tearing me away from my fantasy. I look at my phone, slightly flustered. As if summoned by my thoughts, it’s Marten, asking if we’re going to play tonight. I fire back a quick text about being out with the girls and he answers immediately.

“No worries! Have fun and make good choices, okay?”

Good choices? What is he, my dad?

Still, his words stick with me, making me feel a little guilty for some reason.

I glance back at Shane, who’s now mixing a drink with the kind of smooth confidence that makes it clear that he knows exactly how hot he is. If he’s as bad as his reputation, he probably wouldn’t mind being someone’s rebound, but would I regret it?

I followed Paul back to his hotel even though I barely knew him. Am I just the kind of girl who hooks up with any hot guy on a whim? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but Marten has a talent for making me second-guess myself.

If I’m being brutally honest, as hot as it sounds, getting railed on a bar after closing would probably not count as a good choice in anyone’s book.

But still…

A girl can dream.

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[northwood-astronomy]

An Introduction Day 6

Hello, I'm Dr. Northwood. I will use this space to document the happenings and events of my work. While usually mundane and tedious.. I admit the oddities and peculiarities of the field may be of interest.

This is where I work. At least part of it, the facility's property is a dauntingly large forest. I am yet to discover the half of it.

This, itself is the facility. A concrete monolith which is my welcomed burden to clean. That is a project for another week.

Here is my workstation. The leftmost monitor is the console I use to download signals, which I locate with the monitor to the right of the chair. I'm typing on the computer currently. Occasionally I glance towards the forest, before staring dumbly at the stars.

I will be sure to update you soon, for now I must work if I am to afford a delivery of food.

-Julias Northwood.

[edgessunflower]

Corn maze

Pairing: Julia Hart x Fem reader

Description: You and Julia go to a corn maze at a festival

You laughed watching Julia run straight to the corn maze as the two of you walked around the open farm being used for the small and annual fall festival with many different things to do especially for young children who arrived after being taken by hay ride to the pumpkin patch a bit further away from the festival. You and Julie decided to do the corn maze last so the two of you first did a ring toss followed by pumpkin bowling, face painting, visiting the animals in the petting zoo, made small crafts at the craft fair, apple toss, and jumped on the large inflatable trampoline before having lunch after getting fries and a burger each and a drink, once lunch was finished the two of you went to the leaf art station where you painted Stitch on your leaf while Julia painted a dragon then you both went to the hotel cider bar and made your own drinks along with going to the s'mores station and making s'mores together followed by a sack race then posing for pictures in the large stool and chair that people could climb in to take pictures on and pumpkin carving with the pumpkins you both got from the patch earlier before arriving to the festival leading to you carving the symbol for the crow and julia carving a gargoyle. Finally after doing a few more things around the festival the two of you went straight to the corn maze where the two of you walked in hand in hand occasionally scaring each other by hiding in the field or running ahead and making noises from horror movies whether it be you making the grudge clicking or julia saying babadook in a creepily low pitched voice the two of you never failed to at least startle each other for a bit as you walked through the maze taking your time walking in the maze rather than purposely finding the exit even cutting through the field so the two of you could be further from the exit for extra time before finally reaching the exit and going back to the start of the maze and walking around but longer than the first time until the two of you were out and heading home looking at the pictures you both took before making dinner and watching movies together to wind down for the night after an adventurous day.

[cantsayidont]

July 1983 to October 1986. In 1983, DC lured Doug Moench away from Marvel and books like MASTER OF KUNG FU and MOON KNIGHT to take over BATMAN and DETECTIVE COMICS under the editorship of Len Wein. Their run, which lasted 40 months, was the final phase of the Bronze Age Batman continuity; although it continued for some months after the end of CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS, everything through DETECTIVE COMICS #566 and BATMAN #400 is functionally part of pre-Crisis continuity, in particular most anything to do with Jason Todd becoming the second Robin. (Jason debuted during the end of Gerry Conway's run in early 1983, but it was Moench and Wein who oversaw Jason's actually becoming Robin.)

From 1981 to 1986, there was a tight continuity between BATMAN and DETECTIVE COMICS: a story begun in one book would continue in the other two weeks later. This was something new for Batman; there had been occasional multi-issue storylines for years, and Steve Englehart and Len Wein had introduced a certain amount of Marvel-style continuity in the late '70s, but having around 40 story pages per month allowed more room for character-driven stories, supporting characters, and subplots. When Doug Moench arrived, a central focus was on leading up to Jason Todd becoming Robin, but there were also numerous other major and minor subplots, from Alfred's attempts to connect with his adult daughter, Julia Remarque (introduced by Conway in 1981), to Gotham's messy city politics and various deadly underworld power struggles.

In MASTER OF KUNG FU, Moench's signature storytelling preoccupation had been "kinky weirdos hurting each other's feelings," and his initial run on the Bat-books also featured a series of messy, sometimes bloody romantic triangles, the most important of which involved Batman; the now-reformed Catwoman; Nocturna (Natalia Knight), a pretentious Goth burglar who attempted to adopt Jason Todd; and Nocturna's adoptive brother Anton, who became a cat burglar out of deranged obsession with Natalia and later tried to kill her so no one else could have her. It was all very grandiose and inevitably somewhat florid, but then expecting gritty, understated realism from a comic book about a man who fights crime dressed as a bat is itself pretty silly.

The strongest story in this run actually has little to do with that soap opera: "What Price the Prize?" in BATMAN #372, is an intelligent, grounded drama about an up-and-coming young Irish boxer maneuvering for a bout with a Black champion obviously inspired by Muhammad Ali, featuring some of Don Newton's finest Batman art; the conclusion in DETECTIVE #539 isn't quite as sharp, but is still one of Moench's best. Other highlights include a clash with Catman (BATMAN #371/DETECTIVE #538) in which Thomas Blake's determined belief in the magical power of his costume nearly gets both him and Batman killed over and over; a wistful story about the private life and hidden depths of boorish Harvey Bullock (DETECTIVE #549); a delightful one-shot (BATMAN #383) in which Batman repeatedly tries and fails to get some sleep; the debut of Black Mask (BATMAN #385–386 and DETECTIVE #553); a comedic tale of Batman and Catwoman on an actual date, in costume (BATMAN #392); and a distinctly '80s-Bondian espionage adventure reuniting Moench and artist Paul Gulacy (BATMAN #393–394).

Artistically, the run got off to a good start with Don Newton on BATMAN (inked by Alfredo Alcala) and Gene Colan on DETECTIVE (generally inked by Bob Smith). Newton's departure in 1984 hurt, leading to a period of artistic musical chairs and some really bad early Pat Broderick art, followed by Tom Mandrake taking over BATMAN. Mandrake gets a bad rap in some quarters, mostly because his style is looser (and about two steps further in the direction of Gene Colan) than many comics fans care to tolerate, but his work here is mostly fine, and certainly an improvement over Broderick's. The Annual has some very nice early Denys Cowan pencils, inked by Alcala, and BATMAN #400 is an all-star extravaganza art-wise.

Maddeningly, DC has never properly reprinted a lot of this material, which I think is badly overdue. If it's not as epochal as some more familiar periods both before and after, the median level of quality is pretty decent (and certainly no worse than the 1987–1991 period, which has now been reprinted in its entirety); its emphasis on characterization wouldn't be matched again in the Batman titles for many years. Denny O'Neil supposedly hated much of what Moench had done (Moench has said O'Neil especially loathed Nocturna, whom he flatly refused to revive in any form), but Denny is dead now, and in any case, his Batman stories include their share of stinkers as well as gems. I don't know that DC has any kind of real reprint strategy anymore, but I hope they won't wait until Doug Moench is dead to properly remaster and collect these issues. Doing them all (BATMAN #360–400 and Annual #10, DETECTIVE #527–567) in something akin to Marvel's Epic Collection format would probably take four volumes — there's around 1,800 pages of material, more if you include Moench's Superman/Batman stories from WORLD'S FINEST — but why not?

[hughjidiot]

Total Drama Level Up Chapter Six Sneak Peak

So chapter six is still a long ways from being done, likely not until the end of the month. But I still wanted to share this little sneak peak, which has probably the most obscure reference I've ever written in any story.

“So, you finally gonna let us in on what song you picked?” Nichelle asked her band’s frontman. “Let me guess, some kind of hardcore death metal?”

Lauren shook her head, looking over her options. “I wish! But no, they didn’t have anything like that on the list.”

“Also I don’t think death metal would be a good match for SG,” Zee said casually. “Death metal usually has the deep, growling vocals while the sound itself is heavier. With her pitch and vocal range, emotionally-charged black metal would be a better fit.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at Zee, who raised an eyebrow at their looks of surprise. “What? I have something on my face again?”

“So yesterday you were suddenly a skateboarder, and now you’re a metalhead?” MK asked, tone laced with disbelief.

Zee shrugged. “Well I’m more into prog rock myself, but there are some metal songs and artists I like. Got some older cousins who are into the metal scene, so I picked up a few things here and there. Am a right about your preferences, SG?”

“Close! I’m more into speed metal myself,” Lauren said, casually moving towards one of the microphone stands. “Especially when it fuses with black metal. Songs of blood and death and the macabre, anthems of horror and despair!”

With a wolfish grin she grabbed one of the (mercifully turned off) microphones and belted out in a high-pitched tenor: “Let me help you out of your chair, grandma~!”

Most of the rest of her team recoiled at Lauren’s outburst. Zee, however, beamed as he stepped up to her.

“Grandma, what was it liiiiike~,” he sang in as high a pitch that his own voice could manage, “to be on that holiday siiiiite~?”

Lauren’s grin widened, holding the microphone between the two of them. “Late last night I awoke from my sleep~!”

Zee matched her smile. “Hearing~! Unknown~! Voices~!”

“Laughing in sync~!” They belted out in unison, followed by the two of them breaking out in amused laughter.

The other Turtles stared at them in utter bewilderment, occasionally exchanging glances to confirm that the others were just as perplexed.

“So uh, is anyone else seeing this?” Raj asked.

“You mean Zee and Scary Girl acting like BFFs?” Julia asked, and nodded. “Yeah, we see it.”

“Okay good. For a minute there I thought my hockey concussion dementia was kicking in early.”

[lotsoflokilove23]

~Mine In The Moonlight~

“You okay?” Bella, one of your coworkers asked as you slowly made your way into the kitchen area they had at work. 

You nodded with a yawn, pouring coffee into one of the black mugs sitting on the counter.

Bella tilts her head at you, “Didn’t get much sleep… did ya?” she asked, taking a sip of her own coffee.

You sat down in the seat next to her and took a sip of coffee, “Leo got out again last night, the neighbors came knocking on my door around midnight asking if I had seen her.” you slightly lied as you leaned back. Leo was the cat that lived next door to you, she often didn’t run away but occasionally would make her way outside which terrified her owners. 

Bella slowly nods as she listens to your story, “I see…” she says with a small smile. “Well, I better get back to work.” she says standing up. “I’ll see you later.” Bella gives a small nod and walks out of the kitchen down towards her own office.

You watch as Bella leaves and sighs. She was one of the only people here who really talked to you besides your boss, you didn’t have many friends, and you didn’t get out too much unless it was really needed. 

You took another sip from your mug and got up. You made your way to your own office that was just down the hall, you opened the door and sat down, placing the mug on the side of the desk. You pressed a button turning your computers on and leaning back in your chair. 

There was a knock at your door as someone came in, “Good morning, Y/n” Julia said walking in and placing a few papers on your desk, “There are about fifteen new people who need to be checked over and made sure that aren’t fake.” She said looking down at you. 

You nod and look at the papers flipping through them, “All these just from this week?” You asked, raising your eyes slowly at some of the names. 

“Yes.” Julia said, “Some of them have gone missing and some of them…” she paused thinking for a moment, “I’ll just let you deal with it!” she said walking to the door. “Thank you.” She said with a small wave and walked out and down the hall. 

Weird, you thought flipping through the names. Steve Rogers… you raised your eyes, Tony Stark?. You flipped to the back of the pile and your eyes widened, Loki? What the heck, you thought looking through the information on his sheet. Loki Laufeyson!!?? You closed your eyes and then opened them again, This can’t be right… You thought to yourself, There all Marvel characters… You punched in some numbers on your computer bringing up your main work page, you typed in the names and your jaw slowly opened. 

According to the computer these people landed on Earth about a week ago, wearing suits and had what looked like glowing objects and fight gear. 

You read the document over and over again until your eyes start to hurt, you definitely didn’t believe that this was actually happening. A few hours later after a lot of research and hunting, you turned your computer off, shoved the papers into a separate drawer away from the others, and headed out of the office and out the door. 

[cedarboots]

I'd be interested in hearing about 'what is going on here?' if you'd like to discuss it!

Ah yeah! My original story WIP that I occasionally like to take out and play with!

I started this probably a couple years ago, after I read Hungry Heart: The Literary Emergence of Julia Ward Howe, which is a nonfiction book that gets into the strange complicated relationships between Julia Ward Howe, her husband Samuel Howe, and Senator Charles Sumner (as in, The Caning Of). Lots of interesting information about Howe's early literary work; lots of brain-scrambling details about whatever the hell kind of interpersonal tangle was going on between these three. (Sam Howe wrote to Sumner that "Julia says 'Sumner ought to have been a woman, and you to have married her'" - his wife said that to him! He wrote about it to the man his wife said it about!)

So: the story, which is just for fun and may never be finished, is set in 1840s New England and centers on three characters who are based on Sumner and the Howes. They'll reach polyamory eventually; they have to wade through a lot of significantly more unhealthy relationship dynamics first.

“Here.” Alice took hold of his hand and pulled it toward the boulder, placing it a little below where her own had been. “You can feel a line, there; I think it may be about to break.”

“It is a stone,” he said, amused.

“Even so; stones crack in the frost sometimes, you know.”

Her hand still lay atop his own; he was keenly aware of its warmth, in a way that discomfited him a little. 

“You’ve seemed somewhat better these past weeks,” she remarked. “I’m glad of it. I was quite busy hating you, before, and I did not like to be worrying after you at the same time.”

He was not certain what to make of these words. “I hope you do not hate me anymore.”

“No,” she said, “I don’t think I do.”

Thaddeus realized, then, what was rattling him. At home he lived in his cramped bachelor’s rooms, ate at his table with its one chair, and slept alone in his narrow bed; at work he wrote in silence at his desk, or spoke across it at arm’s length. He could not remember the last time that anyone had touched him for longer than the space of a handshake.

[leathergallery]

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[stellasfictionalworld]

Ch.2 Scaredy Cat

oc x dean winchester

cw: yellow fever ep, implied sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, dean :((

.

.

.

Fuck, torture, and eat.

Hailey wiped her blade clean with her feet propped up on her dashboard. A lonely, fruitless life but in return there was lots of thrill. Her phone rang and she put it on speaker.

“It’s Hailey,” she said.

“Hey Hailey,” her brows shot up, it was Sam, “Could you do me, us, a favor?” he spoke quietly.

“Whatcha want?” she asked and put her knife in her backpack.

Rockridge, Colorado 

… 

Hailey drove through a small town in Colorado looking for an address of a motel. Her eyes half-lidded as she drove in silence but then her heart spiked. Her foot slammed on the break as a man sprinted in front of her car, screaming. She squinted as he started to run in the middle of the street with the cutest little dog happily trailing him. 

“Dean?” she said. 

…

“Seriously Sam?” Dean shouted.

Hailey pressed her lips into a thin line and sat in a chair. The motel was quiet for a brief second and Sam shrugged. 

“I thought we could use a little bit of help,” Sam said.

“What? By having the witch babysitting me?” Dean scoffed. 

Sam just gave him a look, confirming the thought. Hailey pretended to observe her wine-red acrylics with interest. 

“You have anything to say?” Dean asked. 

“No, don’t mind the babysitting,” she said. “Anyway, don't ya want Sam to go out there with a clear head?” she looked up at him. He was silent, jaw still locked and green eyes pierced her skin. She gave him a pearly white smile and leaned back into her chair. 

“So we’re good here?” Sam asked.

“Peachy,” Dean crossed his arms over his chest. 

Hailey silently nodded and looked at Sam. He let out a sigh of relief and put his jacket on. 

“Don’t kill each other, please,” the younger brother gave Dean a look. Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. Sam gave a single nod to Hailey to which she returned with a salute. 

The motel room was silent as Dean sat on a bed. He sat straight up with sweat on his brow and eyes flicking to every inch of the room. While Hailey stayed seated at the small dining table facing the door. She’d cracked open a book from her bag and occasionally eyed Dean. Especially when he’d get up to put something away, he’d cover sharp objects, or throw something in the trash. They’d meet eyes, and he couldn’t even hide the fear bubbling up inside him. She gave him a reassuring smile, and she had no idea if it helped him. Maybe it made him want to kill her even more. 

“What are you reading?” he asked after shutting off the TV. He looked up from the couch and she showed him the cover. An Offer From A Gentleman by Julia Quinn. Dean smirked and she raised a brow at that. 

“What?” she asked.

“Didn’t take you for a romance reader,” he said. 

“Oh c’mon now,” she laughed, “I’m sucha hopeless romantic.”

“A Bridgerton hopeless romantic?” he asked. 

She placed her receipt on the page she had left off on and closed it. 

“Course,” she grinned. 

He let out an unexpected laugh and cleared his throat. Dean glanced behind her and then at the TV. He sat up from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed. He faced her with his hands interlaced and his knee bopping. 

“You’ve got this yellow fever real bad don’t you?” Hailey asked. 

He shrugged and dragged his hands over his face. She got up and sat beside him on the bed. Their shoulders touched and she sighed deeply. 

“S’ry this even happened to you,” she said, “doesn’t seem like you deserve it,” Hailey looked to him. His tired eyes glanced at her and he looked back at the room. 

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“But you said, you’d wanna kill me. So maybe you do,” she scrunched her nose imagining the way he’d prefer to kill her. She knew he would do it, he’d killed many monsters in his time. Hailey could smell the demon on herself every day but under it, her heart beat that of a human. Dean most likely saw it differently, all her flesh and bone that of a witch. A shell of her former life, just a host for a sickening magic. Maybe he just saw her as a monster. 

Dean was silent, and so was she. Sitting there side by side as his jumpiness worsened. He was flinching at every sound, and his face was sheet white. Hailey got up and sat back down with her book in hand. She opened where she had stopped and started to read out loud. Her southern accent with some lines sounded stupid, making Dean laugh. She’d jab him gently in the side for it and rolled her eyes. 

She’d gotten through a chapter and a half when Dean got up. He stood in front of Hailey, muttering to the air. Hailey’s brows furrowed and she realized he was hallucinating. 

“Lillith, leave her out of this,” he said louder. 

Hailey’s heart swelled, that scaredy cat Dean was protecting her from his delusion of Lillith.

“Dean, she ain’t real. It’s your mind,” Hailey could feel it. The ghost's curse was getting stronger, pulling Dean to the end of it. Sam hadn’t contacted her yet, and Dean didn’t seem to hear her. 

“Wait. I’mma damn witch,” she stood up and grabbed his hand. It was ice cold and he didn’t seem to notice her. She muttered under her breath and felt her blood boil. She tried to hook on to the curse, but she somehow kept missing. 

“Please, please,” Dean croaked and his fingers slipped out of her hand. He kneeled on the ground, holding his fist to his chest. 

“Dean,” Hailey felt useless as she dropped to the ground. She’d never dealt with ghosts and here she was paying for it. Tears pricked her eyes as she put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay,” she said softly. 

There was a brief moment of silence, and her heart was in her throat. Hailey shook him slightly as he started to gasp for air. He sat up with a hand over his chest, and his red eyes were no longer dull. 

“Dean,” Hailey said and he met eyes with her. “You’re okay,” she said more for herself than him. He nodded, took in a deep breath and out. Tears of relief pricked his eyes and she smiled warmly at him.

“You two are real good at takin’ care of each other,” she said just as her phone rang. She answered, telling an out-of-breath Sam that Dean made it. She skipped over the near-death experience for everyone’s sake. When she was done, she had Dean catch up with him on the phone. Hailey decided to sit by him on the floor, the toes of her shoes hitting each other. 

“Thanks,” Dean hung up the phone. He held her gaze as she took her phone back in her jacket. She huffed and still felt weird. Warm gooey feelings floated alongside her terror and shock. 

“Can I give you a hug?” she asked.

His brows shot up, “Sure,” he said. She wrapped her arms around him and he hesitantly hugged her back. They sat there for a beat before he pulled away. He blinked his eyes rapidly before getting up slowly.

“Better get ready to go, we’re gonna meet up with Bobby soon,” Dean helped Hailey up and she nodded. “If you’d like to join us–”

“Course,” Hailey didn’t let him finish and he smiled softly. He grabbed her book and handed it back. “I’ll just uh, tail you guys?” she asked.

“Yeah, sounds good.” 

…

Hailey drove in silence, tailing the Impala. Her fingers thrummed against the wheel, wondering about Lillith. How could she lure her out? Really? It had been a month of working out a plan between long phone calls with Sam. She’d kept up killing demons which Hawkins gave her, but she was drowning in jobs.

She parked beside the boys and sat in her car. She blew air out her lips, feeling them quake. Hailey bit down on them and blinked her eyes rapidly. She’d go to a job in Illinois after this, and it suffocated her. 

A knock on her window caused her to jump. Dean flashed her a smile and waved with a beer in hand. She got out of the car and took one of the beers.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You okay?” he asked. His eyes lingered on her face which no longer was caked in foundation. The sunken bags under her eyes, and acne was incredibly prominent. She knew exactly what she was doing to cause it too, but she couldn’t stop it. Her cycle of a poor diet (with a side of demons), poor sleeping cycle, and stress build-up were the main causes.  

“I will be,” she smiled back up at him. She popped off the beer top and took a sip from it. Dean squinted at her when she scrunched her nose before looking up at him. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

“I will be,” he said. 

She smiled and hit his shoulder gently. She nodded in the direction of Bobby and Sam. They had cracked open their beers, Sam sitting on the back of the Impala. Bobby leaned on his truck, giving a nod to the duo. 

“C’mon scaredy cat,” she walked past Dean. 

“The hell, you bitch,” he said. 

… 

Dean drove the Impala on the dark highway, long grassy hills flashed by. Sam was asleep in the passenger seat. Soft snores and night radio usually put Dean at ease. Yet he couldn’t shake off the cold feeling in his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and he was stuck looking for something, someone. The demon that had undone him, or the demon who was ready to kill him again.

He turned the windshields on as it began to rain. Then, Hailey. Dean bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't get a read on her, well he did, but. Dean was a simple man. The old ways have worked fine, so why not use them now? Why should he give Hailey mercy, just because she’s nice? His eyes flicked to his brother whose face was pressed up against glass. Sam had been different, always so the light at the end of the tunnel. It was something Dean was envious of, but also ridiculously angry about. His brother's idea brought them some good, but some bad. At least Dean’s were simple, quick, and didn’t need a second thought. 

However, Bobby Singer, a dictionary definition of sticking to the old hunting ways, trusted Hailey. Maybe just maybe, after today's events. Dean would give her a real chance, after all, a part of him felt he owed her that. She’d shown him simple acts of kindness in a vulnerable time. Her hand on his shoulder, reading out loud to keep him distracted, and that hug. That just about made his heart explode, if not for the fear override. He couldn’t remember the last time someone held him like that, if ever. 

There was not a hint of deceit or judgment in her brown eyes. She’d scrunch her nose in distaste, and her fingers drummed against her thigh often. There were a million more things he could name about her in those moments because she became the perfect distraction. He’d hold those things close to his chest, to remember that Hailey, not the Demon Butcher. He’d yet to see that side of her in action, and he prayed she wouldn't change. For both their sakes. 

He saw a gas station up ahead and turned his blinker on. Until those pieces of humanity were gone, Dean decided it was time to put a little trust in her. 

[creamycreamyun]

Weight of Tomorrow

CONTENT WARNING: The following Story involves very mature Themes: - Depression and mental health related issues - Su1c1d3 - Car Crashes - Medical issues - Strong Language - Sexual Scenes; Viewer discretion is advised; this story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual events or persons is purely coincidental.

I reach into my pocket, and what do I find? An old photo of me and Julia. Ever since the accident, I've had these overwhelming bursts of sadness. Sometimes it feels like life without her is completely devoid of purpose. She was my soulmate; I will never find anyone like her again. I've contemplated suicide occasionally, though these thoughts were merely ideas. I'd never have the balls to actually do it — besides, I am scared of death. Julia wouldn't want this for me. She was the most cheerful person I've ever met. Sure, there were times she was also sad and felt hopeless — especially after the diagnosis. But even during that time, she never failed to smile. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if it had been me who got caught by the truck instead of her. What if I hadn't drunk that night and had been the one driving? What if she had survived instead of me? Would she still be the same cheerful person I had come to love? Or would she be in the same position as me? Depression is a bitch. There’s a clear difference between people like Julia and these pseudo-life gurus who say, "Oh, but have you tried to smile more?" She wouldn't comfort me with words, but with her presence. Whenever the looming shadow of depression was crippling in this trashcan of my brain, she'd recognize my condition by the look on my face. She'd see me sitting in front of my computer, grab a blanket, put the second office chair beside me, and cover us both with the blanket, leaning her head against my shoulder while I continued working. I've never been much of a verbal guy. Growing up in a family that basically hammered into my head that showing signs of sadness as a man would only make me look weak, I had acquired the skill of hiding my emotions. But Julia was special in that regard; she'd look right through my facade. Back when we first met, I was pretty held back by her ability to read me like a book, because it almost felt invasive. As we grew closer, though, I slowly opened up to her. My childhood friend, who I had known since kindergarten, held the view that "If you open up to women, they will use your emotions against you." But I always disagreed with him. Sure, there are definitely people out there who will do that without skipping a heartbeat, but deep down, I knew Julia was different. I am tired. Tired of all these people telling me what to do or what to believe in. Tired of the constant cycle of nothing. I hate this world and everything in it. I hate the people, I hate the government, and most importantly, I hate myself. Whenever I think about her, the first thing that comes to mind is how she always told me to never give up, no matter the circumstances. I firmly believe that she'd do the same now, as I am writing this. The days have been dragging on. Whenever I get up in the morning, there's this sense of meaninglessness that I can't help but think about. What the fuck do I even get up for anymore? To go to work? To earn enough money so I don't fucking starve to death, just to go back to sleep and repeat the cycle all over again? This feeling is so overwhelming that sometimes I don't even find the motivation to get into my car and drive to work.Because of the bastard of my boss, who constantly criticizes me for things I have no control over. So what if the customer is angry because the proportions of the piece are not within 0.05 mm, even though they specifically ordered it knowing our factory is not capable of such precision? I took this week off from work. I called in sick, went to the doctor, and told him about my depression hitting hard again. He wrote me a notice because of borderline and gave me a referral for another therapist.

Even through my mental struggles, I like to think that I achieved a fair bit in my life. When I was young, after my training at a large automotive company that produces gearboxes for cars, I immediately applied for technician school while still working full-time. I wouldn't have made it without my friends, to be honest, but I still like to give credit to myself. However, this weight of working full-time while still applying for a technical certification left a mark behind. This was the point in my life where I met her. She was just sitting there, trying to figure out how the vending machine worked. I noticed her struggle and went to help her. She only wanted to get a milk coffee, but gluten-free. The machine gave contradictory instructions. Since I've always been pretty efficient at figuring out how shit works, without having much background knowledge of the system I'm working on, I quickly figured out how to make the machine give her what she wanted. I briefly mentioned the company I work for, and she told me that it's the same company her brother works at. We started talking a bit more before I had to leave, but we exchanged numbers. We kept in contact and noticed that we had quite a few interests in common. Due to my limited free time, we could only meet up once every few weeks, but every time we met, it was special, and we grew a little closer. One night, we even ended up at my place. It was a good night; even some you-know-what action was involved both at night and in the morning. But afterwards, when we got up, she was freaked out when she consciously realized what my apartment actually looked like. She was obsessed with cleaning, to a point where it almost felt like a disorder. I can't stress this enough — we started cleaning my apartment after sex. This would become a regular point of dispute between us, even until our relationship met its tragic and abrupt end. However, at some point, the time for my exams started, and I had to fully focus on my certification. We still talked a lot, but the dates became fewer in between. Yet, we still felt the same. One night, I texted and told her about my true feelings of wanting a serious relationship with her, and luckily, she felt the same. We decided to take things slowly, but given this newfound confidence and knowledge about her true feelings for me, I was determined to make time for her, even when technician school was tough. And there I was, successfully resolving my exam, and with my technician degree in my hands, I could finally focus more on our relationship. It was like a dream come true. And she definitely helped me to not drift into a full-fledged burnout. When I got this very well-paid job at the company I still work for now, we found an affordable apartment in Dortmund and moved in together.

And with this came the first serious struggles. She criticized me over my obsession with work, or my chaotic structures, I criticized her over her obsession with perfectionism. If I took my socks off on the couch and leave them there till morning, she'd dramatically lead me towards the living room and ask me if I notice anything off. I would say:"Sorry, but I can't see anything wrong." "So you're not noticing anything, that doesn't belong here?" At this point I'd already known what she was referring to, but slightly annoyed, I'd play dumb. In retrospective, this wasn't really constructive, but I still wonder why it was such a huge problem for her.It's just a few socks — just pick them up and put them in the dirty laundry. Why would this be such a huge issue? This never really made sense to me. What's the difference between whether I put the socks away or she does? Leaving my socks at the couch doesn't mean that I don't love her for fuck's sake! But eventually, we figured it out. After this happened a few times, we'd sit down, cuddling each other and talking about our problems. Eventually I came to the conclusion that if it would make her happy for me to put the socks away, I'd do it. But I'd also need some help with it, so instead of hysterically making this into a huge thing, she would kindly remind me to put the socks away before going to bed, and I'd quietly comply. This was also a thing I dearly embraced about our relationship. Even with these little things, we always sought out to help each other with the things that bothered us about the other. Another Example was my Misophonia. She really had a habit of slurping and eating noisily, to which I always would react very ill. When we first met, this wasn't much of a problem, because she'd pay attention to not do this in public, but in our own 4 walls, this wouldn't apply. I once asked her that for such a perfectionist person, she's really eating like a wild animal. This always appeared paradox to me. But later, she really worked on not slurping like a goblin, which I really appreciated.

Around a year after we moved together, it started subtle. At first, I'd see her fidgeting in her pelvic region, as if she was in pain. One morning, she brushed it off, saying it was due to stress, an iron deficiency, or to other things. However, situations like this became much more regular. At one point, after sex, I noticed that she bled more than I would consider normal. I didn't think much of it, because she insisted that it was nothing, but later I saw her laptop on the couch table, and she had googled the symptoms. I confronted her and finally told her to see a doctor. She was the kind of person who didn't take medical conditions seriously, which was why she hesitated at first, but I explained to her that I've been noticing that she had been acting different lately, and ultimately she agreed to go to the doctor. We went to the doctors office together and after a few months of back and forth, visiting one institution after another, the final MRI result revealed that she had cervical cancer. We were – understandably – devastated. This especially came as a shock to her, because it had confirmed her suspicions that she profusely tried to play down. Immediately after the diagnosis, she stopped smoking. I've always had something against this habit, but because of my dad, I knew how hard it is to quit. This situation changed the sense of urgency however, but quitting smoking came with its own problems. She started to gain weight, and grew an abscess on her stomach. Although I still found her very attractive – it was only 5 kg after all, not a noticeable difference – it was sad to see her struggle with these medical conditions. We both suffered through this, and it wasn't easy. But during all this struggle, we still found comfort in each other. We'd cook together, do laundry together, and occasionally even work together whenever we were both working from home. Yes, of course, we always had our struggles, but overall, our relationship was pretty balanced. There was no point where we "hated" each other. At least, not that I remember. What was always most astonishing about her character was — though I've said it before — that she never lost her smile. She always kept a cheerful attitude, even with all of this.

We went to the club one night, looking for an escape from this fucking mess. The pulsating music and vibrant lights offered a brief reprieve, drowning out the worries that had been gnawing at us. I had a few drinks, feeling the familiar warmth of alcohol ease my tension and coax a smile to my face. Julia, ever the responsible one, decided she'd drive us home, insisting that I enjoy myself without concern. As we left the club, the night air felt crisp and alive, a strong contrast to the heaviness we carried inside. We laughed, reminiscing about the good times, and for a moment, everything felt right. But that fleeting sense of freedom shattered in an instant when the accident happened. A sudden crash jolted us, a deafening sound that swallowed our laughter and left a haunting silence in its wake. In that moment, everything changed, and my life would never be the same again. I woke up in the hospital, where I was brought the bitter news, that my beloved girlfriend didn't make it. After this traumatic event, and slowly recovering from my Injuries, they assigned me a professional therapist, who told me to write this shit down.

So here I am. Writing this shit down. I don't know how it goes from here. Julia, I love you, I always will.

[iggydabirdkid]

Didn't think I'd keep writing, but I had ideas!! So there's more!

My AO3

Title: Found

Word Count: 2771

-----

“Julia-“

“I know what I smelt Anathema!”

You roll your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest, “You can’t seriously be basing this off a smell.”

“I am, and I can.”

“Chen, can you please tell the Marshall how stupid she sounds?” You look towards the hulking form of Steel, bent over and peering into the break room fridge.

“Do not involve me in this,” his voice sounds tinny. You groan.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy-“

“It does.” She glares at you before continuing.

“But we need to find her, and I really do think she lives somewhere in that district.”

“First off,” you start, “If she was well enough to make it from there, all the way here and out again I think she’s fine. And secondly, how exactly do you think you’ll be able to find her? Hmm?” you point out.

“Wei can help,” she states. The sound of the fridge shutting has you both looking towards the aforementioned figure.

“I said leave me out of this Julia,” he states firmly as he stands in the kitchen holding one of his disgusting protein shakes, “I couldn’t help last time you asked, so what makes you think I can help now?”

“Because we know the area this time. It’s a much smaller search field. And I know how much you hate not knowing about Sidestep.”

“She’s-“

“An anomaly, I know,” you watch Julia roll her eyes, “You’ve told us enough times.”

“I don’t like how she sticks around you. It’s suspicious.” You laugh.

“Suspicious?” you fix Chen with a tilted grin.

“Is it not?” he replies, “What reason would a Vigilante have to stick around the Marshall of the Rangers, if not for some sinister purpose?”

You feel a sly smile grow on your face as you turn to look at her Julia, who is pointedly not meeting your eyes, “Oh, I can think of a few reasons.” You see Julia shake her head, a hint of a grin twisting her lips as she half turns away.

“Seriously though Wei. I really could use your help,” she says, ignoring your jibe completely.

You look from Chen to Julia and back again before deciding to aim your displeasure at the Marshall.

“Julia! You really can’t be thinking of doing this?”

“Why?” she asks as she stares at you, “What’s so bad about using what I have to help a friend?”

“She doesn’t need your help,” you sigh and you try to get the point through her thick skull, “And you wouldn’t be much of a friend if you start stalking her to root her out of her hiding places, would you?” At least she has the decency to look embarrassed as she turns her eyes to the ceiling. A strange silence hangs in the air, only punctured by the occasional slurping from Chen.

“I’m just worried  that she won’t be back,” she admits and you watch her fiddle with her fraying braid. It’s been up longer than usual. Normally Annie would be over at some point to do it but right now, who knows when she might be back. Well. You know. You heave a theatrically loud sigh and you watch as Julia gives you a strange smile as her brows furrow, “What was that for?” she chuckles.

“She’ll be back Julia. I’m sure of it,” you tell her.

“And what makes you so sure?” she counters and you grin.

“Because she loves you, you big dumb idiot.” That shuts her up and she just stares at you with wide eyes and a mouth that moves but makes no sound. You take that as your cue, and you push your chair back as you get to your feet. You chuckle as clap a hand on Julia’s back, startling her out of what trance she was in.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Don’t go looking for her. Just… try not to go overboard okay?” you say, “She’s strong, she can handle anything.” You squeeze her shoulder before withdrawing your hand, “Anyways! Unless I’m needed?” Julia waves a hand, not bothering to turn around to face you.

“There’s nothing up and coming to be aware of,” she says when she finally finds her words, “Just make sure you’re on call.”

“Always am.” You give her a mock salute before nodding at Chen and heading for the elevator.

As soon as you turn the corner and know that you are gone from their sights, you pick up the pace. As you enter the lift and press the number for the ground floor you know you’re being watched by the cameras hidden from sight, so you do your best to restrain from frantically pushing the close door button as the doors close so slowly on their own. You can’t stop the nervous tap of your foot however and you stomach flips as the lift descends through the many levels of the tower. It seems to take an eternity but finally the silver doors part as you step out into the lobby. You speedily walk past the receptionist, giving her a quick wave before you burst out onto the bustling streets of Los Diablos. As soon as you are clear of the building you bring out your mobile and punch in a number you know from heart.

It keeps on ringing as you stride off down the pavement but you didn’t expect anything else. You wait for the call to ring out completely before eventually declining and then you call again. It’s picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” you speak breathlessly as you dodge and weave around the crowds, “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” the voice replies. You can hear how tired she sounds.

“I can imagine,” you chuckle, “Look. I just wanted to call and let you know that Julia ‘got a whiff’ of a potential trail. For where you are.”

“Shit. H-how?”

“She literally got a whiff of you when you left last night. And managed to put the pieces together.”

“Jokes Themmy?” You can picture her shaking her head, “Right now?”

“I mean, yeah?” you shrug as you slow to a stop at the mouth of an alley, “You live in what is essentially the toilet of Los Diablos. You’re gonna smell,” you laugh.

“I don’t really have the choice of going anywhere else.” She grumbles and now you feel bad.

“Maybe we could get you an apartment then. A nice one,” you suggest, only for your immediate answer to be a strained laugh.

“And have you both know where I live?” comes the actual reply soon after.

“I already know where you live, dumbass,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh ha ha.” The sarcasm is laid on thick and you grin. There’s a brief pause before you hear her voice again, “Do you think she’ll come snooping?”

“I did my best to deter that, but you know Julia,” you huff as you shake your head, “She’s nothing if not determined.” A long sigh and a groan and you hear a shuffling on the other end accompanied by a hiss of pain, “Are you okay?” you ask.

“You coming over?” is the reply you get, dodging your question. Not unusual for her.

“I can do,” you reply, “Do you need anything?”

“A new body?”

“Fresh outta those. Try again.” A short bark of a laugh on the other end.

“Medical supplies, a change of clothes and something to eat would be nice.” You feel a sudden prickling sensation and you look into the thrum of people when you feel eyes boring into your skull. You scan the crowd, but see nothing, “Themmy?”

‘Yeah. Sorry,” you shake your head as you start walking again, “ I can bring you that. Did you want anything from the diner?”

“Normally yeah. But right now I just would rather have you get here as soon as you can.” You frown.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, “I mean, besides the current injuries.”

“You said Julia knows.” She sounds worried, “I don’t trust her to not come looking.”

“Then I’ll be as quick as I can,” you assure her, “I’ll call you back when I’m a little ways out.”

“Thanks Themmy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Starve probably,” you grin and hang up.

As you pocket the phone the humor falls from your face to be replaced with a frown. You don’t like keeping secrets. But keeping secrets from Julia? When the focus of the secret is someone she cares for? It sits wrong in your gut like spoilt milk threatening to come back up. But Annie trusts you with this, with knowing where she lives because she knows you’re not one to ask questions. Not like Julia, who wants to know everything and who thinks she deserves answers to things beyond her control. Like this.

A shiver runs through you and you chuck a look over your shoulder. You feel like you’re being watched. And you don’t think its just paranoia. But you can’t see anyone. That’s normally Annie’s job. All you can do is hurry up, and hope that if you are being followed, they reveal themselves before you reveal her location.

+++++

The smell of garbage doesn’t bother you.

You grip your phone tight in one hand and readjust the weight of the bag in your other. Having just ended the call to let Annie know you were coming you still feel eyes upon you and now you’re just annoyed. Because the street you’re on is empty and even when you stop and look all around, you can’t see a single living apart from you and the rats. You hadn’t told her. You didn’t want her feeling more on edge than she already must be.

You calm your heart and your thoughts and turn back around, continuing your trek towards the condemned warehouse. It looks not out of place amongst the other ruined husks of used-to-be homes and business and with the streets littered by abandoned cars, this place is charming.

You slip inside the empty warehouse and the mounting feeling of being watched vanishes. You let out a breath. Maybe it was just your paranoia. You make your way up the crumbling stairs, careful to avoid the rust spots and yawning gaps that lead straight to the ground below and once you’re up on the landing you clear your throat and wait.

There’s a shuffling sound further down the way and you start towards it.

“I come bearing gifts,” you say as you enter the small room, depositing that bag you were holding beside the figure sitting against the far wall.

“Thanks Themmy,” a hoarse voice replies. You watch her pull out the contents of the bag with gloved hands covered in old blood and you purse your lips.

“You haven’t changed?” you ask as you lean against the wall next to her with your arms crossed. She shrugs and doesn’t look up at you, doesn’t reply either. You sigh, “Annie.”

“What,” she snaps and you blink, “I haven’t changed because I didn’t have any spare clean clothes okay?” You watch her body tense up and a feeling of sadness tugs at your heart, “Don’t pity me,” she grumbles and you put your arms up, palms facing outwards as you take a step back.

“You really should shower before you put clean clothes on though,” you tell her and she freezes, hands stopping their movement as she stays crouched over the bag with its contents now spilled across the floor, “Annie?” You speak her name after she’s been quite for too long.

“It’s fine,” she says after a while, “I can just put the clothes on. I don’t need to-“

“Annie you stink. You have blood on you, that wound will need to be cleaned, and when’s the last time you showered anyways?” you ask her and again she shrugs. You grit your teeth. Why do you forget how stubborn she can be? You see a flicker of a smirk on her face before she grabs for and tears open a packet of crisps before sitting back against the wall. You stand in front of her as she closes her eyes and you shake your head as the sound of crunching fills the room, “You’re insufferable,” you tell her and she pokes her tongue out at you without looking, crumbs of soggy chip falling onto her clothes.

“You love me anyways,” her voice is muffled through the mouthful of food and you chuckle.

You stay there in a companionable silence until long after the chips are gone and the rubbish discarded to the side. You watch her while she has her eyes closed and her head tilted back and you have to give it to Julia with the accuracy when she had described how Annie looked.

“I look like shit, I know,” she speaks up and you startle.

“How do you feel?” you ask and she opens one green eye to peer at you.

“Like I look,” she says before she gets to her feet. You forget sometimes how tall she is (a good head and a half above you) until she unfurls like a many legged insect that now towers above. There’s a momentary expression of pain in the way you see her features tighten until the only evidence of her injuries is the blood peaking out from underneath the too big clothing she wears over her uniform, and the way she favors her right side. For a while you just stare at each other and you let your eyes roam over her tall and lanky figure.

Her skin is sickly pale and her orange waves are flat and lifeless, plastered to her head by a mask that you can see poking out of a pocket on the jacket that’s covering up her stab wound. She doesn’t take care of herself anywhere near as much as she should. You see her expression harden and you look away.

“Why don’t you?” you ask. You don’t have to complete the sentence.

“I can’t-“ she stops and you chance turning back to look at her to see her face holding an uncharacteristically hesitant expression. You raise an eyebrow when she exhales, “I wish I could- I can’t- It won’t-“ You’re getting worried now and she groans, leaning back against the wall, “It’s hard,” she finally speaks without stuttering, “I can’t tell you Themmy. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“For me?” you ask, taking a step towards her.

“For both of us,” she chuckles, but its not a happy sound like it usually is coming from her.

And you get it but at the same time you don’t. Because you’ve told her about yourself, about the cult, about what you’ve been through. And yet she won’t trust you with-

“Because its worse,” she interrupts your thoughts and she’s looking at you with an expression you’ve only seen her wear a few times before. Genuine fear, “It’s so much worse.” Her voice is wavering and she looks on the edge of tears and you know somethings wrong because she’s never normally this quick to cry. She never cries full stop.

You want to go to her but you genuinely don’t know if that’s the right thing to do so you’re left standing there watching as silent tears drip down her cheeks. Your fingers twitch and you so desperately want to take her hand. To offer comfort. After a short while she seems to calm though her eyes are still slightly red and puffy.

“Did you…” you start, “Did you want me to leave?” you ask as you motion with your head towards the door. You’re not sure what else you can do here and you feel as if you’ve overstayed your welcome. She nods and your heart sinks, “Okay.” Your voice is soft, “Okay.” You take a step back, “Just let me know if you need anything okay? And be safe Annie.”

“No promises.” She doesn’t smile.

You turn your back and start to leave as the shuffling restart behind you. But as you reach the doorway you freeze, the feeling of being watched becomes far too powerful to ignore. Your heart pounds in your chest and an icy chill runs through your veins and all the noise behind you ceases immediately. Neither of you speak as your eyes scan the should-be empty warehouse below.

Except it’s not.

A figure now stands at the start of the stairs, poised, ready to climb them, having stopped as soon as your green eyes met brown.

A tangled mess of a braid trailing down a broad-shouldered form.

Busted.

Finally finished! Tried something a bit different for this drawing since I found a much easier and quicker way to do this type than the last time I did it a few years ago.

So here you have it!

Title: Dog

Word Count: 2839

-----

“Hey Sidestep! Why don’t you go introduce yourself?”

You turn to look at Julia as she breaks away from a pack of hungry journalists to speak to you. Your raised brow is hidden beneath your mask and so you tug the fabric up from beneath your collar and roll up the bottom till the front of it sits on the bridge of your nose. This way when you stare unblinking at the Marshall you know there’s no way she can miss the displeasure in the downturn of your lips.

“You think just because we’re both vigilantes that we should be ‘buddies’?” You mark the air quotes with the subtle bending on your fingers before placing your hands on your hips.

Julia rolls her eyes almost out of her skull, “No, idiot. I just thought it could be nice for you to get to know more people. Especially another kickass vigilante.” She smirks at you then shrugs, “Besides. You never know. You may need help from her one day.”

You bark out a harsh laugh and see the eyes of a few journalists still lingering turn in your direction. You make sure your back is to them, “Bold of you to assume I’d actually ask anyone for help.” You catch the way Julia’s eyes bore into you and watch her features tighten into a familiar picture of concern. And you certainly catch the way her eyes shine with the all more terrifying curiosity. Shit. You look past Julia to where Owl stands a decent distance away, “I guess I see your point,” you concede. Your voice sounds steady.

“Fantastic.” She claps you on the back you can feel the warmth of her touch through your skinsuit. Her hand lingers longer than necessary before it slides up to squeeze your shoulder, “I don’t think I’ll be too much longer,” she smiles at you again and you feel yourself smile back in response, “A few more questions then we should be good to go.”

“You and Themmy better be buying me lunch after this.”

“Anything you want.” The soft smile she directs your way makes you shiver before she drops her hand, “Now go make friends.” She grins and waggles her eyebrows and a snort of a laugh leaves you as you turn around and head towards the aforementioned vigilante. She’s standing by herself with her back to as she looks out into the street. You don’t quite know why she’s doing as such though you suspect she’s purely keeping watch, and the still waters of her mind confirm it to be so. It’s instinct to her and you gleam no danger from her thoughts as you approach. Just a quiet calm. You watch the feathers of her suit move gently with the wind as you approach and she’s still facing away as you open your mouth to say her name and you step closer-

You don’t expect it.

You’re all supposed to be the good guys here and so the blow takes you by surprise. Wide eyes and a tight fist aimed at the center of your face as the shorter woman spins around. And although you’ve seen her fight, up close she is far quicker than you realize.

There’s a sharp crunch and your head snaps back from the force with which Owl strikes you. The pain that radiates through your face tells you that you think your nose broken before the blood that starts pouring from it like a tap turned all the way confirms it. You are temporarily blinded by a shimmering hazy field of red and white and you stumble backwards, trip over a loose slab of something and land hard on your backside, gloved hands slapping against the concrete to arrest your fall.

The blood runs warm and plenty from beneath your half mask and you bring a hand to your nose, watching the red drip through your fingers as you hear shouting somewhere behind you. The ground beneath you shakes when you stagger to your feet.

“Sidestep!!”

There’s a hand on each one of your shoulders and you jerk away on instinct, half-turning as Julia and Themmy move to stand either side of you.

“She-she broke my nose…” your voice is quiet and muffled, uttered through your lips with the stutter of disbelief as you look between the two Rangers. The faces that stare back are pinched with worry.

“Shit! Owl! What the hell??” Julia steps forward and places herself between you and your attacker. You think she’s trying to act as a shield which would make you laugh if you weren’t so pissed. Themmy remains at your side and you feel her fingers dancing lightly over the back of your free hand, asking a silent question. You pull away, curling your hand into a fist as you glare at Owl over the top of Julia’s head.

“She snuck up on me! What was I-“ you don’t hear the rest of Owl’s protest as a low buzzing invades you senses and you drop your blood-covered hand to your side. You feel a gentle tugging of your opposite sleeve but you quickly grow numb to the sensation as your anger flares.

“She broke my fucking nose!!!” Your voice is loud and definitely not shrill as you cut through whatever argument was going on between the two women before you. You’re glad your mask hides the majority of your face and hides the tears you can feel burning your eyes with frustration. Stupid. Stupid!! You had only been following Julia’s suggestion but you should’ve  trusted your instincts and played to your strengths. You’re not good around people. You’re not- You don’t realize you’ve stepped forwards until a hand clamps itself around your wrist.

“Annie…” The voice is quiet and low, words only meant for you as Julia holds you back, “It’s not worth it.”

“Let go of me!” you spit out as you yank yourself free. You keep your eyes trained on Owl and the smugness just radiates off her body and mind and you don’t think she’s expecting any retaliation. You know she isn’t. You can see it in her mind. She’s only a handful of years older than you (discounting the strangeness of your ‘birth’) but she thinks she’s better and oh boy, are you going to show her. You tweak her perception just enough that she doesn’t see you coming. Your fist flies in an arc towards her face and the crack that sounds when you smash it into her jaw would be sickening if it weren’t so satisfying to your ears.

You are pulled back by your shoulders and hands shoot down your arms before your wrists are seized and your arms restrained behind you. You hear Julia curse at your back as she yanks you away.

“Fuck!” You watch Owl spit blood at her feet – and is that a tooth? You grin showing teeth and as you stare her down her hand goes to her sword.

“Hold up! Before this gets even more out of hand,” Julia shouts and you haven’t blinked since you set your gaze on Owl. You hope she notices if only to unnerve her. She stares back and you see her grip tighten on her sword’s hilt, “I think you both just got off on the wrong foot.”

“Wrong foot!!?” you yell as you finally break eye contact to crane your neck around trying to catch a glimpse of the bronze-skinned woman holding you tight, “Fuck Charge! I tried to introduce myself and she punched me in the face!!” Your nose throbs and your voice sounds off and you spit out the blood that has collected heavy in your mouth. Your anger has a tight grip on your heart and why won’t she stand up for you?? Julia pulls you close to her chest as you strain against her grip.

“You did start it Owl,” Julia says in way of a not quite reply, “And Sidestep just did what she does.” Still, she won’t let you go. She knows you well, “So we’ll take our leave before this gets any more out of hand.” You sneer at Owl before Themmy appears at your side and you feel Julia’s hold on you began to loosen. Owl just stands there and glares at you with hatred in her eyes and venom in her mind and you watch as her lips quirk into a smile full of malice.

“Just keep your fucking dog on a lease Marshall.”

Dog.

Dog. Dog. Dogdogdogdogdog

You hear a sharp intake of breath at your side and the word bounces around the inside of your skull. You feel yourself grow tense, body locking up as your eyes widen and a single tear escapes as you are quickly and swiftly snared in the sharp-barbed embrace of a memory.

A loud voice shouts in your ear. You do your best not to flinch but the words burrow under your skin like needles. Dogs are only good for following orders, and you can’t even do that right.

Hands tightening on your wrists.

Holding you back.

You can’t lash out but-

But you can.

Julia’s weakened hold isn’t enough to stop you and your close proximity is her downfall, pressed to her chest as you are. You throw your head back and feel it collide with something solid. Swears in Spanish and hands pulling away and you are free.

This time she is expecting you and you know your rage blinds you to the consequences this path will cause. A small voice in the back of your head telling you what you are about to do is wrong but it is drowned out by your anger and the half mad roar that flies from your mouth. You see Owl draw her blade and angle it forwards and you don’t care.

You lunge at her.

Two voices howl out behind you.

The blade pierces your suit, punctures through skin and breaks through the other side of your lower abdomen. The white-hot spark of pain is temporary and quickly fades into a numb nothingness as you grip Owl tightly by the shoulders and shove. The combined weight plus your momentum has you both falling and Owl lets go of the sword as her arms fly out and as you slam her to the ground your world becomes singular. Your head is all noise and emotion and the only thing that keeps Owl from cracking her skull into the sidewalk are her arms, poised behind her back and leaving her sword still skewered through your gut.

You’re nothing but rage and fists as you sit atop her and you see her eyes widen as she looks to the sword that shifts with every move you make and the fact that you are still, up.

You only get one. One good and solid punch that you know breaks her jaw before a pair of hands hook under your armpits and drag you off but not before you lash out, lifting a leg and slamming your heel into Owl’s gut. You watch her double forwards with her hands cupping her face and a spurt of blood leaves her mouth, spraying far enough that the tiny droplets of red spatter across your boots. But then you are clear from her body and Themmy steps in front of you and you no longer see the face of your attacker.

You’re breathing so hard that your chest aches with the exertion and the steady stream of blood runs from your nose and into your mouth, coating your tongue with the taste of iron, before collecting at and dripping off your chin. You can see Themmy’s lips moving as her wide eyes scan your face but all you can hear through the cacophony of sound that is your current state of mind is your own heart beating an all too fast rhythm in your chest. Your already staggered breaths stopper in your throat and when the hands keeping a hold release you you slump to the ground, one arm supporting your weight while the other goes to the blade that disappears into your body.

Your arms shake and your vision blurs as your eyes focus on the steadily spreading patch of red before a pair of hands cup your face and lift your head. Your entire field of view is filled by a pale and freckled face and you try to move away but Themmy holds you tightly, her lips constantly moving. And then whatever dam that had you deaf to the world bursts and you flinch with the sudden intrusion of sounds and voices upon your ears, the short sharp movement sending a flash of pain through you. Your eyes dart from side to side before you hear your name spoken with enough authority that it manages to capture your skewed attention.

“Sidestep!?” Your eyes snap to Themmy’s face, “Just breath with me. Okay?” You’re panicking, you realize, short little breaths leaving your mouth and leaving you light-headed. You blink back tears and swallow down a sob, immediately wishing you had not as warm blood slides down your throat. You retch and splutter, Themmy letting go and leaning back as you hack up blood onto your already stained outfit.

“’m not a fuckin dog,” you rasp as another form kneels to your left. Themmy stands before stepping away completely and you turn your head to regard Julia. Her lips tremble and she moves in a panic as you watch her shaking hands struggle to unzip the first aid kit by her side. It’s then that the reality of what’s about to happen strikes you almost as hard as the punch that shattered your nose. You have a fucking sword in you. And you know that if you let Julia, if you let anyone help, she’ll-they’ll see things and you can’t let that happen. You won’t.

For a moment you find yourself paralyzed by fear and indecision until Julia’s hands reach for you and you push yourself away, shifting the sword and sending a new wave of pain that webs out through your mid-section.

“Annie…” Julia’s voice is low once more and still you wish she wouldn’t use your name so freely in public. You have a sword though you and that’s what you’re worried about? A strange smile briefly resides upon your face. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing. Julia stands, not too quick, afraid of spooking you and you mirror the rise to your own unsteady legs. You stare at her with panic widening your eyes and the feeling of dread only worsens when your gaze slips past to the reporters snapping pictures with too bright flashes. You flinch and swallow your fear – more blood sliding down your throat- as you grip the hilt of the sword, “Annie no!”

Not having hit anything vital (you’re fairly certain), the thin blade slides free with ease. A choked gasp escapes your mouth before you throw the sword to the ground. Julia leaps towards you leaving the kit behind her and you look down at yourself. Blood pours freely from the open wound and your suit readily soaks up the red as the stain grows larger with each passing second. And through the blood, you think you spy a hint of orange.

Julia’s stepping closer and Themmy is approaching your side and you see an opening. You crouch low and for a moment your vision floods white as pain shoots through you before it clears just as quickly and you scrabble against the pavement as you duck around Julia’s grasp – and stumble straight into Themmy.

She has a tight hold of your arm and you spin to face her almost slipping and falling as blood makes the ground at your feet slick. Panic has your head pounding and your heart hammering and you stare at her wide eyed and afraid and maybe that’s what does it. Seeing your absolute fear at something she has no idea about – and so she simply lets you go.

You have no time to stop. No time to thank her as Julia reaches for you and misses as you turn and dive for the first aid kit, careful to not slide in a way that’ll embed dirt in your wound. You don’t need an infection of top of everything else. You scoop up the kit in bloodied hands, push yourself to your feet, and then you’re off like a shot.

Even as Julia and Themmy shout behind you, even as you push through the reporters with one hand pressed at your front and sprint down the street.

You’re fast but you know that right now Julia is faster and you dare to glance over your shoulder at your pursuers. Or your would-be pursuers. You watch as the sea of reporters close in, swallowing up the chasm you had created with your frantic passing and sealing both Rangers on the other side.

A tilted laugh leaves your lips.

Good. Good. Just keep running. Just keep running.

[infernalodie]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 || 𝐇𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐢

“𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯' 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯' 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦“

Inspo: Julia Michaels - Heaven

Pairing: Black!Male!reader x Hyoma Chigiri

Summary: You were the heaven that Chigiri couldn’t get enough of.

Warnings: Character’s aged up, soft smut, and blowjob

Words: 1131

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

When Chigiri entered the apartment, he was surprised when he found the apartment pitch dark. Nearly stumbling over his feet from the little mat that lay in front of the entrance. The only sight of natural lighting came from the street lights outside with their white glow purging the darkness. But in this case, it only created shadows that Hyoma couldn’t differentiate from reality or his imagination.

“Y/n?” He called out, walking towards the kitchen table where he dropped his gym bag. Pulling his arms out the sleeves of his sweater and placing that on the back of a chair. Walking around the table with his eyes focused on the shadows and a rather dark interior ahead of him. “If this is some sort of prank Y/n, it’s not funny. I want cuddles!” He whined.

And almost like a dog, ear perking up at the sound of Chigiri’s whining, you came running out of the darkness. A pair of boxers only worn on your body as you approached your tired and sore boyfriend. “I was originally going to scare you, but I’ll let it slide for cuddles.” Your arms curled around him, encapsulating the red-haired boy, who melted into your chest and sighed. His hands resting against your stomach with his face stuffed in the center of your chest.

Pressing a gentle to your ebony flesh, he craned his head up. Resting his chin and blinking tiredly up at you. Only feeling his exhaustion begin to catch up to him when your hands ran through his locks. Nails gently scratched his scalp just the way he enjoyed it. “Why did you wait up for me?” He inquired softly.

A deep sigh fell from your lips as you looked out the window to see absolutely no one outside. To be fair, it was nearly midnight, but it was quieter than it usually was. You were used to the occasional teenagers ripping up and down the street in their suped-up cars or just being loud in general. But this silence was nice and made an idea appear in your mind.

“To help relax you.” Chigiri didn’t need much of a hint to understand the meaning behind your words. But it also left him breathless as you slowly walked him back until he was pressed firmly against the glass window.

“Y-Y/n…” Chigiri tried to find the right words that got caught up in his throat. Unable to remove his eyes from how your hands ran down his body slowly. Lifting the hem of his shirt and letting your warm hands grace his flesh; goosebumps erupted across his body.

Lowering yourself to your knees and keeping his gaze, you took the hem of his shorts and boxers between your teeth. Grinning like a fool when seeing Chigiri’s chest rise and fall in anticipation. “Just relax, honey. I want you to feel good.”

Chigiri wasn’t ever going to get used to how you treated him. Never did you ask for anything in return except a kiss. One that Chigiri was always itching to gift you. But he was always going to feel a bit selfish whenever you acted like this. It was hard not to be when you looked at him like you were. An animal stalking its prey.

You freed the man from his boxers and grinned feeling his cock hit your cheek. The leaking of his pre-cum smearing against your cheek as you looked up at the soccer player. Finding it absolutely adorable seeing him all embarrassed by such actions. Softly grasping his warm cock, you snickered when hearing him gasp from the contrast of the cold rings around your fingers and the warmth of your palm.

“Look at this needy little thing.” You stroked his cock slowly, hearing the whimpers of your name fall from his lips. “Have you been thinking about me since practice ended? Do you need me, Chigiri?”

Chigiri swallowed the lump in his throat, whimpering with both of his hands covering his face. That was the only response needed for your teasing questions. You liked messing with him before putting him through a worldwind of emotions.

But relenting, you wrapped your lips around the red tip of his cock. Chigiri couldn’t help the sudden jerk of his hips from the warmth of your mouth. Instead of getting mad, you moaned and held his hips firmly against the window. Earning a pout from the man for it to be quickly replaced with a moan.

Your tongue flicked over his slit before taking more of him inside your mouth. One of your hands reached beneath and fondled his balls, creating a loud whine to fall from Chigiri’s lips. He couldn’t help but stare down at the slow and tedious bobs of your head. Taking more of him each time until you were down to his pelvis. Nose pressed to his pubes as your tongue peaked out to just barely lick his balls.

“O-Oh, yes! Y/n!” Chigiri moaned, head slamming back into the glass. The pain was muted by you placing both of your hands behind your back and clasping them. Chigiri didn’t hold back his desires as he held the back of your head and began to fuck your mouth. But you stared up at him with a warm blush on your cheeks, allowing him to use you as he saw fit.

Any previous embarrassment had been washed away from Chigiri’s system. Seeing this side of him, the most lustful part of him only turned you on. Feeling your own cock twitching inside your pants with a wet patch beginning to grow in arousal.

Chigiri’s nails dug into your scalp with his breaths began to stutter. His hips losing their rhythm as he choked on his words as you laughed around his cock. Placing your hands on his hips, you bobbed your head rapidly. Feeling the man’s nails dig deeper as you wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked, hard.

It was enough to propel Chigiri into his orgasm as his head rolled back with a cry. Body trembling as hips jutted in an attempt to prolong the orgasm; you performed that yourself. Taking his load and swallowing before parting from his wet and twitching cock.

A string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock broke, hitting your chin. Causing you to swipe it with your thumb and stand to your feet. Towering over the tired boy as you parted his lips and placed your thumb in his mouth. He complied instantly, sucking the digit.

But Chigiri couldn’t help but smile seeing the desire swimming in your eyes. Although he knew he would have to return the favour, he needed to be selfish. A guy like you changed someone like him into being this way.