#as someone who can fix paperwork problems

[tj-crochets]

this poll brought to you by a text I got from one of the other [my job title]'s contractors while I'm covering for him being gone. The contractor texted me "The answer is as always [his name] [his company ID number]" To which I could only say "what was the question?"

[targaryenluvs]

BOOTS / TIM BRADFORD & LUCY CHEN

PAIRINGS: Dark!Tim Bradford & Dark!Lucy Chen x Fem!Rookie!Reader

SUMMARY: You never noticed just how dedicated your two best friends were to keeping you safe, and theirs.

WARNINGS: Overprotectiveness, fighting/violence jealousy, flirting, forced relationship, suggestive behaviour (makeouts, sub r, dom!Tim & soft dom!Lucy, fingering, handcuffs, p in v, threeway)

WORD COUNT: 5.2K Words

A/N: Dark!Chenford is a must have 🤭I had to turn to my roots for some smut cause who wouldn’t want to be in between these two?? I may have gotten carried away at 5k words 😭 (for the sake of this pretend pto’s can have two rookies) NOT PROOFREAD special order for my girl @lady-ashfade

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

They always had your back, which you found comfort in.

Whether it be standing up for you, or tearing in a new one to the woman who got your order wrong after you’d already given a smile and taken what was served. (It may or may not have been Tim yelling whilst Lucy fiddled with her nails.)

You were so close to them, since your day one on the job Lucy had been nothing but a sweetheart. Fixing your hair for you, ordering your food for you or just giving you a smile when your day was particularly gruelling. She, along with Nolan and West were your best friends. But Lucy went above and beyond when it came to you, even if you didn’t notice at times.

And Tim, was a special case. Of course at first all Rookies got the roughest side of him. But overtime Tim noticed the little things about you. And at first he figured it was you trying your hardest to kiss up to your T.O and everyone else. But he soon came to realise that you were naturally this nice. Always helping anyone where you could when they asked, even with out ask at times.

But that was the problem.

Tim found you to be in need of him, someone to properly guide you rather than your idiot of a T.O who couldn’t care less about you. You were nice, too nice for your own good. He could help in that department.

You entered the break room in the mood for about a million cups of coffee. As you reached for a cup another Rookie cut in front of you before grabbing the pot. You took a step back allowing him to fill his cup up, he was probably tired and lacking manners, so you let him continue. But if there was one person who wouldn’t?

“Hey, you cut in front of her. Pass your cup over to her and move to the back of the line.” Tim startled the Rookie in question so much that he spilled it all over himself. He’d been here for about two days in a trial week. Lucy had a feeling he wouldn’t be here much longer.

You, being you, jumped straight in to help the ass, “Here’s a napkin, you should go change. Maybe take a shower and see a doctor if there are any burns okay?” He nodded before rushing out the door, but not before shoving a cup into your hands.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened, you put the cup down, ready to reprimand the two but when you turned around you realised you couldn’t exactly reprimand two officers above you.

“Thanks for standing up for me but—,”

“No problem sweetheart, how’s your paperwork going?” Tim asked as he poured a cup for himself and his girlfriend. You always noticed him doing stuff like that for her so she didn’t have to, as if it was second nature for him. But he also did the same for you, not that you noticed. “Uhm… it’s going well.” You tried to continue on but the two of them interrupted you every time.

You sighed in defeat as you stirred in sugar, Tim and Lucy sat on either side of you, personal space be damned. You hadn’t realised how often Tim and Lucy used nicknames with you, or sat close to you, or defended you.

Was this normal?

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” Lucy smiled at you as your cheeks flushed, “I— uhm,” You heard Tim’s laughter from your right, “You’ve got her blushing Chen.” Your head snapped his way before shaking your head, “No! It’s just, warm.” You fiddled with the cuff of your long sleeve as Tim and Lucy admired.

You were so adorable, always with a smile on your face. You could never handle it when they flirted with you, and they took every chance they could get to see you go red. They loved to do it, and they did it so often that you’d basically become accustomed to it. That didn’t mean it was easier to handle with two gorgeous people, especially when they’re older and in charge.

Tim loved talking to you. Just hearing your voice was enough to bring a rare smile to his face. When you were truly impassioned in a topic he could tell, so could she. You’d sit up straighter in your seat, your hand movements increased and so did your eye contact.

But with him and Lucy? You never could keep eye contact. Again, adorable aren’t you?

But what Lucy hated was when you were interrupted. It’d been a few minutes of you talking at them about a call of yours from the day before, in which your T.O had made you answer a call on your own whilst on the phone with his wife. You never noticed, but Lucy’s firsts curled up, and Tim’s hand rested on his gun.

The anger that surged through their bodies at your T.O’s irresponsible behaviour was unmatched. How dare he send someone so fragile on their own? Did he understand how special you were?

Tim’s hand moved from his gun to his radio as you continued. You’d ended up in an altercation with two armed suspects, but you’d managed to subdue them both by bursting a nearby pipe which then sprayed the pair. By the time you had both cuffed to a dumpster your T.O, Jim, waltzed in and smiled.

“And then he just, smiled. He told me he was surprised I could get the job done and that maybe I did deserve my short sleeves. It seemed so targeted and sexist. As if he couldn’t believe that a woman could handle herself. But he apologised later.” Tims brow rose as Lucy titled her head, “He apologised to you?”

Your head turned to Lucy as you crinkled your nose, “Well, not outright. But he did pay for our lunch and ordered me extra. He let me drive too. That’s his way of saying thanks.” Someone was going to have to hold Tim back from beating the life out of this dickhead.

First, he leaves you alone against two armed suspects to see what’s for dinner, then, after you did an amazing job on your own, he underestimates you.

With the worst timing in the world, in walks Jim, “Ah there you are boot. Finished the work have you? Good girl.” You and Lucy visibly cringed at his words as Tim had had enough, “The hell did you just call her?” Your T.O frowned as Tim stood in front of him menacingly, hand on his holster.

“None of your business, she’s my boot.” Jim turned back to his coffee as Tim inhaled, “Leave the room you two.” Jim scoffed as you both got up, “Yes, let the men speak huh?” Lucy rolled her eyes as she guided you out, she and Tim shared a moment and a look that screamed ‘Fuck him up.’ Jim smiled before reaching for the creamer, but it was snatched up by Tim.

“You think you’re funny? Being a sexist dick to your Rookie?” Tim prayed that Jim would try something, anything. As long as it allowed him to beat him into the floor. “Again Timmy, she’s my rookie. That’s the whole point of us Trainers, to toughen them up. You don’t question my methods and I won’t yours. Pretty little thing like that’s probably glided through here.” Tim grabbed him by the shoulder before pushing him against the wall.

“Testy are we? You and Chen have a thing for her?”

“Don’t fucking call me that. And I’ll question whatever I want, when I want. And don’t talk about them like that.” The mention of you and Lucy was more than enough to set him off, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself.

Lucy ushered you into her Tim’s shop as you kept asking her questions, “Why am I in here?” Lucy sighed as she rested her hands on her belt, “I don’t exactly think you’ll be riding with him today. Best if you ride with us, I’ll go alert Grey to whats happening, just stay safe in here.” And just like that, she was leaving for the door.

“Messing with me is one thing, with her? Bad idea.” Tim shoved him against the wall again before whispering into his ear.

Tim, Lucy, you and Jim all stood in Grey’s office.

He stood with his hands on his belt, trying to process what he’d been told. “Sergeant, Officer Bradford attacked me in the break room when all I did was simply address my rookie.” Tim and Lucy’s faces simultaneously contorted in disgust at his accentuation on ‘my’.

“Save it Jim. I heard what actually happened through Officer Bradfords radio. Officer Bradford, you’re not yet excused for inciting violence with a fellow officer. Your overtime is cancelled for over a month, you’ll be having a reprimand as well as a month of anger management training courtesy of the department. The rest of your punishment will be applied later. Officer Chen, Officer L/N, you may both go.”

Lucy and you smiled and acknowledged him before glancing at Tim, ‘I’ll be fine.’ he mouthed at the two of you. The door closed behind you as you looked back into the office to see Greys hands waving around. He was pissed and so was Tim. He had to stand next to this guy.

“Hey are you okay Y/n/n?” The two of you were currently filling out paperwork together to kill time whilst you waited for Tim, you glanced back up at her with a smile, “Yeah I’m fine, just glad Bradford stood up for me. But I feel bad now, he’s in there with Grey whilst I’m here.” Lucy’s hand covered yours as she offered her comfort.

“Baby none of this is your fault, Jim is a moron and stuck in the 70’s. You’re an amazing cop and you’ll be even better as the years pass and you learn. But you’ll learn a lot more from another T.O than him. And T— Officer Bradford,” she corrected herself, “He stuck up for you because you don’t deserve to be disrespected like that. No one will ever say those things, we promise.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, never having someone who cared about you so much that they’d hurt someone else.

Hypothetically of course. Right?

Tim came back grumpy, which wasn’t a new thing. But he couldn’t help but feel something at the view he has. You and Lucy, shoulder to shoulder, giggling away. At his desk nonetheless. You really were meant for them.

“Alright, you’re sticking with us for the next few weeks L/N. Until you’re reassigned to a new T.O.” Tim stood in front of you as you glanced to him, “What’s happening to Jim?” Tim scoffed as he turned to the side before shaking his head and staring at his shoes, “What he deserves. He’s out of here, don’t worry about him. Not while we’re here.” Lucy nodded in agreement as she picked up your paperwork and hers, “We’re done here.”

“Good, get to our gear, boots.”

And for the next few weeks you found yourself closer to Lucy and Tim than ever. In the physical sense being you and them in the same car for every shift. In the mental and emotional sense of having more time together, on calls together, eating together at times and clocking out together. Usually to go to one of their apartments to wind down and have dinner. So close to them to the point where you found yourself in the middle of them.

The tension was thick, whenever you three were alone.

Lucy and Tim were undeniably hot, and you knew that. And so did they. The two of them were absolute menaces when it came to teasing you. Whether it be Tim or Lucy, both or alone. They wanted you all for themselves, and they will have you.

You prided yourself on making a mean cup of coffee.

Before joining the force, coffee was a once in a whole situation but since? It’s your saving grace and addiction. Your body would probably stop functioning without. Another thing you couldn’t survive without would be music. It’s why you stood in the breakroom with your airpods in.

“Boo.” You jumped at the whisper in your ear only to bump right into your new T.O. “Tim!” You jolted as he laughed at your reaction, “You should be more aware of your surroundings L/N.” Taking a napkin you quickly cleaned the mess on the table before putting a lid on your coffee. “Sorry Sir, I’ll pay more attention.”

His lips involuntarily twitched at the notion of you calling him ‘sir’. It was usually Officer Bradford or when you were pissed off, Bradford. Not much of a change but for you it was the equivalent of flipping him the bird. Tim found it cute.

“You’re good.” He spoke before leaning behind you to grab a cup of his own. Your breath hitched as you felt his broad chest pressed against your back. As he poured his cup, he glanced at you, “You okay there Boot?” Your eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere that wasn’t at him. “Fine, I’ll be in the— somewhere.”

He leaned against the table as you shuffled out of the room as quick as possible. God you were cute.

Lucy leaned against the doorway with a smile, “You’re gonna have her malfunctioning at this point Bradford.” Tim grinned as she approached him, taking a sip of his coffee, “Then maybe we can fix her Chen.” He whispered before taking a sip of his own.

“And how would we do that?”

“Might need to lay her down, undress—,”

“Tim!” Lucy yelped as she covered his mouth as a muffled “What?” came out. “You can’t stay stuff like that here!” He rolled his eyes before peeling the palm of her hand away from his mouth. “Did you not talk for about twenty minutes about how badly you wanted to kiss—,” For the second time Lucy shut him up.

“Shh!”

It had been a long shift for all three of you.

You’d barely gotten time to catch your breath with how many calls were coming through. There was a concert on in town and apparently that resulted in all hell breaking loose. Merch trucks had been highjacked, fake tickets and scams everywhere resulting in fights.

Tim didn’t personally understand the reason for all the chaos, “It’s like your favourite team coming to play in L.A and there are also a bunch of fake fans wanting to go. Along with scammers waiting to make money. People go crazy over the things they love Tim.”

He knew that, he had you.

“Yeah but actual sports? That I understand. Some singer who’s going to walk around a stage? Boring.” You and Lucy rolled your eyes as you gave up on explaining it to him. You were currently out at dinner for once, suggested by Lucy.

“I like it better when we stay home.” Tim muttered as he surveyed the restaurants terrace. There were currently three other couples surrounding them. “Me too honestly.” Lucy was surprised by your agreement as Tim was overjoyed, “See? Two against one.” Lucy shrugged before returning to the drinks menu, “We need to get out once in a while.”

We. Not you and I, we. It was those word choices that made you wonder, did they consider you apart of their relationship?

Lucy’s hand rested over Tim’s as the waiter approached, “My names Jack and I’ll be serving you tonight. What will you be having miss?” He waited for you whilst you sorted through the menu, “I’m going to go very simple, can I get the chicken fettuccine and garlic bread?”

He quickly jotted your order down with a smile, “Great choice.” You smiled at the praise, “Thanks Jack.” His smile was wide and sweet as his gaze lingered, a sharp cough caused the two of you to break away.

Tim’s hold on the menu was tight, shaping crescent indents into the leather exterior as he watched the waiter, Jake was it? Who cares, he should stop eyeing you up and do his job. But why were you responding to him? Keeping eye contact and laughing.

His cough caused you to finally stop ogling him as Tim barked his order at him, whilst Lucy hid her laugh behind the menu. She hated how this random guy thought he could come up to her girl and charm her. Maybe if she showed her gun off he would—

“And drinks?” Tim scanned over the variety of wines as you got up, “I’m going to head to the restroom.” Tim and Lucy nodded as you placed your purse on the table, “Uhh, where is it?” Jack smiled, “I’ll take you there.” He tucked the menus under his arm, “Lead the way!”

Lucy’s hold on Tim’s hand was deadly as the two of them stared daggers into Jacks head. Who did this guy think he was? “Why the hell is she still taking to him? What happened to the restroom?” Lucy complained as Tim straightened in his chair. “I don’t know, but we have to let her know it’s not allowed.”

And that came in the form of coming back to the table to find your food packaged for take away.

You crossed your arms as you stopped in front of your chair, “First of all, I love those bathrooms. Second, how the hell is the food here so quickly? And third, why is it for takeaway?” Tim abruptly stood as his chair slid back, bumping into the railing, his hand in Lucy’s whilst she grabbed the bag.

“We’re leaving, now.” His voice was stern and Lucy’s face seemed to be void of the smile from moments ago. “Wait what?” Tim’s hand wrapped around your wrist as he led you into the elevator.

“Why are we leaving? Also, I can walk myself, no offence.” His grip on you only tightened as you winced, you quickly contracted your wrist from his hand. Soothing it by running your hands over it, the pain was low but the mark sure as hell would show soon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eyebrows furrowed slightly, you pulled your lips into a line, “Nothing Lucy. What’re you two doing? Are you okay?”

“Do you find it fun? Flirting in front of us?” Tim sounded genuinely angry, which was never a good sign. The elevator opened as you followed the two of them, eventually ending up with one behind and in front. Tim silently opened the back door for you, climbing in to turn towards him you were met with a slamming door.

Flirting? They were angry because you flirted? Do they expect you to never talk to anyone that wasn’t them? Yes the waiter was cute, but you only talked him about the Marvel Captain America necklace he had on. If they were angry, then did this mean you were in a relationship?

You turned to view the two of them behind the car, they were plotting intently. As Tim’s hands drew her closer in, and his lips landed on hers you couldn’t help but watch and have no idea who you wanted to be in the scenario. When Tim’s eyes flicked up, you turned to the front of the car. This was going to be an awkward ride home.

You were right, the ride home was dead silent.

Tim’s hand was interlaced with Lucy’s, right infront of you and you couldn’t help but feel as if they were rubbing their relationship in your face. So instead of sitting in the middle as per usual, you shifted over to the window. At least the night was nice.

Lucy couldn’t help but smile as she noticed your jealousy. Tim was right, this showed just how much you wanted to be with them. When they kissed you couldn’t look away until looked at, and their holding hands pissed you off to the point where you switched seats. When you were with them, you were always in the middle.

When you reached Tim’s place you were the first to get out of the car, not bothering to wait for the couple. “You think we went too far?” Lucy asked Tim, as much as she loved riling you up, she felt sad by your annoyance. She wanted nothing more than to kiss and hold you.

Tim on the other hand, was pissed off beyond relief. He had to refrain from beating the shit out of the waiter and kissing you at the restaurant. But he figured, your first time should be special.

“No, we haven’t. She needs to learn.”

As you entered his apartment you couldn’t deny the fact that it did indeed feel like home. You shook your heels off in the doorway, as Lucy and Tim removed their shoes. They’d told you to dress nicely but they were both dressed normally. You being in a dress felt out of place when they weren’t done up like you were for the night.

Tim’s bed was practically calling your name, “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was stern and unwavering. You internally groaned, what the hell had you done wrong? “To bed, what else Tim?” You rolled your eyes, bad idea.

He pushed you against the wall, towering over you. “You think you’re funny?” He was overwhelming, his cologne lingered and Lucy watched on amused. Was she rubbing her legs—

“Don’t look at her, look at me. Answer the question.” His hands were placed on either side of your head, “No, I don’t think I’m funny. I’m sorry.” Tim narrowed his eyes as you squirmed under his gaze, “Sorry for what baby?” You stared down at your feet before he grabbed your chin, “For flirting.”

“So you know what you did wrong?” You nodded meekly at Lucy’s question. “You know, a Rookie has to be taught lessons right?” You nodded again, “And whose Rookie are you?” The bottom of your dress was smooth between your fingertips as you nervously fidgeted.

“Yours.”

“I’m sorry but you have to be taught baby.” His hand slowly moved up your thigh, and under your dress. Tim never looked away from you, even as his hand grazed over your panties. Your breath hitched as his hand slipped past the elastic band, “Tim!” You moaned out as you held onto his shoulders.

“What’s wrong? Use your words baby.” Lucy spoke as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. She moved your hair away, allowing herself free roam of your neck as she surged forwards. “Please.”

“Let’s take you to the bed huh?” You nodded vehemently at Tim’s suggestion as he picked you up bridal style. He laid you down on the bed as you shuffled back. Tim and Lucy stood side by side, the grins never leaving their faces. “What do you think Lucy? How’d you feel when Y/n was talking to Jack?”

At the mention of his name your heart began to race, you were nervous, why were they talking about him?

“Angry, and jealous. You?”

Tim nodded, “I did too. I think we should teach you a lesson. And if you’re good then, maybe, we’ll let you go.” You swallowed air before nodding. “Words baby.” Lucy’s voice was soft as she came to sit behind you, laying your head in her lap. “Y-yes.”

“If you feel uncomfortable then say so.” She whispered into your ear as you nodded. “You’re so cute, you know that right?” You shook your head, “No, you’re just being sweet.” Lucy frowned at your low confidence, “You are. Okay? Never let anyone tell you any different. You’re so gorgeous, and kind and sweet. I love you.” Lucy smiled as your wide eyes looked up at her, full of love.

“I— I love you too.” She closed the distance between the two of you quickly, you’d been wanting to kiss her for so long. Her hands trailed along the neckline of your dress, cold hands brushing over your chest as you gasped, allowing her to slip her tongue in.

“Having fun without me?” Tim joked as Lucy withdrew, “Maybe, why? Jealous?” She teased as he shook his head, “That’s her job.” Tim alluded to you as you rolled your eyes, “Is not.” Lucy chuckled at your words.

“Keep rolling your eyes and I’ll give you a reason to.” Tim’s hands were on your thighs again, following the same route as last time and ending up in the same place. You turned your head, trying to bury your face into Lucy’s thighs as Tim removed your underwear. He trailed his hand up and down, collecting your slick.

“So wet, you know how long we’ve wanted to see this?” Tim’s lips met yours as he pushed a finger in, causing you to groan. “There we go, let it out for me.” You wrapped your arms around Tim’s neck, trying to pull him closer. Lucy’s hands slowly removed her own top, then her jeans.

You tugged at Tim’s shirt as he laughed, “Want me to take it off?” Your eager nod was more than enough for him to slide his finger out of you, but not before Lucy took it into her mouth.

You were going to explode. Lucy stared into Tim’s eyes as she detatached from his finger with a ‘pop’. Lucy worked on his belt buckle as Tim removed his shirt before chucking it behind him. “Take your dress off.” You did not need to be told twice.

As you lifted your dress you were met with helping hands, their eyes raked over you eagerly. Tim leaned in again, and as you closed your eyes you heard something.

Click!

Fucking handcuffs. “Wait— are you kidding me?” You tugged at the handcuffs as Tim spoke, “You didn’t think we forgot did you?” You rolled your eyes, “I was being good.” You muttered. Tim was not a fan.

He smushed your face in his hands, “You’re being a brat, now sit and watch.” Tim kissed Lucy’s neck as she raked her hands through his hair, “Oh god.” He made his way down to her chest as she laid down onto the bed. Tim unhooked her bra as he took one of her tits into his mouth. You wanted nothing more than to touch.

But you were forced to sit and listen.

Even as he pounded into her and you writhed against the cuffs. “You feel so good.” Tim groaned, his fingertips were digging into her hips as she clutched onto the sheets. “Fuck Lucy.” He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to moan out.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together for the smallest ounce of relief. But Tim never made it easy for you. He slid out of her pussy, as she whined, “So close.” Tim stroked her cheek, “I know baby, I know.” He lifted her up easily with one arm, making her face you before laying her down. “Y/n’s gonna watch.” Lucy lifted her back from the bed as she felt herself peak.

“F-fuck Tim!” She shouted as Tim fastened his pace, “You feel so good.” He groaned before releasing into her. He slowly pulled out, letting Lucy catch her breath as she laid down on the pillows. “You okay?” He muttered as he kissed her cheek, she nodded. “Wanna see you and her.”

Your eyes glistened with excitement, “Please, take the cuffs off.” Tim was feeling nice, so he reached for the key and unlocked you. You first soothed your wrist before Tim dragged you by your ankles.

“Open your legs.” You slowly opened them for him. His hands immediately found your waist, mimicking circles along them. He never strayed too close, only trailing up and down, “Please Tim.”You wanted to cry. “Please what?” He responded calmly.

Tim loved seeing you like this, a whiny mess for him. The tears welled up in your eyes as you clenched them shut, allowing a few to fall down. “Use your words sweetie, just like I taught you.” You shook your head in embarrassment, you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt, dirty. His calm demeanour was gone in an instant as his finger slipped back into you, “Please touch me.”

Lucy couldn’t help to admire you, they finally had you.

“There we go.” He praised as he moved swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, you feel good?” Your high pitched moan was more than enough of an indication, “S-so good Tim.” As if his fingers weren’t enough, he pumped his cock a few times before teasing your hole.

You arched off the bed as soon as he pushed himself in, fat tip bullying its way into you whilst your nails dug into Lucy’s arm, “I got you baby.” She spoke as her hand came up to your breast, teasing it before bringing it into her mouth. “Oh fuck!” You screeched as you felt her tongue drag along your nipple.

Tim eased himself out, and back in as his hand trailed up to your neck, squeezing it as your hand held onto his wrist, “You like that huh?” You nodded in agreement, tears were flowing freely from the overstimulation. This was literally straight out of dream. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, feels good baby. You feel so good.” Lucy captured your lips as you groaned into her mouth.

The pressure was so intense, you kept writhing on the bed. “I-I’m so close Tim.” He took it as a personal mission to make you cum, grabbing one of your legs and angling it up, his hand in the crevice behind your leg. With the new angle he was able to meet new parts, your babbles were incoherent as he laughed, “Fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” He taunted you as he thrusted his cock in between your drenched folds.

Lucy’s hand trailed down, a sticky mess waiting in between her legs, seeing Tim manhandle you was more than enough. “Bet you dreamed of this, of me.” Tim continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls.“Yes! Yes! Harder!” you cried out.

“Baby found her words huh?”

You nodded as you steadied yourself by holding onto his biceps, Tim was nothing but fit. You’d always wanted to see him under the uniform, his large arms always looked incredible in short sleeves. Tim’s hand moved from your neck to your clit as he sent you over the edge, following closely. Your hand reached up to caress his neck. Thank yous spilled out from you.

You laid in the middle of Tim and Lucy, fast asleep as they watched on.

“She’s so sweet and peaceful when she’s sleeping.” Lucy cooed as she stroked your cheek lovingly, “She tired herself out, of course she’s gonna sleep well afterwards.” Tim’s hand was on your hip under the sheets, caressing the soft skin absentmindedly. “She did so well.”

“She did, knew she could take it.”

“So what are we?” Lucy waited for Tim’s response.

“Whatever we want to be.”

[realcube]

dilf december

day nineteen ⭑ keiji akaashi ⭑ work never ends!

tw: nsfw minors dni , vaginal, f! reader, inappropriate workplace relationships, imbalanced power dynamic, age gap, cockwarming & praise

the door to his office creaks open and you shuffle in, yet he doesn't spare you a glance.

he is intently focused on his work, tapping away on his laptop, eyes narrowed and fixed to the screen. sat on the desk beside him was a stack of paperwork he was likely putting-off as well. he'd been cooped up in his office for hours yet it seemed like there was still so much for him to do. work at the manga company never truly ends for akaaski.

his lips are curled into a scowl, while strands of hair fall clumsily into his face, and he'd frustratedly push them back. usually he did quite a good job of styling his hair to avoid dishevelment, but he has been at work for so long that perhaps his rigid hairdo was being to come undone.

you pout, and slink up to him quietly. as you near, you notice his glasses, which reflected the blue-light of the screen he was working on, were all smudged at the edges. likely from his continous adjustment of them across the bridge of his nose, and also how'd he often take them off entirely to massage his temples and rest his eyes.

once you reach his side, you point at his glasses and ask, "would you like me to clean those for you?"

he doesn't even look at you as he replies, "that would be kind of you."

you nod, and without further questions, you delicately sit yourself down on his lap, with your legs perpendicular to his, so you lean back and not interfere with his view of the screen. you wrap one arm around his shoudlers so you can keep your balance while tilted back, and you used your other hand to gently tug his glasses off, and wipe them clean with the cottony fabric of your cardigan.

even without his glasses, his mean stare is still fixed on the laptop before him, and he continues to work diligently until you set his newly clean glasses back upon his nose. "thank you, (y/n)." he mutters.

"no problem." you hum, admiring your work for a moment before resting your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. the minty scent of his cologne is quite overpowering, but you relish in it. "are you almost done for today, boss?"

it was a silly question, you know. you could quite clearly see the stacks of paperwork he had yet to touch and could infer from his unwavering concentration that he wasn't nearing the end of his current project either. and you knew akaashi wasn't the type to leave so much until the next day.

"unfortunately not." he states plainly, freeing one hand from the keyboard in order to place it on the small of your back, tenderly caressing you with his thumb, "but don't let me stop you from going home. your shift is over."

you frown, moving away from his neck, to look at his face instead, "but i don't wanna leave without you. plus, you said we can go to your house today."

"you can still go to my house, and i'll meet you there later. the key is in the left pocket of my jacket." he briefly uses his hand that is on your back to point loosely to the coat-rack in the corner of the room, where his jacket hung.

"it's not the same without you, sir.." you whine quietly, slumping your bodyweight against his chest and gazing up at him longingly.

"what a sweet angel you are." he murmurs, as his hand slips from the lower region of your back, up your spine to cradle your neck and pull you in for a deep kiss. at first, you squeak in surprise and tense up, but you are quick to melt into the loving kiss, guided by akaashi's soft lips upon yours.

his eyes are screwed shut, until it is time to pull away, then they drag open to stare at you. the face of his lovely, kind assistant who will stop at nothing to please him. you've always been so diligent in your duties and so pretty while doing them; he is so lucky have found someone like you.

truthfully, he's never had the courage to ask you out because of the glaring age difference between the two of you, since that might not be something you're willing to look past. not that he minded all too much, he thoroughly enjoyed the wildly inappropriate and borderline perverted workplace relationship you shared — it was exhilarating and make him excited to come into work every morning. but now, with you in his lap and after exchanging such as intimate kiss, he realised the way you felt on his lips was just so right and he wanted nothing more than to make you his. and with the way you looked at him with those sappy, yearning eyes, it make him think he might have a chance.

once you come back to reality, you jerk your head to the side and huff, with your arms crossed over your chest, "so, i'm not leaving until you're done." you say in protest, as though you were standing up to him or being defiant, when he hasn't expressed any opposition to you staying with him. in fact, the tiny smile that dusted over his lips indicated that he would be glad to keep you.

"so be it." he shrugs in defeat, pretending like he was succumbing to your will. "you can sit here, angel, while i work." he caressed your back once more, pulling you in for a brief kiss before returning both his hands to his keyboard and continuing his duty.

meanwhile, you were able to sit and watch him for around five minutes before getting painfully bored. however, you weren't in need of mental stimulation — you have quite an active imagination and could curate plenty of entertainment within your own head — but rather, it was physical stimulation which you were desperate for. and you knew exactly what would satisfy you.

wordlessly, you shuffly on akaashi's lap and straighten out your legs, to allow you to swiftly tug off your lacey black panties, and cast it aside. akaashi observed this out of the corner of his eye and while he was fully able to process what was going on, he purposefully ignored what you were doing as he knew it would distract him from his task at hand. so although he tried to pay no mind to your suggestive actions, you could still feel him getting firm under your thighs.

once you had taken your own panties off, you idly work on unzipping his trousers and pulling free his stiff cock. you held it gently in your palm and maneuvered it towards your hole, so his tip was nudging your damp enterance. he was so big , hence you wanted to ensure you were sufficiently lubricated before you even attempted penetration. thankfully, you were already quite wet from just looking at his dick, thus you only had to drag his tip sloppily against your labia and clit for a minute or so before you were utterly soaked, dripping arousal onto his perfectly pressed grey trousers.

your eyes screw shut and your breath hitches as you begin to sink down on his length, swallowing every last inch until your ass landed upon his lap again. a string of hushed moans and profanities left your throat as you did so, sobbing for the strength to take him all and cursing whoever let him be so long. but eventually, you were able to cram him all into your tight pussy, with the aid of your immense wetness.

though, you were left with an extremely conjested feeling. his entire cock was enough to saturate and fill your entire insides, leaving no space left untouched. you couldn't even breathe or move slightly without the risk of his grith rubbing against a particularly sensitive section of your walls.

it was a strange sensation but gradually it became less intense, as long as you remained very still. you had adjusted your position so you were stradling his lap, but you kept your head tucked to the side, so he could still get a clear view of his laptop.

"good girl. you're so tight.." he groaned lowly into your ear, hot breath tickling your skin, "but keep still. i need to concentrate."

instead of riding, you were able to get all the stimulation you need from simply cockwarming your boss, which kept you contented for as long as it took him to finish up his work.

[the-kr8tor]

Two Slow Dancers

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Synopsis: It's the very first day of your first 'real' job, with new faces and names, you find yourself fumbling over a handsome coworker. Will you survive the day?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), a bit of loser! Hobie, The office AU, mockumentary AU, Coworkers AU, Coworker! Hobie, Reader has nicknames, one suggestive joke, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale for the idea!

Navigation

The camera zooms in on your confused expression until the lenses can see every single one of your pores. The producer clears her throat, and the camera man immediately tries to fix the view. The camera lense whirrs for a second before focusing on you as you sit on an old office chair in the corner of the conference room together with the drab eggshell white painted walls and a single plastic plant placed right next to you.

All you can see are the same drab white walls with thirty year old motivational posters tacked on it. The rows of plastic chairs are lined up in front of the whiteboard where a rolling table with a small box tv sits and collects dust. You feel like you're in an uncanny side of the world where everything is all paperwork and the sound of the photocopying machine whirs in the background amidst the smell of old carpet.

This is being a full fledged adult, you thought. You're starting to hate it already.

“Is this necessary? I just got here.” You chuckle nervously, fingers fixing your collar that doesn't need to be fixed.

“Yes, we need everyone's point of view.” The muffled voice of the producer echoes in the boom mic. “And please stop fiddling with your collar, the mic will pick up the sound.”

“Sorry,” you give her a tight smile. “Um, I guess I should give you my name?” They all nod simultaneously, making you more nervous than you already are on your first day of work. Saying your name without stuttering, you mentally pat yourself on the back for your accomplishment. “I–I just started today, and I'm very excited to work here at Connor's and Jameson's.” You smile sweetly at the camera, a rough cough from someone on the crew makes your smile falter. “C–can I go now?”

A sudden deep rumble can be heard through the mic, shaking you in your seat as you hold on to the armchair. “Woah!” As quick as it came, it subsides. “I think that was an earthquake!” You say, eyes wide in panic, fingers fiddling with your collar as your nerves get to you.

“No,” the producer behind the camera sighs, “there's construction just starting next door.”

“Oh,” You wish the earth could swallow you right now. Way to embarrass yourself on your first day, and on camera too. “Right, sorry.”

The scene shifts to your new boss, Miguel, as he watches the bullpen from his office with his watchful eyes. His hands are tucked behind his back, his large frame practically blocking the sun from his window. He sees the camera crew zooming in on him, and he awkwardly straightens up, weight subtly shifting from side to side.

The camera follows his gaze, landing on Lyla, who's chewing on the cap of her pen as she chats you up while you're working quietly on your desk. She wears a cheerful yellow button up complete with the same yellow pants. You gotta admit, she wears business well.

“I'm just saying, it's eat or be eaten in this office.” The boom mic captures her voice. And the camera moves from her to the entire bullpen that's quiet except for the sound of tapping keyboards and clicking mice. “But I'm sure you'll be okay, we're just selling electric toothbrushes. It's not the end of the world of you commit one fuck up.”

You stare at the camera with a wide look before glancing at Lyla. “T–thanks for the tip.”

Lyla tilts her head with a genuine smile, “no problem, newbie. If you need any help, you know where my department is.” As you nod and glance quickly at Miguel, who's still standing still inside his office, Lyla notices your nervous demeanor. She narrows her gaze at Miguel before flipping him the bird.

“Lyla!” You whisper yell, while Miguel presumably huffs in his office and closes the blinds right after.

“What? It's just office banter!” She returns her gaze to you, eyes softening at your nervous glance. “Nice blouse by the way! Pink suits you.”

The scene changes and now Lyla is the one in your former seat inside the conference room. “Let's just say that I have… some information on him.” She smirks before the camera lense zooms in on the window in the background where Miguel stares heavily on Lyla’s back, his nose flaring, and mouth etched in a deep frown. Lyla feels the presence, brows pinching together before looking over her shoulder. “Hey, boss man!” She says without a care in the world (Or without a care for authority no doubt,) while she waves at him casually.

The scene cuts back to you struggling on the copy machine.

The machine keeps eating all the paper you feed it, making a strange and awful creaking sound whenever you press the button. You're sure that you did everything Lyla taught you. The stack of paper goes into the side, then the file you're going to copy is placed on the scanner. Pressing a few more buttons, it should've spat out an exact copy instead of giving you a jumbled mess of paper that looks like a demonic curse was printed on it.

“Damn it.” You curse under your breath. Eyes glancing to the side, you see the camera crew practically stalking you by the pillar. You quickly change your demeanor, back straightening up, shoulders straight but your huffing through the boom mic can still be picked up unbeknownst to you.

Yanking the half eaten paper away from the slot, you internally curse the photocopy god for giving you this trial for your first day. Looking around the bullpen, you see Lyla in Miguel's office, probably getting chewed on for what she did earlier. You definitely cannot ask her for help. Gazing at your right, your other co-workers are busy with their tasks, tip tapping away at their computers with their blank stares. Well, except for that one intern you hadn't had the pleasure of meeting, who's playing minesweeper on his computer. Amazingly, he looks like he's winning.

Hands balled into fists, you're contemplating whether or not you should start throwing punches at the machine. Lyla did tell you its temperamental, maybe a quick punch would make it think twice from giving you hell.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout squarin’ up with the xerox machine?” A sudden new voice startles you in place. His tone is smooth, confident and deep that it sends good shivers down your arms. “Sorry, thought you need some help.” he chuckles, backing away from you when he notices your shocked expression. “You new ‘ere, huh?”

“It's okay,” your nerves bust through your shaky tone. “Uh, yeah, new associate– on probation for the next six months.”

He smiles sweetly, silver lip piercing drawing your attention towards his lips which you immediately correct your gaze by staring at his brow piercing instead. It didn't help much with your nerves, he looks handsome in every angle. It's not like you're looking for an office romance, it's not illegal to stare, right?

Your new acquaintance has his wicks in a ponytail, silver charms clinking against each other whenever he moves his head. He wears a dark button up, untucked and without a necktie. You find him unbelievably charming.

“‘m sure you'll get it. Once you get ol’ Jerry ‘ere to work for you.” He pats the machine as it whirs and eats another piece of paper. His lithe hand grabs your attention, silver rings dotted along it like he's about to play on stage.

You swallow thickly, avoiding staring too long. “J–Jerry?”

“Yeah, we named it after this bloke who worked ‘ere.”

“That's kind of nice.”

“He's not with us anymore.”

“Oh–” you blink, lips already forming apologies.

“He’s retired, we got him a cake and everythin’” you can see that he's trying to tamp down a laugh by how his Adam's apple bops up and down and from how he subtly bites his lip piercing. “Did you think—?”

“No.” You immediately say. He gives you a teasing look, brilliant hazel eyes that are a beautiful mix of brown and green gazes at you playfully. “T–That’s what I thought too.”

“Right,” he says, unconvinced. “My offer of help still stands. But after this you have to tame the bloody beast on your own.”

You nod, “please, I'm starting to rationalize whether I should punch it or not.”

He gives you a genuine smile, “that could work actually. I've seen people do it a few times.”

“Really?” You say with raised brows and a hint of a hopeful smile.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with a smirk, smile widening when you frown at him with an annoyed look. With a chuckle, he reaches towards the half eaten paper stuck inside, fingers wrapping around it to pull away. “‘m Hobie, Hobie Brown. I work in the post room.” He gestures with his head towards the cart full of envelopes and small parcels. “Or what I like to call it in a fancy way, the logistics room.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You smile at him, and Hobie smiles back as he finally rips the page away with a rough tug. The paper is suddenly released, the force almost topples him over if not for your quick reflexes. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and you swear you felt his pulse quicken.

“You okay, Hobie?” As quick as you were, you retract your hand back to your side.

He nonchalantly clears his throat, fist gripping the paper in his palms. “Yeah, thank you…” he waits for your reply.

You give him your name, cheeks warm and palm suddenly clammy as you shift your feet from side to side to hide your bashfulness. With an inhale and your mind returning to the task at hand, you channel your bravery. “Care to teach me how to tame the beast?”

Hobie balls up the ruined paper all without leaving his eyes on you with a gentle smile. A bit unsure but definitely genuine. “Sure, I charge by the minute, by the way.” He jokes.

“Do you take lunch as payment?” You ride with his joke, hands placed inside your blazer pocket to again hide your shyness.

He grins, “I think we'll get along well, probie.”

You two have completely forgotten about the cameras. They got the whole interaction on film, complete with the lingering gazes and soft smiles you two seem to harbour.

—

“Hobie Brown.” He says while he's sitting on an office chair backwards, arms hugging the back of the chair and chin placed atop it casually. The producer eggs him on to continue with a single look. Hobie sighs, standing up swiftly before twirling the office chair away from him in one fluid and suave motion. “I work in the post room.” He crosses his arms on his chest, annoyed. “I've been ‘ere for three years. Don't like it, but it helps pay the bills, innit?”

“Can you tour us around the mailroom?” The producer asks in a hushed tone but loud enough to be captured by the boom mic.

“No.” He says flatly, already turning to leave the camera crew as he wheels his mail cart out of the room wordlessly.

The camera is left to just roam all over the organized chaos that is the mailroom. Everything seems to be in place but at the same time it's not. All the envelopes are in their correct spots on the large shelf on the far end of the wall, but all the boxes are shoved in a corner, all stacked up. It's a miracle that it's still standing without toppling over.

The mic picks up muffled chatter out in the hallway. Hurried footsteps can be heard as the crew follows the source of the sound. The camera peeks at the doorway, tilting to get a better look of you, who seems to be chatting Hobie up with a polite smile on your face.

“Mr. O’hara said that the shipping company messed up and gave us a different sample product.” You hold the box in your arms, clearly opened but was hastily closed off with masking tape. “He asked if you could send it back?” You ask sheepishly.

Hobie's whole demeanor seems to change as the white fluorescent light shines on your bashful eyes. “Sure, I know those blokes. I can even get it shipped for free.” He opens his arms, receiving the box from you, hands briefly brushing along his own. “They rarely fuck up, what's inside?”

“Uh,” you laugh nervously, cheeks aflame. “Something that is electric but definitely not a toothbrush—” before you could warn him, he shakes the box. It sets off numerous buzzing sounds inside. Hobie's neck snaps up towards you in a flash, with a smile slowly spreading across his amused face. “Yeah…” You wince, biting at your lower lip. “They're not toothbrushes.”

“Holy shit! It's—”

“Don't say it, Hobie!” You say through your grin. “Miguel was furious!”

His loud guffaw echoes down the hallway, making the boom mic pick up the sound, almost shattering the mic itself. Earning a high pitched sound emanate from it briefly. The poor sound tech had to take off his earphones lest he breaks his eardrums.

Hobie laughs harder. “I bet. I'd pay to see him all mad like that.” Shaking the box even more, the buzzing sound makes you chuckle, hand clasping over your mouth to tamp down your giggles. He mirrors your smile, finding your laughter contagious. After you've composed yourself, worthy of being your business self, he gestures towards the mailroom with his head. “You wanna see the post room, probie? It's not as glamorous as the bullpen but it's alright.”

“As long as you don't shake or god forbid, open the box.” You playfully gesture with your index at the box in his hands.

“Only if you ask.” He jokes back, or was it flirting on his end? Clearing his throat, he sees you widen your eyes, breath hitching in your throat. “I wouldn't, don't worry.” He immediately decides to remedy the awkwardness, feeling that he might've offended you. “There's a parcel ‘ere that's dated to be delivered in ten years. Don't ask why because I don't know.”

“In ten years? Weird, who's it addressed to?” You follow Hobie despite your thudding heart. He makes you feel like you're back in school again with all the crushes and lingering gazes across the classroom. Maybe it's not so bad to befriend someone else here that isn't Layla.

The camera crew immediately runs to the other end of the hallway to continue secretly filming the two of you, before you or Hobie could see them. Hobie opens the door for you, balancing his hold on the box and on the door.

“Yeah, it has your name on it.” You gasp right next to him. He smirks, eyes glancing at you teasingly. “Just fuckin' with you, probie.”

“I have a name, y’know.” You roll your eyes, seeing something move in your peripheral.

“You're probie until the lunch club says so.”

“The lunch club?” You ask, head tilting at the peeping camera from the corner of the hallway.

“You'll see,” Hobie shakes the box again to get your attention.

“You—! I told you not to shake it again!” Your giggles get muffled as you close the door behind you with a creak. The noise is followed by Hobie enthusiastically giving you a tour of the mailroom to the whole documentary crew’s amusement, and half disappointment.

—

You finally make it to lunch without a hitch. Without any more raunchy parcels and without you tripping over your own heels on the carpeted floors.

The camera follows right behind you, giving you enough space after you complained to Lyla in the HR department at how they've been too close to you, and hindering your work. (They haven't, you just find them annoying.) Hobie seems to have the same idea as you when he went to her office to tell them off too. According to him, ‘If I see another camera up in my face, I'll break their dodgy lenses.’ He said it with such gravitas that the documentary crew backed away immediately with their tails tucked in between their legs.

You grasp your lunch box in your hands, eyes roaming around the small break room with a few tables and chairs all grouped up. The vending machines on the side of the room whirr, its lights flickering in and out that has you suddenly creeped out. You blame Hobie for telling you a story about a night janitor that cleans the whole building even without its head attached to his neck.

Goosebumps appear on your arms when you remember how eerily he told it. Still, you were properly entertained before you had to go back to work, back to your drab computer with its boring programs and even more boring paperwork. Hobie makes it all bearable. You smile at the thought. Good thing that you're the only person in the breakroom, or your new coworkers would think that you're losing it. Then you remember the camera zeroing in on your face, you want to throw your lunch at them. If only it didn't cause you your job.

With a sigh, you claim the table nearest towards the vending machine. Sitting down your packed lunch, a bottle of your favourite iced tea grabs your attention inside the vending machine, begging to be let out of its glass confines.

Rummaging through your blazer, you could only find a stick of gum, and a button that magically flew out of your sleeve when you moved to grab a stapler earlier. You sigh, longingly staring at the sweetened tea. You bet that it'll help make your miserable first day a bit better. But alas, you're too lazy to go back to your desk to quickly grab your wallet.

Suddenly, an arm appears next to you, you almost screamed at the appearance if not for the recognizable rings around his fingers.

“Hobie, you scared me!” You clutch your imaginary pearls. “I thought you were—”

“The night janitor?” He smirks teasingly. You find him adorably infuriating. “D’you still need that change?” Glancing at his hand that's clutching the coin, it’s ready to be placed inside the coin slot, just waiting for your cue.

The camera crew backs away further into the corner, having the perfect view of the entire room and your interaction.

“I—” you wince when you pat down your other pocket, cursing at how your pencil skirt doesn't even have pockets. “— will you, please?” Great, your embarrassment will transcend through TV screens from now on.

Hobie smiles softly, coin clinking inside the machine as it falls. “Choose your poison, probie.”

Without a doubt, you press the number that correlates to your favourite drink. “Thanks, Hobie. I'll pay you back later. I'm supposed to be buying you lunch, remember?” You crouch down as the bottle tumbles down with a thud, falling right into your waiting hand. It's cold to the touch, the bee mascot on the packaging greets you with a cartoonish smile.

“Don't mind it, I have my own lunch. Save the IOU for another day.” he says as he sits down, setting his own lunch adjacent to yours. “Take it as a welcome gift.”

You turn around to face him, having a hard time opening the bottle cap. “And here I thought you wanted me out of here.”

Hobie scoffs without malice laced in it. The camera lense zooms in on his gentle smile. “Please, I don't give a tour to anyone in my post room just like that.” He gestures for the bottle wordlessly, fingers opening and closing in a come hither motion.

“I thought you brought all the new girls in there.” Teasing, you sit down in front of him, handing him your drink which he opens for you without a struggle. “Thanks.” He hands it back, warm fingers unintentionally brushing along your own.

“Not all the new girls.” He shrugs. “Jus’ the ones with the weak wrists.”

“Hey!” You chuckle, “rude. The cap was screwed in too tightly.”

“Sure, probie.” He opens his lunchbox, the smell of savoury meat and sautéed vegetables makes your hastily made sandwich look like it came from a microwavable meal.

“Wow.” You blink at the perfectly cooked rice. “Is that turmeric in the rice?”

Puffing up his chest, he smugly smiles. “Yeah, Beef broccoli with oyster sauce.”

“Damn,” you look down at your regular white bread egg sandwich. “Wanna switch?”

He chuckles, “no.” He makes sure to enunciate.

“Worth a try.” You mirror his smile. “Did your girlfriend or partner make it?”

“Nope, no girlfriend. Made it myself.” He says the last sentence proudly.

No girlfriend, huh? “It's pretty amazing that you have time to prep meals.” You take a bite of your abysmal lunch.

“That's what gets you when you don't have a partner.” Hobie scoops out a decent amount of his meal with his spoon, “your sandwich is…”

“Shit, I know.”

Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through his shining hazel eyes. “I was gonna say alright, but that works too.”

You take a sip of your iced tea, letting the cool drink douse your obvious shyness and flustered state whenever you converse with him. Lyla's words during the orientation keep repeating in your head, ‘no office romance,’ she said. ‘It's too complicated,’ she said. Is it though?

“So what's the lunch club? Shouldn't they be meeting up right about now?” Just as you said it, the doors swing open, revealing three college aged kids in their business outfits.

“Sorry we're late. Pav here needed to finish something.”

“Don't blame me,” The one with the flowy hair and dark brown suit scrunches his nose. “You're the one who's playing minesweeper all day, Miles.”

“The fields aren't getting cleared all by themselves, y'know?”

The only girl in the group sighs and rolls her blue eyes, pausing in the doorway once she sees you sitting with Hobie. “Well, who do we have here?” Her voice puts a stop to the arguing.

“Meet the new girl. Gwen, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Gwen.” Hobie gestures over to the blond then to you.

“Hi, it's a pleasure.” You say whilst quickly chewing your food to appear somewhat presentable when they caught you mid chew.

“Oho, so she's the one you've been yapping about, Hobie.” Gwen crosses the small distance, palm patting Hobie on his shoulder. “Now it's really nice to meet you.”

“You talk about me?” You tilt your head, eyes narrowed playfully.

“He will not shut up, trust me.” Pav waves towards you in greeting. “I'm Pavitr by the way! I wish you could meet Gyatri but she's out sick.” He sighs, sinking down on the chair.

“It's nice to meet you, Pavitr.” You smile genuinely at the seemingly lovestruck Pavitr.

“Don't mind him, he just misses his girlfriend.” The one in a white button up and black lopsided necktie holds out his hand to you. “I'm Miles Morales.”

“Pleasure,” you shake his hand briefly while Hobie watches you interact with three of them. The documentary crew fades in the background, practically a fly on the wall by now that the group has gotten used to their cameras and lights. “I'm guessing this is the lunch club?”

“That's what Hobie told you?” Gwen sits down next to you, sliding drinks she got from the vending machine towards each of her friends. “We're more like the gossiping slash complaining club.”

You chuckle, “you guys are interns?”

“Unpaid interns.” They all say simultaneously in the same monotonous tone.

“It should be Illegal.” Hobie says, elbows placed on the table to address you fully.

“Not being paid for work in the guise that it's just an internship therefore the ‘pay’ is experience?” You make quotation marks with your fingers. Hobie raises an amused brow while the three share a knowing look that you can't quite decipher.

“That and interns.” Hobie shrugs with a smile, you snort at his joke, gazes lingering for a second before returning to each of your meals.

Gwen smirks and nudges Hobie's leg with her foot. The camera picks up and records their wordless conversation before she turns towards you. “If not for me then the mailroom would be a complete mess.”

“It's organized, Gwendy.”

“Well you did a shit job at organizing it.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

Miles leans towards you, “Hobie's technically her boss.”

“Doesn't look like it. They argue like siblings.” You watch them with amusement, eyes crinkling in the corners. You decide to save everyone's lunch, “so… the lunch club is just you guys chatting about?”

“It’s more than that!” Pav says while he quickly swallows his lunch, “it's a way of life!”

“We sometimes meet up to play a gig at some dinghy place, or to just hangout after work.” Gwen smiles at you, hand clasped around her drink after Miles tried to switch it with his. “Wait!” Her blue eyes sparkles, “you haven't told her that you're in a band, Hobie!”

The trio gives Hobie a wry smile. Mischief glimmering in their eyes. “Yeah, Hobie, tell her about that time you played for one thousand people.” Pav nudges him with his elbow with a wink that you missed.

“You're in a band?!” Your expression brightens. “That's so cool! My roommate’s in a band, what do you play?”

Hobie throws the trio a quick glare before clearing his throat. “The guitar—”

“Just don't ask him to serenade you— Ow!” Gwen flinches in her seat, gaze narrowed at Hobie.

Your smile gets brighter, “you must be good at it then, playing for a thousand souls isn't a walk in the park.”

“Pav’s exaggeratin’, it was only a hundred or so.”

“Please,” Miles scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “It was definitely more than ‘a hundred or so.’” He copies Hobie's accent imperfectly. “You should've seen him,” he points at Hobie with his thumb while animatedly talking and clearly gassing him up. “He was basically Freddie Mercury up there— Ow, what?!” He stares at Hobie as if his looks could burn a hole through his head.

“He has a show next week—” Pav suddenly exclaims. “don't you dare, Hobie!” He points accusingly at Hobie. A moment passes while the two have a stare off. Meanwhile, the camera zooms in under the table where Hobie's foot is threatening to kick at Pav's leg.

Hobie sighs, blinking away his annoyance, (and putting his foot down) “it's in the white horse pub, if you're free next weekend.”

“Drinks are on Hobie—!” Gwen quickly says before twisting in her seat, effectively dodging Hobie's attack. “You should go! The rest of the band will appreciate a new face in the crowd.”

“Are you guys sure?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don't want to impose.”

“Impose away, probie.” Hobie smiles at you, dimples in full display. “‘sides, the pub’s fish and chips are unmatched.” His eyes sparkle under the fluorescent light of the vending machines.

You nod bashfully. “Sure. You had me at fish and chips.”

The trio share a knowing look before side eyeing the camera simultaneously with the same expression while you and Hobie gaze at each other with slight trepidation.

—

Before your first day could end, Miguel O’Hara calls everyone in the conference room for a quick meeting. You highly doubt that it's a quick meeting though since there's only thirty minutes before the day could officially end. Couldn't he just email it instead? Or maybe this is about *that package. If it is, you don't want to go.

With a huff and a quick but tired look at the camera, you make your way towards the conference room. As you enter, Miguel stands at front, muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning the room.

You avoid his stare, finding that your new boss scares you just a tiny bit with his air of authority around him.

Leather shoes and heels shuffle on the floor as each employee finds their place on their seat. You find the farthest chair to sit on in hopes of staying invisible. The plastic chair squeaks as you sit, cringing at the sound, knowing that the mic probably picked it up. You're starting to hate this documentary crew following your every move. Who would even find an electric toothbrush company entertaining to watch? Moreso to film its day to day operations? It's a complete mystery to you.

The room slowly fills up with you sitting at the back, your fists bunch up at your skirt with your nerves bothering you as Miguel scans his brown eyes around the room. The man sitting in front of you twists in his seat, a smile etched on his face.

“You're the new kid, huh?” You nod at him sheepishly as he reaches for you in greeting. “I'm Peter B. Welcome to the shit show.”

“Nice to meet you?” You shake his hand despite what he said.

The woman next to him sighs audibly, curls bouncing as she looks over her shoulder over to Peter. “Don't depress the poor kid on her first day, Peter.” With a polite smile, she addresses you. “I'm Jessica, don't listen to him, he's nihilistic. And likes to scare the newbies.”

“Well, I couldn't do it to Harry, might as well do it to— what's your name again?” Peter raises a brow at you.

“I haven't given it to you yet.” Chuckling nervously, you give him your name, fists unfurling around your skirt as you find them weirdly comforting. Like your favourite aunt and uncle you only get to see during the holidays.

“And I'm that Harry.” Someone suddenly speaks on your right. You almost jump in place if not for his gentle and unassuming smile. “I was hired a month before you.”

You take his waiting hand and shake it politely, finding his hand warm and friendly. “Y/N. Got any advice?”

Harry chuckles, a strand of auburn hair falling over his eye which he quickly brushes away casually. “My advice?” You nod, “go with the flow, and don't take it too seriously. The world won't catch fire if you accidentally mess up your documents. Worst case is that someone won't be able to brush their teeth for a few days.”

“Thanks.” You utter with a chuckle.

“No problem, oh, and uh, stay away from the bathroom on the second floor.”

You blink, curiosity written all over your face. “Why? Did someone die there?” You whisper the last sentence.

Harry leans closer, whispering back, pausing for suspense as you wait with trepidation. “...No, the other workers in the building just like to take a dump in there.” With every word, his smile grows. “Why would you think someone died there?” He says teasingly.

Just as you laugh, Hobie finally enters the room with the trio in tow. Miguel gives them a sour look for being late. You glance at him, “I think someone gave me that idea.”

Harry shakes his head with a smile, leaning away as Hobie sits down on your left. Harry gives him a polite nod before glancing softly at you and returning his attention to the front of the room. The camera zeroes in on Hobie's colder gaze at the man right next to you.

“What'd I miss?” He crosses his leg over the other casually, foot nudging you gently.

“Not much, just a few introductions—” Miguel's voice suddenly calling your name interrupts you. You feel like a student again when a teacher scolds you for talking in class. “Yes— sorry?” You stand up lightning quick, hands sweaty and stomach plummeting down.

“I was going to ask if you want to introduce yourself.” Miguel blinks at you, suddenly, you feel the room shrinking and with everyone's eyes on your trembling form.

You want to run and hide somewhere. Maybe not in the second floor bathroom.

“Uh, yeah, s–sure.” You curse yourself internally for fumbling over your own words. Saying your name, your throat feels like it's about to close on you. Someone coughs within the crowd, you feel faint. Hobie notices, the back of his hand brushes atop yours. You look down at the source, and he nods and smiles at you, encouraging you gently. “And I— I'm excited to work with all of you.”

Miguel nods, satisfied, giving you a glance as he tells you to sit back down. You can see Lyla give you a thumbs up from her seat up front.

“Nice job,” Hobie whispers to you, shoulder nudging your own. You inhale deeply whilst the camera lens focuses on you and Hobie. Miguel's words drones on, fading in the background. “Oi,” he says gently, “just breathe, yeah? It's over, you did brilliantly.”

“I think I'm gonna vomit.” You huff, trying to inhale and exhale out your bundle of nerves. “I almost fucked that up.”

“But you didn't.” Smiling, he taps your hand with his pinky. “Keep breathin’ for me. Don't want you gettin' sick all over the floors. What would the night janitor think about you now.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to quiet down your chuckles. “Thank you, Hobie. I'm sorry that you have to keep saving me.”

Your whispered words make him grin, hiding how his cheeks grow warmer atop his shoulder. “No problem, it's part of my job description—”

“Hobie Brown!” Miguel's voice echoes from the front towards the back of the room, you flinch at the sound. “What do you do during an earthquake?”

Hobie's brows pinch together in confusion. “Why?”

Miguel rubs at the skin in between his eyes. Cameras flicking over to him and over to Hobie, who's grinning mischievously. The trio, except for Gwen, mirrors his playful grin.

“Dios mio, it's because we've been talking about an earthquake drill for the past five minutes.” You can tell that Miguel’s holding back from swearing.

“Ah, that.” Hobie smirks, feigning confusion. You swear he was actually listening to Miguel while he was talking to you. “Get on the floor and roll over?”

You almost laughed, Pav does, which was immediately extinguished by Miguel's stern stare.

“No, that's for when there's a fire.” Miguel gestures towards Harry right next to you. “Osborne.”

“Duck, cover and hold.” He shrugs, glancing at you, or was he staring over you and towards Hobie instead?

“Good,” Miguel breathes out a sigh, “the company wants us to practice what to do in the event of an earthquake.”

Hobie snickers in place. While Miles raises a defiant hand. “But there hasn't been an earthquake in New York since 1884.”

Miguel pauses like he's also thinking on why the company would instruct him that. “They just want to cover all the bases.” He says confidently, you admire at how fast he came up with that. “Lyla here will show you how—”

The floor suddenly shakes, and you grip at the nearest thing near you, which is coincidentally, Hobie's hand.

“Earthquake!” Lyla yells atop her lungs, already running out of the room in haste, leaving everyone to fend for themselves. Everyone follows right behind her, panic settling in everyone.

Hobie glances at you, with a playful wink, he launches off his chair, hand clutching at your wrist gently. You follow a half second later, heels clicking against the floor as you try to keep up with his long strides.

“Wait! It's just the—” Miguel gets bumped by Peter, stumbling briefly before catching himself. “Lyla! It's just the construction next door!” Still, everyone sprints off, leaving him alone in the room.

With everyone either in a panic or just following the crowd without an ounce of haste, Hobie seems to be having the time of his life. Cackling above Lyla's high pitched screams whilst he holds onto your wrist.

“C’mon, probie! Don't want the buildin’ to fall on you now!” He says while running with measured steps on the stairs of the fire exit. You're sure that running out of a building during an earthquake isn't wise, but the shake wasn't technically an earthquake.

Your panic is replaced with something lighter, smiling as he holds onto you. “Do you know it's just the—?” Foot stumbling over the other whilst you two run down the stairs, he immediately twists around when he feels that you've become suddenly weightless right behind him. “Shit!”

“Got you!” Hobie's arms catch you mid air as you instinctively yelp and grab a hold of him. His back hits the wall in a groan, eyes briefly closing from the sudden ache. “You alright?”

“Me?! Are you okay?!” You actually panic now, scanning him for injuries, head craning to look at the back of his head. Thankfully, you don't find any injuries. “Oh thank fuck.” Thumping your head on his shoulder, he chuckles as his hands hovers above your back.

The rush of footsteps subside, and you two are left alone on the staircase. His shallow breaths echo while you lean away, but still near enough to see his dimples and how flustered you look in his gorgeous eyes.

“Sorry for draggin’ you around, love.” The new nickname has your head craning up to look at him at lightning speed. “Thought you could keep up.”

You two don't notice the lone cameraman atop the stairs, watching the scene unfold, all the while having a front row seat.

Your palms are on his chest, lips slightly agape, eyes gazing into his hazel eyes. “I did, you're not the one wearing heels, Hobie.”

“There you go, fight back, love.” His voice warms your chest as he smiles at you and only you.

Heart beating rapidly, you hear footsteps from behind, and you immediately unlatch yourself from Hobie. His warmth is left etched on your form, eyes glancing shyly at him, finding that he's already staring at you with the same softness.

“Good, you're still here.” Miguel huffs from the top of the stairs, “get the others back up here.”

The scene shifts to Miguel sitting alone in his office, looking disgruntled and tired. “I want to quit.” He says in a flat tone.

—

It's finally time to go home. You close your computer and grab your things, waving goodbye to Lyla, who's staying behind to work on paperwork. You guess that's her punishment for setting off panic in the whole office.

Mind recounting your whole day, you enter the elevator on auto pilot. The elevator door starts to close, but a hand reaches in between the closing doors, effectively opening it.

Hobie's expression brightens when he sees you.

“Hi, Hobie.” You smile, holding the door for him to give him time to enter.

“Love.” He tips his head to you, joining you in the elevator. He puts on his leather jacket filled with shiny spikes and buttons all around it, atop his button up, making him look like a tough businessman of sorts. “Headin’ home?”

“Yep,” you pop the letter ‘p’ whilst trying your best not to ogle him. “My roommate’s picking me up, we're gonna go celebrate with a couple pints of ice cream.”

“Cute.” He mumbles, quickly clearing his throat right after.

“Huh?” You glance at him, heart thudding, and hands clammy around your bag.

“I said that it's adorable, celebratin’ your first day.”

“You think it's childish?” Your brows pinch together.

“Didn't say that,” he backtracks, “I think it's nice to celebrate it.” You hum in reply. “I didn't mean—” Side eyeing him, you tamp down your laughter by biting down on your lip. He catches on immediately. Shaking his head with a fond smile, Hobie leans on the elevator wall, hands casually shoved in his pockets. “Cheeky.”

“Learned from the best.” You shuffle on your feet to hide your shyness. “What happened to the camera crew?”

“They went home, they have regular hours too y’know. Why, you miss ‘em?”

“God, no.” The doors open with a ding as Hobie chuckles at your reply. You exit the elevator, shoulders aching from how much you've been sitting down today.

“Before I forget.” Stepping off, he opens the glass door for you, propping it open with his body as he rummages through his pockets. You wait for him patiently, watching as he pats all his pockets. “‘ere.” Handing you a piece of paper, he waits for you to read it.

“Is this?” Reading the contents written in his handwriting, complete with a little doodle of the iced tea you had for lunch. Your eyes soften under the orange sunset.

“The recipe for my beef broccoli I had for lunch.” He shrugs, hand scratching at the back of his head as he stares anywhere that isn't your shining eyes. “It's easier than you think it is. It only took me about 30 minutes to cook because I chopped everythin’ up and prepped it the night before. I stopped eatin’ at shitty fast food places when I learned to do it myself.” He rambles on nervously, hiding his sweet gesture with numerous explanations.

You pat his arm before pocketing the recipe for safekeeping. “Thank you, Hobie. I'll make sure to make extra for you.”

The corner of his lips tug up into a gentle smile. “Make sure you give me an extra serving of beef then, love.”

You nod, heart beating loudly against your chest. “Does this mean I'm part of the lunch club now?”

“‘Course.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing ever. “The council has approved your membership. That includes the rest of my band mates.”

“And here I thought the council only consisted of you and a trio of teenagers.” You take a jab at him in an effort to tease him.

“Fuckin' cheeky, you're hangin’ ‘round me too much—”

A familiar weight suddenly falls on your shoulders. “Who's this tall drink of—”

“MJ!” You immediately clamp her mouth shut with your hand to save yourself the embarrassment. “This is Hobie, my coworker.”

Hobie's brows furrow, the cogs in his head turn at the sight of the red haired. “I think I know you from somewhere.”

Mj moves your hand away before answering. “Wait, I think I know you too!”

Recognition flits over their faces, eyes widening. “You're in that band!” They say at the same time while pointing at eachother.

MJ leaves your side, and Hobie fist bumps her hand in greeting. You're standing in between them so you back away a little to give them space. You smile at their interaction, it's such a small world that they actually know each other. You're happy that your best friend is acquainted with your new friend.

“You're in ‘Mary Janes,’ right?” Hobie's smile grows bigger.

“Bitch, I am the Mary Jane!” She gestures in a ‘here I am’ pose, continuing to chat him up.

“Shit, I like your music, mate.”

“Dude, yours absolutely fucks hard!” Mj jumps on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I saw you guys play last month, the crowd was wild!”

“We have a gig next week at the white horse, wanna come with?”

“Fuck yeah, my guy!”

As they talk, you blend into the background. Your mouth opens to try to get a word in, but their enthusiastic words plow over your own. Your smile falters as they slowly forget about you standing on the side. So you wait, and wait like a kid waiting for their parent to stop talking to someone they bumped into at the grocery store.

Your first day wasn't so bad, right?

[2crtz]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ A SLIPPED APOLOGY .

CHARACTERS: wriothesley x f!readers

WARNINGS: fluff. fighting. apologies and everything sweet. sigewinne being cute. friends to lovers. childhood friends.   SYNOPSIS: an invitation to a ball hosted by lady furina came to your doorstep, taking it as an opportunity to drag wriothesley along with you find him a wife, but he did not enjoy that idea whatsoever.

WORD COUNT: 1.938 A/N: can you guys tell i'm obsessed with a particular troupe? you'll understand at the end of the post ;)

Having a friend who constantly refuses join in activities with you was beyond annoying. He'd been like this since youth, and his unwavering habits were adding up onto your everlasting list of problems with Wriothesley.

When an invitation was sent to your family home, without another though, you began your trek to the Fortress of Meropide. Each step laced with determination, your mind set on convincing your ever-stubborn friend to join you in whatever the letter contained.

Pushing open the door, there he sat. Your graying friend leisurely sipping on his tea, surprised by your sudden appearance.

"Ah, and what pleasure do I own?" setting his porcelain cup, a familiar, teasing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. As taunting as it is, you found it quite endearing he continued to play childish games with you.

Tossing the wax-sealed envelope onto his desk, his eyes flicker towards it. The seal was unmistakable, a hue of blue so infamous it could only belong to one unique character.

"You got a letter from the Archon. So what?" he dismissed the importance of the letter as he lazily laid back into his seat. The way he went about it so casually left you wondering that the Archon was a frequent sender of his.

"Open it, Wrio." you crossed your arms over you chest.

The seal was already broken, its contents not a surprise to you. As you prepared yourself for an inevitable rejection, your gaze was sharp, studying his every movement.

Wriothesley exhaled a weary sigh before retrieving the letter. As he skimmed through the words, inspecting each part with precision, he could only laugh before discarding it.

"If you honestly believe I would go to a ball, of all places, you are sorely mistaken." his tone laced with dry amusement.

"Wriothesley," you began, your voice softening, holding a weight it lacked when you first arrived. "It is time for you to enter a new chapter in your life."

Your friend could not help himself but to roll his eyes. "And you think the Fortress of Meropide will be beneficial for both me and my "wife". What a joke."

A losing fight you have declared. Yet, that did not stop you from trying. Watching Wriothesley go on his days in solidarity, surrounding himself with the steel walls of the prison was a lonely sight.

"It's because I care for you." you replied, holding up your ground, unwilling to raise the white flag.

"Then stop caring." he retorted sharply. "All you ever do it point out my flaws that I do not care for fixing."

You scoffed, not understanding why he won't listen to you. "You cannot just spend the rest of your life in solitude, refusing to open up for someone."

Wriothesley rose from his seat, palms slamming hard onto his desk with such force his paperwork and books shifted, his tea nearly spilling over. "For gods sake, stop pestering me with these fairytales you refuse to let go of!"

His shouting caused you to flinch, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Just because you were raised in a wealthy family and had everything handed to you on a silver platter does not mean you can bother me." he spat, words sharp with bitterness.

Watching him grow angry at you was entirely unfamiliar to you. Your tongue begged to retort, however you were incapable of producing sound. You were left speechless, caught in his wind of fury.

Without missing a beat, you quickly left his office and back onto the surface.

Why was it that every time you tried to be helpful, push him towards being a better person, he always brushed it off? How can he just accept the fact that he will end up alone, locked away in the Fortress of Meropide?

The questions remained in your mind, forever being unanswered.

────

Wriothesley hadn't intended to shout at you, but your never-ending questions had worn him thin. He did not understand why you wouldn't stop bothering him about finding love, why it mattered so much to you?

He never asked you to carry that burden of constantly worrying about him.

"Fuck," he sighed, reclining back into his seat, hands rubbing his face. He understands that you only care about him, but damn, it really annoyed him. The frequent concern, the never-ending push to change.

"I should probably apologize," he spoke to himself, voice muffling in his hands.

────

The night of the ball arrived, but you still felt the lingering aftershocks of your fight with Wriothesley. Days have passed since you've last seen him, and the ache in your heart only deepened.

On the days you didn't meet with him, he exchanged letters with you, brief summaries of his day, keeping you informed with changes within the prison. Yet, none have been sent, a silent reminder that you went too far in your pushing.

The words slipped from your tongue quietly, an admission that weighed you down. "I need to apologize to Wriothesley."

You knew you had to make things right between you, but the thought of facing him after scaring you off, shattering the walls he kept restrained for a long time, filled you with anxiety.

What if he didn't accept your apology?

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you looked down onto the delicate jewelry in your hand, ready to be put on. A symbol of what Wriothesley had said, his voice echoing in your mind, that everything had been handed to you on a silver platter.

Ashamed, you placed the piece of jewelry into it's container, closing it with a quiet snap. With one final glance on your dress and jewelry, you had to fix this, no matter how difficult it will be.

Without hesitation, you felt your feet move.

────

Wriothesley adjusted the cuffs of his sleeve, positioning them nicely around his wrist. He didn't know why he is going to the ball-- no, he knows why. It is to apologize to you after days of deciding.

Perhaps seeing him there will prove to you that he does listen to you, that he understand why you push him towards greatness. It was his way of showing you that, despite his stubborn head, he was trying to bridge the gap between you and him.

Maybe, for a slight moment, you would catch a glimpse of the Wriothesley you had always believed was hidden beneath the surface. One who was listening, one who cared.

In truth, Wriothesley was doing this because he missed you more than he'd ever admit. It was torture not speaking to you, not writing to you, not being near your presence. He needed you to survive, act as his anchor-- as dramatic as that sounds.

If he didn't care, he wouldn't go through such lengths for a ordinary person, but for you, he'd walk on Natlan's lava barefoot just to protect the soles of your feet.

────

You ran up the steps, heart pounding in your chest, each step echoing your urgency. You pushed the heavy doors leading in Wriothesley's office, calling his name.

But as the door swung open, the room before you deprived of his presences. The air hung thick with his absence.

"Are you looking for Wriothesley?" a soft, child-like voice came from behind you, standing in the doorway. Sigewinne gaze fixed on you, a hint of concern in her eyes. She could see the look etched in your face, one that she noted down as disappointment.

Nodding you head slowly. "Yes." it was clear you were upset about missing your friend.

"He just left to the surface, something about attending an event." Sigewinne's hand rubbed her face as she tried to recall where exactly Wriothesley's had gone.

Your eyes widened as she ended her sentence. "The ball?!" you exclaimed.

Sigewinne, with a sudden snap of her fingers, nodded. "Yes! It's strange. He does not usually attend in those gatherings," she spoke softly, pondering the unusual turn of events.

Without a second thought, you hurriedly made your way home, slipping on your dress and jewelry. The realization struck you in awe. He truly was at the ball, and it was for you! Never, in your decade and a half of your friendship, had you ever imagined seeing Wriothesley grace such an event.

────

Wriothesley was well aware why he'd always avoided events. It was nothing but a dating pool for unmarried men and women. The sight was sickly, almost nauseating-- though, perhaps, that sour feeling was from the alcohol.

His eyes scoured through the sea of people, scanning each face in the crowds, his gaze sharp and attentive. Yet, despite his search, his efforts were met with failure. He could not find you.

Perhaps you were engaged in conversations with men, and the thought caused his blood to boil. The mere image of other suitors admiring you, swoon you with their words, might ignite the room from the flames of his fury.

As he seized another glass of alcohol from the tray of a passing servant, the murmurs around him grew louder, the guests' attention drawn to the top of the grand staircase.

There, fitted in the most beautiful gown, was you. Standing over the people as if you were their goddess, answering the silent prayers around you. Wriothesley set his glass down, eyes locked on your being descending the staircase, each step capturing his heart.

Wriothesley watched as your eyes scanned the crowd, searching through the sea of guests as if you were looking for something-- or perhaps, someone.

The moment your gaze met his, you made your way towards him in purposeful strides, your eyes locked onto his sea of blue, your voice tinged with both frustration and relief. "I ran around the world searching for you."

A humorous smile threatening to appear on Wriothesley's lips when you spoke. "Really?" his voice laced with amusement.

"My world consists of the Fortress of Meropide, so yes, really." you replied.

Once noticing the determined look in your eyes, Wriothesley gaze softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his expression. "I came to apologize," he confessed, voice laced with sincerity. "To show you that your words hold meaning, and that they haven't fallen on deaf ears."

"I also apologize for constantly forcing you in a position you clearly have no interest in," it was difficult maintaining eye contact with him, shame swelling within you. "I miss you, Wriothesley." you whispered, words hanging between you both.

Not caring for the eyes of others, he gently cupped your face in his hands, tenderly and reassuringly. "I've missed you too," he murmured, his voice low and filled with sincerity.

"Wriothesley--"

"Marry me."

His words hit you like a thunderclap, leaving you stunned momentarily. Your eyes widened, unable to grasp on his unexpected proposal.

"What?" you could not mask your surprise.

"I cannot imagine myself marrying anyone else," he confessed, his tone steady. "All the times you asked me about marriage, only you comes to mind. The thought of you entertaining other men stirs something in me, a jealousy that consumes me whole."

Not understanding the grasps of his words, your knees buckled beneath you, threatening to give out as the rush of emotions overwhelmed your senses.

"I should have never raised my voice at you, and I intent on making it up to you, now and for as long as I live." his hands never leaving your face. "So please, do me the highest honor and marry me."

Without a second thought, you nodded eagerly, the words tumbling from your lips with no effort.

"Yes--" you breathed, heart pounding. "Yes, of course, Wrio."

do not edit, modify, or republish.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: just the three of us

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: G

genre: romance, fluff

pairing: alastor x reader x lucifer (radioapple x reader)

summary: when someone destroys part of the new hotel, specifically aiming for charlie, the age old question of where will everyone sleep is asked. don’t worry, alastor and lucifer have a plan… surprisingly.

After the last extermination fight and the newly renovated hotel, sinners flocked to the hotel in droves. To the point that tonight, as you checked the last person in, there were no more rooms.

“That is going to be a problem as we get further along…” you murmur, reshuffling the paperwork you needed to file.

“What is a problem, my dear?” Alastor’s voice suddenly rang out near the checkin counter and you turned to look at him, not reacting to his sudden appearance as he had done this so many times, you were used to it. You looked at him seeing him dressed down, jacket gone, for the night and blushed, quickly turning away, busying yourself with fixing the paperwork.

“We’re all out of rooms tonight Alastor. It’ll be an issue because eventually we may need to expand the hotel to fit everyone.” You explained.

“Hmmmm…” Alastor glanced over to Lucifer who was fixing a drape for some reason as you turned back to Alastor. “That will be his problem then.” He smiled at you and you gave him a thumbs up, stashing the paperwork in the right drawer and locking it up. You handed the keys to Alastor and walked around the counter and sighed.

“I am so excited to-“ You were suddenly cut off as Charlie came running down the stairs, calling your name and crying a bunch of “I’m so sorry!” with it. She collided against you and hugged you and you hugged her in return on instinct.

“Charlie, what’s up?” You ask, worried for her as she keeps apologizing.

“Charlie, come now. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s happened.” Alastor said, as gently as Alastor could. You look at Alastor and then at Lucifer who had joined you hearing his daughter wailing.

“I-They-Your room!” Charlie got out, still crying.

“Okay. What’s wrong with my room Char?” You ask gently, holding her shoulders concerned.

“It’s destroyed!” She cries, Vaggie now coming down the staircase out of breath.

“Yeah, half of the 30th floor is gone. Everyone’s okay, Fat Nuggets is safe too. But it’s gone.” Vaggie explained.

“Does that include-“ Alastor begins and stops when Vaggie nods her head.

“It includes your room too Alastor.” Vaggie said, looking at Alastor as annoyance shined across his face.

“Who did this?” Alastor ground out.

“It’s nothing I can’t fix!” Lucifer exclaimed and Charlie cried harder. You looked at Lucifer and smiled as a way to say ‘thank you’ for trying to fix whatever was happening, his eyes widening a bit and a blush staining his cheeks. Vaggie looked and landed on you as the best person to talk to as Alastor was seething to your right.

“So, why can’t Lucifer fix the floor Vaggie?” You ask, consoling Charlie as Lucifer looked confused at what you said, opening his mouth to explain, he just said he could fix it.

“The type of… magic… that is up there… needs to dissipate before anyone can go near it again.” Vaggie explained. Lucifer and Alastor squinted at Vaggie, trying to understand.

“What happened?” You ask, more confused than anything.

“Someone left something for Charlie, a gift, and when she picked it up I heard ticking so I threw it-“ Vaggie started, Lucifer gasping and his hand now resting on Charlie’s head protectively.

“Into my room?” You ask.

“Yeah,” Vaggie nodded. “I knew you weren’t in there. I got everyone out of that side and when it went off, well, a very strong aphrodisiac, it’s pink so I’m going to take a guess there, was set loose. Everyone’s fine, no ones affected and everyone above the floor has been given guidance to keep their windows shut and to alert us if they feel any symptoms. But it took out part of the building and it’s lingering. We were able to contain it so it won’t seep into the hotel either.” Alastor’s face with a still ever present smile looked disgusted and displeased.

“That was intended to hurt you and Charlie then, you know that?” You ask, clutching Charlie tighter, looking at Lucifer whose face looked grim.

“I know. It means that they know what floor we’re on, and what room was ours.” Vaggie confirmed.

“We’ll need to make better schematics when we rebuild.” Alastor glanced at Lucifer, pointedly staring at him.

“Regardless, they knew what floor the staff was on too, it was to take all of us out. We’ll need to put protections in place.” You murmur as you guide Charlie to the couch. “We’ll have to deal with it in the morning though. Are there protections that can be put on the hotel and specifically staff?” You turn to ask Lucifer and Alastor. They both nod, saying yes at the same time and then eyeing eachother.

“Okay. Please, work together to put them in place.” Both nodded and went off discussing amongst themselves “Vaggie, do we have places for those displaced?” You ask, your hand absent mindedly petting Charlie’s head.

“Everyone except for Husk, Angel, myself, Charlie, Pentious and Nifty.” Vaggie explained.

“Myself and Alastor as well.” I add and Vaggie nods. Suddenly, both Alastor and Lucifer come back, and Alastor suggests, “Why don’t Husker, Angel, Charlie, Pentious and Nifty as well as yourself, Vaggie, sleep in the common area here. We can create it as a room for now until we can access the damage tomorrow.”

“What about our rooms and sleeping places, Alastor?” You ask, looking at him like he’d gone off his rocker.

“Oh, you can come sleep in my quarters!” Lucifer pipes up, smiling. No one else seems to feel that Alastor or Lucifer’s sudden agreement on this was strange. You don’t have time to think about it though as the crew comes down and Vaggie explains the proposition. There are cheers of “movie night” and running to grab snacks.

You look down to see Charlie gone and look up to see her and Lucifer talking. You sigh, feeling the day suddenly catch up to you, when you feel Alastor murmur to you, “Why don’t you go upstairs?” You look to him confused.

“Go on little doe, we’ll get everyone situated down here. You’re off duty now.” Alastor says pushing you toward the other staircase. You sigh, thinking Alastor is acting weird and wave as those in the common area yell good night, seemingly taking this turn of events well. You walk up the stairs, and feel exhausted from the day. Your mind wondering to who could have placed something like that up there.

You hesitate outside of the door to Lucifer’s quarters, you know that he said y’all would be sleeping there but it still felt odd. You sighed and walked in, admiring how expansive it was before seeing a very comfy looking couch across from the bed. You snickered to yourself, knowing you’d be falling asleep in a matter of minutes and then Alastor and Lucifer would have to share a bed.

“What’s better than a get along shirt? A get along bed.” You chuckle as you collapse onto the couch and are swept off into a dreamless sleep.

———•———•———

You slowly awake to arguing and whispers. You open your eyes to two pairs of eyes staring down at you. You yelp and then fall off the couch, landing on top of Lucifer. His cheeks aflame as he stared at you. You realize that your top is in his hands and there’s a new top in Alastor’s hands. Both of them are in pajamas, and staring at you wide eyed.

“Why am I undressed?” You ask confused.

“Well, you see… you looked uncomfortable and so we wanted to make you more comfortable and so we just grabbed new clothes for you and were going-“ Lucifer started rambling before Alastor cut him off.

“We wanted to ensure your comfort dear, so we were going to change you. We weren’t looking at anything, gentleman’s promise.” Alastor said, softer than he normally spoke. You, awake enough now, looked at both of them. The air in the room was tense and they both looked partially guilty, and while also anxious.

“I don’t care if you were looking, jeez.” Their eyes widen at that. “I don’t know why you’re being both, so weird.” You say, leaning over and grabbing the shirt from Alastor and then coming back to where you were sitting putting it on. You move around a bit and shimmy to get the shirt that is huge on you actually situated when suddenly Lucifer’s hands go to your hips digging in and stop you moving. His breaths were heavy and his eyes lidded.

“Please-“ he breathed. “Stop moving.” You looked down and realized you were straddling him as you yelped in shock and shot yourself over to Alastor, Lucifer whining at the loss of contact, as you accidentally land between Alastor’s legs, your upper back right against him. He grunts and you look up at him, his cheeks aflame a gorgeous red and you realize what you’ve done again, so you leap away from both of them sitting on the floor near the edge of the couch.

“I am so so sorry. I am so sorry.” You’re muttering and hold your head in your hands. You’re quiet and can’t even look at them, the pajama shirt they were handing you askew and your work pants still on. Suddenly, you feel a cool hand on your cheek, guiding you to look up. You see Lucifer who had crawled over to comfort you and Alastor still on the couch, blush evident on his cheeks.

“If you wanted us so badly, you don’t have to throw yourself at us.” Lucifer chuckled, seeing you curl further into yourself muttering apologies. “You’re so smart you know that?” Lucifer murmured. His hand resting on your cheek now, thumb rubbing against your cheek bone, drawing your face to look at him. “You knew our little plan down there… You knew something wasn’t right.” he explains and your eyes widen.

“Your little plan… ‘our’ little plan… You worked together?” You ask incredulously. Lucifer and Alastor exchange a glance and then both chuckle.

“That is what she would be worried about, hmmm.” Alastor said, looking at you both.

“I don’t understand. Did you place something to ruin the hotel?” You say looking at them both like they are crazy.

“No!” Alastor exclaimed.

“No, no. Our plan after that happened, of sharing a room with you so we could talk. We wanted to do this in a different fashion but, you seem to have caught both our eyes, my duckling.” Lucifer explained and your eyes went wide.

“You both…” You trailed off not finishing the thought. “Seriously? You’re doing this right now?” You ask both of them. They both nod and you blanch.

“Strike while the iron’s hot and all that.” Alastor quips. You look at both of them, your heart feeling like it would burst and then your stomach drops coming to a realization they may want you to choose between them.

“I’m not choosing between either of you, nor will I allow this to be a competition. I value our friendships far too much for that, so if this is what this is, I’ll be going down with the others.” You say as you try and get up. Lucifer stops you though as Alastor gently places his hand on your shoulder, stopping you and explains, “You misunderstand us dear. We don’t want you to choose. We talked about it and we would both like to date you… simultaneously.” Alastor explained. Lucifer nods as they both watch your expression. You blink a few times, your mind not processing.

“Why me? I’m just… me. I’m a sinner. I’m not even an overlord. No one important.” You murmur, not looking at them again. There’s a sigh and Alastor lifts your face.

“You’re important to me, chère.” He whispers, almost like if he didn’t say it out loud then no one else could hear the weakness he was admitting to.

“You’re very important to me.” Lucifer says, guiding you to look at him as you realize that both Alastor and Lucifer’s fingers were interlocked on your chin and your heart fluttered. “You helped me see the light, when all I saw was a dark cage. You and Charlie did that.” He explains, his eyes brilliant in conviction and leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth. You gasp as his eyes widen and he looks a bit sheepish while Alastor stared accusingly at Lucifer.

“And Al, you’re okay with this?” You ask. “I don’t want anything to make you-either of you really, but I think Lucifer would be more open to all of this in this situation- but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Or this make you uncomfortable. Or anything. And honestly, I’d rather go downstairs and pretend this didn’t happen, if you both were uncomfortable because again I value your friendship and you both mean a lot to me-“ You ramble on until Alastor puts his hand over your mouth, stopping your words, your cheeks blazing at the proximity.

“If I wasn’t comfortable, I wouldn’t be here right now.” Alastor asks, finally sitting on the floor with both you and Lucifer, Alastor kneeling in front of you and bending down a bit.

“Are you comfortable with this idea though?” Lucifer asked, his hand trailing to yours. “You’ve spoke about our comfort-which I am okay with all of this, surprisingly…” Lucifer says eyeing Alastor. “But are you okay with this? All three of us being together?”

“Well, I mean, it’s kind of sudden, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t like you both. Quite honestly it left me desperately hopeless because I couldn’t just choose either of you. That’s been going on for like at least six months though.” Both pairs of eyes widen looking at you. “But what about this?” You ask motioning between them. “I have to be honest when this is probably the most surprising revelation of the whole evening.”

“You know what they say, hate makes the heart grow fond.” Alastor smiles sarcastically at Lucifer.

“That’s not-never mind…” Lucifer looks at you. “We realized about a month ago that we respected eachother more than what we had let on, and in that conversation we both revealed to each other that we cared for you.. amongst other things.” Lucifer explained, looking at Alastor, a red tinge on his cheeks and started getting up, you looked at him confused, but he offered both you and Alastor a hand. Both you and Alastor grabbed Lucifer’s hands and got up, as Lucifer continued talking. “Whiskey does wonders on getting people to talk. So, we then wanted to know if there was an opportunity that you reciprocated feelings for at least one of us.”

“Color us surprised when we realized you did, but for both of us.” Alastor added on as he followed the King of Hell to the bed.

“How did you know though?” You ask genuinely curious as you hopped on the bed, looking at both of them. “I tried to not show anything at all.”

“A certain spider spilled.” Alastor grinned.

“Angel.” You looked unimpressed.

“We then realized that we had a unique opportunity.” Alastor explained.

“So, we decided that if we didn’t have to make you choose and could-“ Lucifer started.

“Both court you, then it was the most ideal outcome. Especially considering if this became public…” Alastor trailed off, his grin becoming strained.

“If this became public you would be target number one for a lot of people who wish to harm me or Alastor. Heaven and the Vees included. And Charlie is currently one of those targets as well.” Lucifer expanded on the point already made. “So what better than to have two of the arguably most powerful men at your service?” Lucifer exclaimed at the end. Alastor eyed his theatrics and rolled his eyes.

“Well, I mean that’s hot.” You say unthinkingly and then feel your face turn warm as you look up at both Alastor and Lucifer who are wide eyed. “I mean- uh…” You clear your throat. “That’s very very logical.”

Alastor laughs and leans over, invading your personal space. “If you think that’s… as you said, hot, we can show you something more.” His grin widens, mischievous. You hear a groan across from you and see Lucifer, blushing.

“That was hot.” He says and you can’t help but laugh. Which turns into a yawn.

“Come, let us sleep, we can talk more about this in the morning.” Alastor explains drawing you up to the pillows and laying on your right side.

“Hey! I normally lay on the right side of the bed!” Lucifer exclaims. “You KNOW that.” He looks actually upset as Alastor just switches the pillows.

“Right as rain then?” Alastor says sweetly, looking at Lucifer. You feel Alastor’s arm gently being placed on your waist. “Is this all right darling?” You nod and look at Lucifer. You open your arms for him and he smiles, cuddling up and facing you.

“Can we sleep like this every night?” You ask, half asleep, but feeling so comfortable.

“Of course dear.” Alastor murmurs.

“Every single night.” Lucifer confirms. You feel Lucifer’s hand reach around you and feel it move like he was petting something. You understood quickly as Alastor growled. He had pet Alastor.

“Don’t pet me, you under grown circus clown.” Alastor threatens as he stiffens against you, feeling and hearing Lucifer chuckling.

“Both of you behave.” You murmur, close to the sweet embrace of sleep, still half wondering how everything fit together so quickly, but you had once heard that when it’s right everything just comes together perfectly.

[ms-demeanor]

do you have, among your many guides, anything for How To Do Taxes without paying some shithead company $200?

I do not because taxes are a nightmare; i looked into trying to create a guide and realized I could cause people for-realsies problems because the system is set up to change regularly and trip you up.

I do know that as of 2024 if you make under $79k a year there is a free file option with the IRS: https://www.irs.gov/filing/free-file-do-your-federal-taxes-for-free

I want to be clear: doing taxes is a fucking nightmare and I hate it, filling out the forms is confusing and upsetting and seems to be worded in the hardest to understand way possible. But I also just sit down and fill out the forms and do the math with no other software; I do not generally pay people to do my taxes because I sit down and do the paperwork myself (or ask Large Bastard to do it because he's better at reading numbers correctly; emotionally I'm more likely to cry and he's more likely to rage-quit so it's a wash on that end).

The IRS website has a step-by-step guide: https://www.irs.gov/how-to-file-your-taxes-step-by-step

The way that I do ANYTHING that I don't know how to do is:

Look up a step by step set of instructions

Search anything that I don't understand in those instructions and research until I've got a handle on it then rewrite that information in a way that I understand it

Read through the instructions from beginning to end, double-checking that I know what each term means

Make sure that I've got everything that the instructions call for in front of me

Follow the instructions step by step; if I get stopped or have a problem I will search the problem using combinations of key terms until I figure out an approach and will try various approaches until that works and I get to the next step

IF I CAN'T GET PAST THAT STEP I call for help from someone who knows this better than I do.

Continue following steps miserably until I am done and can wash my hands of the mess and/or test results.

This is how I learn to cook things and fix cars and thread sewing machines and put trim line in weed whackers and do taxes. Find instructions, make sure I understand instructions, make sure I have everything required for the project, follow instructions, make sure I've got a phone-a-friend handy, and check my work after.

It's not very specific advice for taxes, but it's how I do new stuff (or stuff that isn't new but that I find confusing every time, like taxes).

[petew21-blog]

Fitness coaching, part 2

(a different inbox request 😈) I'll refer to you as kid and combine the stories. Hope you don't mind

Warning: The kid is just a nickname. The person in this story is of age

A high school assembly where Kevij Hjenas talks about his success and motivation

Kevin (or is it Kevin really?):"Hey everyone, today I am here to talk to you about following your passing and lack of motivation. First I gotta tell you how I started. How I wasn't so different from all of you..."

Kid to himself:"Yeah, you got it easy. You had the looks, you had the muscles and no one was beating your ass when you went to high school"

Kevin continuing:"So whenever you feel like giving up, you gotta stand up to that thing and beat it. And the biggest fight there's gonna be is the one that will be in your head"

Kid;"Sure, I wanna be the one in your head. Try being me for a sec while everyone is beating your ass, looking you in the lockers and picking on you for not being good enough."

Kevin:"And if you ever have a problem, don't worry to walk up to adults and ask for help. Most of the adults are willing to help you win your fight"

Kid:"Jesus, Kevin. I admire you and yet you come to school and talk to us about this bullshit? Nobody cares. Of course they don't. They don't want to fill the paperwork, talk to the parents. It's easier not to care. Damn. I wish I could be Kevin Hjenas and him to be me so that he could see what it's like to be a kid in high school again"

BAM

Kid tries to open his eyes, but can't. He can feel... stretched? Around something. He can feel something hard inside of him. He can feel a butt? What is going on?

He tried to scream:"What happened? Where am I?"

Kevin stops his speech as the voice inside of his head now turned more louder, but it sounds different. "Kevin? Go back to being an obedient speedo, would you? I got a presentation to finish."

Kid:"Kevin? What? I am... I am a student. I was just watching Kevin. Why are you calling me Kevin? Where am I? Did you just call me a speedo?"

Suddenly a kid's in the audience gets up from his seat. "I can see again. I can talk! Somebody help me. Someone stole my body." He stares in disbelief at his previous Kevin Hjenas body, or atleast the one who looks like him. "You did that! Give me my body back!"

Teacher:"That's enough of this outburst young man, you'll come with me to the principal."

The other kids lost it and the whole auditorium started laughing. This kid is gonna get beat up today so much more than usually.

(Not) Kevin to Kid as his speedo:"Look kid. Let me finish this and I'll explain. Ok? Just stay silent and I'll fix this. Ok?"

Kevin finishes the presentation and goes to the nearby park

Kevin:"So tell me what did you do before you ended up as my speedo?"

Kid:"I couldn't believe the bullshit you were talking at the assembly. I had the worst time yesterday and I envied you. Your body, your fame. Everything. So I wished to be in Kevin Hjenas body and him to be in mine"

Kevin:"Oh... I see what went wrong"

Kid:"It didn't work, that's what went wrong"

Kevin:"Well technically you are in Kevin's body. Cause... I'm not really Kevin. I'm wearing his body as a speedo and that gives me the ability to look like him. I'm a different person. So the one screaming in your body at the auditorium was the real Kevin in your body"

Kid:"Ok, then change me back to his body then. If you have the power."

Kevin:"It's not that easy... we gotta contact this writer. He writes stories and if you ask he grants you the wish in a form of a story/transformation. He likes to play with his subjects after. But the waiting time is horrible. He works all the time and only writes a few stories a day. So that is the tricky part"

Kid:"So what if we ask him nicely? Maybe if we explain the situation to him, he might understand"

Kevin:"You really are naive, kid. But it's worth a shot. Let's go home. You gotta get used to being a speedo and there is not better time to let you learn like now"

Kevin's dick gets visibly hard

Kid:"Oh, this is strange. But... it feels nice. I can actually feel it"

Kevin:"Just a few benefits of being a piece of clothing. Just wait till you feel me stroke myself or have an orgasm. Oh jesus. How old are you kid?"

Kid:"Don't worry. I'm old enough to feel you cum onto my... fabric?"

Two months later

Author:"Oh hey Kevin. Sorry for the waiting time. You wouldn't believe what kind of wishes all the people have. There was thos guy who wanted to be merged as Hulk and..."

Kevin:"Stop. This can't wait. I need a favour. And so does this kid." Kevin pulls down his shorts and points at his speedo

Author:"Is there something wrong with the real Kevin? You still look like him so what's the issue?"

Kevin:"The issue is, that this isn't Kevin anymore. Some kid from local High school wanted to swap bodies with him and he did. Kevin is now attending school again, while he is stuck embracing my dick as speedo"

Author:"Oh... well. I don't have good news for you boys. Because another spell intervened, I can't really do much about the appearance of Kevin's original body. But... there might be a solution. You may not like it"

Kid:"I don't care, I just want to feel what it's like to be a human again. Atleast for a while"

Kevin:"The kid is on board with whatever plan you got. Depends what it means for me."

Author:"It's quite simple, guys. You might have to learn how to share. You'll both have the ability to control your body, swapping with the speedo. Only one gets to control the human body, while the other rests as speedo"

Kevin:"I'm not giving this up. I worked hard to look like Kevin"

Kid:"You can't do this to me"

Kevin:"Can't you place his soul into something else, please?"

Author:"Wish I could, but both of these spell are now combined and can't be broken. If I take his soul away, you won't look like Kevin anymore. It's either this or full reversal. And let me tell you... Kevin is gonna be really pissed"

Kevin:"Would you be ok with that? Sharing a body like Jekyll and Hyde?"

Kid:"Who's that suppose to be?"

Kevin:"Jesus you kids these days. So... like Moon Knight?"

Kid:"Oh cool. If it means I get to be human and also Kevin, I'm in."

Kevin:"Ok, let's do this..."

Two weeks later, pier beach

Kevin:"You should stop with all these carbs. We'll get fat"

Kid:"Oh shut up. I'm enjoying myself."

Fan:"Hey, Kevin. Could I take a photo with you?"

Kid:"Oh yeah. Right on"

Fan:"Thank you. Could... could I touch your biceps, sir?"

Kid:"Oh of course. Go on. I can't get enough of these things too. They are massive right?"

Fan:"Haha. Yeah. Thank you"

Kevin:"You need to tone it down a bit. People are gonna get suspicious."

Kid:"Oh relax. You'll get your turn soon. I'm just enjoying my part of the day. I still think it's unfair that you get the night. I wanna party and fuck other people too. And not just as a speedo"

Kevin:"You'll have a chance soon. Don't worry"

Who knows if the boys will learn to share

A request from Inbox story set as a second part. Guys, you two might have to learn how to share 😁

Hello today is worst day of school someone just randomly pick on me and the worst is no one at the school cared for me, tomorrow kevin hejnas is coming to our school i just wish i could be him so i could feel what life would be as a famous man.

[generalluxun]

Miraculous Reverse

Lore/fix/expansion/headcanon

Tackling that one out-of-place name drop and turning it from something boring and repetitive(in an otherwise really fun plotline!) into something more fitting. Like or hate her, having Chloé just be Marinette's bully in the reverse is just dull. It also goes against the overall theme of similar-but-different.

So, in trying to keep canon in mind, but twisting it up, I present to you:

Emonette's bully is actually reverse!Zoé- hear me out.

Reverse!Andre is an iron fisted tyrant. Reverse!Audrey is a harmless vapid party girl/trophy wife. Andre still very much abuses his power and Audrey is still very much a forgetful/neglectful mother.

Zoé is still the product of infidelity. It's not so much an estranged wife stepping out as a naive/foolish girl seduced by Mr. Lee. When André finds out too late, he is livid. Audrey goes 'to the country' until her 'health improves' and baby Zoé is tossed into the public welfare system.

Meanwhile back at home André is utterly embarrassed by the whole scandal. Chloé, already not something either parent was really interested in, is kept confined to the hotel and not spoken of. She becomes something glimpsed by guests out of the corner of the eye; there and gone. A rumor/urban legend starts about 'The ghost of LeGrand Paris.'

Back to Zoé- due to a social worker being careless with paperwork, and Zoé being an advanced reader for her age, she learns early on about her 'real' family. She is instantly angry as only a child can be. She should be rich! She should have power! She should have it all!

For the next several years she is a terror for foster families, orphanages, and homes for problem children. It gets to the point where she is returned to the Bourgeois(at least until Andre can fight the legal system again). Once she's there though, André doesn't know how to handle her. He's surrounded himself with sycophants for a decade. Someone who stands up to him with his own level of belligerence is alarming. He resorts to ignoring her/avoiding her and letting her do whatever provided it doesn't cause him more problems.

When Zoé meets Chloé(around 11-12 yrs of age or so), she sees someone with the life she was denied... So she takes it. She takes Chloé's name and enrolls herself in school. She claims to be the 'Ghost of Le Grand Paris', who was sickly growing up but is healthy now! She's out, proud, and taking everything she wants. This includes dominating the school, ruling as Queen, and taking out her personal anger on that easy-victim emonette.

I want to stress this is a *starting* point. This is a setup. This is where the narrative begins. Zoé is still in part wearing a mask, one she forged herself im childhood based on what she thought *should* be.

Chloé isn't some perfect angel. She's a recluse, unsocialized, isolated. (Think Mary Lennox from the Secret Garden) and libel to be a touch cross if her very tiny world is upset.

This whole thing is meant to blossom out, be discovered, and provide for some great narrative hooks.

Instead of just boring 'Chloé bad.'

[happiest-hotch]

Deserving

Summary: Aaron has a rough day being a dad, and you reassure him that he is very deserving of your family

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Life with three children is not always easy. It's crazy to think it's been over a year since you and Aaron went from having two kids- Jack and your daughter, Eden- to three, adding sweet baby Noah to the family.

Mornings, although they've become a well-oiled routine, are always a challenge, but they're a satisfying one to complete.

Today, Aaron's slightly changed the patterns. Without an early morning budget meeting, mountains of paperwork, or active case, he's home until a 10 am call time for a case briefing at the BAU, which is very rare for a weekday.

So, instead of breakfast duty, you're taking the first shower while he handles getting everyone fed. 

You don't doubt his abilities, but your morning showers are always quick and effective, as opposed to your relaxing nighttime ones, which, when you're lucky, take place with Aaron, so you're dressed and ready for the day quickly. However, the glorious difference of having someone else there is that you don't get interrupted once. 

The chaos quickly catches up when you walk downstairs and hear your sweet baby boy crying loudly, very unhappy.

Aaron's frantically trying to calm the tear, offering him different types of cereal as a substitute for his toast and every juice in the fridge as he deduces the cause of an early morning crying fit. Jack looks done with his younger brother, sitting at the kitchen island with his hands over his ears, which makes it difficult for him to eat. He'd love a momentary reprieve of being able to travel two years back in time. He adores his younger brother, but you're not totally sure he wouldn't send him back for some momentary peace. As for Eden, she's nowhere to be found.

You spot the problem in a second, walking over and kissing the top of Jack's head before ruffling his hair affectionately. "Can you stop him now?" He implores.

Aaron looks at you with similarly pleading eyes, ready to admit defeat. 

You take the plate from in front of the toddler, open the cupboard and take a different one out before you switch the food over and slide the new plate across the countertop.

In a second, his tears stop, and he digs into his toast like nothing has happened. The tears on his red hot cheeks dry as he eats happily. With a look of thanks, Jack digs into his breakfast.

"He doesn't like the blue plate." You explain to Aaron.

Your husband frowns, as confused as you were when you first noticed the quirk. "He eats off it every night." You've even learned to bring it to Rossi's for your fussy baby. 

"Only at night and occasionally afternoon snack." You report to him.

Aaron's heart sinks, and the fact he doesn't know that about his own child hits him deep down. It's no secret that he's not always there, physically much less than most dads, and it weighs heavily on him.

"Oh." He lets out, trying to mask the disappointment he feels with himself. He turns around, grabbing your favorite mug. "Coffee, baby."

You smile, kissing his lips before gratefully taking the mug. "Thank you." You glance around the room again, not seeing a four-year-old coming running into the room. "Where's E?"

Aaron quickly puts down his mug. "Shit." 

Jack chuckles at his dad's unusual swear before looking down at his oatmeal when Aaron glowers at him. 

"It's okay." You place a gentle hand on his chest. "I'll sort her." With a quick kiss on Noah's forehead, you leave before Aaron can stop you. 

Her great drama of the morning is an easy fix when you brush through her hair with the detangler meant for dry hair, not wet. She didn't inherit straight hair like her older brother and dad, and she wants to keep her hair long, which means it gets knotted overnight. You don't blame Aaron for the hiccup. He can't have known when you're the one who usually brushes his hair- his specialty being braiding- and the bottles look identical aside from the tiny writing, which you know he can't see because, although you wouldn't tell him, he probably should be wearing reading glasses. 

"What's wrong?" Aaron asks, his voice laced with panic when his head peaks around her door. 

"You're done, baby." You tell her, letting her climb off the chair and go to brush her teeth. You walk over to Aaron, hoping to provide some relief that nothing is wrong and that his children are just as dramatic as he is. "She only uses the one in the bathroom if her hair is wet. When it's dry, it's the one at her dressing table." You love your boys, biologically related to you or not, so much, but you love having a girly girl. Aaron's out of his depth. Even learning to braid took effort and nights of practicing on your hair, but he succeeded. As ill-prepared as he feels for the future, you know he'll always try for his baby girl. It's something you adore about him.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes sheepishly, looking down at the carpet.

You wrap your arm around his waist, and his arms hold you tightly, both of you appreciating a quick hug in the hallway. "You can't expect yourself to be perfect."

But you are. Aaron doesn't say it, but it's on the tip of his tongue. 

"Go get ready." You instruct him. "I'll hold down the fort." 

You're always holding down the fort. "Okay." He agrees, only leaving your side after taking a long kiss that he feels undeserving of. 

Aaron's packed Eden and Jack's lunchboxes, which you're sure he's added loving notes to.

You get Noah changed for daycare, making sure he's got an extra change of clothing in his bag since he got paint all over his spare shirt.

Then you place him in front of the TV to watch cartoons with his siblings. Jack's too old for them, but he's such a good big brother that he never complains.

Your next task is packing lunch for the person who overlooked packing it for himself, writing him a note that you hope makes him smile. 

He's also effective at getting himself ready, often having to do it quickly and in the middle of the night without enough sleep, and he's finished quicker than you were. 

Aaron surveys the scene in the living room when he comes downstairs to find it quiet, much different from how you had. "How are they all ready to go?" He asks, and you see confusion where he's plagued with self-doubt.

"You did a lot of it." You assure him, aware your role this morning was fixing mistakes. "Are you taking Jack, and I'll take the other two?"

He's quiet for a second, brain buzzing away inside his head. "Yes. Yeah, that works." He agrees. 

You notice those little details, but it's easy to assume it's about the incoming stress of his workday. "Okay, well, I love you."

That gets a quicker reaction. "I love you, too." He says, cupping your cheeks to kiss you sweetly. 

"Team Hotchner?" You offer out a fist bump. 

Aaron takes it with a chuckle that momentarily halts his frown. "Team Hotchner." He turns to the living room. "Jack, you ready?"

He nods, high-fiving his sibling before tossing his backpack over his shoulder and walking to the door.

"Love you, and have a good day." You tell him, pulling him into a side hug. 

He hugs you properly. "Love you too."

Then two of your favorite people are out the door to continue their days, and you turn back to the other two. "Alright, babies, let's go."

~

Jack fills Aaron in on what's going on at school, or- as Aaron profiles it- everything minus the social aspects. 

They pull up to the drop-off zone, and Aaron stops, knowing Jack has grown past wanting his dad to walk him into class. "Have a good day, bud." He says. 

"Uh, Dad?" Jack starts awkwardly. "Did you bring lunch money for me?" Nope. Aaron didn't even know Jack's been buying his lunch. "It's just Y/n always-"

Aaron nods, fishing out his wallet from his pocket. "Y-yeah, of course." He answers. 

Due to how infrequently he pays in cash, the only notes he has are $50s, probably- and hopefully- not what you give Jack each day. 

He hands it over, and Jack scrunches his nose. "This is way too much." He states. 

Thankfully, Aaron thinks quickly on his feet. "Treat your friends." He offers.

Jack grins, knowing he has permission to carry such a large sum of money to a 13-year-old. "Awesome. Thanks, Dad." 

Then he's gone, and once he's out of eyesight, Aaron throws his head back against the headrest, hitting the steering wheel in frustration. 

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling utterly useless and like he doesn't have enough of a purpose in the family you've built together. Although you've always treated Jack like your own, you know his son better than he does, and that's a warning sign that he can't ignore. It doesn't feel like it was together when he thinks about it. He was just there while you effortlessly did it all.

It's a bad day at work. It starts before he gets there, and it doesn't get better. The silver lining is there's no case that the team can't consult on from Quantico. Still, he can't bring himself to return home when he should. It gets later and later, and his thoughts spiral as he looks out across the dark bullpen and feels like he's 12 years in the past when he was losing Haley because he couldn't be a dad or a husband. He's trying to be different, better, learn from his mistakes because he doesn't get another shot, and he can't stand the thought of letting you down. He's surprised he even got a second chance.

By the time he gets home, the kids are in bed. Jack's light is still on, but the house is silent. The TV's on low, but you're paying more attention to your phone than it. 

"Hey, baby, long day at work?" You wonder, not at all sounding mad about it. 

Aaron feels like he needs to be punished, yelled at, and made to sleep on the couch, but he's met with understanding. 

"Mhm." He answers, dropping his briefcase in his office and his keys on the side table.

"There's dinner in the microwave." You continue talking in your lighthearted tone. 

It's wrong to be short with you, and he hates himself for it. "Thanks." 

It's a pretty obvious sign.

You know something's wrong. 

He thinks he's good at hiding it, but he's not when your focus is solely on him. 

You're patient, letting him take your time as you put your phone down and wait until he's sitting next to you on the couch after eating. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

Aaron can sense your watchful stare and acts like he's focused on the TV. "Nothing." 

"Aaron Hotchner." You warn. "I would appreciate your honesty. Whenever you're ready." 

God, he loves you. There's nothing he's done in his life to deserve someone as understanding as you. "You're the definition of a supermom." He tells you. "I'm not jealous. You keep everything running smoothly here, and any stumbles you react to with so much grace. But I'm failing." You hate that he thinks that of himself. He's not perfect, but neither are you or anyone. One thing Aaron isn't doing is failing. "I barely know anything about our kids, stuff I should know, and I would know if I were a good dad. The thing is, I'm never here." Before you can dispute the claim, he continues. "I'm not, Y/n. If it's not casework, it's paperwork, but I'm never here as much as I should be. I don't deserve any of this."

You hate seeing him like this, having talked himself into his feelings all day. "Aaron." You coo, cupping his cheeks and trying to wipe up his tears. "Baby, you're allowed to make mistakes. Our kids love you and think you're the best dad in the world." You assure him. "Jack has looked at you like you're a superhero since I met him, and E and Noah do too. Every time you're away, they know you're out there saving people."

"You really think so?" He asks. "All of that?"

You nod, brushing your nose against his gently. "100%. There's never been a doubt in my mind that you deserve this family. You've got to believe me." 

A flicker of a smile lights up his face. "I do." He decides. 

"Did you eat your lunch?" You wonder. 

Aaron's unsure where it came from, but he sheepishly looks away from you. "I didn't."

You hit him lightly on the chest, scolding him for not eating. "Then you didn't see the note I added." 

"What did it say?" He asks, more excited knowing he's not in trouble.

You debate making him wait until tomorrow, but he needs to know. "Thank you for being the best dad ever to our kids. I love you." You recite.

It seems too convenient, and he frowns. "Really?"

"I think it's a soulmate thing." It's the only explanation you can come up with, having not known this morning that his stress was because he was worried about not being a good enough dad.

"I love you." He says, closing the small gap between you to kiss you.

You go in for another kiss once he pulls back. "I love you, too." You remind him. "Bedtime?" You ask when he yawns. "Then you can have another shot at perfecting the morning routine." 

He nods, grateful for everything. "Let's do it."

[pinklotushere]

If you're feeling heroes

Infinite Realms: Danny Phantom x DC x Marvel AU

Ok Background set-up:

Tim Drake, convinced that Bruce Wayne is still alive, leaves Gotham to search for him, following the path of what he believes are key "historical events." His journey takes him to the desert, where he and his friends discover mysterious runes.

But instead of death befalling his team, the runes turn out to be a veil between dimensions, and they are accidentally sucked into the Infinite Realms—a multiversal space where ghosts, spirits, and lost souls wander.

>>> The Infinite Realms:

The Infinite Realms are vast, uncharted, and connected to every universe, spanning an infinite number of realities.

It's a place of eternal unrest for souls who can not settle, their energy scattered across the realms.

Ghost King Danny phantom oversees this expanse, helping souls who are unable to find peace. His primary task is to evaluate and guide the dead, but things get complicated when some souls have unstable or underdeveloped cores, making them restless or dangerous.

Meanwhile, Vlad Masters (Plasmius) has been secretly aiding Ra’s al Ghul in the mortal world, providing ectoplasm (which functions as Lazarus water in this universe) to Ra’s, in exchange for the loyalty of Ra’s dead assassins. Vlad’s ultimate goal? To usurp Danny and take the throne of the Infinite Realms for himself.

On the other side of the multiverse, thanos snaps his fingers and 50% of the people turns to dust , Peter Parker and half of humanity has been sucked into the soul stone, they dont die though,It just causes a ripple in the fabric of the multiverse, their souls arrive in the Infinite Realms.

but Peter’s left deeply resentful, confused, and struggling with an unstable core

Someone, either Frostbite or Clockwork, takes notice of Peter’s arrival and brings him to Danny for evaluation. As usual, Danny’s focus is on making sure the new arrivals don’t cause trouble, which is complicated by his deep dislike of paperwork (he’s great at physics and biochem, but don’t ask him about statistics).

Danny is swamped with the paperwork for new arrivals when Peter walks in. His appearance is unexpected—he looks like someone who should have settled, but instead, his core is unsteady and kn the verge of chattering.

Peter’s unhelpful attitude only complicates things further. Danny is immediately concerned.

Peter, a genius by nature, peeks at Danny's paperwork and recognises the problem with Danny's administrative mess and offers a solution. Danny, impressed and possibly a bit desperate, hires Peter on the spot to help with the duties of the Ghost Zone.

As things progress, Peter grows more comfortable in the Ghost Zone, though he’s reluctant to fully settle.

Danny starts offering him more and more outrageous jobs in an attempt to keep Peter nearby and help with his unstable core.

What starts as offering him a simple assistant job escalates into more absurd roles—secretary, concubine, king regent, you name it.

Danny will do anything to keep Peter around because he feels Peter’s the key to fixing the realms—and his heart.

Peter, while impressed by Danny's devotion, is wary of the increasingly bizarre proposals. His love language, however, is acts of service, and he appreciates the lengths Danny is willing to go to help him.

Meanwhile, Tim Drake is trying to blend in with the League of Assassins' ghosts in order to track down clues about Bruce.

He quickly learns that Vlad is controlling the assassins, and, much to his disbelief, Plasmius wants to dethrone Danny.

Tim has access to Danny’s historical records, and after sneaking into the archives (probably under Clockwork’s watchful eye), he realizes that Danny is by far the best leader the Infinite Realms have seen in millennia.

Tim starts to believe in Danny’s leadership—and in his own chance to make a difference.

Tim's plan is an easy two steps:

1. Break the assassins free from Vlad’s control.

2. Go to Danny and explain Vlad’s plans, hoping Danny will be indebted and help him return home to Gotham. But, Tim, ever the tactician, also knows that if he takes down Vlad, he could demand Bruce’s return as part of the bargain.

Tim’s plan goes awry when he’s blasted with ectoplasm during an altercation, which leaves him vulnerable to the strange aura of the realms. His life force begins to drain, and he’s rushed to Frostbite’s domain for care. Panic sets in because his plan isn’t completed, and the pressure causes him to blurt out that he’s come to propose a deal to Danny. But he fumbles the words, not realizing what he’s implying.

The misunderstanding spirals out of control. Tim believes he’s asking Danny for an alliance, but Danny’s court interprets this as Tim proposing marriage. In a frantic attempt to clarify things, Danny blurts out that he’s already in a courtship—with Peter.

Tim, confused but intrigued, takes one look at Peter (the “pretty boy” in question) and casually says, “I don’t mind sharing.”

In the Infinite Realms, relationships of this nature are binding—and the realms themselves interpret Tim’s words as consent to begin the courtship process. Now, Danny is trapped in a situation where, if he doesn't follow through with the courtship (and marriage), his core could shatter, causing the Realms to collapse.

Danny, now trying to keep his new “court” intact, is caught in an increasingly complicated political and personal web. He has to decide his feelings for both Peter and Tim while also trying to maintain control of the Infinite Realms. The Ghost Zone’s stability is at stake, and there’s the looming threat of Vlad’s power grab.

As the stakes get higher, Tim, Peter, and Danny form an unlikely alliance. Tim continues to investigate Vlad’s manipulation of the assassins, and Peter starts to use his genius to help stabilize Danny’s leadership—and potentially help them figure out a way to stop Vlad. And danny? Danny falls hard

[dustysalmon]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 5

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Story summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Chapter summary: With the help of a friend, you attempt to steal the documents requested by Silco, and make disturbing discoveries along the way.

Word count: 3.4k

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter ⎜Next chapter (tba)

The week flies by, though it’s largely uneventful. Lots of patrols in the city, mountains of paperwork, and a handful of arrests for petty crimes. Whenever possible, you request assignments beyond the bridges.

Not only is it more hectic there, but it allows you to personally meddle with the disproportionate amount of arrests at the border—most of which are children. Wealthy topsiders who indulge in Shimmer don’t bother crossing into the undercity to get their fix. Instead, they have it delivered to their doorstep. To facilitate this, the chem-barons rely mainly on child couriers. Less conspicuous, quick on their feet, and very good at hiding in plain sight, they’re the most logical choice for this kind of work. 

As an enforcer, your orders are simple: arrest the couriers, confiscate the cargo, and deliver a harsh lecture about the consequences of breaking Piltover’s laws. Whatever that means. You satisfy yourself with the lecturing part. The prisons are already overpopulated with Zaunites who have no business being there, and kids represent an overwhelming portion of it. Granted, sending them back to their boss empty-handed is not ideal, but the most chem-barons can do is rough them up a little. They’re well aware that the workforce is not infinite, it would be bad for business. It’s not ideal, and it doesn’t fix the problem, but you’d rather have that than send them all to Stillwater. Needless to say your Piltovian colleagues tend to be less lenient. 

Hopefully you will have more freedom over your affectations once you officially take you position as Major. As you think about it, you realise that controls at the border loosened abruptly when Marcus Sheriff. Everybody knows why now. You hate to admit it, but you might actually miss the bastard. Warren will have a very different approach then his predecessor, that’s for sure. The ceremony is tomorrow and the mere thought of him parading through the streets with that kind of power at his fingertips sickens you. He has always been the confrontational type, and given the current tensions, if he has his way, things will only get worse.

You shove your helmet and gloves in your locker with a sigh. Six days have passed and you have yet to learn much about Jinx’s condition. Luckily, you just happen to have your monthly physical today. You have no doubt that Dr. Hansen is involved in her recovery and will have a lot to say about the girl. He always talks too much for his own good, but that’s not what worries you. Coaxing the information out of him is one thing, but figuring out how to steal the personal files without anyone noticing is another challenge entirely. It’s not a problem if he realises the documents are gone later—so long as you’re careful, no one will trace it back to you. The key is finding a way to be alone in the room for just a few minutes. Your mind races as you weigh your options, frustration bubbling inside. Maybe there’s someone who could help you with a little distraction. Of course—why hadn’t you thought of it before? There’s someone you need to talk to urgently. You snap your locker shut, and after a quick goodbye to your partner of the day, you head straight to the medical facility. 

Located just a few blocks away from the Police Department headquarters, it is a large building that welcomes patients, but also classes, conferences and summits for those in the medical profession. It’s also where every enlisted enforcer goes to take their annual physical. You, however, get to visit about twice a month thanks to the abominations you call lungs. But first, there’s a certain Vastaya you need to find. 

As you walk in the main lobby, you pray that he is indeed working today. A quick glance at your pocket watch reads 9:45p.m. The dining hall it is then. Unsurprisingly, the place is packed, and incredibly noisy. You weave through the tables, your eyes shifting in the sea of identical uniforms and blouses. Fortunately, your target stands out from the human crowd with his very distinctive features. You up your pace.

"Dren!" You wave at him and notice the way his expression shifts as his vivid green eyes set on you. As soon as you reach him, he excuses himself from his comrades and rises fluidly from his seat. Before you can even get a word out, he grabs you by the elbow with his large clawed hand and pulls you to a quiet corner, away from the noise and prying eyes. 

"What’s wrong with y—"

"A couple days ago," he interrupts, "I get a memo from my friend that reads like a damn suicide note. Not one word since, and you expect me to be normal about it?" He hisses, his protruding fangs showing much more than usual.

"A suicide note?" You repeat, caught off guard.

"There’s this one thing I gotta do," he quotes you verbatim, his voice heavy with accusation. "If you don’t hear from me soon…what was I supposed to make of that?" The raw emotion in his tone—equal parts anger, fear, and shaky relief—hits you harder than expected. You recall scribbling the note in a rush, but it hadn’t sounded nearly as dramatic at the time. You apologise profusely and reassure him how you can, although your words don’t sound very convincing even to you. In truth, your safety is hanging by a thread, and if you have nothing to show for the next time you meet with Silco, you seriously doubt that he’ll simply grant you a second chance.

"Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?" Dren asks, leaning back slightly, as though bracing himself for whatever revelations you are about to drop on him, should you choose to. You owe him that much, and so you lay it out for him. Your first meeting with Silco, which you confess didn’t exactly go smoothly, but all things considered it could have gone much worse. You skirt around the edges of the most important details, carefully omitting the Gemstone. Instead, you imply that both of you are in a precarious arrangement—each holding something the other wants. For now, that tenuous balance is all that’s keeping you alive. You feel a bit guilty withholding information from Dren, but you meant what you said about the stone: its whereabouts need to stay secret. Not just for your sake, but for Dren’s as well. It’s safer if he doesn’t know. 

When you finish, silence sets between the two of you. The longer he stares at you, the clearer it becomes: he must think you finally lost your mind. He pinches the tip of his snoot, a habit of his when he’s thinking something over—and, more importantly, trying not to say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Do you think you can trust him?" Even he knows the answer to that question. To the average Piltovian, Silco is an industrialist—a business man whose dealings are above board by undercity standards. But for enforcers stationed at the border, and more recently for the Council, the façade is paper-thin. Once you know about the chem-barons, it doesn’t take much to figure out who’s truly pulling the strings. Silco is a dangerous man, but you wouldn’t have come to him if you had a better option. That’s exactly what you tell Dren, and you’re grateful when he listens without interrupting. He is well aware that wearing that uniform is a burden more than anything. On your end, you’ve never hidden your priorities from him. Piltover might sign your paychecks, but your home will always come first, even if that implies making dubious choices and people.

"Well that’s…a lot," Dren says with a nervous snort. "At least I’m glad you’re okay. I hope you know what you’re doing." He rubs your shoulder comfortingly, and you nod in thanks, placing your hand over his as you blink the wetness of your eyes away. Finally, some of the weight and tension from the past week lifts off your shoulders. It’s not unusual for you to keep everything bottled up, but admittedly this is a lot more than you’re used to. It’s a true relief to be able to share this with someone. 

"So," he then says hesitantly, with an air of forced casualness, trying to lighten the mood. "Any other secret plans you wanna share?" The smile vanishes from his features as there is clearly something else. 

"Actually yes." Without beating around the bush, you ask if there’s any way he could distract Dr. Hansen during your check-up—something subtle, effective, and that would keep him away long enough for you to poke around the office. As before, you leave the most important details out.

"I don’t want to get you in trouble, Dren. If it’s too much, I’ll find a way," you say, meaning every word. You’ve already leaned on him more than you should today. His green eyes narrow slightly, before an exaggerated pout spreads across his features.

"Are you calling me incompetent?" He asks, feigning deep offence, as though you’ve wounded his pride.

"Dren, I’m serious," you retort. It shouldn’t surprise you that he’s joking about it—ever the competitive sort. Frankly, there was little chance he would turn down the challenge, and unconsciously or not, a part of you knew that. You’re afraid to ask yourself what that says about you.

"I know, but you also said it was important," he says, his teasing demeanour giving way to sincerity. "I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust you."

"Thank you." The knot of anxiety in your stomach loosens just enough to let adrenaline creep in. No backing down now. It’s time to get your hands dirty. "I should be going then," you say, stepping away. "Can’t wait to see what you come up with." Dren gives you a sly wink in return, his sharp teeth flashing in a mischievous grin.

You sit on a cold metal chair in the empty waiting room, trying to look casual, but somehow, nothing feels natural. You smile to yourself. Stealing used to be such a trivial activity when you were a kid. You snatched from stalls without a second thought, pocketed mechanical parts as you walked past scrap shops like it was nothing. The years have tamed you for sure, but now would be an ideal time to get back to your roots.

The plan—if you can call it that—plays over in your head like a record. Get through the initial pleasantries with the doctor, wait for Dren’s cue. You can clearly picture the layout of the office from your previous visits. It’s not huge, but it’s always full of paperwork everywhere. It might be a headache. Your chest tightens at the thought of fumbling. There are so many ways that this could go wrong. But you remind yourself that failure is not an option. After a few minutes, Dr. Hansen’s voice breaks through the silence. “Officer, please come in.” He says with a tired smile. 

The check up is very routine: height, weight, blood pressure and heart rate. Then onto the physical examination. As is customary, Hansen spends extra time fidgeting with your chemsurge. He’s clearly fascinated by the technology, but his bias always gets the better of him.

"You should really consider looking into what Hextech does in terms of respiratory devices. I’m not sure how reliable this is." He’s been saying that for years, ever since you had it installed.  

"As expensive as this was, Hextech is…too rich for my blood, I’m afraid." You reply evenly, and he simply shrugs in response.

"This is decent, I suppose." Clearly he doesn’t believe that. "Gutter work, but decent." It gets less aggravating after a while, but it’s still worth noting, the way they can’t help but speak ill of the undercity. That’s fine, as far as you’re concerned, Hextech has never done anything for you, and you’re more than satisfied with the gutter work. 

Suddenly, there’s a big boom coming from the corridor, like a body falling limply and fully to the ground. And then a strangled scream calling for help. Oh, Dren is really going to put on a show then… Hansen looks at you with stupor, excuses himself and rushes through the door. He has barely made it past the threshold that your body goes straight to auto pilot. You run behind the desk, opening the top drawer, and closing it when you find nothing of interest. You repeat the same process with two others before finding something worth going through. A stack of patient files, neatly sorted by name. Your eyes travel frantically back and forth from the ajar door to your hands as they flip through the documentation. At the same time, you keep an ear out in case any footsteps come a little too close. 

No luck with this drawer either, you curse, looking at the shelves around the office. There’s far too much to search through. You look for something isolated, something important enough to be kept separate, and that would pertain to an ongoing intervention. A pile of paper tucked in the bottom of a shelf catches your eye. A variety of bills are stacked at the top, but you’re interested in the black folder beneath it. Skimming through the first pages, you let out an involuntary sound of relief as you stumble upon a picture of Jinx. No need to linger any more than strictly necessary. You get off the ground and shove the large file in your backpack. 

Dren has done his part tremendously well because you get about two minutes to yourself before Dr. Hansen walks back into the room, his face a perfect portrait of exasperation. He drops in the chair beside the examining table with a sigh that practically begs for the day to be over.

"Everything okay?" You ask innocently, and he answers like it's physically painful to recount what just happened.

"Some idiot almost choked himself eating grains," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose intensely. "Stupid way to die, but it happens more than you think. The healthcare services are saturated, and this is what we have to deal with." You nod empathically, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. 

"I can believe that. And I hear we’re hosting criminals now, too." Not your subtlest attempt at fishing for information, but Hansen takes the bait immediately. 

"Ah, you’re not the first to tell me that this week. And let me tell you, this one’s a real handful. Resilient like you wouldn’t believe, like she refused to die, really."

"You think she’ll make it?"

"Oh, she’s in stable condition, should be released in a couple of days, it’s just a formality. It’s not the body I’m worried about, though, it’s the mind. That girl’s completely insane. She won’t last a month in Stillwater, and that’s being generous." He sneers. By the sound of it, you bet he’s one of the guys who’d rather you have left her for dead on the bridge.

"Good riddance." You say, buttoning up your collar as the check up comes to an end. 

Hansen gives you a prescription for painkillers, which are technically for your mom, but he doesn’t need to know that. As far as you’ve told him, the chemsurge hurts you in ways that are unbearable from time to time, and that explanation works perfectly within his narrative. You shake his hand, thank him, and make your exit. It’s only once you’re in the corridor that you realize your heart has been hammering this entire time. Thankfully, he hasn’t said anything about it, and if he chalked it up on the chemsurge, all the better. By the time you make it to the entrance of the building, you’re practically running. Dren finds you a few minutes later, his grin smug and unapologetic.

"Found everything you were looking for?" He asks nonchalantly.

"You’re one crazy bastard, you know that?" You hiss, your voice low to avoid drawing attention, but your words are pointed.

"I’ll take that as a yes." He relishes in your weak reprimand, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves.

"What if you actually choked?" You snap, though you can’t help the exasperated laugh that slips out.

"Then you would’ve had even more time alone in that room."

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re welcome,” he shoots back, elbowing you gently. 

“Thank you.” You mumble, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile. “But you’re still crazy.”

“Crazy gets results. Don’t forget it.” You follow him outside, enjoying the last rays provided by the bright sunset. Dren’s grin softens slightly as he meets your eyes. “Get some rest,” he says, the teasing edge in his voice giving way to something gentler. “You’ll need it for tomorrow…I hear someone is getting promoted.” You stop in your tracks, realising you completely forgot to tell one of your closest friends about that super important event in your life.

"Shit…I wanted to tell you, I just—"

"Hey, you’ve got a lot on your plate, it’s okay. Just make sure to acknowledge me during your speech eh." You laugh it off together, and he walks you back to Mid Town. You part ways with a hug, and he keeps an eye out until you’re fully out of sight. 

After tending to your mom and settling her to bed, you sit at the kitchen table and pull the stolen file from your bag. For a long moment you just stare at it, your finger running over the edges of the folder with hesitation. It does feel like you’re intruding a little bit, but you figure that you don’t have the luxury to pass up on any information. Besides, Silco didn’t say anything about not nosing around, and he’s not stupid, you would’ve peeked with or without his approval. 

You open the folder and smooth out the pages of the post-incident report. Hansen was right about one thing, it is a handful. The first image stops you cold. It’s a close-up of Jinx’s arm, where you can see the burns stretch across her skin in jagged, angry lines, deep enough to leave raw tissue exposed. The note reads Severe third-degree burns over 15% of the body. Shrapnel lodged in the left thigh and abdominal region… The list goes on, each word more cutting than the last and your guts twist a little more as you look at the other pictures. One shows a profile shot of her face, swollen and bruised, her long blue hair matted with blood. The burns curve up her neck and onto her jawline, leaving patches of discoloured, warped skin. 

You read through more of the clinical and impersonal language describing wounds that honestly should have been fatal to the girl. Hextech certainly has reached a whole new level in terms of medical research. The next section is full of diagrams, showing the extent of the damage and the subsequent surgeries required to stabilize her. Every note is written with an almost robotic detachment, but you feel every word very strongly. You pause as your eyes linger on the next bit. Explosion caused by an improvised device. Self-triggered. As you suspected, the bomb that put an end to the fight was hers, but the report basically confirms that Jinx was ready to blow herself up. For what? The cause? To prevent herself from being arrested? Your memories from that night are not as clear as they once were, but the Firelight leader was clearly not ready to finish her off. They could have walked away, both of them. You shake your head lightly. The girl doesn’t look a day over seventeen, and yet, there she was, ready to give up everything in one violent, final act. The thought of having nothing left to lose so soon in life, of reaching a point where destruction is the only answer, it makes your stomach churn.

You push the file away, and lean back in your chair. A part of you is relieved to have something solid to show Silco the next time you meet, but you can’t help fearing how he will react to those pages. If he truly cares for the girl—and you genuinely think he does—this will infuriate him beyond measure. And if he chooses to channel that fury into actions, the outcome would be catastrophic, for everyone.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @nerds4life246 @policedeer @burgerwolf74

Chapter 1 ⎜ Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3 ⎜ Chapter 4 ⎜ Chapter 5

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love Epilogue

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3k

Part 10 ←

Masterlist

Rafe wasn’t sure what to do. Now knowing you had overheard some of his conversation he knew how bad it looked. He was prepared to fix it, thing was he needed to come up with a plan. He was tired of dancing around you, never truly saying what he actually meant. This time he was going to prove to you that he wanted you and no one else. He wanted you exactly the way you were. The only problem was how do you convince a girl she’s worth it when she’s spent her whole life thinking she’s not? So Rafe was going to take his time because he was prepared to spend the rest of his time with you. That was until Mila sent him a new text.

Mila

A wave a sickness quickly washed over him at his desk, hand tightly gripping his phone as panic slowly replaced that sickness. The idea of you on a date made him want to kill whoever the hell the guy was and he had a feeling he knew exactly who it was. Slamming his phone down he dialed the pager on his desk phone to his assistant Kaitlyn.

“Yes Mr. Cameron” she answered almost instantaneously. After all of this he needed to remember to give her a raise.

“Get me AJ, now” and Kaitlyn scrambled out an okay while Rafe tried his best not to seethe at the thought of you trying to erase him completely. It’s only ten minutes later when AJ walks through his office door.

“Kaitlyn said you needed me” the smile on her face suggests she’s assuming some kind of hookup but when she spots his angry face she realizes fairly quickly this is not the case.

“You have a Tanner that works for you down there” Rafe nods his chin down to where AJ’s marketing floor lies.

“Yeah, Tanner Mason. He’s one of my best” she says fondly of her workers and Rafe nods as he processes his thoughts.

“Yeah, well today he’s just too good. I need you to up his work load, enough paperwork he won’t be getting home until midnight tonight. I don’t even care if you have to send someone home to do it” AJ quickly furrows her eyebrows, confused at what was going on.

“I don’t understand” she says, confused why Rafe who should have no clue who this worker is, is suddenly targeting him.

“Tanner has decided to ask my girl on a date, one he thinks he’s attending tonight, I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen” AJ wears a surprised look, realizing how serious he is right now.

“Why would she even be going out with him if she’s dating you?” AJ instantly questions, looking to place blame on her but Rafe just sighs.

“She dumped me and didn’t even say why. So I’m going to get her back. Whatever means necessary” the shocked face that crossed AJ’s features doesn’t surprise Rafe, yet he doesn’t back down.

“I guess I can send Emmet home, tell Tanner he’s sick and I need a completed ad by the end of the day” AJ finally says after a beat and Rafe smiles a sly grin.

“You’re the best AJ” he says and AJ rolls her eyes as she begins to stand up.

“You’re lucky we’ve been friends so long and I’m partial to you actually being in love. Believe it or not but there was a point in time I didn’t think you were capable. It’s nice to see you care so deeply about someone” and Rafe knows she’s referring to him never reciprocating her feelings during their time together. He would feel guilty but after all of this he knows now you can’t help who you fall in love with, you’re just along for the ride.

“It feels nice” he tells her and she lets out a chuckle before heading towards the door.

“You owe me, and I want to be front row at the wedding” she tells him and the blush that crosses his cheeks surprises her.

“Anything you want” and she accepts this answer before leaving the office and towards Emmet’s. She would’ve sent him home even if Rafe gave her no reason. Everything Rafe did had a purpose.

Rafe now content with the start of his plan being set in motion glances at the picture of you on his desk. The selfie you had taken in his lap that day you were here. He knows now he’s never going to move it, loving having your smiling face looking back at him. He was determined to have you smile at him like that again so he finally responds to Mila’s text.

Mila

Rafe didn’t care that she called him out on his behavior. He used to be a very different type of insane and she should be glad that this was the only crazy thing he was willing to do these days. You had changed him for the better and he wasn’t going to lose you now. He needed it to at least be real. To know that sleeping with you made it official and not some way of using you. He wanted you the way you were forever and he was willing to go back to his old ways to make it happen.

“He’s not answering me” you groan to Mila on the couch. You had been dressed for your date for the last hour, waiting for Tanner to pick you up but so far it hadn’t been done.

“Maybe he got caught up at work, I mean you know the boss” Mila snorts out and she’s glad her acting is good enough that you can’t tell she’s internally panicking. Rafe had her delete Tanners message, one where he informed you he got stuck at work and would have his phone off the rest of the day. You’re oblivious and Mila is praying this plan doesn’t blow up in her face.

“That’s not funny” you tell her with a pout but before Mila could say anything the doorbell rang. You nervously scrambled to answer it only to be met with an older gentleman and a limo in the street behind him.

“Hello Miss, Tanner is running a bit late so he’s asked me to escort you to the restaurant. Are you all set to go?” the formality shocks you and Mila realizes fairly quickly Tanner wasn’t the one who sent this limo at all. In defense of her best friend she should stop her but even Mila knew Rafe wouldn’t have planned all of this without purpose.

“Damn, a limo! Can I tag along just to ride?” Mila asks and the chauffeur just smiles at her, told to comply with any requests.

“Could she please?” you ask the man and he nods quickly.

“Of course, what fun is a limo without guests” he says before stepping out the way and gesturing in the direction of it.

“Thank you!” you say before grabbing Mila’s hand and rushing her to the limo. You had been full blown panicking now, not having gone on a real date in ages. Now it was even more intimidating riding in a limo there.

“God, drink some champagne and chill” Mila says when she spots your nervous behavior in the back of the limo. She was already on her second glass.

“I am chill” you defend as she hands you a glass that you have down in two full gulps.

“Yeah right” she mutters as you hold out the glass, awaiting her to pour more. She obeys and doesn’t say anything more as she lets you drink in peace and sits beside you in support.

It’s not long until the limousine pulls up in front of one of the most beautiful restaurants you had ever seen. Never would you have guessed a marketing job would provide such big bucks like this, yet you don’t complain. All you do is glance at Mila who has now ditched the glass to drink champagne straight from the bottle. She smiles and gives you a thumbs up which is all the confidence you need to leave the car when the chauffeur opens the door.

“Thank you…” you trail off, realizing you don’t know his name as he releases your hand from helping you out the vehicle.

“Harold” he tells you and you smile softly.

“Thank you Harold, sorry you have to deal with her alone” you gesture back to the car with a chuckle.

“I heard that!” Mila calls from inside and Harold lightly laughs with you.

“Tanner should be here soon, just tell the hostess you have a reservation under Tanner Mason” he informs you and you nod, filled with nerves because you didn’t even know his last name was Mason until now. You suppose that’s the whole point of going on this date though, getting to know each other. So you walk into the restaurant anyways and do as told where a hostess leads you to a private booth, jazz music playing over the chatter of people, and candles lighting up the dim table.

“Sorry I’m late” a smile crosses your face before you even register that it wasn’t Tanner’s voice. Rafe notices how quickly the smile vanishes as he slides into the spot where Tanner is supposed to be.

“Why are you here?” you glare, not in any mood for a stunt of his tonight. You were moving on, trying things you never had before. You didn’t need him here and messing it up.

“Tanner got caught up at work, something about a coworker being sick and a deadline to meet by tonight” Rafe says this sentence so naturally but you know he has something to do with it. Tanner would have never planned a date let alone not contacted you about it, yet you suppose Rafe had something to do with that too.

“So what? you thought you’d just come and fill in. Take his place for the night?” you scoff, arms crossing over your chest and immediately thinking of ways to get out of this restaurant.

“Try forever. You shouldn’t be with him Y/N! You should be with me” he groans out, hands fisting the table cloth in front of you both.

“That’s never going to happen” you say with the shake of your head, trying to look anywhere but him.

“Why? We spent that night together, I thought it was finally real. That you would finally let me love you and instead you blocked me on everything!” he countered and as much as hearing that he wanted you that didn’t change fact.

“Really Rafe, me too! Which is why I came by your office as soon as I could just to hear you talking with AJ about your current sex life. How shocked she was to hear you’d sleep with me at the same time as her. Luckily I left just as I heard you start talking about not being attracted to big girls” Rafe instantly goes back to that conversation in his head, realizing AJ had used present tense when talking with him.

“I haven’t slept with AJ in over two years. I cross my heart, I haven’t even been with anyone the entirety of the time we spent together. You have to believe me” he begs, needing you to know it wasn’t true. He was desperate for you to know it was true.

“Even if that’s true Rafe, I can’t be with someone who isn’t attracted to me. I get that I’m no beauty standard and I understand my body isn’t the healthiest but I deserve to be loved for all the things that make me, me. That includes being overweight” you say, fighting the tears that burn at the back of your eyes. You didn’t want to cry over him anymore. It wasn’t worth it.

“You don’t understand Y/N, you walked away before I could finish that day. I was saying I had never been attracted to big girls before and up until now I didn’t know why. You’re so beautiful, I love everything about you. I love the way your hair always falls in your face and how when you laugh to loudly you cover your mouth with your hands. Beauty isn’t a standard, it’s just in the eye of the beholder. Anyone is beautiful when you love them and baby I love you more than you know. I love you so much that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world to me. As long as I have you, no other girl in the world matters” and the tears break free in full force, shock painting your features as Rafe’s words resonate with you. You want to believe he’s lying but what reasoning would he have? Based on his own tears in his eyes you realize that Rafe is telling you the whole truth for maybe the first time in the entirety of your relationship with him.

“You love me, exactly the way I am?” you can’t help but ask and Rafe chuckles, reaching long arms across the table to brush away your tears.

“I do, I love you more than anything and no matter what happens I always will” he says, sincerity cracking his voice and finally a smile appears on your face, chuckling through the tears.

“Well how in the hell did that happen?” you ask, the backs of your hands wiping the tears from your face while Rafe laughs at your words.

“I don’t know, guess it’s got something to do with this really cool girl I met in a bar” Rafe says and finally you stand from your side of the booth, rushing over to his own where he happily accepts you into his arms.

“You promise it’s real, everything?” you ask and Rafe smiles, a hand reaching and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“It always was” he tells you and that’s enough for you to lock your lips against his own. He kisses you like he can’t possible get enough, tongue sliding past your lips as your hands toy with his hair at the nape of his neck. He is everything you ever wanted and for the first time you deserved.

“I can’t believe you hijacked my date to get me to talk to you” you say when you finally break apart, heavy breaths falling past your lips from how deeply he was kissing you.

“I had to do something, you blocked me on everything with no explanation” he says with a bewildered look and you can’t help but laugh before pulling his lips to your own and kissing him again.

“I needed something effective to get you out of my system” you tell him and he grins, squeezing you tightly against him and in no hurry to let you go.

“You remember when we first hung out and I asked you if you had ever been in love before?” he asks you gently after a moment and you nod, softly leaning against him.

“Yeah and I told you I’d like to think I was but I wasn’t sure” you respond, remembering that day in his apartment so clearly. How much fun you had ended up having while hanging out with him.

“I only asked because I had realized I’d never been in love before, but now if someone asks me I can confidently say yes” he says with a grin and you can only giggle at the handsome boy in front of you.

“When did Rafe Cameron become such a sap?” you asked, knowing you’d seen every side of Rafe other than this.

“I’m only a sap for you so don’t go telling anyone” he tells you and for a single moment you’re the happiest you’ve ever been in the arms of the man you love. Rafe was your first and hopefully only love and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life getting to know him even more.

“Who would’ve thought a fake date would teach me how to love someone” you say to him and Rafe grins.

“Is that you finally saying you love me back, because I definitely have you beat on confessions tonight” he teases and you laugh loudly, hand covering your mouth which Rafe removes as he grins back at you.

“I love you Rafe Cameron, bad boy persona and all” you say and he pecks a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Learning to love, who would’ve thought it’d be me” he says referring to the journey you both had been on, going from loners to two people in love with each other.

“I sure as hell didn’t” you say and Rafe smiles just as the wine he had called ahead and ordered arrived to the table.

“This wasn’t Tanners date at all was it?” you ask and Rafe only grins, not embarrassed by his actions at all.

“Nope, this is all me. He texted and cancelled while you were in the shower and I had Mila delete it” he admits and you gasp, lightly smacking his arm as he goes to set a wine glass in front of you.

“You two are devious” you say and he shrugs, arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulls you close and sips from his glass of wine.

“Devious but successful” he tells you and you shake your head before laying it on his shoulder.

“You’re lucky I love you both” you tell him and he smiles, lips pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

“Yeah, we definitely are”

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @fishingirl12 @houseofperfecttaste @abbybarnesstuff @carma-fanficaddict @jjmaybankisbae @exhaustedbutelated @diagnosedpsychosis @daivny @drewstarkeygf @vinniehackersbaee @emsgoodthinkin @apollo3475 @https-urwife @willowalexissss @kisstaya @hcneyedsstuff @lexiereblogs @drewsuncrustables @mveggieburger @marvel4life3000 @bibliophilewednesday @humungouspatrolwolf @ijustwanttoreadlols @jaijustreads @sleepjam @dilvcv @aaronhotchswife @sunshine1218 @lavenderhazeq @theultimatefrenchfangirl @kravitzwhore @chalahyung01 @jenniferpendragon @kitty-marie725 @dlwritings @writevanna @alenerz @h34rtsformilli @just-cuz22 @superbreadsoul

a/n: and that’s a wrap. thank you so much everyone for coming with me on this journey and I hope you fell in love with their story as much as I did. clearly Rafe and the reader have a beautiful future ahead of them, no longer lost in the world. as for you my dear and loyal readers I wish this for all of you, not only find love but learning how to 🤍

[nightlyrequiem]

Hello there requiemmm 💫💫💫

Ive got a new request for u bbg 😈 /p

okay, so, this ones short, but, i hope its descriptive enough?? Idk 😭

(excuse my grammar, english is not my first language)

Valeria X unfairly devoted Reader.

hear me out, -- Reader is a member of Valerias cartel, -- they're in the higher ranks (im talking, one of the very few people that actually know who El Sin Nombre is, type of 'higher rank')

Reader is an absolute devotee. They (platonically, mostly) worship Valeria, cater to her every need, do whatever she'd like, whenever she'd like, no questions asked. Reader doesnt do it out of fear, that much is obvious. They just do it out of both respect and the far lack of both disobedience and a backbone.

Valeria, naturally, appreciates them, -- keeps them close, enjoys their company (mostly, because it feeds her ego, and makes her feel superior, -- in control, and whatnot) so much so, that reader is nearly permanently stuck being, somewhat of a 'personal assistant'.

Reader, being forced to spend all day (and, sometimes night, if Valeria needs some help with something) decides 'eh, why the fuck not' and asks Valeria out on a little hangout, disguised as a small 'meeting' in a coffee shop, that, ultimately, actually goes well, and spirals into a date.

(Date, naturally, ends with beating someone senseless in a dark alley, after they listened in on Readers and Vals conversation, or, .. something. Reader is, most definitely, doing all the damage, being a guard dog of sorts, not wanting Valeria to 'get her hands dirty, from such a small, unimportant man'. Not manner, man.)

Etc etc, girlfriends, lesbianism, boom. Work your magic, im bad at describing genuinly falling inlove.

hope yar doing well!

--Jester

🃏🌀⭐️

Took me eight days but I finally got around to this. Sorry for the wait, Jester 😔 I am doing quite well as of wiritng this, thank you. I hope all is well with you!

This is very loosely connected to the headcanons I did for this idea. I said it once, and I'll say it again; I love the unfairly devoted trope. I’m not sure I captured it too well but 🙌

Tags/Warnings: Violence, WLW, Boss/Employee Relationship

Swans

Many species of birds mate for life. Penguins, corvids, vultures, and most famously: swans. Symbols of love, loyalty, and grace. They are creatures full of love. They're so sensitive that they can die from heartbreak. You stare at Valeria and understand how the swan feels. How it could hopelessly devote itself to another, even at the cost of it's life.

The quiet scratching of a pen fills in the silence. Valeria's brows are furrowed in concentration as she haunches over her desk. You want to remind her to straighten her back, so it doesn't hurt later. Your eyes greedily drink in her profile. The slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, her curtain of black hair slightly obscuring her cheek and eye.

She sighs.

"Get me a drink." She murmurs. You're to your feet immediately. Heading towards the small cabinet containing her alcohol. You've fixed her enough drinks to know what she wants. Your fingers wrap around the neck of a bottle with golden liquid. Pouring it into a small glass, then putting in exactly two small ice cubes.

You carry it over to her desk and set it down in the corner. You slink around behind her. Watching her take a sip. You can't see her face, but you know she's letting the liquid sit in her mouth to savour the taste. She does that with all of her drinks; savours the first sip.

You have no problem getting her drinks. Or doing her paperwork. Or taking a bullet for her. Valeria has been the one constant in your life. She's the only one who has ever noticed you, and you latched onto her like a leech. She fed you crumbs of kindness and that's all it took. It's obsessive and unhealthy but you're long past the stage of caring.

Valeria takes a second sip then goes back to working. Her shoulders look so tense. You want to rub that tension away, but you don't. It's late and you're feeling a little tired, but you'd never say so. You doubt Valeria cares and you don't want to distract her. Besides, she must be tired too. You'll go home when she does. For now, though, you wander back around the desk and sit down in one of the chairs off to the side.

You gaze at Valeria as she works. At some point without even realising it you fall asleep. Your body startles itself awake as that fact worms it's way into your subconscious. You aren't sure how long you've been dozing off for, but Valeria isn't in the room anymore. You sit up with urgency and look around, a small fleece blanket falls from your shoulders.

You furrow your brows, trying to remember if you put it on yourself. You know you didn't. You feel slightly giddy at the thought of Valeria doing it. As if just thinking her name summoned her, Valeria walks into the small office. Despite how tired she is her stride is still intense and confident.

She sits down with a grunt and glances at you.

"Good sleep?" She asks sarcastically.

"How long was I out for?" You murmur. Tugging the blanket into your lap. Valeria's hair is a little messy and you wish you could run your fingers through it. Or a brush. You just want to touch her hair.

"Fifteen minutes." Valeria replies. "You should go home and get some rest."

Fifteen minutes isn't that bad. You don't want to leave just yet though.

"No, I'm okay to stay for longer." You insist. "I could help you finish up the last of those reports."

Valeria shakes her head and when she speaks her voice sounds softer than usual. "You've been staying late for the past few weeks; I know you aren't getting the sleep you need. Go home."

You frown but concede. "Alright." As you're getting up an idea pops into your head. "Hey, could we meet at Ila's tomorrow? I just think I need some extra reminders about where all the trade routes are." You know every route and the exact location of them.

"Okay." Valeria agrees. "5PM."

The next day arrives and you're very impatient for 5PM. You finished all your tasks and went home early. It's not a date. Not to Valeria, but that doesn't mean you aren't going to treat it like one. You've picked out a nice, attractive outfit and touched up your makeup.

You arrived five minutes early and secured a table. Watching as patrons pass by. The smell of baked goods almost tempts you into buying something, but you don't want to eat before Valeria. Ever the punctual person, Valeria walks in through the glass doors at exactly 5PM. She looks very put together, hair brushed and glossy. She's even wearing different clothes.

Valeria sits down across from you and gives you a small smile that sends fireworks throughout your body. You want to trap that smile in a jar like a firefly. Valeria reaches into her bag and pulls out a folded, yellowed map and sets it up on a table. She begins to quietly and intently explain where each route is and where the shipments go.

You nod and hum, pretending to listen. You're much more focused on Valeria's hands as she points at places on the map. Her neatly trimmed pink nails and fingers. Ine of them is slightly crooked from having been broken one too many times. Her skin looks soft and if you try hard enough you can smell her lotion.

"-and this is when we split it into smaller batches to move it across the border."

You point to Mackey Hill.

"Here?" You ask. Already knowing the answer.

"Yes." She nods. You glance up behind her for a split second and watch some scruffy looking man quickly turn away. Immediately you straighten and stare at him. You don't like the vibes he's giving off.

Valeria furrows her brows at you.

"What's wrong?" She asks quietly. You lean closer and whisper back.

"I think that man is eavesdropping."

Valeria turns her head to look at the man, narrowing her eyes. You feel pleased that she trusts your word so strongly.

"Get rid of him." She commands.

You slip out of your spot and approach him. He startles as you lean down and murmur in his ear.

"Follow me. My boss has a proposition for you." You walk towards the doors and cast a look behind you. He's staring at you nervously but eventually rises.

You wait behind the brick wall and wait. Sure enough the man rounds the corner. Looking at you with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

"What was the-" He's cut off by Valeria hitting him in the back of the head. He grunts and falls to his knees. You strike him this time. Kneeing him in the face. He opens his mouth to scream but you cover it before he can.

You drag him deeper into the alley and fish out the small blade hidden in your boot. You make quick work of slitting his throat. He makes an awful gurgling sound before going still. Valeria helps you lift him into the nearby dumpster. Your fingers brush and you look at each other.

You've been loyal to her for years. Since before she even came into power. Through thick and thin you've stuck by her side. You've thrown yourself in harm's way to protect her without thought. You've spent countless hours staring at her intently but now your gaze is being returned tenfold. There's a new fire in those dark inky eyes. One you've only caught glimpses of. But here it is, in all it's blazing glory and it's directed at you. Scorching and all consuming.

His body thumps dully as he falls among the full trash bags but neither of you are paying attention to him anymore.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?" Valeria murmurs softly. "I'm sure you'll have an easier time getting the routes with a full stomach." Her hand creeps towards yours and your fingers tangle with hers. You've done more than feed her ego, you've carved out a place in her heart for yourself.

[wynn-ing]

Finally have everyone done, which means I can post my Slay The Princess x Spire: The City Must Fall au!! info below the cut <3

So! These are the classes of all of the voices in the order they appear above! Smitten: Idol (artist and performer whose art is, in itself, black magic). He's a fairly popular performer, and he's sung on stage with Damsel a few times. Ended up joining the ministry because Hero took some exaggerated story of his as fact and decided to recruit him to 'rescue' Damsel from her 'evil employers' (Smitten made this up and has no idea how to break it to Hero that he was just venting and now it's been months and he's in far too deep) Hero: Firebrand (by the people for the people type). He's the leader of the entire set by default, since he's the only one who literally everyone likes and agrees with. Cold: Mortician Executioner (works for the government to 'fix paperwork' wherein the paperwork says someone is dead and they happen to be alive). Spectre is a benevolent spirit who shares a body with him, and the two of them can happily switch places and take turns with the body. Wraith, on the other hand, is a weapon bound by cruel magic to his heart, who can hurt everyone except for him and is mad about it. Opportunist: Gutter Cleric (cons the gods themselves). Very skilled at convincing godlings and sewer-angels that he's tooootally devout by using the right prayer buzzwords to skim off the top of their divinity for petty miracles and cheap tricks. It doesn't work so well on other mortals, though. Skeptic: Vermissian Sage (eldritch train wizard). His actual official job is as a detective, so he's pretty busy. Stubborn: Knight (exactly what you'd expect but with slightly more alcoholism). He spends most his time duelling Adversary, but he's open to doing favours for his besties whenever he's not fighting her. Broken: Lajhan (Moon-clerics who sacrifice themselves and their sanity to heal their companions). They fell into the following of Tower and betrayed their goddess and their friends, and then Tower attempted to ascend by stealing their divinity and the lives of all of her least favourite followers. The event was... Explosive. This is the design from beforehand. Cheated: Inksmith (fourth wall breaking writers). Works damn hard, always has a deadline, and always keeps a gun under their desk. Contrarian: Inksmith. Plays damn hard, never has a deadline, always causes problems for Cheated, who works at the same publishing company as them.

I'm calling this au slay the aelfir and will be posting a whoooole bunch of sketches soon <3

[big-girls-forever]

Kinktober 9: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE

Massively Milky 🥛 / Euphoria 💖 (Using the Kinktober by wonderful @fatguarddog)

Length: 2673 words

Tags: lactation, lesbians, belly expansion, bloating, weight gain, rapid weight gain, hot ladies in pencil skirts, inexplicable levels of lactation, some mild intox

Hannah was just finishing up the mopping in the first public bathroom when she heard a loud yelp of pain from the other one. Hannah thought this was a bit unusual. She’d been a janitor for this building for a good long while, before the new company even moved in. Working the night shift and cleaning up was honestly a lot more relaxing than it was with the previous corporation that used the place as an office. The new folks - VitaTech - had cordoned off a few areas as “laboratory sections” which she didn’t have access to and didn’t have to clean, which meant less work for her for better pay. Occasionally, someone would stay after hours to finish up some paperwork, but hearing a sudden and pained yell from a bathroom was certainly new. She moved her cart with a little more haste than normal.

When she walked in, she saw a woman standing at the far end of the line of sinks. She was a petite, short girl in classic office lady attire: a pencil skirt and a white button-up. The button-up had been messed with slightly. Her collar was off and a few of the top buttons had been undone. She turned to look at Hannah while speaking on the phone.

“Ugh, listen,” she said, “I’ll- you don’t have to come back in. I’ll figure it out. Get an Uber or something. It’s my fault really. Yeah. See you tomorrow. Yeah, I’m putting it in the report. Bye.” 

The office lady sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Hannah, “I’ll be out of your way.”

Her face looked red and flushed, and she was sweating. Hannah gave her a smile of concern.

“You sure? You sounded like you were hurt there, and… you don’t look like you’re doing so hot, if I’m being honest. You can stay as long as you need, I’ve got the whole night to clean up.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” said the woman. She started to fix her collar in the mirror. “Oh, yeah, I guess I am kinda sweating a lot.” 

Hannah leaned on her cart.

“If I can ask… what’s the matter?”

“You know what they do here… it’s embarrassing, and it’s painful.”

“Ah, geez,” said Hannah. She knew that VitaTech were some sort of biotech company, but wasn’t exactly sure how that related to this poor girl’s issue. Maybe she had to do some heavy lifting in the lab? It was hard to say. She didn’t look like a person who had done much physical labor. Still, Hannah wasn’t really a woman to leave a girl in need.

“Hey,” she said, “If you need a lift to the pharmacy or whatever, I can totally give it.”

“It’s not really a pharmacy problem,” she said. She winced slightly as she moved.

“Hospital?”

“I don’t want the bill,” she said, “I just… sometimes working for this company is sort of ridiculous, okay? I don’t want to involve you if you aren’t down with it, it’s really like… weird to talk about.”

Hannah grinned lightly.

“What’s your name?”

“Cassie.”

“Cassie, I’ve spent the last three years cleaning up the vomit of middle-aged businessmen who liked to day drink. Seriously, you’d think you were watching Mad Men with how much liquor the guys in here were putting away before VitaTech came in. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t be fazed by it.” 

This made the woman laugh a little.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Fine,” she said, “If you’re really so curious, the problem is… I’m an accountant, but I’m also a tester for VitaTech. Whenever they’re workshopping a new product, it usually goes through someone like me first.”

“So, you like, have a condition or something?” Asked Hannah, “I mean, I know they make some kind of drugs here, I’ve seen the warning signs on the labs.”

“No, no,” she said, “The drugs they make are mostly recreational. At least I think.”

Hannah squinted at the sweating, ruddy-faced woman in front of her.

“Like MDMA?”

“No, let me get to it. They were… how do I put this. They’re testing a drug that’s supposed to induce lactation, and I quote ‘above and beyond the normal capacity for a human.’ Which is, the, uh, problem. Because they’ve yet to figure out the quirk where a user needs some degree of suction to get the milk out.”

“What?” 

“And today I was super busy trying to handle the accounts because apparently we had an incident over at one of the subsidiaries - a happy accident really, it seems like we actually made a customer for life but still some stuff had to be handled involving minor costs and I had to work with some people on that. You know how it is. Anyways my point being that I was so busy that I totally forgot to go to the milking machine today.”

“What?” Repeated Hannah, still trying to process the first parts of what she had said. There was a very long and awkward silence.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird,” said Hannah, “And kinda painful. Because they’re so tender.” 

“You just said that you have so much milk in your breasts that it hurts because you’re an under the table-”

“I’m salaried.”

“A salaried test subject for lactation drugs. For recreational purposes.” 

“Yep.”

There was a long, long silence as Hannah stared at Cassie, and Cassie stared at her, and as they stared longer and longer there was silently an acknowledgement of mutual attraction that made the scenario only more awkward. She was a pretty brunette, she was well-dressed, and she was talkative in a way that made Hannah want to smile. Now, she had informed her that it was in fact medically necessary for her nipples to be suckled because her breasts were so sore from being so full of milk. Though she had not known, Hannah suddenly felt as though her whole romantic life, from the crush she had on her art teacher in grade school to her disastrous attempts at wooing college girls to now, had been preparing her for the occasion when a cute femme absolutely needed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to have her nipples sucked. The only remaining question was whether Cassie was thinking along the same lines, and how to approach it.

“So,” said Cassie first, “I guess I’m gonna be calling that Uber…”

“Uh,” said Hannah, “Well, I don’t have the keys for the labs, but, maybe we could figure something out to get you out of here without you being in pain.”

Cassie seemed to look down at Hannah’s nametag.

“Hannah - you’re Hannah, right?”

“Right.”

“I know what you’re thinking. They’re still trying to test if this stuff is just regular milk still. And also I have no idea how much is in there right now.”

The silence continued for a while, then Cassie sighed.

“But, if you insist, then…”

Cassie leaned up against the wall and slowly, and began to unbutton her shirt, revealing what looked like a slightly modified maternity bra. Hannah stepped forward slowly as she reached for the hooks on the bra.

“Oh, come on, I’m a woman, not a raccoon,” she said, “I’m not going to run away if you make a sudden move.” 

Hannah laughed and walked the rest of the way to her, and helped her unhook her bra. Sure enough, her breasts were small, but as she moved they looked almost stiff with how full and engorged they were. Her areolae were wide and brown as if she were pregnant, and they were spotted with little white dots of milk. Cassie then sat herself down on the floor with another slight yelp. Hannah followed her.

“Do you have any idea how dirty these floors get?” Asked Hannah.

 “No,” she said, “But I trust your work from last night. Now, get to work. And remember, no teeth.”

Hannah smiled and gently put her head to the girl’s chest, and then took her lips to a tit. At even a slight suction, milk began to spurt into her mouth, like a soda can that you shook before opening it. Hannah grunted in surprise and swallowed but didn’t let up; she was sure that at this rate she’d be dry in no time. Cassie sucked in some air, a noise somewhere between pain and arousal, and took one of her hands to Hannah’s head and brushed her fingers through her hair, then pushed her harder into her breast. 

“Keep sucking,” she said, “Harder.”

Hannah of course obliged and kept to her work. Cassie’s milk was surprisingly sweet and rich. She had known that it would be different from the sort that you got at the store, of course, but even with that this was extremely abnormal. So she kept on suckling, and suckling and suckling on her nipple. Cassie was mostly silent except for an occasional muffled moan or deep breath in, though she kept her hand firmly on Hannah’s head so that she couldn’t stop drinking. 

Not that she would want to stop. As she drank, she felt increasingly warm and bloated and yet there was no sign of Cassie’s milk stopping. In fact, she could feel herself getting a heavier belly with each passing moment from the sheer mass of milk that she was swallowing, which felt plainly impossible. Faintly, she became aware of the sound of the zipper on her uniform slowly pushing itself downward from the growing size of her own gut. Hannah felt like she should have been a little distressed by that, but she felt so warm and happy from all the milk that it was a little hard for her to feel anything other than nice. The feeling was almost like being drunk, if only a little milder. 

Eventually, slowly, she felt the milk coming from Cassie’s tit slow down and then practically stop. When she pulled away and looked down, she was astonished to see how bloated her belly was. Her uniform had pulled down to the point where she could see the white tee-shirt that she was wearing underneath, and her gut was so full that it looked like she was six months pregnant. Cassie seemed entirely undisturbed by this. She reached up and grabbed her handbag from the place where she left it on the sinks, and then pulled out her phone. 

“Might as well get some work done,” she said, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel great,” Hannah said woozily, “Oh wow. This, uh milk. Kinda making me like… a mix of horny and… happy? Like drunk happy. Couple of beers happy.”

“Ooh, that’s new,” said Cassie, “Your belly doesn’t hurt or anything?”

Hannah shook her head.

“Feels great!”

“Okay, I’m putting down elasticity and some mild intoxicatory effects in the notes… there. Done.” 

She put her phone back away, and then looked at Hannah again.

“Do you think you’re done? I’ve got two tits, Hannah.”

“Oh, yeah!” Said Hannah eagerly, “Your milk is also really tast-”

Her compliments were cut off by Cassie pushing Hannah’s head into her other tit. Almost automatically her lips latched onto her nipple and began to suck. She felt increasingly adoring of Cassie and her tits that were giving her so much to drink. Her head felt like it was floating and she felt a shock through her body every time Cassie moaned again. Increasingly, the moans went away from pain and towards a pure and animal arousal. 

“Good girl,” said Cassie, “Good, good, keep at it.” 

Now whatever effect the milk was having on her was truly hitting her. Her urge to giggle was only overwhelmed by her ever-growing love of sucking on tits, and of Cassie. She felt like she was floating even as she felt that her gut was getting heavier and heavier, and getting perilously close to the ground. The zipper on her jumpsuit was almost certainly reaching the bottom now, and she could feel the cool air on her belly as her shirt rode up over her bloated belly. And then, just as with the first one, she ran out of milk to drink. This time, Cassie had to gently dislodge her from her breast. Hannah flopped backwards and rested on the back wall, giggling and sighing.

“Hahaha,” she said, “No more milk! Job done!”

“Thank you very much,” said Cassie, “Are you… alright?” 

“Oh I’m fine,” she said, slurring her words, “Super. Oh my God. Do you see my belly?”

“Yeeeep,” said Cassie, “They did say one of the side-effects could be pressurized lactation. Looks like you got the brunt of it.” 

Hannah tried to touch her tender, full belly and groaned. It sloshed slightly with milk as she moved it. 

“Aw, man, this is so much,” she said, “I guess it’s good that I’m bulking. Oh well, time to finish my… rounds and stuff.” 

She tried to stand and almost immediately fell off balance, barely able to keep herself from falling over. Cassie caught her and helped her up, smiling gently.

“Woah, there,” she said, “Looks like you can’t really balance yourself. I’m gonna- how about this. I’m sure our bosses will understand that what you did tonight was really nice.”

“Nice…?”

“Yeah,” said Cassie, “You’re basically a superhero for this. You don’t need to worry about mopping the rest of the floor.”

Cassie began to fix her own clothes, putting herself back together.

“I’m good to drive now. You clearly aren’t in any state to do so,” she said, “How about we go back to my place… sober you up, lack of a better term, and we’ll explain ourselves tomorrow?”

That sounded just wonderful to Hannah. She nodded vigorously, and followed Cassie out of the office on tottering legs.

***

Hannah woke up with a headache and a strange feeling of softness. She groaned and fumbled around on an unfamiliar bed, trying to remember what had happened the previous night. She had definitely met a very nice woman named Cassie. That woman had… had some drinks with her after work? That part wasn’t clear. She remembered feeling kind of drunk, but not drinking anything with alcohol in it. Then they went over to Cassie’s place. She definitely saw Cassie’s tits at some point, she was definitely sure of that, and they were very pretty. As she opened her eyes to the faint light, she saw Cassie next to her, already up, wearing sweatpants and a sports bra.

“What happened last night?” Muttered Hannah.

“Do you remember the milk?”

Hannah was suddenly hit with the rest of the memories of what had happened, though there was still a large blank for what happened after she left work. She had gotten inexplicably drunk and ridiculously full on another woman’s milk, and then gone home with her, and then.

“Oh fuck,” she said, “Did we have sex?”

“No,” said Cassie, “Well, unless you consider vigorous nursing and you continually pawing at me throughout the night for more milk to be sex. Also, you’re fat now.”

“What?”

Hannah suddenly sat up in bed and nearly screamed. Just as inexplicable as Cassie’s tits was her own overnight transformation. Her thighs were thicker, and so were her arms, now heavy with plush fat. Her breasts had likewise gotten a big leg up, now sagging onto the most changed part of her body. Gone were the abs that had taken so much hard work. Now, she had a large, soft apron of fat that spilled over her waist. After taking it in for a moment, she laid back and groaned.

“That’s going to take forever to work off at that gym,” Hannah said. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Cassie, “I’ll take you to the researchers, they’ll get you back in shape in no time.” 

Cassie paused and looked at her, and then slowly began to take off her bra.

“But before we go… I think I’m full again. Mind if you help?” 

Hannah rolled her eyes, and then gladly aided a woman in need once more.